Hi everyone, remember me? Yes...I did drop off the face of the earth for an annoying hiatus. Honestly, I took a few months off of writing altogether, but am so happy I did because I was entirely too burnt over it. Also...I got kitties...two tiny kittens that are growing like weeds, and let me tell ya, they are a ton of work. Love them to death though, so there's that. Anyway, I wanted to put this up. It was originally a lot longer, so I'm posting the first part now as its own chapter. They can get away from me, length-wise, and I am on my way to finishing up the last half (or chapter six). I'll try to be more diligent with my postings now that I'm returning to the writing world, but in the meantime, I hope there are still a few people who even care about this anymore. I'd love to hear from you. :)

Ch. 5

"This would be a lot more enjoyable for me if you would relax," he suggested strongly, while staring into wide brown eyes mixed with disdain and a healthy dose of disinterest.

"You heard the same explosions I did," she began, running a manicured nail over dirt and debris, "this place is disgusting."

He actually chuckled. "Who cares," he said more loudly than his usual dulcet demeanor, "we'll be gone soon enough and finally free of SHIELD and Coulson. Where's the downside?"

She stared at him in silence for a beat, taking in the barely restrained glee that was wrapped in a sharp, white Armani suit. "I've never thought of you as an idiot before today Quinn, but your arrogance is going to be your downfall."

He sneered for a moment, before regaining his composure. "You mean OUR downfall, don't you Raina? If I don't get out of here, neither do you, and so I encourage you to get onboard my gravy train pretty damn fast." He slipped off his jacket and tossed it to a nearby henchman, feeling more freedom as he casually rolled up the black sleeves of his dress shirt. A few minor hiccups didn't mean the plan wouldn't work, she was panicking. "Coulson is on his way, you know it and I know it, so what is the problem?"

She shook her head slightly. "Maybe that Coulson and his team are on the way! He has bested you at every turn. Your mistake was inviting him here in the first place to interfere."

His annoyance was growing. "He got lucky a few times, that's all, he's not indestructible." She opened her mouth to counter but he shook his head, placing a finger on her soft lips to shut her down. "Be a dear and stop ruining this for me. This is the same plan we had yesterday and you were a lot more optimistic, so what happened? Do you have a little stage fright?"

She shoved his hand from her face and glowered. "I don't get nervous, I just know when a mouse is inviting a cat over to play it never ends well for the mouse."

This time his laugh was genuine. "Oh Raina, you're lucky I continue to see value in our relationship, and by the way," he continued, "I'm always the cat." Ian refocussed, clapping his hands together in anticipation. His arm reached toward a wall, where he pushed a small black button on a slightly abused shelf. An LED monitor rose from the unobstrusive wood. "Look," he instructed, enthusiastically, "they're working their way down the corridors and should be here soon." He placed a comforting hand on her slim shoulder and squeezed gently, lowering his voice as though he were speaking to a child, "things are happening exactly like we knew they would."

"Well," a voice interjected from the entrance, "maybe not exactly?"

Ian Quinn blinked, finding Phil Coulson training a gun on him from the doorway of his lab. "How...?" His eyes dropped to the video monitor that was telling a decidedly different story. There they were, the SHIELD team including Coulson, making their cautious approach in the tunnels. "You hacked the feed," he mumbled, in realization.

Coulson pointed to his friend. "Fitz did, but yeah. Sorry about that, I hope it doesn't spoil the mood."

"I hate being right all the time," Raina pointed out, ignoring the daggers being shot at her from her unfortunate choice in partner.

Coulson glanced around the lab carefully. It looked the same since the last time he had been in this room so long ago; furniture and equipment were tossed around and lying in unnatural positions after the Gravitonium went a little haywire. He couldn't prevent the spike in his heart rate, as the memories came flooding back. He found Quinn watching him with his usual holier than thou confidence. "You could have cleaned the place up if you were having company over."

"Waste of time," Ian replied, unable to mask his building anger. "You took what rightfully belongs to me." He ran a quick hand through his perfect hair. "I believed in the Gravitonium when no one else did, I FOUND it when everyone thought I was crazy, and now I finally have what you stole. So thanks Phil...for coming, I mean."

