Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Numb. There was no other word for how he was feeling, hell he wasn’t feeling, he was numb. He would have laughed at the fact that he had finally turned into the robot they all teased him he was. But he was numb, and didn’t have the energy to laugh. She’d hate the way he was acting, all robotic and numb, but those non-emotions protected him; they were far better than the alternative.

He looked back at the unmade bed and contemplated crawling under the covers and never come out. Falling into dreams, where everything was perfect, where he could pretend his whole world hadn’t just fallen apart.

He looked down at his suit, mildly surprised that he was wearing the one of his she loved the most. The one he only saved for special occasions, like undercover charity balls, or S.H.I.E.L.D science galas, or the rare date night. The suit held such happy memories it seemed wrong to taint it with a funeral, but he couldn’t bring himself to change. 

Standing up he walked the short distance to the mirror, had he been paying attention, he wouldn’t have recognized his own reflection. 

Instead he was on autopilot and just went through the motions, his fingers failing him as he adjusted his tie, it had been so long since he’d had to do it himself. He felt his armor crack as the memory of soft yet strong and agile fingers fussed over his tie, knotting it in a perfect double windsor.

He’d never perfected that knot, he always meant to have her teach him, but he’d always get distracted by the way her tongue would stick out adorably as she concentrated on tying his tie.

Sighing heavily he closed his eyes and could practically feel her standing in front of him, brushing imaginary lint from his shoulder before smiling up at him, brown eyes practically golden with joy and love, oh god, the love.

How on earth was he supposed to go on with out that? Without her? Why had she gone where he could not follow?

I lit a fire with the love you left behind
It burned wild and crept up the mountain side
I followed your ashes into outer space
I can’t look out the window
I can’t look at this place 

Suddenly the room was spinning and it felt as if all the oxygen had been sucked out of it. Stumbling for the door he hurried out, slamming it shut behind him, he leaned heavily against the solid oak.

The hallway wasn’t any more of a comfort as the walls were adorned with photos of happier times as well as several artistically magnified photos of cells, that looked like distant galaxies and various other celestial bodies.

He had bought them for her 25th birthday. She had told him it was the perfect gift, a combination of two of her scientific loves. Biology and Astronomy.

She had surprised him with her love of the night sky. He knew that most women enjoyed looking up and seeing the sparkling dots of light that looked like diamonds strewn across blue velvet. But that’s not what fascinated her. She loved the myths and legends, possibilities of alien worlds (so long as they weren’t Chitauri) and the idea that somewhere out there someone else was looking up (or was it down?) at her.

When they first got together, she had thought it a travesty that he didn’t know anything about the myths behind all the constellations, and she had gone about educating him, pointing them out, telling him the story of some God or Goddess, or poor mortal schmuck who had been cursed to the heavens.

She could’ve been lying to him and making up fake constellations for all Grant cared. He knew she wasn’t because she was far to concerned with scientific accuracy to be anything but truthful, but he would’ve listened to her recite the user manual to the night night pistol if it meant being near her.

He wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to look at the night sky without wanting to cry.

I can’t look at the stars, 
They make me wonder where you are
Stars, up on heavens boulevard
And if I know you at all
I know you’ve gone too far
So I can’t look at the stars

He made it a point to always know when the next meteor shower was, and where the best place  and time to watch it would be. Schedule permitting, they’d sneak away to watch the heavens put on their own spectacular version of a fireworks show.

On their first anniversary he had taken her to see the Northern Lights, and the Southern Lights on their second anniversary. He had asked her to marry him during the peak of Haley’s comet trip around the earth. She had said yes before he had even gotten the ring out of his pocket, and promised him that the next time Haley’s comet came around they’d be watching it with a whole slew of grandkids around. He hadn't said anything then, but he couldn't wait to start a family with her, he was positive if they had a daughter she'd be a miniture version of Jemma, adorable and brilliant, and absolutely a daddy's girl, she'd be the death of him alright.

Even after they were married, as often as they could he’d loose himself just listening to her tell the stories of the constellations, and their origins. It hadn’t mattered that she’d already told him the story of Cassiopeia a thousand times, or that he could recite her telling of Orion verbatim. 

He would simply lay there, head in her lap as they stared out the Bus window at the heavens, listening to her talk about the various celestial bodies. She’d told him about the Asgardian views on space, about their bifrost, and her dream to one day experience it, the excitement in her voice much like a child on christmas morning. 

He had always meant to ask Coulson to see if Thor would allow her to travel the bifrost, just once. But he always assumed he’d have time, after all they were fairly young, they were supposed to have their whole lives ahead of them.

