AN: Wow, so it's been awhile. School started again and I just haven't been able to keep up with all my stories. I'm so sorry about that, but I've come up with a narrower vision for this account that will be detailed in my bio by the end of the weekend. I got so many reviews, which I'm super happy about, that I don't know which ones to signal out and reply to. So, I'm just going to say thank you to everyone who has stuck with the story even throughout my absence.


Grant made his way through the common area, fully intent on chewing his uncle's ass out when he got back. He was going to rant for twenty minutes about how Coulson should have said he was alive, and then he was going to slug the older man across the face for good measure. He ignored the science babies behind him as they tried to talk to him. Before entering the cargo hold, he turned around. "You will not call me Grant. You will not call me Ward. You will call me Arsenal. Is that understood?"

The pair jumped, obviously a little scared. He probably would have felt bad, but just by looking at them, he could tell they were terrible at keeping secrets. If giving them a bit of a scare would convince them to keep this one, then he'd do it.

"Uh, yes. Crystal clear, Arsenal," said Simmons nervously.

He turned his attention to the Scotsman beside her.

Fitz shook his head wildly, as if the action would get him to calm down. "Yes, yes. Of course."

"Good, then we'll have no problems with each other."

He pulled open the door, stepping onto the platform overlooking the cargo hold. He only had to wait a few minutes before Lola pulled up. His uncle parked and got out of the car. Ward's eyes narrowed at the person who got out of the car with him, Skye. She wore a red shirtdress that hit mid-thigh, a few buttons undone. Her honey brown hair was in curls and she looked beautiful. He quickly discarded the thought. She was not beautiful, she was a figure from his past and an enemy of S.H.I.E.L.D. "Phil," his robotic voice whirred, "we need to talk."

He watched as Skye, who was picking up a box filled with possessions, glanced at Coulson, who was slightly paler than a moment before. His uncle was uncomfortable, good.

Phil cleared his throat, motioning to FitzSimmons, who were walking down the staircase to get to the car. "FitzSimmons, can you, uh, get Skye settled in while Arsenal and I have a much needed conversation."

FitzSimmons gave him a weird look, but nodded just the same, moving toward the trunk of the car. Coulson eyed him and nodded. He waited until his boss walked up the stairs before turning to follow him. They walked into the common room and then up another set of spiral stairs, arriving at Coulson's office. He fumbled with the keys before managing to open the door.

Grant was the second one to step inside. He kicked the door closed behind him and the second Phil turned around, he decked him. The older man stumbled backward in surprise. "That is for letting me think you were dead." He punched him again. "That is for letting Clint and Tasha think you were dead." He punched him harder, a third and final time. Phil cursed loudly. "And that's for bringing Skye onboard. What the hell are you thinking? You know how many issues I have with her. You know what she did."

Phil grabbed a rag to dab at his bleeding cheek, giving him a frustrated yet understanding glare. "I am aware. And I am truly sorry for doing this, but she's staying. She's going to be a member of this team whether you like it or not."

"She's from The Rising Tide," he stated, changing tactics. If Coulson wasn't going to do this for Grant, maybe he would do it for S.H.I.E.L.D. "She is a threat. Her and her buddies revealed information about covert ops, sabotaged important missions, and blew countless covers. She is not an ally."

"But we can turn her into one."

"You don't seriously trust her, do you?" asked Grant, disbelief etched into his mechanical voice.

"Why not? She helped when it counted, when Peterson needed us," insisted Phil.

"You can't seriously…" he paused, slamming his fist against his boss's desk. Coulson jumped backward, a shocked expression on his face. In the back of his mind, he registered that earlier that same day, he had told himself he didn't want to lose her. But right now, he was pissed. "I fucking hate you right now! If you're keeping her onboard, I'm leaving." He exited the room, slamming the door shut behind him.

"Hey, Arsenal!" he heard Skye call from behind him.

He ignored her, making his way to the cargo hold without even grabbing his stuff from his room. He would probably regret that later when he was forced to come back, but right now he just needed to get out of here.

"Arsenal, wait! We aren't even in New York!" shouted Coulson, trying to catch up with him.

He shrugged his shoulders, exiting the Bus. He scanned the airfield, spotting a Quinjet in a hangar. Making his way toward it, he replied over his shoulder. "Then I'll fly there!"


Tony Stark was working on an Iron Man suit when his cell phone buzzed persistently in his pocket. He ignored it, lowering the blow torch in his hands to wield another part of the suit. When his phone went off for a second time, he sighed in defeat, setting his work aside. He pulled the phone out of his pocket and accepted the call without looking at the ID.

"Tony Stark, sexy billionaire and playboy, speaking. How may I help you?" he quipped.

"Stark," answered Phil's grim voice.

Tony frowned at the older man's tone. "What's wrong?"

"You've got a very angry Grant heading your way," notified the level eight agent. "He just stormed out of my office and headed toward a Quinjet."

Tony sighed in frustration. "I take it that it's because of Skye."

"Yes," confirmed Coulson. "Are you sure bringing her onboard is the best thing for him?"

"Trust me, I spoke to the girl. She didn't tell me why she was a bitch that day, but she said she's regretted it every day since then. This'll be good for the both of them. Besides, kinda too late to back out now."

