Author's note: Hunter's thoughts during a missing scene from episode 2x15 'One Door Closes'. This story follows the events of 'Chained To A Sink' and 'Trapped In A Maze', but can also be read separately, as none of these stories divert from canon.

I'm honestly still reeling after the last episode, and while my first reaction was, that I couldn't possibly write anything for it, I finally realised that I simply had to, to help myself come to terms with it. I genuinely hope that this story might help some of you with that as well.

Kept In The Dark

Hunter's heart is beating loudly in his chest as he dials one of the many numbers he has memorised for emergencies. His eyes are drilling holes into the rusty payphone in front of him and he's holding the receiver in a death grip, his fingers turning white from the pressure.

Despite the cold weather and the slight drizzle falling down on him, he's feeling flushed and out of breath. It's as if he's just run ten miles, while in reality the small beach his hijacked escape pod washed up on mere minutes ago is only a stone's throw away from the row of closed down shops surrounding him. In the centre of which he found this lonely, almost forgotten payphone, to which he is now clinging as if it were the only thing saving him from drowning.

"Pick up the bloody phone, damn it," he mutters quietly and leans his head against the top of the payphone as it starts ringing. His eyes are closed tightly while he's listening to the monotonous sound, but there is no answer. Hunter waits for a minute, then two, then he puts the receiver back down, never loosening his grip on the plastic.

He has tried all the regular numbers of his team mates already, including Coulson's, but each of them went straight to voicemail, leaving him increasingly desperate.

Bob, what did you do?

There's a clinking sound as the coins fall back out of the phone, but he leaves them and instead picks new ones from the change in his pocket. For a moment his thoughts go back to the old man who was standing on the beach just as he climbed out of the escape pod he had been confined to for the last twelve hours.

Going by the rod and the box of bait the man carried, he had been on his way to a nearby pier to try his luck with the fish. Stumbling over Hunter and the SHIELD rescue pod he was getting out of had certainly not been the catch he had expected today.

"For all I care, you can keep it, mate," he told the man, not caring even the slightest bit about leaving SHIELD technology out in the open. "I just need to use your mobile real quick, yeah?" The request was verging on desperate, the urgency of the warning he had to deliver weighing down on him, suffocating him.

"You mean my cell phone?" the man asked back, not used to the British term, causing Hunter to nod impatiently. "Sorry, but I left mine at home." Then he indicated the fishing supplies in his hands, a well-meaning expression on his face. "You know, fishing is really all about the peace and quiet. It's very relaxing; you should try it sometimes, because I think you do look a little stressed."

Hunter was about to punch the man then and there, no matter his age, until he continued, managing to placate the mercenary again.

"But there's actually a payphone up there where the shops are." He pointed towards the measly line of buildings overlooking the beach, then started rummaging in his pockets until he retrieved an entire handful of change he held out for Hunter. "Here, take it. Whoever you have to talk to about this," he gestured towards the escape pod, "I could imagine that might be a longer conversation."

It might be, Hunter agrees, focusing back on his task at hand, but someone has to pick up the bloody phone first!

He starts dialling the second number on his mind, but it's just more of the same; beep after beep and no answer.

He's starting to feel sick now as he slams the receiver down again, his concern quickly turning into a fullblown panic. He pulls more change from his pocket, still ignoring the coins that once more drop noisily back out of the phone.

Hunter has to make a conscious effort to steady his trembling fingers as he punches in the next string of numbers. As he's pressing the receiver back against his ear and rests his forehead once more on the edge of the payphone, however, it's actually the realisation that his worst fears seem to have come true, that causes him to calm down again.

They're gone.

They're all gone.

As the ringing goes on and on, it's becoming painfully clear to him and Hunter can't believe it has taken him this long to finally accept it. Nobody is answering him, because there is no-one left to answer...

Bob, what the bloody hell did you do?

He stands like this for several minutes, his eyes closed, his right hand gripping the receiver as if for dear life. His left hand is clinging to the payphone itself while the constant ringing in his ear is the only thing he can hear. Even the roaring waves of the ocean behind him have disappeared from his mind, as there is nothing else left in this entire world except from the never-ending sound of the phone ringing in vain.

He's not even sure anymore how long he's been standing here, but when he finally hangs up the phone again, slowly this time, he feels completely dead inside. Every bit of fight that was left in him after the past agonisingly long twelve hours is gone, now that his worst nightmares seem to have become devastating reality.

SHIELD is gone, his friends imprisoned or... worse and in a way it's all because of him.

He knows of course that he didn't do anything wrong – aside from trusting the wrong people. He had more than enough reason to question what Bobbi and Mack were up to, he never asked to be dragged off the base and allowing himself to be held prisoner by that wannabe SHIELD wasn't an option, obviously. He also knows, however, that it was only his interference and ultimately his escape, which now forced those people's hand.

