Grant Ward had lived at the S.H.I.E.L.D. hub for three months now, and Coulson couldn't say it had been going well, exactly.

The boy was in therapy, and while the therapist was one of the best they had, that was decidedly not going well.

School wasn't going much better.

They had enrolled him at a private academy that was relatively close to the Hub, and many children of S.H.I.E.L.D. agents attended, and while he adjusted well to the classes and even his classmates, he seemed to find himself in trouble with his teachers more often than Coulson could count.

It was usually small problems, minor insubordination or a veiled insult, but the teachers—often former S.H.I.E.L.D. agents themselves, despite the fact that this school was not S.H.I.E.L.D.-run—were stricter than normal.

But perhaps most worrisome of all was that Grant wasn't making any friends.

Not a single one.

It wasn't that the other children didn't like him or excluded him deliberately; it was just that he didn't seem to care about making friends. At fourteen, he was in the oldest class at the middle school, so there was no one older to pick on him, but he just didn't talk to the other children.

When Coulson asked him about it, he just shrugged and said he didn't need friends.

Grant rarely mentioned his younger siblings—Dana and Chelle—but Coulson often wondered how much that had to do with it.

They had been his only friends, the only people he had cared about, for most of his young life, and to see them murdered so brutally before his eyes…

And there was the rest of it, too, the darker side.

At the age of thirteen, Grant Ward had killed the man who had killed his younger siblings. That man had happened to be his own father.

John Garrett had found him after that, and Coulson still didn't know the full extent of what he had done to the boy in the year he had spent living like a feral animal in the woods.

In fact, with all that had happened, it was surprising that Grant Ward had any ability to care left in him; a miracle how deeply he obviously cared for each person living in the Hub quarters with him.

All things considered, Coulson decided to let time heal—it was the only thing that could, he discovered, and perhaps there were always going to be wounds that didn't heal.

He had seen that truth with Steve, who had been woken only two years before. It may have been seventy years for the rest of the world, but for Steve, it was still only two years since he had lost his best friend, Bucky, and despite Steve's quiet resilience, Coulson knew there had been little healing.

Perhaps it was why Grant connected so well with Steve—in fact, he was Steve's shadow whenever he was home, and no matter how tired Steve was or how difficult the op had been, he always found time to spend with the boy.

So Coulson didn't worry too much.

That is, until Grant got into his first fistfight at school.

Coulson got the call when he was in a meeting with some agents over their next op. He handed over the briefing to the lead agent, one of their lead doctors and scientists, Lily Simmons, and left the room to take the call.

He was at the school in fifteen minutes, and the principal greeted him coolly in the front office. "Agent Coulson," he nodded coldly, and Coulson recognized him as a former active reconnaissance agent, Hadrian Taksony, a man Coulson had worked with before the agent's retirement. "I understand you're Grant Ward's guardian?"

Coulson nodded, assenting. "What happened?"

"I don't know where this kid learned to fight, but he took down three high school seniors during lunch today," Taksony said. "Those three—Burke, Wallace, and Adrian—all insist that he started it."

"What does Grant say?"

"Nothing," Taksony said disapprovingly. "And silence reeks of guilt, Coulson"—

"Or it means he was protecting someone," Coulson said sharply. "And for this kid, Taksony, silence means a lot more than guilt, so cut him a break."

"We have a strict policy against fighting here," Taksony responded, his eyes narrowing.

"I understand that," Coulson retorted. "And I have a strict policy against punishing a kid before I understand what happened, so you'll excuse me if I want to hear his side of the story first."

"I've tried that already."

"I haven't."

Taksony frowned, and Coulson could see it was all the man could do to keep from rudely rolling his eyes. "He's in here," he said finally, jerking his head towards another room in the office.

Grant was sitting just inside on a bench in front of the assistant principal's desk, and he stood quickly when Coulson entered. He wouldn't meet Coulson's eyes.

