✧ ✧ ✧

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ sɪx: ʟᴇᴛ's ᴋɪʟʟ ᴛᴏɴɪɢʜᴛ

❝ sʜᴇ's ᴛʜᴇ ᴛɪᴄᴋᴇᴛ ᴛᴏ ᴍʏ ғʀᴇᴇᴅᴏᴍ. ❞

✧ ✧ ✧

                              "IAN...WHY? WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS?" you cried, wincing as the man you'd once called one of your best friends tightened the restraints, holding you in place.

"I have no choice, (Y/N). I have a debt to Hydra that needs to be paid, and delivering you to them will grant me sure immunity from ever having to do anything for them ever again," he said simply with seemingly zero remorse as he worked on securing your feet in place.

"I'm sorry, (Y/N). For what it's worth, I really wish it didn't have to be you. Such a waste of a pretty face."

"How long have you worked for them?" you asked quietly, avoiding looking at your 'friend', knowing that it would only make things harder for you.

"I'm a fourth-generation agent. My family has been working for Hydra for years to try and repay our debt. My great-grandfather really fucked up," he chuckled.

"You don't have to do this, Ian," you pleaded, trying to reason with the man who was about to hand you to the enemy on a silver platter. "Let me go, and we can go to S.H.I.E.L.D together. They can help you."

Ian let out a shrill laugh that made him tilt his head back and clutch his stomach. "S.H.I.E.L.D? Babe, S.H.I.E.L.D's got nothing on Hydra. The only reason any of their agents are still alive is because Hydra needs them to be. As soon as they've served their purpose..." he made an explosion sound.

"Do you really have no reservations about hurting me at all? Ian, we're frien-"

"My god, you really are naïve," he scoffed in awe. "(Y/N), the only reason I ever became your 'friend' was to get closer to you. Or more specifically, your father. I never knew you'd become the golden ticket one day," he said, trailing his finger along your face; you recoiled at his touch, finally realising that you were most definitely not dealing with someone who felt even the slightest bit of emotion toward you, yet you still couldn't help but feel that the Ian you knew was in there somewhere.

"They're gonna come for me, you know?"

"I'm counting on it. Been dying to get to know that bodyguard of yours a little better."

✧ ✧ ✧

S.H.I.E.L.D HQ, whereabouts unknown.

"I've got a hit!" the tech analyst yelled, gaining the attention of everyone in the room, most specifically The Director and Brendon, who rushed to the youngster's side. "It's a partially-structured building not too far from here."

"Forward me the address, I'm going," Brendon said, already suiting up.

"Like hell you are," The Director said sternly. "It could be a set-up; you'll wait for back-up to get here and then we'll act accordingly."

"Sir, (Y/N)'s safety is on the line-"

"I know that, and there's no use acting in a haphazard manner that could jeopardise her life any further."

"I'm going, sir," Brendon pressed, already out the door before The Director even had a chance to reply.

✧ ✧ ✧

Abandoned building, whereabouts unknown.

"So, that night at the bar, you-you had something to do with that?"

"Bingo!" Ian snapped his fingers, crossing his feet on a rusted table as he reclined in a chair. "You're getting good at this."

"And you were willing to put the rest of our – sorry, my – friends in the firing line?"

"They weren't supposed to get hurt; they were just collateral damage. It was supposed to be easy; just a couple shots here and there to distract everyone while someone grabbed you. Simple. Although, I wasn't counting on your extremely charming boyfriend and his mates to be there too."

"He's not my boyfriend," you sneered. "He's my bodyguard – a really damn good one, and you were stupid to think that he would leave my side. Ever."

"I don't see him here with you, right now," he remarked cockily, gesturing to the open space around the eerie room.

"Oh, I'm right here, don't you worry," Brendon quipped, his gun planted firmly against the back of Ian's head, and even though he was at the back of your kidnapper, he still glared murderously at him. He looked at you briefly and his gaze softened. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," you sighed; just the sight of Brendon was enough to bring a sense of comfort and safety to you, and you relaxed almost instantly.

