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ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ᴛᴡᴏ: ʙᴇɪɴɢ ʙʟᴜᴇ ɪs ʙᴇᴛᴛᴇʀ ᴛʜᴀɴ ʙᴇɪɴɢ ᴏᴠᴇʀ ɪᴛ

❝ ᴛʜɪs ғᴜɴᴇʀᴀʟ ɪs ᴏᴠᴇʀ. ❞

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"MY WHAT?" YOU VOICED, EYES NARROWED AS YOU LOOKED AT THE DIRECTOR.

"Your bodyguard."

"Why the hell do I need a bodyguard?" you scoffed, folding your arms over your chest.

"To stay alive," said a cold, harsh voice. You turned to its owner, who was giving you a rather unfriendly look, and shook your head.

"I don't need a bodyguard. I'm perfectly capable of keeping myself alive, thank you very much," you argued, slightly offended that Director Fury would even doubt that.

Brendon opened his mouth to deliver a snappy response, but the raising of his superior's left hand stopped him.

"I'm sure that you are," The Director nodded, his one visible eye widened, "in a typical self-defence situation. Against Hydra agents, not so much."

You wanted to argue with him, but he cut you off.

"Yes, I'm well aware that your father gave you some lessons here and there, but when – and be honest with me – was the last time you had one of those?"

As much as you wanted to continue the dispute, you were at a loss. It had been a long time. Too long.

"Exactly," he said smugly when you sighed in resignation, "Agent Urie is the best agent S.H.I.E.L.D has to offer; he'll make sure you stay safe. Trust him."

Your gaze flickered from Fury to Brendon; the latter's cold, hard stare unsettled you. He looked like a damn good agent, you'd admit that, but he looked nothing like someone you'd want to spend most of your time with.

The Director noticed your apprehension, and he spoke again. "Or at the very least, (Y/N), trust me."

~

"Is this really necessary?" you sighed, reluctantly taking the Glock 17 Brendon held out to you.

"Yes. You need to be able to defend yourself," he replied in a cold voice, his face void of all emotion except for a mild hint of annoyance.

"I thought that's what you're here for?"

"Yes, but it would make everything a hell of a lot easier knowing that if something happens to me, you're not completely helpless. So, shut up and shoot the target," he hissed through gritted teeth. Moving to stand behind you, he folded his arms across his chest in his usual manner and you could've sworn you heard him whisper a snide 'If you can' under his breath.

Pissed off to the max by Brendon's words and determined to prove to him that you weren't the good-for-nothing brat that he thought you to be, you inhaled deeply and positioned yourself in the shooting stance you were most comfortable with, the way your father had taught you. Exhaling lightly, you pulled the trigger three times, each bullet hitting the bull's-eye perfectly.

With a triumphant look on your face, you turned around to face Brendon, smirking cockily as you reached over and smoothly placed the gun back in the holder attached to his hip.

"Told you I could handle myself."

Brendon looked taken aback and somewhat impressed, but only for a split second before his face returned to its usual rock-hard stature.

"Great, you can shoot a stationary target," he gave you a sarcastic thumbs-up. "It's a shame that the people who are trying to kill you will most likely be moving."

Grabbing his jacket from the bench, Brendon made his way out of the shooting range, leaving you fuming and glaring daggers at him behind his back.

Out of all the agents that S.H.I.E.L.D had to offer, The Director managed to assign the worst one as your bodyguard. Of course, mentally and physically, Brendon was an impeccable agent and watching him in action on footage from past missions, you could see why The Director had entrusted him with your safety. But emotionally and on a personal, face-to-face level, he was – for lack of a better term – a complete douchebag.

From the moment you two had met, he was nothing but cold and abrasive towards you. You'd think that as someone's 24/7 bodyguard, you'd want to learn as much as possible about them and what they're like. But Brendon was the complete opposite and although he never said it outright, the way he acted towards you made it very clear that he was only interested in making sure that you stayed alive and wanted nothing else to do with you whatsoever.

Sighing, you gathered your belongings from the bench and made your way out of the shooting range. When you exited, you found Brendon standing not too far down the corridor, waiting for you. You just about stepped up to his side when Agent Hill approached you.

"Hey," she greeted, sympathy evident in her tone and on her face, "how you holding up?"

You took a deep breath and shrugged. "I'm holding up."

"That's something, at least," she smiled gently and you returned the gesture. You liked her, she was always warm and kind towards you – the exact opposite of your bodyguard.

"How much time before we're out?" Brendon inquired; his colleague regained her official stature as she turned to talk to him.

"Thirty minutes. But Fury requested that the two of you board the quinjet as soon as possible. You can get changed there," she nodded at you as she said her last sentence.

Brendon gave a nod before continuing down the passage. You turned to give Agent Hill one last smile and a thank you.

"Don't mention it. I'll see you there."

✧ ✧ ✧

Chestertown, Maryland.