"Am I missing something?" Tripp piped up, keeping his gun trained on the guards whose side arms were laying at their feet.

"Yeah, you are," Redmond answered, looking around nervously. "He's up to something?"

Quinn stared hard at his old friend and commrade. "Took you long enough to get here, buddy."

Redmond blinked and then backed up slightly as Coulson's team had their weapons covering him as well. "Wait just a minute," he stammered, glowering at the pompous billionaire with growing daggers. "Coulson, I'm not working with Quinn."

"Maybe not," the Director agreed, "but why don't you stand over there until we get everything sorted out?" It wasn't a suggestion.

Suddenly Ian let out a bellow of laughter and they all stared at him while he began to crack, caught up in his own amusement.

"Relax Phil, he's telling you the truth. I only work with people whose intentions I can understand and trust to benefit my own. Redmond stopped being beneficial to me a long time ago, or rather, stopped being beneficial to me until I decided I needed some bait on my hook."

"What the hell are you going on about?" Frasier asked, noting how his former partner was not making a lick of sense.

"I. Used. You." Ian clarified, with an easy smile on his lips. "Someone had to do the dirty work, and who better than a former business associate full of bitterness and resentment. It's okay though Redmond, I get it, I'd be upset too if I wasn't already me. It sucks always coming in second, or so I'd imagine, but some of us will always come out on top. It's the circle of life, my friend." He flashed a wide grin, watching appreciatively as a horde of armed men shuffled into the room, taking back the control as the SHIELD team was vastly outgunned and outnumbered. Things were looking up by the second. He strolled toward Coulson until they were face to face. "I wanted you here, and I needed you to think that this wasn't a trap." Ian glanced sideways at Frasier, enjoying his disbelief at being suckered almost as much as getting the upper hand on Coulson and his scooby gang. "Phil," he said with appreciation, "you've made things difficult enough for me that I have to fake my death, at least for awhile. If I'm going to play dead then it has to be believable, and what is more believable than me parishing on my beloved compound by the very creation that you stole out from under me." He smiled.

Coulson smiled too. "You don't do crazy as well as John Garrett did," he pointed out, watching the joy drop from the philanthropist's face, "in fact, that entire speech fell a little flat for me, but if you want to sink into the ocean I'd be willing to help you out."

Quinn's eyes flashed brightly. He crossed his arms and stared. "I'M not the one sinking into the ocean Phil, but thanks for the offer, and when they find your body floating amongst the debris and destruction...well... That will bring the right amount of gravitas to this little charade. Sorry about that." He turned to his men, who shoved their guests toward the back of the laboratory. "Alright then," he said cheerfully, while rubbing his hands together with excitement, "let's get this show on the road, shall we?"

Coulson watched his team being lined up along the far wall and it made him angry. "Is this a firing squad, Quinn?"

"Weren't you listening?" he asked, slightly annoyed that his captive was not taking this as seriously as he probably should. "Riddling you with bullet holes is not condusive to the plan."

Coulson shoved a hovering gunman away and leaned comfortably against the cold cement wall. He found Ian's eyes head on. "What exactly is the plan, because blowing up your compound is not going to sink an island?"

"No, but the deep sea explosives that are already strategically placed will do the trick just fine." He took a few steps closer, enjoying this moment because it has been a long time coming. "I finally have the upper hand and I have to say...it feels good. I want you to know that this isn't personal." He almost laughed at the expression on Coulson's disbelieving face. "Okay, it's personal, but I do genuinely like and respect you. I just like winning more."

"If my death is part of the plan, let my team go. They don't need to be down here to pull this off."

Quinn walked forward and put a strong hand on his opponent's shoulder. "You are one hell of a good guy, Phil, I really mean that." He dropped his arm and put some distance between them once again. "Unfortunately for your team, they've proven to be almost as annoying as you have and so I think a clean break for all of us is the best thing." He smiled. "So, back to what I was saying a few moments ago: let's get this show on the road." He pulled a sleek, flat remote from his expensive slacks and waved it with pride, before pressing a large red button in the center of the device.