"I hope you're right. We've helped him a lot, but he's never been emotionally stable. Be prepared for a loose cannon."

"Roger that."


Grant burst through the door to the Avengers floor and practically ripped his hood off. His face was flushed with anger and frustration as he made his way to the kitchen, opening the fridge and pulling out a beer. He popped it open before storming toward the room his parents shared. The nerve of that bastard! Thinks he can just throw Skye on the team and get away with it. Well technically he can, he reminded himself, since he's the leader of said team. But still, what an asshole. What did I do to deserve this? Not only am I going to be on the same team as her, she's going to be living on the same plane as me! This is so, so stupid. He was stopped on the way by Steve.

"Hey, Grant," greeted the super-soldier.

He nodded in his direction. "Steve."

He tried to walk past, but the blond grabbed his bicep, halting him in his steps. "You okay?"

Grant shook his head. "I'm in the middle of a crisis right now, so…"

Steve examined him before reluctantly releasing him.

When he reached his parents' bedroom, he threw the door open. Clint, who was dressed in a black shirt and Nike shorts, looked up from his book. Natasha, who was sleeping in her black pajamas, jumped up at the sound of the doors opening. When she saw who it was, she lowered herself back onto the bed. Grant set his beer on the nightstand.

"Hey," greeted Clint, closing his book.

"Hey pops," he responded, running a hand through his hair as he flopped down on the bed next to them. "I hate everything right now."

"Why's that?" asked Natasha.

"I got assigned to a new team," he huffed.

"Yeah, we know. Coulson's team," stated the archer.

Grant peered up at him, raising an eyebrow. "You know he's alive?"

Clint laughed. "I found out almost a week ago. Took me awhile to find anything, but I have a lot of contacts. Once I barged into Hill's office demanding an explanation, she told me everything, even that you were going to be joining his team. I figured instead of telling you, I'd let you see for yourself."

The younger Specialist nodded in understanding, not really caring that Clint had kept the secret. It was only for a week after all. Besides, he had more pressing issues. Like the fact that Coulson took Skye in! "Well, that's not the only thing," he grumbled.

Tasha grinned at him from where she lay against a pillow. "Let me guess, you don't like the two scientists."

"No, it's not that. Although, they are kinda annoying. We found Skye. My first mission with the team and Coulson has me kidnapping her from a van! Not that that part is really his fault. He couldn't have known that she was the Rising Tide member we were after."

Natasha chuckled while Clint's expression changed to one of disbelief. "She's a Rising Tide member?" asked the redhead.

"Yeah! They're like the definition of what's wrong in this world and she's one of them! Or 'was', according to Coulson."

"What do you mean?" asked Clint, eyebrows furrowing.

"After the mission, Coulson drove up in Lola, which he apparently got fixed after the accident you two caused, with Skye in the passenger seat! He's very trusting of her, which is odd because he's usually never like this at all."

Clint was already moving by the time Grant finished his story, grabbing his Hoyt Gamemaster II recurve bow and quiver.

"What are you doing?' groaned Natasha.

"Suiting up," responded a gruff Clint. "I'm gonna whoop Coulson's ass."

The female assassin shifted, placing a gentle hand on her boyfriend's shoulder. "Maybe that's not the best idea. We should let this hash out by itself."

The archer's eyes widened in disbelief. "You're going to let Coulson do this?"

"I'm not letting anyone do anything," she protested. "It's his call, he's the leader of the team." She turned to Grant. "Grant, you need to calm down about this. Who knows, maybe you and Skye can work through everything."

Ward snorted, grumbling loudly. "As if that'll ever happen."

Natasha smiled gently. "If you try, maybe it will."

"So, I take it you guys won't be speaking to Coulson?" he questioned.

"Oh, don't worry, we're going to speak to him about this. We're just not going to force him to remove Skye. There will be rules, of course. For instance, if she deliberately hurts you, I'm going to use her for knife training," deadpanned the assassin.

"And," added Clint, a smug smile on his face, "there are a few new prototype arrows that I'm working on. I'm sure she'd make a great test subject."

Grant smiled inwardly. He could always count on Clint and Tasha to be overprotective of him.

"I, uh, should probably start heading to Peru. We're supposed to be investigating a 0-8-4 but I just lost my shit with Coulson."

They nodded and pulled him into a quick hug.

"Kick some ass," said Natasha.

"Don't die out there, Rookie," commanded Clint, raising a playful eyebrow.

Grant huffed. "I'm not a rookie. I'm level seven."

The archer smiled. "That might be, but you'll always be my Rookie."

He nodded, his lips curving into a smile. "Bye guys."


As he entered the Quinjet, closing the ramp behind him, he briefly went over his conversation with his parents. Perhaps he could try to give Skye a chance. It wouldn't be forgive and forget because that sure as hell was not happening, but maybe they could find common ground again. It was going to be hard, but he would give it a chance.

The plane lifted off the ground and he set course for his destination, Peru.


One of the things about Grant in this story is that, while he is strong physically, he has emotional issues. I think that's something that the Grant on the show has as well, but they don't explore enough. Hopefully, I can do that here. I really hope you guys and girls enjoyed.