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ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ᴛᴡᴇɴᴛʏ ғᴏᴜʀ: ᴀ ᴠɪʟʟᴀɴ ᴠʏɪɴɢ ғᴏʀ ᴀᴛᴛᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴ ғʀᴏᴍ ᴀ ɢɪʀʟ

❝ ɪᴛ's ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ᴅᴀᴍɴ ᴛɪᴍᴇ ᴡᴇ ᴍᴇᴛ. ❞

✧ ✧ ✧

  "RISE AND SHINE, SWEETCHEEKS," your bodyguard chirped happily as he strolled into your room with your usual morning coffee along with a stainless steel bottle in the other hand, flicking the light switch on as he did so.

The loudness of his voice caused you to be ripped from your peaceful state of sound slumber, and you jerked upwards. The dull pain in your head that occurred as a result of the sudden movement earned a heavy groan from you, and you brought a hand to clasp your forehead as you strongly regretted consuming so much alcohol last night.

"Jesus, Brendon," you mumbled, voice thick with sleep as you closed your eyes tightly and pinched the bridge of your nose in an attempt to alleviate the throbbing in your cranium, "Could you be any louder?"

"Is that a challenge?" he raised an eyebrow at you, taking a seat on the edge of your rigid bed.

"NO!" you yelled, groaning again as another twang of pain shot through your head; Brendon let out a light scoff in amusement, making you narrow your eyes and glower at him. "You think this is funny?"

"I think it's hilarious."

"Yeah, okay," you muttered, rolling your tongue around in your mouth before shaking your head and reaching for the coffee mug, "Just give me the coffee."

As you extended your hand, Brendon retracted his, shaking his head no while holding the mug out of your reach.

"Oh, no, no," he said, "The coffee is for me." He flipped the steel bottle he held in his hand around before holding it out to you. "This is for you."

With hesitant fingers, you slowly grasped the bottle and took it from Brendon's hold. "What is it?" you questioned, somewhat reluctant to open the container.

"A hangover remedy."

Turning up your nose and scrunching up your face, you carefully unscrewed the cap of the bottle. Immediately after you had removed the cap, the sickening stench of whatever the hell it was that your bodyguard had tossed in the bottle filtered up and into your nostrils, making you gag slightly.

"What the hell, Brendon?" you spluttered, trying to rid your system of the smell of the putrid mixture as you held the bottle as far away from you as was possible. "Are you trying to kill me?"

"It's not as bad as it seems," he assured, rolling his eyes, "Just drink. It'll help."

You truly did not want that bottle anywhere near your mouth, but the rhythmic throbbing in your head won the battle, and you exhaled breathily.

With one last filthy glance at your bodyguard, you pinched your nose so that you wouldn't taste the awful liquid, brought the bottle to your lips and hastily gulped all of it down.

When you were done, you swiftly recapped the bottle and tossed it at the hard rock in front of you. The bitter aftertaste made you want to throw up, but you managed to keep your reflexes under control.

"Now that that's sorted," Brendon spoke, taking a gulp of coffee and standing up, "Suit up. Our session starts in ten minutes."

Your jaw nearly dropped to the floor. "Wha- SESSION? As in training session? Today?"

"Was that not implied?" he cocked his head to the side, "Or is your brain not able to comprehend my speech? Again?"

Biting the inside of your cheek to keep from snapping at him, you took a deep breath and calmed your tone of voice. "Do you really think that training today is a good idea after everything that happened yesterday?"

"Yesterday was nothing. I've been in worse situations."

"Of course you have," you hissed under your breath, looking down and shaking your head before looking back up at the pillar of icy stone in front of you, "I meant that I don't think I'm in the right shape to train right now."

"Agents go to hell and back and are still back in the training centre the next day. Things could be crueller for you. Suck it up," he said simply, turning around and heading for the door, stopping when he reached the frame and turning to glance at you, "Ten minutes," he reminded, slipping away.

"tEn MiNuTeS," you mocked, angrily ripping the blanket from your body and moving to get changed.

~

When Brendon rounded the corner at the end of the corridor after having exited your room, he collided with a figure dressed in a black leather trench coat.

"Excuse me, sir," Brendon apologised, bowing his head a bit as a sign of respect.

"It was my fault, Agent," The Director mused, clasping his hands behind his back as his eye that wasn't covered by an eye patch twinkled in anticipation, "I was actually looking for you."

"Oh?" Brendon raised his eyebrows, "Well, you found me. What do you need, sir?"

"That thing we spoke about yesterday," he started, tilting his head upwards and looking over Brendon's head, despite talking directly to him, "I would very much appreciate if you would take the time to go over everything in my office. I'll assign Agent Corvey to watch over (Y/N)."

Brendon's brows furrowed a bit. "Right now?"

