✧ ✧ ✧

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ᴛᴡᴇɴᴛʏ ɴɪɴᴇ: ɪ ʙᴇʟɪᴇᴠᴇ ᴛʜɪs ᴍᴀʏ ᴄᴀʟʟ ғᴏʀ ᴀ ᴘʀᴏᴘᴇʀ ɪɴᴛʀᴏᴅᴜᴄᴛɪᴏɴ

❝ ᴛʜɪs ɪs ᴏɴ ᴀʟʟ ᴏғ ᴜs. ❞

✧ ✧ ✧

This is it.

It's over. It's all over now.

This is how I die.

Those were the only thoughts that ran through Agent Corvey's mind as he was unforgivingly gripped by the front of his shirt and flung backwards, against the concrete wall. The impact stung a fair amount, but he swallowed the groan of pain clawing up his throat out of fear that making a sound would piss off your bodyguard even more.

Yeah, right. As if that were possible.

Brendon was angrier than he had been in a very, very long time. Quite possibly ever. Most of that anger was toward the useless man he had pinned up against the wall, practically shivering with fear, but a fairly large chunk of that anger was towards himself.

He had one job – that job was to protect you – and he failed. You were gone, and despite S.H.I.E.L.D's best efforts, no one had been able to find so much as a breadcrumb to lead them in your direction. For all he knew, you could be lying dead in a ditch somewhere. You could be trapped in some weirdo's car or hotel room, about to become the next victim of a deranged serial killer. You could've been captured by Hydra. You could be being tortured right at this very moment. You could be- Fuck.

Brendon shut his eyes tightly for a moment, chest heaving as he tried to clear his mind of all those errant thoughts. He didn't want to think about any of those possibilities. He couldn't. If he allowed himself to, he would be giving in to the notion that you were gone, never to return. And there was no way he was going to give in to that.

Not now, not ever.

Instead, he would do everything in his power to find you and bring you back. Heck, he'd search all fifty states on foot if he had to. He had promised you that he wouldn't let anything happen to you, and he would destroy anyone that threatened that promise.

Starting with the stupid fucker that was whimpering under his hold like an abandoned puppy.

"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't toss your sorry ass out of that fucking window right now," Brendon jerked his head in the direction of the panoramic window of the helicarrier.

He kept his icy gaze fixed on Corvey, who was making a concerted effort to form some sort of an answer, but struggled tremendously to do so. All he could manage was a few strained syllables, none of which were at all comprehendible. This only made your bodyguard livider, and he tightened his grip on the lesser agent's shirt as he minimised the space between them in one swift motion; Corvey flinched, shutting his eyes and preparing for the hit he was certain was about to come.

Fortunately for him, The Director chose that precise moment to intervene.

"Agent Urie, that's enough."

Brendon reluctantly slackened his hold, allowing Corvey to stand on his own once again – as opposed to being held up by a wall – but he still fastened his colleague in place solely with the icy blizzard raging in his gaze.

The Director stood up from his seat on the opposite side of the room and crossed over to his agents. He gave Brendon a blank stare before turning his attention to the other one.

"How," he started calmly, "did this happen?"

"I... she... I just..." Corvey stuttered, voice shaky as he wrung his hands anxiously, "She said..."

Brendon let out an impatient groan and let his head fall backwards before he gripped at his hair in frustration. "I swear to God, Corvey, if you don't form a proper sentence in the next three seconds-"

"She swiped my key card!" he eventually got out; the prospect of suffering through Brendon's wrath (again) was clearly enough to kick-start his vocal system. "She-she must've done it when we were in the break room. I don't know how..." he frowned, looking down as if trying to remember, but shaking his head when he couldn't, "I have no idea how this happened."

"Mm."

Brendon's eyes nearly bulged out of his head as he looked at his superior. "'Mm'? That's all you're gonna say to that? 'Mm?'" your bodyguard enquired in disbelief, shaking his head lightly. "Sir, he's the reason she's missing right now!"

"No, agent," The Director snapped, pivoting his head to give Brendon only the slightest bit of acknowledgment, "We're the reason she's missing right now. This is on all of us. And it's gonna take all of us to fix this. So forgive me if I'm not tossing him around the room," he turned his head fully now, eyes raking over Brendon, "but while he did fuck up quite spectacularly, he's not the only one who did. If anything, all three of us should be tearing ourselves apart right now. But we're no good to her broken – as individuals, but especially as a team. So push your dumb-ass testosterone overload to the side and channel your energy into what's important right now."

Brendon shook his head as he turned around and started pacing, hands clenching and unclenching in an absentminded attempt to alleviate his uneasiness.

"I should never have left her," he mumbled, more to himself than either of the other two, "Especially not with him. I'm her bodyguard. I should've been there with her. Assigning a temp was the worst idea."

"Agreed. And believe me," Fury glanced over at Corvey, "I won't be making that mistake ever again."

The slighter agent cast his gaze downwards, head hanging regretfully. It was clear that he knew that most of what had happened was his fault. Good, thought Brendon. It's about time he realises his own stupidity.

Fury was about to speak again but was halted when a dishevelled, wide-eyed Agent Hill rushed into the room.

