Note: I couldn't wait until Monday.

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ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ᴛᴡᴇɴᴛʏ sɪx: ᴄᴏɴғᴇss

❝ ɪ ᴀɪɴ'ᴛ ᴄᴜᴛ ᴏᴜᴛ ᴛᴏ ᴅᴇᴀʟ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴀɴʏ ᴏғ ᴛʜɪs ᴀsɢᴀʀᴅɪᴀɴ sʜɪᴛ. ❞

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"MY GOD," BRENDON MURMURED AS HE LIFTED UP ONE OF THE PHOTOCOPIED BLUEPRINT PAGES, HIS EYES HUNGRILY SCANNING EVERY DETAIL ETCHED UPON IT. "Is this... I mean," he scoffed, not even knowing what to say, "are they actually planning on doing this?"

"Afraid so," The Director confirmed, rhythmically tapping his fingers against his glass desk.

"Fucking hell," Brendon shook his head disbelievingly, seemingly unapologetic in the language he used to display his astonishment, "When you told me that they were planning on using 'Snowflake' to produce weapons, I didn't think that meant..."

"I know."

"And I didn't think they'd..."

"I know," Fury repeated, a tiny chuckle escaping his lips, "Believe me, I know."

Brendon lifted his gaze from the paper to meet that of The Director's. He swallowed hard before asking his question.

"What do we do?"

"The only thing we can do. The thing we've been doing all along."

"Protecting her is all well and good, sir," came Brendon's response; he raised his brows and shook the page, "but we need to do something to prevent this."

Fury's one visible eye narrowed as he walked over to stand in front of Brendon. "I've been doing things to prevent this for the past twenty-two years, Agent," he jeered, voice as stern and hard as ever, "But there's only so much preventing that can be done before the shit inevitably hits the fan."

"This was always going to happen, Agent; stopping it altogether was never an option," Fury continued, "What was an option was doing everything in our power to postpone it until we were able to combat it."

"And are we ready?" Brendon challenged, matching his superior's unfaltering firmness. "Because with the way things have been going so far, it seems to me that we're far from it."

"What are you trying to say, Agent?"

"There's only one way that we can fight this battle and win. You and I both know that."

"There's no way I'm putting her in that amount of danger," Fury countered, breathing becoming heavy, "You and I both know that."

"With all due respect, sir," Brendon stood his ground, maintaining stony eye contact with The Director, "you told me once that you promised Erik you would protect her and guide her. One could argue that you've only been making good on one half of that promise."

As much as it pained him to admit, Fury knew that Brendon was right. He could fight his hardest to try and keep you in the dark for as long as possible but eventually, you would have to step into the light, and better it be by the hands of S.H.I.E.L.D, than by Hydra's aid.

Fury stood down and moved to stand by the north window of his office, rubbing a hand over his face as he looked out over S.H.I.E.L.D.

"I'm a retired Colonel and a trained spy. I ain't cut out to deal with any of this Asgardian shit."

Brendon chanced a chuckle before crossing over to join Fury. "Sir, you know what to do. It's really our only option."

"It is, isn't it?" Fury mumbled, more to himself than to Brendon, as it dawned on him that the only way to truly ensure your safety would be to make you the most vulnerable you'd ever been.

The Director turned to face his best, most loyal agent, making small nodding motions as they exchanged a silent understanding. "You wanna do the honours or shall I?"

Brendon sighed and shrugged before starting for the door. "I'll do it. I am her bodyguard after all."

He was halfway to the door when it swung open, and the need for him to go and get you disappeared as you barged into the room. Both men were taken aback at the sudden intrusion, but it was nothing compared to how shocked the clear rage written on your face and in your body language left them.

"SON OF A BITCH!" you yelled, your voice booming and echoing down the hallways.

"Who," Brendon questioned with a marginal frown, hands slightly raised to try and calm you down, "are you talking to?"

"You," you jutted a finger at Brendon, "you," you snarled as you pivoted your head and pointed at the group of agents that had heard your yelling and gathered outside the office before turning back around and finally fixing your gaze on Fury, "and oh my god, especially you."

Taking huge strides, you advanced on The Director with such force and determination, he hardly recognised you. You weren't entirely sure what you were going to do once you got close enough, and you didn't get to find out, since Brendon – after having shooed away the hoard of concerned individuals who had gathered outside – reached out to pull you back.

Solely due to your anger, you swung your fist to clip your bodyguard on the right side of his jaw, making him loosen his hold on you and allowing you to escape.

"Don't touch me," you scowled.

"(Y/N)," Fury's voice drew your attention back to him, and it was only once you noticed his worrisome gaze rake over you that you realised you were in fact shaking with anger, "Calm down."

"No!" you snapped, pointing at him yet again, "You don't get to tell me to calm down! Neither of you do," you shot a glare at Brendon, who was using a hand to flex his jaw, "Not after you lied to me about everything!"