Silence filled the space while everyone waited with baited breath. They waited a little longer and still nothing but still, quiet air.

Ian Quinn blew out a sharp growl and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Maxwell!" he barked, finally looking over at the tattoo-covered mercenary who was at his side and waiting. "Care to explain why nothing happened just now? I mean, that was my moment and you pretty much ruined it."

He opened his mouth and then closed it, before trying again. "I'm not sure."

"You're not sure," he repeated, with a blank expression. "You're not sure." Quinn was losing his temper. "I pay you an obscene amount of money to be sure, and what you're telling me is that you're NOT sure, is that right?"

"It's hard to find good help these days." All eyes followed the new voice, finding wide shoulders and an impressive height filling the doorframe to the laboratory.

"Ward," Coulson breathed out, feeling his gut clamp down tight. Things just went from bad to worse in a hurry.

The young man stepped into the crowded room, keeping one finger on another remote trigger as a slew of guns focussed on him. He stared at the billionaire. "You can shoot me, but I can guarantee you that my remote will work." He grinned easily. "Also..." His voice trailed off as most of the guards turned on their employer, and the ones that didn't were quickly disarmed.

Not good. "Ward," Coulson tried again, stopping short when the hoverer placed the barrel of a gun against his temple.

Grant watched as his men collected weaponry and shoved all outside parties into the corner of the room. This was working out nicely. He glanced at a beefy blonde in a cheesy uniform, not bothering to mask his ire. "Well, are you waiting for an engraved invitation?" The man blinked to attention and then he and a few nearby helpers collected the Gravitonium. He watched as they finally hightailed it out of the room with the prize in hand.

He glanced over the remaining occupants carefully, unphased by the hatred that stared in every set of eyes - burning hatred reserved solely for him. It was not a new experience. Quinn was practically turning purple as he slowly grasped his loss of control, and Raina was as calm and slippery as always, patiently waiting for the tables to turn in her favour. There was a man in a suit beside her that he didn't know, but one quick assessment told him that there was no immediate threat there. He was another Quinn, and therefore ultimately useless. His former teammates were a much larger concern overall. Fitz was alive and furious with him, but he would never begrudge his ex-friend that, not after what he did. The overwhelming consequences of his actions slapped him hard, thanks to a bright red electronic eyeball pinned to his every move. He was responsible. It was a difficult truth to accept and deal with, but this was not the time for feelings. He blinked and continued his observations, focussing on the mission at hand.

May and Simmons were glaringly absent, which meant they were on the bus. Someone had to be in charge of extraction, and May had the most tactical and piloting experience for such a stretched mission. Simmons would be needed for the Gravitonium when it was brought on board. That left Tripp and Coulson.

He walked up to the former, who was standing as calmly as he could under the circumstances. They stared at one another. "You should probably give me the knife that you've got taped to your spine." The specialist's eyes flashed and Ward couldn't help but grin. Sure, once upon a time he and Tripp were on the same side of things, and they both had Garrett in common, but that didn't mean he couldn't enjoy the upper hand a bit. Afterall, only one of them was forced to make an impossible choice and lose everything that ever truly mattered. A little cockiness seemed justified. Also, he never really liked the guy.

Tripp complied easily enough, which set Ward's alarms off big time. How could someone so highly trained be so obvious? "Collect his jewelry and anything else he has on him," a man stepped forward to follow the order, "and do it carefully." He saw a deeper level of irritation surfacing on the face opposite him, and a small grin re-emerged. "We wouldn't want any of your grand-daddy's toys to become a problem." Unsurprisingly, Tripp threw a punch, but it didn't land as hard as it would have if Ward had slower reflexes. However it would leave a mark, and despite his annoyance, he could respect that.

With a nod of his head, a nameless henchman secured the young agent with a zip tie, and Grant switched all his attentions toward his boss...ex-boss...ex-Coulson. He found he had a surprisingly large amount of issues when it came to this particular man, and he had absolutely no idea where to start? What do you do with a man that you begrudgingly respect, even after he ordered countless hours of physical and mental torture on you? He wasn't entirely sure. Small talk seemed off the table.