If Bobbi and Mack have abandoned their carefully worked out plan and instead returned to the base guns blazing, then a part of that is on him, too. No matter how much this is exactly what he wanted to prevent from happening.

Ignoring the cold wind and the rain around him, Hunter drops down to his knees. He has to force himself to take a few deep breaths as he's trying to fight off the sense of utter defeat that is threatening to swallow him whole.

A few days ago he was looking forward to building a future for himself. He was working with a great team, wanted to take a permanent job with SHIELD and even had hope to finally make things work with Bobbi. Although Hunter knows that the word 'perfect' is a very dangerous one to use, his life merely a few days ago was probably as close to that concept as it hadn't been in years.

And now he is left with nothing.

SHIELD is gone, his team mates probably dead for all he knows, and all of that courtesy of the woman who has made her mark on him so thoroughly that even now he can't stop loving her.

Why did you have to do this, Bob? Why couldn't you just walk away with me?

Of course he knows that asking himself this now is useless, that Bobbi made her decision, just as he made his. Now that he's actually faced with the consequences of her actions, however, her callousness and her willingness to so quickly betray the people who trusted her are making it increasingly hard to reconcile the woman he knows with the one out there; the one who, as it seems, just erased SHIELD from existence.

At this point a thought suddenly occurs to Hunter and it's so simple and so obvious, that it completely escaped him so far.

He is still here.

He might be too late to warn Coulson and the rest of the team about Bobbi and Mack, but at least he managed to escape from captivity. Although he never got the chance to put his signature under the contract Coulson offered him, there is still no doubt in Hunter's mind about whose side he's on. So he finally pulls himself back up from the ground and starts rummaging in his pocket once again for more change.

As he picks up the receiver of the payphone once more, he goes through the list of emergency numbers he knows and realises he actually missed one. It's the first number he tries now. The ringing starts and the longer it goes on, the more his heart sinks. Only this time he doesn't let himself be discouraged by that. He waits and waits and when there is a soft click in the line, it actually takes a moment for him to realise that the ringing has stopped.

The line is completely silent for several seconds, but then he hears a familiar voice and his heart skips a beat.

"Who's there?" Director Coulson asks warily, his voice tense, but it still sends a wave of relief and happiness through Hunter.

"Bloody hell," he bursts out, leaning heavily against the payphone, "you're actually alive."

"Hunter," Coulson simply notes, but as he continues a moment later, the tension is all but gone from his voice. "Let me guess, you found out that Bobbi and Mack are up to something, right?" The director's tone is almost light-hearted now, as if they're talking about nothing more serious than the weather.

Hunter sighs deeply and remains silent for a moment as he struggles with his answer, the guilt still weighing on him.

"I knew I was too late. I'm sorry, Coulson, I figured that something was up, but when I confronted Mack with it, he bloody kidnapped me. I should have come to you first," he admits, his regret palpable, but Coulson doesn't let him wallow in it.

"Well, I can't say you haven't tried warning me before," he replies, causing Hunter to furrow his brow in confusion.

"I have?" the mercenary asks back, searching his memory for what exactly his boss might be referring to. Coulson's answer does catch him off guard, though.

"Let's just say, all those stories you used to tell about your she-devil ex-wife; I officially apologise for not believing them."

Hunter actually lets out a brief laugh at this, the weight on his heart lifting ever so slightly.

"What about the others, are they okay?"

"They were captured, but as far as I know, there were no casualties. May stayed behind to take care of Fitzsimmons, and Skye is out there somewhere, but I'll find her." There is a strong sense of determination in the director's voice, confirming for Hunter once more that it was the right decision to stick with his team.

"Well, seeing as I don't have any other plans at the moment, mind if I help you look?" he asks with a faint grin on his lips, eager to get back into the game after having been sidelined for days now.

The line is silent for a moment, but when Coulson finally replies, Hunter is sure that he can hear a distinct trace of relief in the director's voice.

"No, not at all, actually. I'm headed to a safe location now, you should meet me there as soon as you can."

"You wanna lay low?" Hunter asks, surprised that Coulson doesn't want to start a counteroffensive immediately.

"Not too low," the director replies, clearly guessing the mercenary's line of thought, "but I think we do need a moment to catch our breath, see where we'll go from here. Plus, the safe house I'm headed to is actually beachfront property; after all the time I spent at the base, I could use the opportunity to work on my tan again."

Hunter looks up at the drizzle still raining down on him, which makes the prospect of heading somewhere warm and sunny even more appealing, and sighs once more, but not out of regret this time. This time it is because he feels a wave of relief wash away his constant worries for what must be the first time in days.

He knows that while they might have lost this battle, they haven't lost the war, and that as long as Coulson is free, SHIELD – the one SHIELD he actually gives a damn about – isn't done yet.

"Sounds like a plan," he agrees, an actual smile on his face as he focuses back on the conversation. "Count me in on that."

– The End –