"Yes," The Director confirmed, bringing his steely gaze to meet his employee's, "Is that a problem? Are you currently..." he glanced down at the coffee mug in Brendon's hand, "preoccupied?"

"I was just-"

"On your way to the training centre to prepare for your session with (Y/N)?"

Neither man said anything, nor did they move a muscle, they simply stared at one another. One icy stone pillar to another. Eventually, after an uncomfortably long silence, the corners of The Director's lips twitched upwards into a hint of a smile, and he spoke.

"Did you honestly think I was unaware of the fact that you had been giving her lessons? You continue to surprise me with your recently acquired lack of thinking things through, Agent Urie."

Brendon's mouth opened and he was about to address the situation, but the raising of two of The Director's fingers ceased the words from escaping his throat.

"I'm not upset, Brendon," he said carefully, earning a perplexed look from the agent in front of him, "On the contrary, I think it's a good thing."

"You do?" Brendon frowned.

"I do," he nodded, tapping his fingers together behind his back, "With everything that's going on... in addition to it being useful for her to learn how to defend herself, it also offers a way to keep her distracted, which is a very good thing."

Brendon nodded in understanding. "So does that mean..."

"You are free to go," The Director conceded, bringing his hands to his front and checking his watch, "But I am still expecting to have that meeting. Let's reschedule for tonight, 7pm. I'll make all of the necessary arrangements."

With that, The Director gave a curt nod to Brendon before stepping around him and walking off, leaving your bodyguard to make his way to the training centre, where you were waiting for him.

~

You landed on the padded floor of the training centre with a heavy thud, huffing as you sprawled yourself out on the mat. Brendon slumped his shoulders and let out an exasperated sigh as he looked at your hobble state.

"(Y/N), come on," he ran his one hand through his hair before throwing both up in the air, "You're not focusing."

"Oh, I'm sorry," you remarked sarcastically, pushing yourself up from the floor and blowing the few loose strands of hair out of your face before placing them on your hips, "Forgive me for not being at my full mental and physical capacity today, but spending the night clubbing and then being thrown off of a cliff and almost drowning, doesn't make for a very good state of mind the following morning!"

"It doesn't? Hm, I'll be sure to make a note of that," he sassed, pressing his lips together in a thin line.

"Fucking hell, I hate you," you growled, sprinting forward and swinging your arm in an effort to strike him.

He countered it, obviously, and now he had your back plastered against his chest as he held you in a tight grip, one hand wrapped around your waist to prevent you from moving and the other one wrapped diagonally across your chest, his fingers resting on your shoulder. Despite your anger for him at present, your body flushed at being in such close contact with your bodyguard, and you mentally cursed at the betrayal.

"And just like that, boom," he whispered into your ear, making a vague gesture to indicate snapping your neck, "you're dead. Not good enough," he said, releasing you and shoving you forward, "Try harder."

The sudden loss of his constricting grip caused you to stumble, and you scoffed. Taking a deep breath, you closed your eyes for a moment before whipping around and rushing toward him, lifting your leg up to kick his head, but he countered that too.

"Again," he pushed, prompting you to try another time, but he counteracted every one of your moves.

"Again."

Counter.

"Again."

Counter.

"Again."

Counter.

"Again. Focus, (Y/N)!"

"I am focusing!" you argued, grunting as he countered an uppercut from you.

"No, you're not," he insisted, grabbing your fist and jerking your arm to the side so that he could step closer to you, "You're thinking too much. Letting your emotions take over. Don't. You're acting on your hatred for me – on what you're feeling – and that can be every agent's downfall. Shove all of your feelings aside and act on pure instinct, because that's the only way you're gonna stay alive. Emotions make you weak, and weak gets you killed."

Panting, you lowered your hand when Brendon released it, and took a moment to look into your bodyguard's eyes. They were full of fire, but not the one associated with rage or fury – oh no, this fire was one burning with urgency, desperation.

Noticing that you were trying to decipher him, Brendon blinked and the fire disappeared, replaced by the usual cold, hard stare. Stepping back, he made a motion for you to get into position.

"Again."

The rest of the session went well. You followed Brendon's advice, focusing on your instincts rather than your feelings, and you did exceptionally better.

You landed a roundhouse kick, knocking your bodyguard to the floor, and let out a little cheer.

"Good," he praised, standing up with ease, "That was good. Clearly kicking is your strong suit," he touched his fingers to the side of his mouth before pulling it back and examining the splatters of blood coating them.

"I would say sorry," you started, walking forward, "but you forced me to shove my hand in a container full of cockroaches, so I'm really not."

"Fair enough," he pursed his lips, "Guess now we're even. Ya know, if we're not counting all of those times I saved your life."

"Really?" you rolled your eyes and condescendingly raised an eyebrow, "You're gonna play the bodyguard card?"