"Agent Ward, it has been a long time."

Grant sighed heavily at the interruption, forcing his mind free from a lot of heavy Coulson confusion. He glanced over his shoulder at Ian Quinn, who was doing his very best to mask his rage behind a winning and welcoming smile. It was the same expression used to charm countless people out of a lot of money. Ward stepped away from the team. There were other priorities right now. "Former Agent," he replied dryly, looking the man up and down with a careful gaze. Then he visibly relaxed. "Ian," he greeted warmly, with his own fake smile in place. "You've been a busy boy."

"Listen," Quinn started forward, stalling out as one of his two-faced sellouts put their hand on his arm. He saw Ward shake his head and then the guard released his hold, allowing him to continue. "We should be working together on this, afterall, we want the same thing."

"We do? You sure about that?"

Quinn swallowed. "The Gravitonium may be mine, but there is more than enough to go around. I didn't become a billionaire by accident. With your...ingenuity, and my business smarts, think of the things we can do together!"

"It's true, you are a gifted money maker."

"I am," he beamed, taking a step forward, "and I am also willing to do what needs to be done. We've worked well together in the past. The future can be even brighter."

Ward contemplated everything he said and smiled softly. "Well let me ask you this?"

"Anything?"

His dark eyes got a little bit darker. "Your plan to fake your death, it involves sacrificing the team in order to make it believable, right?"

Ian felt a stirring of trepidation and he didn't like it, but panicking was not an option. "Well yes, but after everything they've done to you, does it really matter?"

"Good point," Ward said easily, hopping onto a nearby table and swinging his legs under the wood while he watched the business man squirm.

"I heard there was torture involved," Ian pointed out.

Ward stared hard at Coulson. "That's true, and I'm still pretty angry about the whole thing."

"You see? So we should wrap this up and get out of here before the bombs start going off."

Ward redirected his attention to the snake in the slick suit. "I don't see the whole team here."

Ian paused, "well, no, but..." He stopped talking. He stared into cold, unforgiving eyes and knew instantly where this conversation was really leading. "I was following Garrett's orders," he croaked, aware that his throat was bone dry, "same as you."

"Not the same as me," Ward offered, "and now you want to follow my lead?"

He nodded, before realizing that he had to find his voice and fast. "I do." His gut was twisting, alerting him to a failing negotiation. "Listen, I had no choice and you know that. Hell, I like the girl! It wasn't personal."

Grant stared hard, noting the bead of sweat on the man's left temple and the way his right hand twitched nervously against the seam of his pant leg. He'd be lying if he said he didn't enjoy every second of his discomfort. "I want to be fair here, and you were part of the Incentive Program."

"That's right!"

"If anyone understands the program it's me. I provided a lot of incentive for a lot of people over the years."

"You see," Ian voiced, relaxing just a bit, "it's all in the past. Neither of us wanted what happened, that was all John Garrett. We need to work together."

Ward smiled, feeling the expression distort as his growing anger began to take over. "The thing is Ian," he ground out, "it felt personal when Skye was dying and needing tubes to help her live."

"Please, Ward..."

"Relax Quinn, I'm not going to kill you." He hopped off the table and leaned casually against the wood with his hip.

"You're not?"

"I'm not," he reaffirmed, before lifting his gun and firing a round into the billionaire's right femur, "but I am going to help you achieve your goal." He nodded at a guard, who promptly grabbed the screaming man and handcuffed him to a nearby, bolted-down table. Ward walked forward and knelt, putting them at eye level. He let all of his hatred show so that not an ounce of it was locked away. "She told me once, about how you smiled at her before dropping her into the dirt like garbage." He stood. "You probably shouldn't have done that." Then he turned to the hard eyes of his former boss. "Handcuff them all to that wall now," the men did as they were told, "and PAY attention!"

"So you're going to finish what this lunatic started?" Coulson asked casually. "What is it with you and lunatics?"

