Chapter Forty-One

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Once Grant was able to stand without shaking, we headed back through the tunnels and to the Bus. I kept an arm around his waist to be safe, and he kept an arm around my shoulders, although I think he needed me for emotional support more than physical support. As soon as we got within sight of the Bus, though, he pulled back to walk normally, which I was a little disappointed about. I understood, though. Grant didn't want people to know he wasn't all Tough Guy all the time.

Despite swaggering back onto the Bus like nothing was wrong, FitzSimmons still made Grant sit for a full checkup, which I was thankful for. Grant, unfortunately, didn't share my gratitude.

"This is ridiculous," he said impatiently from where he was sitting, hooked up to several different machines by FitzSimmons (and shirtless. Not that it's important).

"It's anything but," Skye fired back, seeming even more high-strung than he was. "Ward, you passed out. And you were acting not right."

"Coulson ordered me to give you a full work-up, and that's exactly what I'm doing," added Simmons calmly, which I thought would be a much more successful approach.

Simmons asked him a string of questions, and he was getting more and more agitated. It wasn't obvious at first, but when Fitz asked him the last thing he remembered (which would have to be the well), Grant snapped.

"This is a waste of time," he said harshly, pulling his arm out of Simmons' machine, "We need to find the staff!"

"What exactly do you remember?" pressed Fitz. I could tell this wasn't going to end well.

"Something I haven't thought about in a long time," he answered darkly. I was honestly impressed he'd shared that much. I moved closer to him, trying to be emotional support, while Skye and FitzSimmons had a brief argument.

"Quiet," ordered Grant, cutting them off and looking to the monitor where Phil was interviewing the professor, who had apparently taken the staff, "I want to hear this."

Skye and FitzSimmons shared a look, and then Simmons cut the feed.

"What are you doing?" Grant demanded, turning towards Simmons with an angry look. Now I was starting to get worried. This level of crankiness wasn't normal, not even for Grant.

"Your heart rate's rising, adrenaline's spiking," answered Simmons, "You need to calm down, not get worked up."

Grant looked at her, then at me, and then started taking deep breaths. I was impressed with him for actually trying to calm down.

"The memory," started Skye, leaning in and speaking to Grant before I could stop her, "Was it about your brother?"

"Hey," I said, putting a hand on her shoulder and trying to turn her away from Grant.

"Drop it," ordered Grant before I could say anything else, completely ignoring me.

For some Godforsaken reason, she decided to push it.

"Ward, if you need to get it out, I am here-" she started.

"Skye," I warned, putting myself between her and Grant. I was too late.

Grant moved around me and started in on Skye, getting more and more worked up, and getting meaner and meaner in the process, mocking her offer and turning it down in one go.

"Grant," I said, starting towards him. I put a hand on his arm but he jerked back, looking mad. I returned his glare with a calm but stern expression, trying to jolt him out of wherever his head was right now.

Simmons apparently got a reading that made some sense, because she started explaining why Grant was behaving like this. I could see that the longer she talked, the more agitated it made Grant.

"Hey Simmons, you might want to-" I started, again just a bit too late.

"Stop talking," ordered Grant, "Just fix it!"

Apparently that wasn't an option. Simmons mentioned a sedative, and I knew any hope of talking Grant back down was gone.

"Not gonna happen," he said angrily.

"Yeah, well, be reasonable," started Fitz, sounding like he was barely keeping it together too, "Look how you're behaving."

"And if I'm sedated and we cross paths with those juiced freaks, the ones who flip cars and smash people up, are you gonna take them on? Keep us safe?" Grant returned fire, stepping closer to Fitz and poking a finger in his chest. "Or am I gonna have to save Simmons' ass... again?"

Grant turned on his heel and stormed out of the room, not waiting for a response. I pinched the bridge of my nose and shook my head. This was going to be a nightmare to get past in the future.

"That was just a biochemical reaction. He didn't mean all that," said Simmons, barely holding back tears.

"No, I know," said Skye, in the same state.

"No explanation necessary," agreed Fitz, not looking up from his datapad. Everyone went their separate ways, and I leaned back against the lab counter and sighed. I'd give Grant some space, see if some alone time helped him calm down, and if not, I'd track him down and try to help him.

I stayed in my bunk and read a couple chapters of Harry Potter to take my mind off things and calm down, then headed back out into the rest of the Bus to see if Grant was doing any better.

I found him whaling on a punching bag in the cargo hold.

"Grant," I called, heading down the stairs to talk to him. He didn't respond. "Grant. Grant!"

He whirled around and took a swing at me, but I was fast enough to dodge.

"Samantha," he said, dropping his fists.

"Grant?"

He just shook his head and turned back to the punching bag, resting his hands on top of it and not looking at me.

I took a cautious step forward, then reached out and put a hand on his shoulder. He tensed, but he didn't lash out like last time.

