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ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ sᴇᴠᴇɴ: ʜᴏᴜsᴇ ᴏғ ᴍᴇᴍᴏʀɪᴇs

❝ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴇʀᴇ ʜɪs ᴡᴏʀʟᴅ. ❞

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                              "SO, LET ME GET THIS STRAIGHT," you said, pacing up and down the room with your hands in the air, thoughts running wild. "My dad discovered this blue cube – which also just so happens to be an energy source – years ago on one of his missions; he brought it back here, to S.H.I.E.L.D, in hopes to make sense of it, except that no one could. No one, except Agent Smith, who is now under Hydra's control, because apparently, Hydra knows something about it that we don't. Most likely, a way to cause mass amounts of damage. Which is why they launched that attack on HQ – so that they could steal it. What's more is, my dad decided to name the cube 'Snowflake', which was also his nickname for me, hence Hydra believes that I'm the key to unlocking Snowflake's full potential. Also, the man they sent in to steal it – and me – is the same person who killed my parents. AKA The Asset."

"Correct," The Director nodded.

"And why the fuck didn't you tell me all of this months ago?"

"Language," Agent Coulson warned, prompting you to glare at him.

"Because none of it made sense then," The Director explained, standing up from his seat and walking over to you. "There was no indication that Snowflake and you were related at all. Until now." He gestured to your necklace, which the tech analysts were urgently examining.

"Sir," one of them piped up, swivelling in their chair. "It appears that there was some kind of microchip inside of it. Most of the information is nonsensical, but we're working on it."

"Nothing Agent (Y/L/N) did was nonsensical," The Director hummed. "There's something there, we just have to figure out how to look for it."

"Well, that's just great," you huffed, plopping down on the leather couch in the middle of the room. "I've been unknowingly walking around with the secret to the end of my world around my neck for the past five years."

"You're lucky we took you in when we did," Brendon added, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. "Else Hydra would've gotten to you before we even realised what was going on."

"So it's a good thing my parents were murdered then?" you snapped, shooting hateful glances at your bodyguard. "Because if they were still alive then S.H.I.E.L.D wouldn't have the upper hand? Is that it?"

"That's not what I m-"

"Whatever," you waved your hand dismissively. "So, since I'm probably the only one who will be able to decode whatever the hell it is that my father cooked up over there, I'm guessing that I'm more of a priority now than ever. Meaning, my bodyguard over there," you lazily pointed at Brendon, "will be more attached to me than usual, right?"

"Correct."

"Oh, joy."

~

"Can we get you anything else, Miss (Y/L/N)?"

"No, I'm fine. Thank you, agents."

The two young agents gave a respectful nod before exiting through the nearby glass door, leaving you alone in the chilly, transparent office.

Exhaling softly, you plopped down onto one of the uncomfortably stiff desk chairs surrounding the massive glass table, drumming your fingers melodically as you stared at the tablet screen in front of you.

Deciphering the codes your father had left was easier said than done. The microchip was a treasure grove of letters and numerical values, all of which seemed like utter nonsense. Had you not known your father and his impeccable disguising skills – when it came to his work – you would've just written the data off as nothing of importance.

But there was something there.

Something that you and you alone would be able to detect. You just had to know where to look.

Except that it was proving to be extremely arduous, and you'd caught yourself slipping into daydreams about relaxing your aching muscles in an extra comfy bed all too often.

Blowing a raspberry with your lips, you let your head fall back before rotating it side to side in an effort to alleviate the tension in your neck. You let your arms drop down to your sides while your head remained tilted back; closing your eyes, you tried to clear your mind of the past week's events, hoping that it would help you with the deciphering.

A fresh gust of wind breezed across your face, prompting you to open your fatigued eyes. You were met by the upside down appearance of your bodyguard; carrying two cups of what was no doubt coffee, he made his way over to you, you returning to a sitting position as he did so.

"Did you find anything?" he questioned, setting down the beverages on the table before drawing up a chair for him to sit on.

You shook your head no as you reached for a cup, sighing contently once the warm coffee cloaked your dry mouth. "Nothing."

"It's been three days."

"I'm aware of that."