"Am I suspended?" he asked the floor.

"Why don't you tell me what happened first," Coulson suggested before Taksony could answer. "Then we'll talk about what we do from there."

"I got into a fight," Grant said, his voice hard. "Didn't you hear?"

"He broke Burke's throwing arm," Taksony interjected. "Burke's our best quarterback."

Grant smirked. "Not anymore he isn't."

"Grant," Coulson said sharply, and Grant closed his mouth into a hard line.

"He broke Wallace's nose, too, and gave him a black eye," Taksony continued. "Wallace is the student president, and he has to give an address to the school board tonight. And Adrian, our team's best linebacker, has three broken ribs. Coulson, I don't know what other side you're expecting to hear. The kid obviously isn't sorry."

"No," Grant said curtly. "I'm not."

Coulson surveyed him for a long moment, considering Taksony's words and Grant's apparent carelessness. Taksony may view it as an utter lack of concern for what he had done, but Coulson had been fooled by Grant's careless for the six weeks when the kid had lived with them and still been under Garrett's thumb. "Tell me what happened," Coulson said firmly. "From the beginning. How did the fight start?"

"He already told you," Grant replied sharply, obviously irritated. "I picked a fight, and I won it."

"Why?"

"Why did I win?" Grant smirked. "Because I've been training with Natasha Romanov."

"Which you won't be anymore if you use those skills to beat up your classmates," Coulson told him, and the boy's arrogant expression faltered slightly. "But that wasn't my question. Why did you pick the fight?"

Grant looked away just briefly, out the open door towards the nurse's office across the hallway, and Coulson's sharp eyes followed his glance.

In the nurse's office were two children, a boy and a girl who both looked to about ten or eleven, who were far too young to be in a middle school/high school. The boy was sporting a massive black eye, and the girl was sitting beside him, her arm linked through his, chattering brightly in an obvious attempt to distract him from his injury.

Grant looked away, still silent, and Coulson stood, waiting.

"That's all," Grant said finally. "I was angry. I wanted to let off some steam. That was all it was."

Coulson sighed, and Taksony folded his arms.

"I told you, Coulson," he said coldly before turning to Grant. "We have a three strike policy, and you just had your first strike, young man. Our policy is a three day suspension, so you can collect your books and assignments now before you go. You'll be allowed back to school on Monday. But I have to warn you, a second offense will result in a two week suspension, and any further offense will result in immediate expulsion. Am I clear?"

"Crystal clear," Grant said cheerfully. "Can we go now?" he asked Coulson, who looked at him in disappointment.

"Yea," Coulson said quietly, his eyes not leaving Grant, who wouldn't return his gaze. "Let's go."

They didn't say much on the drive home.

"I still want to know the whole story."

"I told you."

Coulson shook his head. "You don't start fights just for the hell of it," he said. "I may not know much, Grant, but I do know that."

Grant scuffed his feet on the floor of the transport vehicle Coulson had taken. "Maybe I do," he said roughly. "I'm not a good person. I don't know why you still think that."

"Because I can see it, Grant," Coulson said sharply. "I see the good in you, and it amazes me, because after everything that's happened to you, you can take in stray dogs and teach soldiers and spies and gods how to be kind. So you may not see it, Grant, but I do, and I'm not giving up on that goodness."

Grant bit his lip.

"I'm not giving up on you," Coulson said firmly. "And that's why we're going to talk about the kind of privileges you forfeit when you start fights."

"Are you saying I'm grounded?" Grant scoffed.

"I'm saying no sparring lessons with Natasha for the duration of your suspension," Coulson said. "And we'll have a talk on Monday about the future of those sparring lessons and fighting. If you were defending yourself, Grant, I have no problem with fighting back, or if you're defending someone else. Sometimes you have to fight back, even when you don't want to. But fighting just for the fight, Grant? That's not okay."