"You need to calm down," I said.

"No, I don't," he snapped, finally looking at me, "I need to stop those guys before they hurt someone else."

He turned back to the punching bag and started hitting it with renewed vigor, and I knew I wasn't going to get anywhere with him for a while. I sat on the bottom step of the stairs leading up to the second floor and waited.

It took almost an hour for Grant to change anything at all, going as hard as possible against the punching bag until, at around the 50 minute mark, he broke. He started hitting the punching bag desperately, and I could see from his face that he was in boarder-line hysterics. I stood up, but I didn't want to get too close while he was losing it.

Finally he slowed to a stop, walking backward with his hands above his head until his back hit the wall, and he sank to the floor, gasping for breath. I hurried over and slid down next to him, wrapping my arms around his broad shoulders and pulling him into me.

He buried his head against my chest, and although he was still tense and his fists were still clenched, his breathing started to go back to normal.

We stayed like that for several minutes, neither of us saying anything. Slowly, I could feel Grant starting to calm down, and after another minute or two he sat up all the way. I pulled back too, but I kept one hand on his.

"I think I need to go talk to Coulson," he finally said.

"I think that might be a good idea," I agreed, "Do you want me to come with you?"

"I can talk to him myself, but I would't mind you walking me up to his office."

"Done," I said, giving him a smile. I stood, then held out a hand to help Grant up. He didn't let go, even after he was standing.

We walked up the stairs to the second floor, then up the next set to Coulson's office, holding hands the whole time.

"I'll wait out here," I said, leaning back against the wall right outside Coulson's door.

Grant nodded. "Thanks Slater."

"Anytime."

He let go of my hand to knock on the door, then went in to talk to Phil. I had to admit, my heart was racing. I was so focused on helping Grant earlier that I hadn't really noticed, but it was really nice to be so close again.

That didn't explain why my heart was racing, but I decided to ignore that.

After a few minutes, the door swung open again.

"Samantha," said Coulson, sounding mildly surprised.

"Sup," I said with a smile, looking past him to see Grant with a darkly happy smile on his face, "What's going on?"

"Coulson thinks the professor is an Asguardian," started Grant, "I'm going to go in there and make him show his hand."

Oh boy. This was going to be interesting.

****************

"What are you going to do if you're wrong?" I asked Coulson. Grant was going into the containment room while Phil and I waited outside. The plan was to have Grant attack the guy with a knife. If he stopped the attack, it would prove he was Asguardian.

"I'm not wrong," he replied confidently. I gave him an unsure look out of the corner of my eye, but I didn't say anything. Phil usually had perfect instincts, and it was too late to change the plan anyway. Grant was already pulling out his knife.

To my immense relief, the professor broke his handcuffs like they were peanut brittle and literally bent the knife.

"You were right," said Grant, not looking away from the professor as Phil and I walked in, "He's Asguardian."

"Good thing. Otherwise," said Phil, sharing a look with me, "that would've been awfully embarrassing."

****************

I stayed in the room with Phil and Grant while Phil questioned the professor. Turns out, the professor was the one who'd brought the Berserker staff to earth. Figures.

Phil asked him to help us find the last piece of the staff, but he wasn't going to cooperate that easily. I could see Grant getting more worked up, so I stood a little closer to him and grabbed his hand behind both our backs, where no one else could see. I don't think it would've continued to help Grant if the professor remained uncooperative, but fortunately Phil knew how to convince him. Within minutes we had a final location on the last piece of the staff.

****************

After a shot flight, we touched down in Ireland. We were going to a monastery in the countryside, but just in case we met those whackjobs who were also hunting the scepter, we were gearing up like we were going into enemy territory.

Grant was in charge of returning the professor's personal effects, but I noticed him lingering and talking to the professor. I knew he was going to be asking about the staff, and I was worried he'd start getting agitated again, so I drifted over.

"What about... the other effects?" I heard Grant say, dropping to a whisper.

"Oh, that dark, nasty ache in the pit of your stomach? The rage in your chest that makes you feel as if your heart's about to explode?" asked the professor, sounding completely nonchalant.

Grant barely nodded, looking more vulnerable than I'd ever seen him around someone who wasn't me.

"It's worse on humans," said the professor, still sounding very unconcerned, "But, give it a few decades, and it'll wear off, too."

"Great," muttered Grant tensely, snapping the lid of the case shut and turning away.

"Hey," I said, reaching to take his hand again, "Don't worry. You'll be okay."

Grant pulled away, gently but firmly. "Look, Slater, you just don't get it. You have no idea what this feels like."

He turned and walked down the ramp, and I didn't try to stop him. He was right, I had no idea what he was going through. I wanted to help him so bad, but I really didn't know how.

The best I could come up with was what I'd already been doing: just be there for him. So that's what I was going to do.