"And you haven't been able to find anything?"

"If I found something, I wouldn't be sitting here right now, would I?" you snapped.

"Maybe you're just not looking in the right place," he suggested, taking a sip from his own coffee, ignoring the harsh tone of your previous comment.

"Oh, you're right. I've been looking at this coded message while there's been a detailed description telling us exactly what we need to know, right here. Silly me."

Brendon made a noise that closely resembled a growl. "I meant that – you're clearly looking for a specific message, hidden somewhere in the data, when maybe, you should be looking for other things. Like clues, or patterns that would make sense to you."

"You think he left us a code within a code?" you clarified.

"Wouldn't be the first time he's taken extra precautions," Brendon shrugged. "It's worth considering."

You kept quiet as your fingers resumed drumming on the tabletop, averting your gaze back to the screen while Brendon kept his eyes trained on you.

"Did you know him well?" you spoke, voice soft.

Brendon squinted slightly.

"My dad," you elaborated. "Did you know him well?"

Brendon let out a huff and ran his hand through his quiffed hair, leaning back in his chair. "We worked a few missions together a couple years back, but that was it."

You nodded, feeling slightly disappointed, although you couldn't say why. Brendon didn't seem like the type to get to know people more than was necessary – this was evident by the way that he treated you – and you were sure that besides Agent Smith, he kept his co-workers at a distance. He kept everyone at a distance. So his answer wasn't at all surprising, but you were still hoping for a bit more.

"But I know that he was one of the most selfless, bravest and admirable people I've ever had the pleasure of meeting," Brendon added. His words shocked you. Partly because you weren't expecting him to say any more on the subject of your father, and partly because the praiseworthiness of his words caught you off guard. While you agreed that your father was all of the things Brendon had listed, hearing it come from him – genuinely and with a noticeable tone of respect – was surprising, to say the least. "He was a fantastic agent; always going over and above what was expected of him, even when it wasn't required of him. He saved countless lives; even mine, once or twice. I know that he loved you," Brendon paused briefly, so that he could cross his arms on the table, "more than anything else. You were his world."

You blinked rapidly and bit your lip, trying to fight back the tears you could feel coming along.

"He used to say that you wer-"

"The centre of his whole world," you nodded, realisation dawning on you, making you scroll hastily through the data on the tablet in front of you, certain numbers and letters suddenly jumping out at you. "I can't believe I didn't notice it sooner," you scoffed as you pushed the device away from you.

"You've got it?" Brendon asked, perking up.

"Yeah," you nodded, biting your nails. "Well, not exactly."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means...," you sighed, "that I need to go home."

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(Y/L/N) family home, Chestertown, Maryland.

You drew in a shaky breath as you gazed through the windshield of the SUV, which rounded the final corner into your street, the place you'd called 'home' for the better part of a decade coming into view. You hadn't visited the house since that God-awful day three months ago, and if you had things your way, you'd never go back there ever again. It was the place where your world came tumbling down and you knew that visiting the house meant reliving the worst moment of your life all over again. But, it was for the greater good, and if there was one thing would you pride yourself on, it would be that you were always willing to make sacrifices for the greater good.

The SUV pulled into the driveway and came to a halt. You bent down slightly, allowing you to take in the exterior of the house in its entirety. It still looked exactly the same, except now it emitted an aura of grief, as if the house itself was in mourning, crying out for your dead parents. Biting your lip, you closed your eyes and took in another shaky breath, trying to mentally prepare yourself for the next little while.

The sound of someone clearing their throat snapped you out of your trance, and it was only when you turned to your right and saw your bodyguard leaning down with his hand on top of the passenger door that you realised he'd opened it for you, and he now stared at you with expectance – and, was that a hint of... concern? – on his face.

"Do you need another minute or are you ready to go inside?" he asked, his voice sounding unusually soft, as opposed to the cold, hard manner he usually spoke in.

You shook your head. "No. I-" you sighed, trying to gather yourself. "I'm fine."

Brendon nodded. "Good. Let's go inside then. You never know how safe it actually is out here," he said, the cold and hardness returning to his voice.