Ward actually smirked, he couldn't control it. "Just giving myself a head start." When his team was safely chained on the farside of the room, he put his gun away and ordered everyone out of the lab. Raina and the suit stood dumbfounded in the corner of the room, not sure what to do? He honestly didn't care one way or the other. Eventually, they both slunk toward the door and then darted through it, hastily making their escape from these tunnels and leaving everything and everyone behind to do it. Why was he not surprised?

"Are you really going to do this?" Fitz asked, annoyed with himself for not remembering that Ward was capable of burying them all alive.

He ignored the scientist and caught Coulson's gaze. It was laced with a lot of things, including disappointment, which was just... He shook it off. "Once I leave here, you'll have one minute to get out of this room and four to get off the island before I sink it."

"That's kind of you, Ward," Coulson ground out, wanting to get his own punch in but knowing it was a bad move for everyone here. "Where's Skye?"

He blew out a loud breath and ran an aggravated hand through his hair. What was it about Coulson that got past everything and made him so mad? "You can waste your time trying to free that jackass from a titanium alloy table, but I recommend for once you give him what he wants." He saw disgust adorn his teammate's faces, which was more than a little shocking in his opinion. Ian Quinn was not worth that kind of emotion. He found Coulson's eyes, fighting a natural anger that bubbled whenever he was anywhere near the man. "Worry about getting your team off this ticking time bomb of an island." He turned his back, ready to leave and get on with his day.

"Where is she, Ward?" he heard again, stopping him near the doorway.

He blew out an annoyed breath and refaced his colleagues. "My men are keeping her busy near the main building. I couldn't have her following me down here, it's too dangerous." He glanced at Fitz briefly, before refocussing. "Get her the hell out of here, Coulson!" Then he did leave, voicing a final warning as he disappeared, "one minute starting now."

"You heard the man," the Director said, while scanning the room, "if anyone has any bright ideas, now is the time."

Fitz focussed on the handcuff around his wrist. Smith and Wesson. Double lock. "These are the same handcuffs that Houdini used in his escapes." He turned to his team, who were clearly looking for something more productive just now. He cleared his throat. "Right. Given our situation, we're more likely to break from the wall faster than we would these antiques."

Tripp tugged on the bar that he was cuffed to, and surprise, surprise, there was a little give. "I know you didn't actually mean that, but I think you might be onto something, Fitz." He tried again, noting a small crumbling of plaster dropping to his feet. "Sir!"

"Yep." Coulson grasped the bar and stared at his friends. "On three." He counted off, and moments later they were free from the wall and sliding off the metal, each with a matching bracelet hanging off a wrist.

"I don't get it, was that just luck," Fitz asked with surprise, "because Ward is not usually sloppy?"

"No," Phil replied, making his way over to a writhing and bloody Quinn, "it's like he said, he was giving himself a head start. We aren't the ones that he sentenced to death down here."

Ian gritted his teeth, trying to block out the pain of his gunshot wound. "I don't think that will work with me," he forced an easy grin, while tugging on his metal bonds.

"What about an electrical overload?" Tripp asked, staring at the working lights above them.

"You want to electrocute me?"

They ignored the man.

"Nope," Fitz blurted, while rummaging through random drawers for something he could use. "These are antiques, as in old school, as in strictly mechanical and I am no mechanic and Ward bloody well knows that," he continued on in a rushed sentence, "so naturally he brought them along, the bastard!"

They had long since blocked out the scientists ramblings, and Tripp turned to his boss. "There is one other option." He looked down at a wide-eyed Ian Quinn, "but you're not going to like it."

"Twenty seconds!" Fitz shouted out, before continuing to dig through useless junk.

Coulson nodded and then punched Quinn in the face hard. The billionaire was out like a light. He looked at his waiting specialist. "Do it!"

Tripp reached out and broke the man's wrist and thumb, roughly sliding his secured hand from the bracelet and quickly tossing him over his shoulder like a limp ragdoll.

"Fitz," Coulson shouted, "the door, NOW!"

They made a break for the exit, racing the final seconds of their imposed doomsday clock. The room exploded into rubble as the bombs in the corridors began to go off one by one.