Grant scuffed his foot harder, nearly kicking the dashboard. "Fine," he said, and then added in a small voice, "Are you going to tell the others?"

"You don't want me to?"

"No."

He nodded. "That's fine. Steve will want to know why you're not in school, though."

"He'll be mad if he finds out."

"No," Coulson said with certainty. "Steve's not like that."

When they arrived home, however, a surprise was waiting for them.

Steve, who had arrived home from an op in Brazil that morning, was waiting in the common room with a woman—Coulson recognized the woman he had left in charge of the op that morning, Lily Simmons—and the two children Coulson had seen in the nurse's office this morning.

Steve and Lily both stood to greet them, but the two children ran forward to meet Grant, and Coulson looked at him quickly.

"I heard about what happened at school today," Steve said, and Grant's face fell. "This is Dr. Lily Simmons, and she wanted to talk to you, Coulson. She has some… perspective to add."

"Sorry about the intrusion, Agent Coulson," the doctor said crisply, her accent—Welsh, Coulson guessed—heavy in her words. "This is my daughter, Jemma, and her friend Leo. They're both eleven, but they have been taking advanced science courses in the high school, and today at lunch, Leo was being picked on by three of the high school seniors. For his Scottish accent, I think"—

"And because they were insecure," Jemma interrupted, her accent pronouncedly different than her mother's, and Coulson guessed that she had lived in London for most of her life. She was at Grant's side, her tiny hand tilting his chin so she could look at the faint bruise on his face. "Fitz and I are much smarter than them, and it made them feel bad about themselves. Especially Burke. He's a"—

"Jemma," her mother reproved, but Grant grinned just slightly.

"I don't believe Grant had ever met the children before today, but he's been looking out for them," Lily finished. "And today he stepped in when the boys provoked Leo here. They have been making comments about my daughter," her eyes flamed suddenly. "And Fitz stood up for her. Obviously, he was outmatched, but apparently your boy wasn't. Three eighteen year olds, and they only left him with one bruise." She looked at Grant in admiration, but he looked away, down at little Leo Fitz, who had stopped to pet Buddy.

Lily stepped forward, holding out her hand. "Thank you, Grant," she said crisply. "And Agent Coulson, I wanted to make sure you knew. Leo and Jemma didn't have the chance to tell the principal their story until after Grant had already been suspended, so we wanted to make sure we made it back here in time."

Coulson nodded, his throat clenching with emotion, and he turned to look at Grant, quiet pride shining in his face. He placed a hand on Grant's shoulder, and the boy leaned into his arm just slightly. "Thank you, Lily," he said. "And thank you, Grant."

The boy looked up at him searchingly. "I didn't want to tell," he said apologetically. "I didn't want to make it harder for Jemma and Fitz. The ass holes at school make it hard enough."

"Not anymore they won't," Fitz said, grinning up at Grant in admiration. "You're the strongest person in the world," he said dramatically, holding Buddy in his arms. The dog squirmed and whined, and Grant took him, grinning down at the younger boy.

"No one's going to mess with us anymore, right, Jemma?"

She nodded, smiling brightly. "Mum, can we stay here today? Grant is home and we can just stay and play so we don't have to go home"—

Lily shook her head slightly, but Grant looked at Coulson and then at Steve, eyes pleading.

"That would be wonderful," Coulson said. "I have to finish briefing the op, but Steve will be here, and I'll be back in a few. Jemma and Leo can stay with Grant until you and I are finished for the day, Lily."

Grant led the two younger ones into the game room adjoining, and Buddy followed at their heels, tail wagging.

Lily took her leave, but Coulson lingered a moment to speak to Steve.

"Our boy never stops surprising me," he said, and Steve smiled.

"If he decides to join S.H.I.E.L.D., we'd be lucky to have him," Steve responded, and Coulson nodded.

"Whatever he decides," he added. "Wherever he goes, whatever profession he chooses, he will be a good man. He is a good man. And that matters even more."