Absentmindedly, you had started pacing up and down the length of the office, tracing your fingers through your hair and laughing bitterly.

"I can't believe that I actually trusted you, when all you – no, when all everyone has been doing is lie to me. For my entire life," you shook your head and scoffed, "'We're trying to protect you, (Y/N)', my ass."

"We are trying to protect you, (Y/N). You know that," Fury spoke calmly, although there was a hint of trepidation in his voice. He stepped out from behind his desk and slowly crossed over to you. "What's gotten into you?"

"Asgardian blood, apparently," you quipped with a bitchy look.

Your words sent a shiver down the spines of both usually unshakable men standing in front of you and for once, their resilient demeanour faltered enough to allow you to see exactly what they were feeling – they were absolutely terrified.

"So it's true, then," you spoke, taking their unmoving bodies and verbal silence as confirmation of what you had previously said. The Director closed his eyes momentarily before opening his mouth with the intention of answering you, but you held a hand up to stop him. "Think before you respond to that," you warned, "because if you lie to me again, I swear to God..."

"Yes, (Y/N)," Fury said, trying his best to maintain eye contact with you when all he wanted to do was avoid this conversation completely, "It is true."

With a sharp intake of breath, you took a few steps backwards. There was a substantially big part of you that was hoping that everything Grant had just told you was false, and you were relying on The Director to confirm that The Asset had indeed been fibbing. So when Fury uttered those words in confirmation as to the truth behind your lineage, the last remaining shred of hopefulness you were harbouring snapped.

"I..." you started, breathing starting to become laboured as the wave of realization of what your life was finally washed over you. You began shaking your head, stumbling backwards as you tried to make it to the door. "I... I can't believe this. I don't... I..."

You were backed up against the wall next to the door now, chest rising and falling with every shallow breath you managed to take. The entire top half of your face was furrowed and you kept your gaze dead ahead, not looking either man in the face.

"(Y/N)," Brendon spoke this time, taking cautious strides towards you with his arms outstretched and ready to grab you if the need to do so arose, "I know that this is a lot to deal with. But please, just sit down so that we can-"

"No!" came your immediate response; you finally lifted your eyes to meet your bodyguard's, proceeding to glare dangerously at him, "I don't want anything from you! Any of you! From here on out, as far as I'm concerned, S.H.I.E.L.D is nothing more than a place my dad used to work for. And this," you gestured to yourself as you backtracked through the threshold of the door, "is another 'Snowflake' they've managed to lose."

Brendon's immediate instinct was to chase after you, but the stern demand of his superior stopped him in his tracks.

"Don't," Fury ordered, "It'll only make things worse."

Letting you run off by yourself to God knows where went against Brendon's better judgement, but he was never one to go against The Director's orders, so he stayed put, an agitated sigh leaving his mouth.

Fury joined your bodyguard, staring at the door that you had rushed out of only moments ago.

"She'll come around," he said softly; whether he was trying to reassure himself or Brendon, not even he knew, "She has to."

~

Never in your life had you felt so angry, so betrayed, so blinded by rage that you had the urge to tear through everyone and everything in your line of sight. Your face must've showed exactly what you were feeling too, since virtually every person you passed had either stopped to look at you in concern or to ask if you were okay. You ignored all of them. Even Agent Hill had stopped, and she even went the extra mile and pulled you in for a short hug. You were a tad less harsh towards her, offering a response of 'Brendon's being a dick'. The excuse proved sufficient enough – it wasn't hard to imagine your bodyguard doing something to piss you off (again) – and she nodded in understanding before letting you continue storming off. Not without offering to kick his ass first, of course. You politely declined, stating that you would do it yourself.

Where exactly you were storming off to, you had no idea. You definitely didn't want to go back to your room; the constrictive space would most probably suffocate you while you were in this state and besides, it would be the first place that they would come looking for you. You contemplated going to the training centre; it was a large area, so you'd be able to breathe – and you could practice shooting the heads off of mannequin Brendons and Directors. Your lips twitched upwards at the thought, but you ultimately decided against it. The prospect did seem rather inviting, but again, it was somewhere they'd know to come searching for you.

The more you proceeded to typhoon your way through HQ, the more a dreadful realisation dawned on you: there was no place you could hide where they couldn't find you.

The compound was decked out in state-of-the-art security equipment; there was nowhere you could run, no corner you could turn, and no nook you could hide in that the cameras wouldn't pick up. You were trapped. You were a helpless caterpillar and S.H.I.E.L.D was the predatory cocoon. They had you caught, wrapped up in their grip with no way out.

Or so they thought.

Here's the thing about caterpillars: you can detain them all you want, but sooner or later, they're going to grow wings, they're going to turn into butterflies, and they're going to fly away.

So flying is exactly what you did.

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Thank you for reading x