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The first time Grant Ward is given “lab duty” he whines.
He’s not ashamed to admit it. He’s a highly trained specialist, capable of executing complex missions, eliminating those in his way.
He is not a babysitter.
But after Reyes, Coulson decides not to trust anyone they bring on board. So when there are visitors, there must be lab security.
It’s mostly uneventful. Fitz spends the entire time wearing giant headphones to listen to a low-frequency buzz their artifact is emitting.
Simmons is her normal chatty self, thinking out loud and occasionally demanding he answer questions he doesn’t understand.
He gets one right, though. He can tell because she beams at him before turning to her spectrometer.
There’s a small incident involving a collected specimen of mutated lizard that reanimates and tries to eat his arm.
But after he’s shot it several times, she assures him it could probably only have digested his hand. Not enough stomach volume for an entire arm.
Then she offers him an antibiotic wipe and another smile and gets down to cleaning up the blood.
**
They don’t have passengers again for a few weeks.
The agency suits hitching a ride to the international incident hardly count as threats, but Coulson still gives him the nod.
Sometimes he thinks the guy just doesn’t trust his diplomacy skills.
Skye and Fitz are having an animated conversation about coding languages when he gets to the lab.
There’s no sign of Simmons.
He settles in, figuring she’s at her bunk or in the bathroom. But ten minutes later, he’s starting to wonder.
"You two seen Simmons lately?"
"What is it with you and last names?" Skye asks with an eyeroll.
"Uh," Fitz contemplates. "She said she was taking Sneezy out for some air."
"When?"
"…Earlier?" The young man’s sheepish shrug is no help.
But rules are rules.
He’s in the doorway when he remembers that he’s the only team member who understands that logic.”You know the drill. No one but the team comes through those doors.”
They acknowledge with a nod and a middle finger.
He checks the cars, and then her bunk, and finally spots her slouched in a chair in the corner of the main deck. Coulson is holding court with the visiting dignitaries at the other end of the room. Grant can feel his boss’s eyes following him to her seat.
"Ms. Simmons," he says, casually sliding into a chair next to her, "didn’t we vote as a team to give the politicians a wide berth?"
"Doctor."
"Sorry?"
"It’s Doctor Simmons." She looks up briefly. "I’ve got two of them."
"Two of what?"
"Doctorates."
Something on her tablet beeps and he leans over to see. It’s mostly rows of numbers, but she’s not fast enough to hide the title at the top: Sneezy.
"Ok, Doctor Doctor. Why is that little helicopter menace out and loose on this plane?"
"He’s not calibrating." She jabs at the sliders a few times, then swipes back to the main screen. "I needed some new smells to test my upgrade."
"New smells…" His stomach drops. "Tell me you’re not testing it on the head of the CIA."
"Well, not just him. There’s also NSA, NASA, and Homeland Security over there."
He looks back to where Coulson is chatting with the power group. Sure enough, there’s a small black machine hovering just behind the NSA chief’s head.
"If you get caught, Coulson will very likely throw you from this plane."
"I don’t know, I think he likes me," she grins cheekily. "Ever since my fish tank got scrapped, he’s been quite forgiving."
**
He picks up on their nuances, the more time he spends on lab duty.
(Sometimes he wonders if that isn’t Coulson’s goal. He is a sneaky bastard.)
Grant’s quiet and can settle into a corner and let the science babble flow around him. But he finds himself listening and noticing certain themes.
Fitz has a rather highly developed opinion of his own genius. Entirely deserved, but still a bit much. He still wishes, although slightly less so, that he could do all of his work from the safety of an office building. He screams with lots of diaphragm, so he’ll be easy to find if the lights go out during a fight. He utterly respects Simmons’ opinion. And she may be the only person on the team that holds true for.
Simmons is easier, friendlier, a bit less bluster and a bit more glee. Actually, it’s a lot of glee. He’d be worried she was bordering on mad-scientist levels of the stuff, if she wasn’t so obviously the level-headed one of the brilliant pair. She learns incredibly fast, and has been quick on her feet the last few times they were in tight spots. She gets flushed when she’s excited and pales when she’s nervous.
They’re chattering away about the 0-8-4 they’ve been dispatched to examine. Grant’s wondering why members of their Chinese military “escort” have just passed the lab doors for the fourth time in five minutes.
There’s nothing down here they should need.
"We are cleared for landing." May’s voice comes across the plane’s intercom. "Please fasten your seatbelts; we’re being warned of turbulence 5 minutes out."
The three of them freeze. The turbulence warning is code; it means May is anticipating an attack.
Fitz gets up and nervously starts stowing and locking equipment. Simmons looks a bit lost, so Grant catches her eye and strolls to her side.
"You been practicing?" he asks.
"Yes, but only on malfunctioning prototypes," she whispers. He can see that she’s shaken. They haven’t had an in-flight incident since Reyes.
"Have you hit anything?" She’s a surprisingly good shot. He’d agreed to a few lessons after the incident with the lizard. She claims it's all geometry and physics.
Her indignation brings a bit of color back to her face. “You know perfectly well that I have.”
He watches as she pulls up a map of their flight path. They’re nowhere near their destination, still flying over the mountains of rural China. Melinda’s landing announcement sounds all the more ominous.
”I had Coulson requisition a firearm for you,” he says, watching Fitz bring up the security cameras installed on the main deck. The Chinese soldiers are massing by the cockpit, but don’t appear to have breached the door.
"I noticed," she smiles, biting her lip. "Had to find somewhere to store it that Fitz wouldn’t accidentally shoot his foot off."
"Please tell me it’s in this room."
"Watch and learn, Agent Ward."
She swipes in a command on her tablet and a small drawer opens behind her. The soldiers on the screen have resorted to banging on the door of the cockpit, and Coulson and Skye are readying their gas masks. (Sleeping gas seemed the most obvious, least-likely-to-blow-another-hole-in-the-plane solution to another Reyes situation.) May would have put hers on after the distress call.
Grant’s counted the crowd upstairs and knows there should only be two or three soldiers on their deck. On cue, a soldier pounds on the glass and gesticulates that they should open the lab doors.
Fitz glances at the two of them in consternation. They have a plan for this, but he’s never had to execute it before.
Simmons takes the safety off her dart gun, and looks at Grant, cheeks pink with excitement.
They each take one soldier down with the elephant tranqs. Grant eases out of the lab, watching for the possible third.
"Behind you!"
He’s very proud and just a tiny bit turned on when a dart sails past his ear and catches the third soldier in the neck.
He’ll make a field agent of her yet.