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

Judge, Jury, & Executioner

I sat in the lobby area of the Bus on one of the couches, my arms crossed, staring off into space. Most of the team were enjoying drinks at the bar or resting if they were injured. I tuned out the voices and the clanking of glasses. I kept staring at the laces of my boots.

I couldn't stop thinking about him. His face when he was surrounded. I could still feel the complete and utter helplessness when he was pinned to the tree. He had looked at me with eyes pleading for me to help, but I didn't. I stood there at let him get shot. But I couldn't have helped. Could I?

From his view I was the bad guy. Why? Why did he hate SHIELD so much? I mean, when he was imprisoned by them, they had to have tried to help him, right? What had they done to him that was so bad that he was willing to kill someone in order to get away? He kept repeating I won't go back there. Why?

I was interrupted as Coulson with a glass in his hand sat down beside me. "Hello."

"Hi," I replied.

"That was good work out there today," he said. "You saved a lot of people by warning about the blast. Maybe even his life."

"Maybe," I said.

"Listen, this ability that you have could open a lot of doors for you other than just intelligence. You can see moves before they are made. This could be very useful in combat or other fields," he said.

I was genuinely surprised. Me? In combat? Not likely. Not until I grow at least. "I don't know about that," I said.

"I'm not asking you to do anything right now," he said. "Just maybe give it some thought. It's possible you could have a future here with SHIELD."

I nodded. "I certainly will think about it."

Coulson nodded and stood up to leave.

"Coulson?," I said, stopping him. "What happens to him when we get back?"

"Oh, you mean Richards? Well, he'll most likely be put back in treatment to help him control his power. Then he'll most likely be tried for his crimes including his parent's murder and probably sentenced to prison for a good amount of his life. But with SHIELD, of course. A normal court couldn't handle a case like this."

I nodded slowly. "And where is he now?"

"Fitzsimmons have him under anesthesia in the lab," he replied.

"Oh,", I said.

"Don't get any wild ideas," he said. "He's still a criminal and a murderer. I know he's young and close to your age, but it still doesn't justify what he's done."

I nodded again. "Understood."

"Good." Coulson sipped his drink and walked away.

I waited until he was busy with something else before slipping away from the commotion to the downstairs Bay Area and the lab. My boots tapped the metal stairs as I descended. I came to the bottom and stopped when I saw the glass doors. I walked toward them and they opened automatically.

Simmons passed me holding a clear IV bag full of fluid.

"Hello, Lucy," she greeted. "This was unexpected." She sat the bag on the counter next to me and started doing something with it.

"Yeah, um, I was just coming to visit, with all the commotion upstairs I'm starting to get a headache," I said.

"Well that's understandable," she said. "All those fighting, kicking, blundering, um, what's another word fitz?"

"Sharp-shooting, bulging egos, trash talking, gambling, drinking, combat-academy graduates!," Fitz called from across the room.

Simmons laughed. "Exactly. Science division is much more fun." She began to walk to the cubicle I was first tested in. I followed her.

She entered the cubicle and I saw him lying there in the dentists chair, except now it was laid flat. Simmons turned around and noticed me standing in the doorway.

"I don't know if you're supposed to...well, I don't see how it could hurt. I'm just changing his anesthesia anyway," she said.

"Thanks, Simmons," I said entering the cubicle. I walked around to see his face.

He was just lying there, sleeping peacefully. The IV needle was taped to his left arm and his hands and ankles were secured in leather cuffs with padding to the chair. Simmons noticed me looking at them.

"Oh, those are just in some bizarre case the anesthesia doesn't keep him asleep until we get to the Sandbox," she reassured me.

I nodded. His chest rose and fell with every breath. He should be grateful. This was probably the best sleep he has gotten in a while. I stared at his face. So expressionless now compared to when he looked at me. I just can't get it out of my head. When I read him, I felt what he felt. The hopelessness, fear, and despair. And quite honestly I can't even begin to comprehend what that must have been like to experience that firsthand. I shook my head. When I look on his face, I don't see the face of a murder. Or a viscous criminal. Which is odd. I know he did those things but when I look at him I just don't see him doing it. When I looked at Fields, I knew what kind of person she was. The kind that doesn't let anything get in her way. But when I look at him....I'm not sure. I shook my head and stepped back.

"You know, I think I'll catch a few hours of sleep. These time zones are killing me," I said.

"Go ahead," Simmons said. "I certainly don't blame you. You've been going at it for quite a while."

I smiled and nodded, stepping out of the cubicle and then the lab. I walked into the quietness of the cot slot room to see Skye snoring on the couch.

I laughed a bit and then climbed into my cot, wrapping the blankets around me like a tortilla. I closed my eyes, attempting to sleep.

But I just couldn't help thinking that I was in the wrong side.