But now it was too late. And the night sky no longer seemed like a place of infinite possibilities, now it was an endless void of darkness and what could have beens.

All those times we looked up at the sky
Looking out so far it felt like we were flying
Now I’m all alone in the dark of night
The new moon is shining
But I can’t see the light
 

Sinking to the floor he struggled to breathe, as everything sank in, Jemma was gone, and there was nothing that he or anyone else could do to bring her back. Burying his face in his hands, he felt the cold metal of his wedding band touch his cheek and contemplating ripping the ring off and throwing it across the room.

He had failed her as a husband. He was supposed to protect her, but just like the Chitauri virus all those years ago, he hadn’t been able to protect her from what he could not see.

He looked at the simple wedding band that seemed to mock him, reminding him that he had failed the one person that mattered most.

He could practically hear her voice in his head, her haughty British accent at it’s most posh, berating him, telling him that her death was in no way his fault and that if she had to choose between living or loving him, she wouldn’t change a thing.

He pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes in an attempt to ward off the tears that were falling, blazing hot trails of despair down his chiseled cheeks.

He might have stayed there forever if it hadn’t been for the sound of footsteps approaching. Looking up he didn’t even bother to try and hide the fact that he had been crying. His wife just died, he figured he was entitled to it.

However the person that stood in front of him was literally the last person he expected.

“If you’re going to try and convince me to stay with S.H.I.E.L.D, don’t bother, I already told Coulson I quit.”

Fury’s second in command raised an eyebrow, “I was informed you handed in your resignation. However both Fury and Coulson refused to accept it.” she clasped her hand behind her back, “You’re one of our best Agent Ward, as was your wife. S.H.I.E.L.D would hate to lose both of you.” Grant snorted, quite frankly he didn’t give a shit what S.H.I.E.L.D wanted. “She wouldn’t want you to just give up.”

Grant was on his feet in the blink of an eye, Agent Hill pinned against the wall with impressive speed, “DO NOT PRESUME TO TELL ME WHAT MY WIFE WOULD HAVE WANTED.” the rage in his eyes was almost maniacal. “You didn’t know her.” he growled, “You have no idea what I’m going through.” he released his hold and backed away.

“You’re right, I didn’t know her.” She stared the specialist down, “But this?” she motioned to the unkempt home, this is what she would have wanted? This is how you honor her memory? By abandoning those closest to you? You’re not the only one grieving.”

Maria felt the air shift, the moment the words left her mouth and knew she had overstepped.

“Get out.” his voice was dark, and cold. It sent a shiver through the veteran agent.

“Grant,” she tried to placate him.

“Get. OUT!” he yelled, stalking towards her as she stepped back towards the door. “Get the fuck out and don’t ever come back!” he roared.

Grant had been raised to never hit a woman, even if he was in combat against one, he always managed to find ways to incapacitate his attacker without landing a blow. However that tightly controlled rage was threatening to crack, and Maria must have sensed it because she simply nodded and left. Leaving Grant standing alone in the foyer of his home.

Once again Grant contemplated going back to bed, perhaps when he woke up this would all be a horrible nightmare. However the knock on the door and voice that filtered through dashed any hope that he was stuck in a horribly cruel dream.

Opening the door, he stared at perhaps the only other person on the planet who had an inkling of what he was feeling.

“It’s time.” the accent was muted, as if he was loosing it without Jemma to sound off on.

Taking a deep breath he nodded and followed the Scot to the car.

The service went by in a blur. He vaguely remembered Captain America shaking his hand and sharing an anecdote about Jemma, the kind doctor who had helped rescue him from the ice. He didn’t remember seeing Natasha, but he found a note in his pocket, a simple ‘I’m sorry’ written in her surprisingly girlie handwriting. 

Jemma had been laid to rest in an open field, not far from the slingshot, where she would always have a clear and unobstructed view of the heavens. Coulson had been the one to suggest it, and Grant knew it would’ve been what she wanted.

He stayed at the grave long after everyone had gone. Fitz had left him the keys to the car, but Grant didn’t really care, he didn’t want to go home. There was nothing left there for him.

He stared at the headstone and fell to his knees, finally let the floodgates go, as he sobbed, heavy, gulping spasms that threatened to burst his lungs.

He palmed the smooth marble, feeling the cursed words beneath his hand:

…who never got the chance too

And I can’t look at the stars
They make me wonder where you are
Up on heavens boulevard
And if I know you at all
I know you’ve gone too far
So I can’t look at the stars