"You really know how to make an entrance, huh," Ian chuckled. He shifted slightly in his chair and Brendon pressed the gun harder against his skull, warning him not to move.

"Let her go."

"Afraid I can't do that, big boy. She's the ticket to my freedom."

"The last thing you'll ever be is free, so I suggest you do as I say. Or else."

"Actually, Agent, you'll do as I say, or..."

It started as a stinging in your fingertips, but it soon evolved into all of your muscles cramping simultaneously, while your skin felt like it was on fire. The pain was almost unbearable, and you let out ear-piercing shrieks as you cried out for it to stop.

Seeing you like that made Brendon back away instantaneously, the gun no longer being pressed against Ian's head, allowing him to stand up.

"That," Ian chuckled darkly, twirling the remote control in his slender fingers before tucking it away in his pocket, "was way too easy. Now, Agent, you're gonna do something for me."

Brendon stood straight, eye twitching and fists ready to strike at any second should the need arise.

"You're gonna make a call to your boss," Ian continued, pacing up and down the cement floor. "And you're gonna tell him, that unless he co-operates, he'll lose not only precious (Y/N) over there," he outstretched a hand towards where you were sitting, weak and body still convulsing from the electricity coursing through you, "but he'll lose his best agent too. Unless, of course, you'd rather I'd use the remote again."

Brendon knew that he was bluffing; there was no way Ian would do severe damage to you, he still needed you, but he wasn't about to let you get hurt again. His eyes flickered from yours to Ian's pocket and back again, and you got the message.

"Brendon," you said, your voice coming out as barely a whisper. "Please just do what he says, it-it hurts so bad."

"I'm not about to give in to this idiotic dick," Brendon spat.

"You sure, Agent?" Ian smirked, extracting the remote and dangling it in front of Brendon.

When Brendon didn't show any sign of giving in, Ian moved to press the button, but it was exactly what Brendon wanted, and as he did so, Brendon shot the hand that held the remote.

Ian cried out in pain and surprise, dropping the remote and allowing Brendon to crush it with his foot before punching Ian square in the jaw, resulting in him staggering backwards and tripping, falling to the ground.

"Man, Hydra must be really desperate these days if they're scraping the barrel for worthless guys like you. Uh, uh, uh, stay," Brendon stated, pushing his foot against Ian's throat to keep him in place.

Brendon turned to face you and shot at the restraints that held your arms in place, freeing them. Ian took this opportunity to knock Brendon's other leg out from under him, resulting in the both of them wrestling on the floor. Ian tried to reach for Brendon's gun, but your bodyguard was far too quick and a million times more skilled, and his attempts were futile.

You hurriedly started to untie the ropes around your legs, and by the time you'd managed to, Brendon had Ian pinned to the wall, gun pressed to his forehead.

He was just about to pull the trigger when your voice stopped him. "Brendon! Don't!"

"What?"

"Don't kill him!"

"Why the fuck not?"

"Just, please, don't," you pleaded.

"(Y/N), are you insane? He was about to hand you over to people who want to kill you!"

"I know that," you said quietly. "But can't you just turn him in to S.H.I.E.L.D? They can make his life a living hell."

"He hurt you, (Y/N). And I'm not okay with that."

"Brendon, please..."

"Why are you defending him?"

You weren't sure. Half of you wanted to say it was because you still believed that Ian could be saved, and the other half wanted to say that you weren't fine at all with witnessing what was essentially murder.

When you couldn't give him an answer, Brendon spoke again. "Look away, (Y/N)."

"No, Brendon, don't!" you begged, tears streaming freely down your face.

"LOOK AWAY, (Y/N)."

You reluctantly did as he said; sobbing silently while you did so.

A single gunshot echoed throughout the building.

✧ ✧ ✧

S.H.I.E.L.D HQ, whereabouts unknown.

Sitting quietly in a secluded part of the helicarrier that had become S.H.I.E.L.D's temporary headquarters, you tried to curl up and make yourself as small as possible, wanting nothing more than to just vanish, so that you wouldn't have to deal with the thoughts that were currently racing through your mind.

