The Snapshot {An Agents of Shield Fanficton} [1]

Escape

I looked out of the window of the plane. I saw patches of forest and miles of rolling fields. Looking at the top of the huge barn and farm house we were approaching, I felt a little homesick. I missed the farmlands of my home. I closed the shutter and began my walk to the garage. The team was already filing into the two black GMC's.

I spotted Skye waving me over to the second one. She opened the door for me and I fumbled into the backseat. Ward was driving and Coulson was in the passenger. This is what they meant by the welcome wagon.

Coulson adjusted his earpiece and spoke into it. "Strike team, park out of sight but scout the area and be ready to back us up. We don't want this guy getting away." He turned around and handed me an earpiece.

"This is connected to this," he said, handing me a small tablet with a video feed. I took it and glanced at it. Right now it was focused on a windshield and moved slightly.

"It's connected to a helmet cam. We'll need you to help instruct the team. If you press the blue button on the screen your radio frequency changes to that of the team's and you can talk to them," he instructed.

I nodded and slipped the tablet in my jacket pocket. I noticed my hand shaking slightly. I silently laid them in my lap, trying to calm my nerves. Skye glanced at me.

"You good?," she asked.

I nodded and smiled nervously. "Yeah, I'm fine."

"Good. This won't be long," she added.

The car shook as the plane touched down.
"Let us out, May," Coulson said.

The ramp slowly lowered down and Ward stepped on the gas, sliding onto the dirt road and towards the farm house in the distance.

It wasn't long before the road became a driveway. We slid to a stop in front on an old, wooden, yellow house with a front porch, tin roof, and peeling paint. Coulson got out first, followed by Ward, Skye, and then me.

Coulson stepped up the stairs to the porch and to the old oaken door. He knocked a few times.

Obvious hurrying noises came from the inside of the house. The curtain on the window to the left of the door shifted and closed as someone took a peek outside. A moment later the door was opened and there stood a old woman. She had on a floral print shirt with jeans and a flour dusted apron. Her silver hair reached her shoulders and the sun has left many wrinkles on her face.

"Can I help you?," she asked. She glanced at me with curiosity. But the nervousness in her voice was obvious. At least to me.

"Are you Ms. Laila Park?," Coulson asked.

"Yes," she replied.

"Is it alright if my associates and I come inside? We have a few questions we'd like to ask you," Coulson said.

"Why sure, please come in," she said, swinging the door wide to allow us in.

She closed the door behind us and gestured to the old furniture assembled on the dusty wooden floor. Coulson sat but the rest of us remained standing, looking around. Coulson gave me a slight nod as a go-ahead as the woman sat to his right.

"So," she began. I watched her carefully. She smoothed her apron as she sat down and clasped her hands in her lap. "If you don't mind me asking, what's this all about?"

I looked to the coffee table beside me. On it was a half full glass of water.

"We are here to ask about your nephew, Peter," Coulson said.

Her mouth opened and a slightly visible shudder traveled through her body. She looked at her hands and fiddled with her thumbs. Another sign of nervousness. She looked back up. "Oh, Peter. What would you like to know?"

"When was the last time you saw him?," he asked.

"Well, after the...incident...with his parents, I was told he had run away. Before that, the last time I had seen him was at Thanksgiving," she said.

She was lying about that. But there had to be something I missed. I looked around again and my eyes rested on the coffee table once more. But I noticed something and took a step back to get a different angle. The light from the window hit the table and illuminated a trace ring of condensation from another cup of water that had been there recently. Laila lived alone

I stiffened and looked at Coulson and then at Laila, who made eye contact. I could see the fear and resent in her eyes. I was sure.

"She's lying. He's here," I said aloud.

Coulson stood up, Ward's hand went to the gun holstered at his waist, and Skye looked around. Laila's expression gave it away but she tried to cover it up. "What are you talking about?"

I put my hand up for silence for a split second then ran to the window on the farthest wall. Looking out, I saw a figure running towards the barn on the hill.

"He's going for the barn," I yelled.

"He's going for the barn," Ward said to the team. "Move in now." With that he sprinted out the door and leapt off the porch in pursuit.

Coulson looked at Laila, who was obviously terrified. "Stay here," he said. "Don't worry, I promise we won't hurt him. We're not the bad guys."

"He's right," I reassured her. "We're trying to protect him."

She sighed, but I'm not sure if it was in relief or not. No time to figure that out.

I ran out onto the porch followed by Skye and Coulson. I whipped out the pad from my pocket and tuned the earpiece to talk to the team. The pad lit up and I saw a shaky feed of a windshield rolling across grass. Suddenly, the barn came into view. I looked at the actual barn to my right. Ward was no longer in sight.

Neither was Peter.

I turned back to the screen. The team was rapidly approaching the barn. I heard some chatter on the earpiece. It was Ward's voice.
"Hey! Stop!," he yelled.

"Ward's made contact. Move in now!," Coulson said.

I looked back at the screen. The car had stopped in front of the barn and the person with the camera was running towards the large door. I looked up at the actual car on the hill. I didn't think. I just ran. I heard Skye and Coulson's protests. I ignored them. I knew something was about to happen.

I heard grunting and the sound of breaking wood as the team broke down the barn door. I kept running but snuck a look at the screen. The team was filing in but in the middle of the barn's dirt floor was Ward. And Peter.

The only thing was, Ward was standing still, his gun on the ground next to him. Peter's hand rested on his chest, giving him the ability to blow a hole through him any second. The team's flashlights illuminated his face in the dimly lit barn. He turned and I saw his look. A look I had seen before. In Fields, when I told her I was going to capture the person she loved. Complete hate, anger, and that one emotion you have when you would do anything possible in your power, including kill, to accomplish your mission.