Sirens blared as Grant Ward ran, still handcuffed, down the red flashing hallway, the blood from a cut on his forehead dripping down his face. As he turned a corner a guard crossed his path. A quick kick to the legs to bring him to his knees followed by a more powerful kick to the head had the guard down in seconds.
Ward grabbed his gun and shot the window in front of him, which he proceeded to run through. Falling onto a lower roof he stealthily made his way to the ground, holding the gun in one hand and a paperclip in the other as he worked to get the handcuffs loose.
The lock on the left cuff finally gave as Ward slid into a patrol van that had been left running in the high alert caused by his escape that had all the guards currently scrambling inside looking for him. By the time they realized he was gone he would be miles away, already swapping the van for a more inconspicuous vehicle. Ward only had one thing on his mind; his destination. Or rather, the person he needed to see there.
The white walls of the hospital reminded Ward of the juvie he had spent a few months in after he tried to burn down his childhood home. The color was supposed to be soothing, but it felt to him like it was compressing him, imprisoning him.
Ward shook the thought from his head as he instead turned his attention to the room numbers until he finally reached recovery room 305. He hesitated, his hand hovering above the knob for a few seconds, before finally exhaling and opening the door.
The room was fairly small, a bed pushed in the corner by the door, a tv facing the bed that looked like it had never been turned on, flowers and "get well soon" balloons scattered here and there. On the side of the room opposite to the door was a wheelchair semi-facing the window where Leo Fitz sat. His once bright and excited eyes were dim and lost looking, illuminated in the moonlight.
Ward stepped into the room, his eyes locked on the small figure. "Hey, Fitz," Ward whispered softly, looking for some kind of response but only being met by more silence.
Ward sank down to sit on the edge of the bed, eyes still locked on Fitz with mild distress, but mostly sadness. "I know this is my fault you're like this and I'm sorry. I never thought I would hurt you in this way. To be honest I never thought I would grow so attached to you, to the team at all, especially you…," he paused, looking down at his hands clasped tightly in his lap.
"When Garret took me on as my O.S. I thought I was done with letting myself by pushed around and forced to hurt people for my brother, but I was just trading him in for Garret. When you asked if we were friends, if I cared for you I realized that I did care, more than I had let even myself know, and it scared me. I've never felt that toward anyone before. Even Skye, most of that was just my attraction to her. But to care about someone, and have that someone care about you back, even though I had turned my back on you… it scared me to know I could get that attached. I thought I was weak, and I thought," his voice broke a little, then continued after a pause, "I thought I could cut you out like every other weakness I've had. But I was wrong. And now it's too late."
He looked up again a Fitz who still sat, staring but not really seeing. Ward stood up, walked over to Fitz, and pressed his lips to his temple in a tender kiss. "I'll find a way to make this right," he whispered. Then he turned a left the room, making his way back into the pitch black night outside.