"I'm just stating facts," he threw up his hands before moving to clear up.

"Mm, alright," you said, following suit and packing away the equipment you had used.

"So," you said after everything was packed away, "are you gonna tell me what Fury wanted to talk to you about last night?"

"No," he said simply, grabbing his gun and reattaching it to his belt.

"You sure about that?" you questioned cockily, "'Cause you know that I won't stop annoying you until you tell me."

"I'm not at liberty to say."

"Bullshit," you scoffed, advancing on him, "Tell me."

"Shit, you're so intimidating," he mocked, dramatically clutching at his chest as he took a step backwards, "I better tell you everything before you kick my ass."

You rolled your eyes. "Just tell me."

"Yeah, I don't think so," he shook his head to accentuate his point before heading for the door.

"Why not?" you persisted, jogging to catch up with him.

Stopping in front of the door, Brendon clenched his jaw and turned to face you.

"(Y/N), S.H.I.E.L.D's trying to keep you safe. If there are things that we're keeping from you, it's to protect you."

"So it's something to do with Hydra, then?" you assumed, furrowing your brows and keeping a hand on the door to prevent Brendon from opening it.

He inhaled deeply. "Unless you know of another evil organisation we're protecting you from, then yes, I think it's safe for you to assume that it has something to do with Hydra."

"Is it something to do with The Asset? Did he finally give some useful information?" you pressed, knowing full well that it wasn't a good idea, but asking anyway because you were sick of always being out of the loop.

Your bodyguard rubbed a hand over his face and under his jaw before giving you a tired look. "You're not gonna give up, are you?"

"Not a chance."

With a sigh, he let his head hang back before giving you a serious look. "(Y/N), if I tell you, you have to swear to me that you won't do anything stupid."

"I swear," you promised, perking up at the prospect of finally knowing what information had been exchanged between your bodyguard and The Director.

"Alright..."

✧ ✧ ✧

Approximately twelve hours ago. The Director's office, S.H.I.E.L.D HQ.

"I asked him for his price," The Director told Brendon, referring to the assassin they had locked away in a cell, "Wanna guess what his answer was?"

Brendon's eyes studied his superior. He noticed that he was standing facing the glass wall that overlooked the rest of HQ, not making eye contact. He noticed that the tone with which he spoke was distant, almost as if he were afraid. He noticed that he was standing even more upright than usual, muscles taught and tense. He noticed the rhythmic tapping of his fingers as his hands stayed firmly clasped behind his back. He knew that all of this could only mean one thing.

"He wants to speak with her."

The Director nodded slowly, staring through the glass for another minute before turning to face Brendon.

"And you know why we can't let that happen. It would mean..." he trailed off, almost afraid to continue, "disaster. Complete and utter disaster."

"What did he say when you told him that allowing her anywhere near him was not an option?"

"What do you think he said?" Fury began pacing now, the way he always did when faced with such a delicate situation, "He refuses to come up with another request. Says it's the only thing he wants from us." He gave a light chuckle.

"I can't imagine why," Brendon breathed, resting his elbow on the armrest and bringing his hand to his mouth, "So what do we do?"

"The only thing we can do," The Director answered with a hard face, "We protect her. There is no way in hell that the two of them are getting anywhere near each other."

✧ ✧ ✧

Present day. Training Centre, S.H.I.E.L.D HQ.

"He wants to speak with me," you clarified, and Brendon nodded, "That's what you didn't want to tell me? That he wants to have a conversation?"

A frown immediately formed on your bodyguard's face, and he took a step closer to you. "I don't think you understand, (Y/N). If we let you in the same room as him, it won't be just a conversation. Not in the slightest."

"What do you mean?" you huffed in perplexity, "He's in restraints, isn't he? He can't touch me."

"That's not-" he stopped, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath before stepping even closer and grabbing your wrist, squeezing, "There are things you don't understand. We can't let you in there with him. We just can't."

"But if it'll get us information-"

"No information is worth letting him speak with you," Brendon cut you off, his breathing getting heavier as he tried to get you to understand, "Nothing is."

"Brendon, if I can-"

"No," he said sternly, his grip on your wrist tightening so much it hurt; he looked at you for a second before laughing lightly and letting go, regaining distance between you two. "I knew I shouldn't have told you. I fucking knew it. You don't understand. You never will."

Now it was your breathing that increased. "I understand that you all want to protect me, Brendon. But have you ever thought that maybe I want to protect you too? If I can get him to talk and give us information about Hydra, then we can save everyone."

Brendon shook his head and opened the door so harshly he almost ripped it clean off its hinges. "It isn't your job to protect anyone, (Y/N). It's S.H.I.E.L.D's. So let us do it."