Stepping out of the vehicle, your boot-clad feet started slowly and unwillingly making their way toward the front door while your thoughts kept drifting back to that day, forcing you to remember the feeling of dread in your stomach when you'd pulled up and seen the black SUVs parked in the driveway. You scoffed lightly as the irony dawned on you; a few months ago, those cars had held occupants who had delivered information that killed you inside, now, they held the man who was the only reason you were still alive.

As you made your way up the front steps, you tried your best to shove the feelings of emptiness and dread from your stomach. Needless to say, it didn't work. Instead, the more you focused on not feeling anything, the more you felt. So much so, that when you retrieved the keys from your jacket and attempted to unlock the front door, your hands were shaking so badly that you couldn't even fit the key into the keyhole.

"Here," Brendon said, his voice once again becoming soft. "Let me." He gently placed his much bigger hands over your trembling ones, slipping the keys from your grasp before proceeding to open the door.

"Thank you," you breathed. You mentally cursed yourself for your inability to even open the goddamn door without needing his help, as well as for the shakiness in your voice. While, yes, returning home stirred up thousands of emotions inside of you, you still didn't want to show any weakness around Brendon, especially because you were one hundred percent sure that that was all he saw you as. A weak, silly, naïve girl.

He just gave a curt nod in response, holding the door open for you. As you entered the house, an intense wave of flashbacks washed over you, ranging from the very first time you ever set foot inside the house, right up until three months ago. You could hear your mother's laugh echoing through the halls... You could smell the strong scent of your father's cologne...

"Where should I put this?" Brendon asked, heaving two suitcases alongside him, and for once, you were thankful to your bodyguard for interrupting your thoughts.

"Uh," you turned around, running your fingers through your hair and sighing, "Upstairs. My room is the second door on the right and the guest room is right next to it."

He nodded and made his way up the glass staircase, leaving you to once again bathe in the nostalgia your house offered.

~

"So, what exactly are you looking for?" Brendon rolled up the sleeves of his black v-neck, pressing his palms onto the wooden desk in the centre of your home library.

You chose to ignore his question and continue scribbling down your notes, making sure to take down every detail in your dad's coded message that now jumped out to you. You were now doing immensely better at decoding the message, which was, admittedly, mostly thanks to Brendon and the comment he'd made the day before, about how much you'd meant to your dad.

"Or just ignore me. That's fine too," he grumbled.

You rose from your chair and sprinted over to the world map that hung on the back wall of the room, leaving Brendon to pick up your notes from the desk and read over them, allowing him to finally understand what was currently going on in that head of yours. "Huh," Brendon chuckled, running his tongue over his lips. "Centre of his whole world. Smart guy."

"Hey, could you bring those over here? Bring a pencil too."

Brendon made his way over to you, standing beside you with his arms folded over his chest once he'd handed the papers and pencil to you.

"In geographical terms, the centre of the Earth is right... here," you spoke marking Çorum, Turkey with a cross on the map. "Coordinates 40 degrees 52 minutes north, 34 degrees 34 minutes east. Then..." you ruffled through your papers, searching for the correct information. "That's plus 7 degrees 54 minutes north... and... minus 25 degrees 24 minutes east, which gives us... coordinates 48 degrees 46 minutes north, 9 degrees 10 minutes east. And that places us at..."

"Stuttgart, Germany," Brendon finished your sentence for you as you circled the city, a broad smile on your face, before stepping back and sighing in relief. "Alright, we've got a city... now what?"

"Now..." you trailed off, spinning on your heels and making your way to the biggest bookshelf in the room, running your fingers along the spines of the books as your eyes scanned the rows for the one book you were looking for. Your fingers stopped on a brown, leather-bound book, and you removed it from the shelf, dropping it onto the desk and sitting down to page through it.

"I don't understand," Brendon furrowed his eyebrows and took a seat opposite you. "What does a family holiday album have to do with any of this?"

"It has nothing to do with any of this," you shrugged. Using all of your strength, you began tearing the book at the spine, which in turn, allowed the key hidden inside to drop onto the desk with a metallic clunk. Smirking, you held the key up and turned to look at Brendon. "But this does."

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