The funeral service wasn't that lengthy, but the insufferable pairing of the knot in your stomach and lump in your throat made it feel like an eternity. You hadn't even wanted a funeral for your parents – you were perfectly fine saying goodbye to them at the morgue and then having them cremated. This entire thing was simply a formality, a way for everyone else that had known your parents to pay their final respects. You hated every second of it. If it were up to you, you wouldn't even be there.

You watched in silence as person after person stepped up to pay tribute to your dead parents; it felt like a never-ending rollercoaster. If you had been paying attention, you were positive you would've been able to identify each and every person that had gone up, but as you were sitting, they all looked like random extras in the movie of your life.

The words they spoke were most likely kind and endearing, but all you were able to think during all of it was Stop it. Just stop talking. You didn't know them – none of you did. Keep your words to yourself.

Maybe it was selfish, but you didn't care. They were your parents. They were all you had in this horrible world. And now they were gone.

You hadn't heard the priest call your name – it was only once Brendon lightly shook your shoulder that you startled and realised that it was your turn to speak.

"Oh," you mumbled as you shook your head and cleared your throat, gathering your papers as you slowly stepped up to speak.

"My parents..." you started, keeping your gaze locked on the set of coffins in front of you, "if there's one word I would use to describe them, it would be 'devoted'. They were completely and utterly devoted to everything that they did, no matter what it was. Raising me, giving me as much of a normal life as they could... there was nothing that they wouldn't have done for me, and I wish that I could've told them how thankful I was – I am – for that," your voice started to waver, but you took a moment to gather your composure and you carried on.

"They were also extremely devoted to people – all people. They loved people, and they would always go out of their way to help those in need. My mom was a nurse, totally dedicated to her job. To saving lives and making sure that people would make it to see the next sunrise. And my father..."

It was then that your voice cracked. You didn't want to cry up there – you refused to. Looking around, however, at the abundance of neighbours, at the S.H.I.E.L.D agents – both those that were there to pay their respects to your dad and those that were there for your protection – , at your group of friends who had come to support you, to the priest, to your parents... you knew that you had to get out.

"I can't do this," you breathed out, shaking your head and stumbling down the steps, "I'm sorry. I-I can't..."

You staggered away from the burial plot and towards one of the black SUVs, clutching against the frame of the car to steady yourself and slow your breathing. The sound of footsteps caught your ears, but you didn't look up to see who had followed you. When they touched your shoulder, though, you knew exactly who it was.

That radiating coldness was unmistakable.

"Leave me alone, Brendon," you snarled, still not looking up as you tried to focus on breathing.

"Not gonna happen," he retorted, moving to stand in front of you. He gripped your chin in his hand and you pulled back, not wanting him to touch you. "Look at me."

"Leave me alone."

"Look at me," he demanded. The tone with which he spoke was dominating and powerful. So much so, that it almost made you – an exceptionally headstrong woman – submit.

Almost.

You refused to take orders from this man, resulting in him unforgivingly wrenching your head forward with force so strong, you were surprised your neck hadn't snapped.

"I said leave me alone, you son of a-"

"You're having a panic attack," he stated, releasing your face from his grip before proceeding to open the car and all but shove you into the seat.

"Why the hell are you handling me like a rag doll?" you growled.

"You need to stay off of your feet and minimize your movements. Focus on your breathing, now."

As much as you didn't want to listen to him, you knew that he was right, and so did as he instructed.

"Use my breathing as a guide," he said, removing his jacket so that you could better see the rise and fall of his chest.

With this newfound aid, you were able to return your oxygen intake to its usual rate just as Agent Hill came hurrying over.

"What's going on? (Y/N), are you okay?"

You were about to respond when Brendon turned to face her and did it for you. You resisted the urge to literally kick his ass.

"She's fine. Tell Fury that we're on our way back to the jet. This funeral is over."

✧ ✧ ✧

S.H.I.E.L.D HQ, Washington D.C.

You clasped the white porcelain mug tightly in your hands, trying to catch the heat radiating from the brown liquid inside it. You were strolling through HQ with Agent Hill by your side; Brendon was being debriefed, so she was assigned to take watch over you in the mean time. You were ever grateful for that, since you still felt a bit fragile, and her presence was far more comforting than that of your icy bodyguard.

"This place is huge," you commented, the echo of your voice through the halls supporting your claim. You turned to your companion. "You ever get lost around here?"

She shrugged. "Eh. You get used to it after a few months. You even find all of the coolest hideout spots. But getting lost happens occasionally. Most often after a long shift or mission."

You nodded, looking into each of the glass rooms that you walked past. One particular room caught your attention. It didn't have glass walls or doors like the others, and your curiosity drew your feet towards it. There was a small window on the door, and when you got close enough, you peeked inside.

What you saw shocked you to your core.

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Thank you for reading x

Note: From what I gathered from the comments on Chapter One, you guys are liking this version - so that's wonderful. x