~

You absentmindedly chewed on the skin surrounding your fingernails as you sat on your bed with your knees propped up. Corvey was sitting across the room, in the seat that Brendon usually sat in, yapping on about some or other band called 'The Falling Boys' or whatever. You weren't paying any attention to any of the words coming out of his mouth; your mind was preoccupied with thoughts of The Asset.

The Director's logic was completely lost on you at the best of times, but now, it was about as far gone as Brendon's emotions. You couldn't wrap your head around why he wouldn't allow you to speak with the assassin. Yeah, you knew that everyone around here was obsessed with protecting you, but if there was a possibility that you could get the assassin to disclose information that could help take down SHIELD's biggest enemy, then shouldn't you at least be allowed to try?

Concluding that you were sick to death of being treated like a delicate snowflake that needed constant supervision, you threw your legs over the side of your bed. It was time that you did something useful.

"Corvey?" you interrupted the agent's rambling, "I need a favour."

"Yes, ma'am- I mean, Miss (Y/L- I mean, (Y/N)?" he blushed a deep shade of pink at his mistakes, "What do you need?"

"Could you take me on a walk around HQ? I'm tired of being holed up in here all day."

"I, uh, don't think that I'm allowed to take you outside of this room," he said sheepishly, nervously readjusting his sleeve.

"Please," you pleaded, making your eyes big – you knew that that always worked on him, "Just for a little bit."

It was visibly clear that the poor guy was having a rather intense internal debate. He knew that it wasn't ethical to go against orders, but a radiant smile from you to him was enough to convince him otherwise.

"Okay," he caved, "But just for a couple of minutes."

You grinned widely. "That's all I need."

~

You weren't at all positive that your borderline-suicidal plan would work, but by sheer luck itself, you had managed to shake Agent Corvey – by asking him to make you a cup of coffee in the break room and then running off – and you were now sneaking through the corridors of HQ, dodging agents left, right and centre.

It was no easy feat, and you had to use your quickest reflexes and techniques Brendon had taught you to make sure that you didn't get caught. If it weren't for having been giving a thorough tour of HQ by Agent Hill a few months ago, you would've had no clue where you were headed.

Luckily for you, you had a phenomenal memory, and you were able to slink through the grey-walled corridors of SHIELD headquarters towards your target with ease. You had to make sure to keep out of the view of any cameras, so you kept your head down and walked quickly, rounding corner after corner until you came face to face with the door leading to your destination.

Your hand slipped into the back pocket of your jeans and grasped the key card you had swiped from Corvey. He was a great guy, bless him, but he was an awful agent. It was almost too easy to steal it from him.

Pulling it out, you took a deep breath. You knew that there was a heap of agents behind that door, and you prepared yourself to take down all of them.

You raised the card to the sensor, which beeped, turning the sensor green. With a rush of air, the door slid open, and you stepped inside.

As expected, there were a lot of agents present. A quick survey of the room told you that there were five in all.

"Miss (Y/L/N)," one of them spoke up and stepped forward, "You're not supposed to be here."

"I know," you sighed, "and I'm sorry for this."

You pulled back before striking the agent with a roundhouse kick, knocking him against the wall and causing him to fall to the ground, unconscious. Your actions stunned the rest of the agents in their places, and you took the opportunity to attack them too.

Using everything Brendon had taught you, you managed to take out the two closest to you with a lower leg strike and uppercut to the one, and an elbow to the ribs and knee to the face.

The other two were a bit more problematic, since they had guns, which were now trained on you.

"Miss (Y/L/N), stand down," the one warned.

With a huff, you raised your hands up to insinuate that you would cooperate, but when they started walking forward to retain you, you hit both of them with a punch to the face, before grabbing both of them by their hair and knocking their heads together.

Panting and looking around at all of the unconscious agents, you took a moment to smirk, proud of yourself. But remembering that you probably only have a few minutes before someone finds you, you moved quickly to open the door leading to the cell.

You were aware that stepping over that threshold would mean going against everyone, and everything that they've done for you, but you couldn't help but feel drawn to the assassin inside, and before you could comprehend your body's actions, you were walking forward.

Slowly, you headed for the glass and metal box containing the man who was responsible for so much pain and destruction. When you stopped in front of it, he leisurely lifted his head, a smile forming on his face once he saw you.

"(Y/N) (Y/L/N)," he croaked, a light chuckle catching in his throat, "It's about damn time we met."

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Thank you for reading x

Note: This is the last of the 'old chapters'. From Monday, regular weekly updates will resume with the new ones. x

Also, I wrote a math exam today and it totally broke me but then I opened Wattpad to heaps of notifications and sweet messages from you guys and it made me smile through the fuck up that is my life, so thank you for that. 🖤

Lots of love from your currently-sobbing-into-a-plate-of-chocolate-cake-author,