A/N: Chapter Four - post 1x08 "The Well"

Trigger warning – aggressive, dub-con sex (sex is non-explicit, but aggression may be considered explicit – for me it's a logical follow-up of the episode, so I'm not the best judge)– near the end of the chapter.

When he entered her room, May was pouring whisky to the two glasses set on a small table near the window.

"Uisce beatha," she said handing him the tumbler. "Water of life."

The name couldn't be more apt. Grant let the alcohol burn a path down his throat and instantly extended his hand for a refill. Irish single malt, trust Melinda May to pick the best the little hotel had in store. The buzz from the earlier shot, down in the bar, was already settling at the back of his skull.

May took a step toward one of the arm-chairs and slid onto it with a barely perceptible sigh. Rested her head against the cushion and closed her eyes. She didn't talk, bless her.

Grant took the other chair and hoped he could relax the way she seemed to. His thoughts were running a mile a minute though, memories jumbled together, of Billy hurt in thousands possible and impossible ways, of Terry's incessant presence. And fear, so much fear. The magical berserker staff unearthed Grant's rage, his hatred. A feeling he didn't want, was ashamed of – after all, whatever Terry was, he was also, or maybe most of all, Grant's brother. Nonetheless, hatred was not a feeling he would associate with Terry above all . No, his brother's specialty was inducing scare in others. Panic. Grant felt a chuckle build up in his throat as he remembered what he'd told Simmons earlier. He didn't panic. Ever. He was immune after all those years. There wasn't anything in this world that could frighten him the way his insane superpowered psychopath of a brother could.

"How long ago have you joined S.H.I.E.L.D.?" asked a soft voice and it took Grant a moment to find his bearings. Where he was. Who he was with. Not with Terry anymore.

A question was asked.

"I, uh…" He had to recall words, remember their meanings. Then do the math: how long since they took Terry? Then, how long since he was gone for good? Joining S.H.I.E.L.D. was somewhere in between. "About twelve years," Ward breathed out, then opened his eyes and looked at May. She scrutinized him with her lips pursed.

"You can't be much older than thirty," she declared.

Ward noticed his glass was empty. He leaned to the table and poured himself another shot, then he remembered to be polite and gestured toward May. She nodded, of course, and placed her tumbler next to his, her eyes still dissecting, expectant. Grant ignored her. For a while. When she took the glass up to her lips, he leaned back again and closed his eyes.

"Am not," he muttered. Sighed, rolled his arms trying to relieve the tension that didn't seem to dissipate, the amount of alcohol notwithstanding. "Will be thirty one. In January."

Melinda was quiet for a few moments; all he heard was a sound of swallowing and an exhale. Then, "You must have been eighteen when you joined."

T'was true. "As soon as I was legal." He took a small sip himself. Let it fester inside his mouth before he downed it.

"What did you do?" May asked and Ward looked at her, startled, furrowed his eyebrows in a silent question. "That they wanted you in," she clarified. "You must have done something."

"Nothing much. Had to prove myself for a little while and, obviously, I did well."

"Yeah, but..." There was something in her face he hadn't seen before and never thought she'd be capable of. Almost childish curiosity, only more intense, predatory. Ward wondered how much she'd drunk already, that she was so... open. Her tumbler was empty again. "Why did they want you?"

"They didn't. It was I. I wanted to join and they agreed." The moment those words left his mouth, Grant realized he'd said too much. S.H.I.E.L.D. didn't just let people in. There was no drafting board where anyone could sign up. They were picking people up from all over the world, the best and the brightest. Geniuses like Fitz and Simmons, skilled fighters from Marines or Naval school. Now, S.H.I.E.L.D. was more-or-less public knowledge, what with Norse Gods turning out to really be aliens from another planet, but twelve years ago, it was a secret government organization. Average citizen had no idea such a thing as S.H.I.E.L.D. existed.

Of course Melinda May was aware of it as well as he was, if not better.

"No shit," she called him on it . "How could you know about S.H.I.E.L.D. at eighteen? There's no way."

There was way, actually, if your closest kin had special abilities. But did he want to divulge it now? Ward moved his tumbler in a circular motion and watched the golden swirl wash around its sides.

"You're right," he muttered. He'd slur if he was just a tad drunker. "I'm making this up." He tilted the glass to his mouth and gulped down the remaining liquid, then set it on the table with a more forceful thud than was necessary. "Thanks for the drink." He stood up and walked for the door.

"Hey, wait up!" Melinda called after him. "Where do you think you're going?" He heard her stand up and he didn't, he really didn't want to turn around, but she said, "You can't just walk away like this."

"Yeah?" He faced her abruptly. "I can't? Okay, you're right, let's talk…" He didn't want to do this, but he found himself stepping toward her, defense-turned-offense. "That thing, remember, one you mentioned earlier. Thing you see every day." He watched her face harden with each word he uttered. "Want to talk about that?"

"No."

"Didn't think that you would."

Her lips set, she let out a breath through widened, flaring nostrils. He could almost see her boil inside, fists clenched at her sides, only relaxing when the message got through. He didn't actually want to ask her. But he'd also appreciate if she didn't ask him. She breathed in and out once more and nodded. "You're right. I'm sorry."

Ward was about to aim for the door again when she walked right to him, stopped just so they were inches apart. "You don't have to go," she whispered. "I tried small-talk, but that was stupid, sorry. It's neither you, nor me." She was too near for him to feel comfortable. Well inside his personal space. His heart hammered inside his rib cage, like it wanted to punch her away.

She touched his arm and he started.

"Easy, tiger."

She inched even closer, pressed her body against his, and his back against the wall and all he wanted was to run, get out of here, breathe! But his body betrayed him. He felt something stir in his pants, against her hip and she felt it too. There was no getting out.

Ward gripped her arm tighter than he probably should have, fighting two conflicting impulses – to push her away or to grab her, touch her, fight her. He leaned to her expectant lips and crushed them with violent craving.

Not knowing how, he found himself on her bed, shirt torn from his torso, her blouse pulled up, squeezing her brest so hard she yelped and slapped his cheek. "Don't you hurt me," she hissed.

He wanted to hurt. Her, himself, no matter. He didn't believe she didn't feel the same urge, not after berserker. He saw that fire in her eyes, even now. Hate. Rage. How did she manage to control it?

If she could, he also had to.

He closed his eyes and took a few ragged breaths. She was still under him, motionless, only her palms resting on his arms, too hot, burning. Grant blinked, looked into her dark pupils and leaned, slowly this time, gently. Kissed her. Her lips burned too.

Damn, he only wanted to drink himself stupid, when did this become... this?

Felt his eyes sting and pads of Melinda's fingers brush his cheek. His neck, fingernails scratching down his sternum, gentle, barely there. And lower, around his navel and to buckle of his belt.

Alright, he did want this. He wanted her, he wanted closeness. Grant Ward, agent who thought he didn't need anyone and best worked alone, allowed himself to get lost in the intimacy Melinda May, the renowned Cavalary, best non-superpowered fighter, had to offer.

t.b.c.

A/N: So, I think I need to add the explanation. Do I? Anyway...
Disclaimer: I borrowed Terrance Ward from Marvel Comics "Avengers: the Initiative". Heard that rumor somewhere, have no idea if it's valid in any way, but it clicked in my head so hard, I simply had to. No infringement intended.