Based on an interview Nick Blood did when asked about who he would want to play his parents on Shield, plus my own thoughts on the matter that corresponds beautifully with the interview.

She kept telling herself to slow down and breathe. Breathing was important. As an agent you had to be strong. You had to breathe and not let things get to you. No matter how hard things got. And things had gotten pretty hard. Practically a year, vanished from her life. All because of some creep who couldn't keep his hands to himself. It wasn't ideal, but here she was. SHIELD understood. They didn't hold anything against her. They were keeping the situation quiet so she wasn't made a public spectacle. If there was anything she hated it was attention. The rat responsible for this mess had given her a lot of attention.

Breathe. She needed to breathe. She couldn't keel over and be done with life before it had hardly begun. She was not yet 20 and here she was feeling like she was about to die. The aggravating bundle beside her seemed to feel the same way, because he was putting up quite a fuss. She glared at it. It was fed. It was changed. Whiny little brat. Needed to learn to be content. No. He had too much of his father. Vain. Materialistic. She saw the little boy in her arms growing up to be a greedy rat like his father. Couldn't care less if he did or not. The beast wouldn't be her problem for too much longer. Bad enough. Nine months. A few weeks. Ugh. Ugly weeks. With little sleep, no room to breathe and this rat always screaming and complaining and yanking at her hair.

She wasn't fond of Children. She could tolerate them in small doses. This thing was an overdose. It was icky and clingy and whiny and a pain. She looked at it. Her eyes said, "You're a pain." His eyes said, "but I'm a handsome pain." Just like his father. Ugh. She tucked her dark hair behind her ear.

"Stop looking at me." She told it. She wanted to go back to Shield. Shield was her life, her home. She didn't want a little beast at her heels. She wanted to go home. Be an agent. Be hard. And tough. And cold. Impenetrable. This thing had filled her world with pain for nine months and she had no desire to relive that. No desire to let it remind her of that awful night. She'd forget it. She'd forget him and his father and go back to being impenetrable. Perhaps there was a little tenderness in her heart for the child. But not enough. He just reminded her of his father. HE just reminded her of mistakes and failures and pain. She hated to fail.

"Stop staring at me. I don't want you. I'm going home." She practically yelled at it. Back to Shield. To the academy where she had friends, well, allies. Where she was obviously strong and no one doubted it. This thing made her feel weak. She wasn't weak. Her footsteps sounded like thuds as she walked down the London street. Heavy thuds. She had baby weight to work off. She'd deal with that soon. Gain muscle instead of flab. Ugh. Stupid man. Horrible man. She wouldn't speak of this to anyone. No one would know about the baby or its father. No one would ever know. Soon she would forget. She cherished the thought of forgetting. It left a sweet taste on her tongue. The child fussed and the taste went away. Her expression turned to stone.

"You're fine! There's nothing wrong with you!" She snapped. Children. The Agents she worked with could be childish enough. She didn't need an actual living breathing baby mussing up her work even more than supposedly trained "professionals" always did. She needed peace and quiet and this thing was brash and loud. When it learned to speak she knew it would be the type that never shut up.

"You're just waiting to ruin someone's life." She thought. She didn't say it. She was done talking to the beast. She shifted the creature in her arms. It made her feel conspicuous. Her hand knocked at the door of the house she only remembered because of vivid nightmares. The door swung open. The man of her nightmares.

"This is yours. Try not to kill it. It doesn't have a name yet." She thrust the child into his hands.

There was a touch of remorse as she walked away. She did hope the beast survived.

But the pain was no longer hers.

There it stood. The mercenary Bobbi Morse and Isabelle Hartley had vouched for. Lance Hunter was, apparently, its name. How old was it? She knew the exact number of years and was surprised it wasn't dead. He looked exactly like his father. That caused her to shudder. A trusted ally, Bobbi and Izzy had said. No. No ally. A beast. A rat. A creature. She'd forgotten for awhile. Now here he was. Reminding her. She didn't trust it. She couldn't trust it. It disgusted her.

She'd been right.

Vain. Materialistic. Not one to shut up. Just waiting to ruin her life.

Waiting for all those years.

No one could ever know. She'd keep her distance from Coulson's newest leap of faith.

Act like he was just another Agent and not a bitter reminder of failure.

Lance Hunter. Accident. Mistake. Failure.

She turned away. Her footsteps thudded, lighter now than they were the day she stormed through London expecting to be rid of the memories once and for all. She hoped he wouldn't stay. That he'd slip up, men like him always did, and quit before anyone ever found out.

But no one found out.

Not even him.

No one could ever know and the never would.