It was a mere twelve hours since Brendon had rescued you. Twelve hours since you had watched him kill a man like he was nothing more than an insect – which, to Brendon, he was. He felt no remorse, no regret, over killing Ian. He couldn't, not when he'd killed people over things far less awful than what Ian had done to you.

Of course, you couldn't comprehend this. You couldn't understand how easy it was for him to just pull the trigger, when you'd so earnestly begged him not to. Brendon did it for you, you knew that, but a part of you couldn't help but wonder if maybe he did it for himself, too.

You didn't thank Brendon when he handed you a cup of coffee, you didn't even look at him, instead busying yourself by studying Ian's case file an agent had handed to you earlier.

"You seriously can't still be mad at me for wasting that scumbag."

You didn't respond, taking a sip of the coffee and flipping through the pages, feigning interest in what was written on them.

"Are you kidding?" Brendon scoffed. "What, is this some abnormally sick case of Stockholm syndrome or some shit?"

You narrowed your eyes at him, angrily closing the folder and tossing it onto the nearby table. "This is having a heart and actually feeling upset over the loss of another human life," you spat, jaw clenched. "Not ignoring the fact that you just killed someone, like an emotionless fucking robot."

Brendon laughed a bitter laugh, much like he did when you'd snapped at him about leaving your friends to get hurt three months ago. "Oh, my god. What the hell is wrong with you? Are you crazy, and actually believe that he would've been better off alive than dead, or are you just that stupid that even after everything, you still can't understand the fact that everyone is fucking trying to kill you?!"

"You have no fucking right to speak to me like that!"

"And you have no fucking right to question my actions when all I'm trying to do is save your ungrateful ass!"

"Ungrateful?" you scoffed, swinging your legs off of the ledge so that you could turn your body to face him. "Brendon, you know that I'm grateful for what you've done. I told you that countless times that night at the safe house! Hell, we even bonded over it, in a twisted way. This isn't about me not being grateful. It's about you thinking that you can do whatever you want, and not for one moment considering the effect it might have on me. I watched you kill a man, Brendon! I literally saw the life drain from his eyes, and it's messing with my mind completely."

By the end of your rant, you were nearly breathless and the tears you were trying so hard to keep at bay were now spilling over, onto your cheeks; your fingers absentmindedly travelled to the necklace around your neck, twirling it around in an effort to calm yourself down.

"I warned you, (Y/N)," Brendon said, his voice low and gravelly. "I told you that there'd be terrible things that I would do. And yes, you're right, I don't feel guilty about it. At all. Because I can't afford to, and neither can you. I can't show emotion, because emotion makes you weak, and weak is something that neither of us can afford for me to be."

Your brow creased as you twisted your mouth, shaking your head disbelievingly at the man in front of you. "Brendon, emotion doesn't make you weak. It makes you human."

"I gave up on feeling human a long time ago," he said simply; he had a faraway look in his eyes, like he was having a flashback, and for a moment, he looked almost broken, a shell of the hardened man you'd come to know. But the moment was extremely brief, and almost as quick as it had happened, it ended.

He now wore an intrigued expression as he squinted, peering at the necklace around your neck that you were still fiddling with. "What's that?"

"It's a necklace," you answered, fingers halting.

"Yeah, no shit," he rolled his eyes. "What kind of charm is it?"

His rudeness pissed you off, and you were seriously considering not giving him an answer and walking away instead, but that wouldn't do any good to the thread of a 'relationship' you had going between the two of you.

Granted, you still disliked him immensely (more and more so after every time the two of you had an argument), but you still needed him there to protect you in ways you couldn't protect yourself.

"It's a snowflake," you replied plainly, reaching behind your neck to unclasp it before handing it to Brendon. "My dad gave it to me when I found out he was a spy."

Brendon narrowed his eyes even further, straining them to try and read the inscription as he ran his thumb over it. "My... snowflake?"

"Yeah, 'snowflake' was his nickname for me. Ever since I was little."

Brendon's breathing increased and his lips pressed together in a thin line. "We have to go see The Director."

___________________________________________________________________________

Thank you for reading x