"Sir, we might have something."

✧ ✧ ✧

The Ritz hotel. Chicago, Illinois.

Doctor Aaron Ross's slender fingers worked to fasten the buttons on his suit jacket as he walked through the elegant corridor adjacent to the conference hall where he'd concluded his seminar just a little over an hour ago.

The final nights were always the busiest; a hundred different camera flashes going off simultaneously, reporters shoving microphones in faces and yelling out prying questions, everyone asking you to stop and take a picture with them – it was to be expected that he wouldn't be able to get out right away.

And he had a duty to fulfil. Appearances had to be kept up, reputations needed to be bettered and people needed to be pleased in order to ensure future successful events, such as the one just held.

So Aaron grinned and bore it, his fingers massaging his jaw as he walked along in an effort to reduce the painful side effects that accompanied smiling too much.

He was treading through the longue area now, eyes focused on the elevator on the opposite side of the room and thoughts occupied by the wonderful bottle of Jameson that was waiting for him up in his suite.

Then, for some mystical reason, Aaron's eyes fluttered over to the bar for a tiny moment, and what he saw robbed the whiskey of his attention completely.

You had your drink raised to your mouth, lips slightly parted and ready to receive the liquor, when your gaze met his. He had stopped in his tracks and was now staring at you; it was evident by his facial expression that you were quite probably the last person he had expected to see tonight.

Nevertheless, he must've been rather pleased with your sudden appearance, since after you flashed him a bright smile and slight wave of the fingers, he switched directions and strolled over to you.

"Doctor Aaron Ross," you smiled when he was near enough to hear you, and lifted your one leg to cross it over the other, "what a pleasure to see you again. I'm not sure if you remember me; I'm-"

"Snowflake," he interrupted with a devilish smirk. His eyes gleamed dangerously as he reached for your hand and brought it to his lips, all the while maintaining eye contact with you.

You raised one brow and pursed your lips infinitesimally, pretending to be impressed. "You do remember."

He chuckled, and it was the kind of chuckle that was created for the sole purpose of charm. But you weren't here to be charmed. Not tonight.

"How could I forget?" he mused, tilting his head slightly to the side as he studied your face. "Like I said before, you're exquisite."

"And you're a huge flirt."

He let out a proper laugh this time, one that reached his eyes and made the corners crinkle. He held up his hands in defence and arched his brows. "Guilty as charged. But you needn't worry; I assure you that it is entirely harmless. I'm well aware that your heart's already been taken, and while I may be a flirt, I am not one to blight that."

"Uh," you chuckled nervously, "excuse me?"

"That brown-eyed fellow that accompanied you in Stuttgart," he elaborated, a crease forming on his forehead before he too chuckled nervously and it disappeared, "You know, the one who, uh... strangled... me."

Your eyes went wide. This is definitely not what you came here for. Not at all. "Oh, no, Brendon's not my..." you started to explain, but found it difficult to do so properly, "I mean, him and I, we're not..."

You trailed off, hoping he would understand. He shook his head and waved a dismissive hand.

"Don't worry, I get it. No labels," he winked at you, and you chuckled awkwardly.

So he didn't get it. Great. You didn't bother correcting him about the situation, however, deciding it was better to rather let him think that you were dating your bodyguard than to actually try and explain the whole story. That could wait for now.

"Err... right," you offered a weak smile, to which he responded with a beam of his own, "I must admit, Doctor, that this is not a chance encounter."

Aaron's interest had piqued, and he casually leaned against the bar countertop, intrigued expression on his face. "Is that so?"

"Yes. I saw the news report about tonight on a TV in a diner over in North Carolina, and when I saw that it was your seminar..."

"You drove twelve hours just to see me?" The doctor made no effort to mask his shock.

"Yes, Doctor, I did."

"My, my," he muttered softly as he mulled over the situation, "Well as honoured as I am by that fact, I imagine you didn't go to such extreme lengths just so that we could make chit chat in a hotel bar."

A small sigh passed your lips. "Not really, no. I'm in a very... precarious situation, Doctor. Confusing too. And I think you might be able to help me find some clarity in it all."

"Say no more, snowflake. I'm hooked," he smiled again, stuffing his dangling hand into his pant pocket. "I am more than willing to assist you in any way I can."

"Thank you, Doctor," you breathed in relief; you had been a bit worried that he'd decline, "And it's (Y/N)."

"(Y/N)," he repeated slowly, and the way he said your name made it sound exponentially more important than what a name really was – just a group of letters thrown together. You'd be lying if you said you didn't like it. It was a nice change; a direct contrast to the way Brendon said your name – icy, in a way that sent shivers rolling down your spine. In all honestly, however, you weren't sure which one you preferred. "I like it. And please, my name is Aaron, not 'Doctor'."

"Right," you grinned, "Thank you, Aaron, I appreciate it."

"Not a problem. I'm interested to hear what exactly it is you need me for, but might I suggest that we head up to my suite? A bar isn't nearly as personal an environment."

"I think that's a great idea."

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Thank you for reading x

Note: Don't forget to comment which chapters you want to see from Brendon's POV in the chapter titled
'A/N - Vote Here: Brendon's POV'