A/N- Breathe with me here, you guys. I'm attempting to right a multi-chapter, continuous, long fic. I hope you all enjoy.

Summary- It's been five months since she swam to the surface with her best friend, yet Fitz is still not recovered. Simmons blames Ward for everything that has occurred. But what happens when he promises her a way to save Fitz, if she only comes with him?

Five months. That's how long it had been since her life had been irreversibly changed for the second time. Five months and it still wasn't enough time for Fitz to make a full recovery. Yet it seemed to be enough time for someone to regain their team's trust.

Granted, Ward was still kept under heavy surveillance but he was allowed to roam the base, continue training with Skye and Trip, even visit Fitz (against Simmons' wishes). Coulson convinced her it would be good for both of them. She, meanwhile, had been less than thrilled and supervised his visits with the eyes of a hawk. There were times during his visits that Ward would glance at her, giving her an odd look. It felt almost like scrutiny, and Simmons tried not to squirm under his gaze.

Everyone knew the grudge she held against Ward, and they all respected it, for the most part. Skye made halfhearted attempts to show that he was changing, but Simmons would merely give her a look until Skye's words died in her mouth. Trip tried as well, but Simmons tolerated his excuses for an even shorter period of time before she gave him the same look or she walked away.

There were times, however, when she would feel her resolve waver. She would pass by the kitchen and see Ward, Trip, and Skye sharing some drinks after their workout. Skye would laugh at something Ward had said, and the familiarity of it all would bring a smile to her lips. Quickly catching herself, Simmons would always practically run away, feeling she had betrayed her best friend.

After moments like that, there was only one place she wanted to be- at Fitz's side. Most of the time he was sleeping, and she would watch. Her heart would harden more and more against Ward with every beep of the heart monitor, reminding her what that monster had taken from her and Fitz. But if she stayed too long, her heart would start to turn against herself as well.

Because Fitz wouldn't have brain damage if she hadn't taken his oxygen. He wouldn't be struggling with basic motor skills if she hadn't breathed in that air. And if she thought about it too much, her stomach would twist with guilt and she felt she would throw up and cry at the same time.

So instead, she focused on Ward. Remembered the cruel look on his face as he sent them plummeting to the bottom of the ocean. That's how she remembered him- cruel and uncaring. And that's how she would keep him in her mind.

It was about two weeks after Ward had been "released" that Simmons sat at the desk in her room, staring at the book she was trying to read. Five months didn't appear to be enough time for her to recover either, and many nights were spent trying to distract herself enough from her thoughts in order to fall asleep.

The lamp on her desk only cast a small ring of light around it, leaving most of the room in shadow. The base was nearly silent and only the quiet whirring of the machines made a sound. Simmons sighed as she rubbed at her eyes again for what seemed to be the twentieth time that night.

She gave a small jump and her heart raced into action as the door to her room opened. The sliver of light it cut across the door barely illuminated the visitor, and she had to wait until he entered the room fully to know his identity. Rage filled her when she saw who stood there, and it took all her self-control not to throw her book at him like a child.

"What are you doing here?" she asked in a cold tone. "It's the middle of the night."

"Then why are you awake?" Ward asked as he came closer, closing the door behind him. She opened her mouth to answer, but he did it for her. "It's because the guilt keeps you up, makes your stomach churn." His voice was quiet, but intense. "Every time you close your eyes you see his hands shaking, his lips struggling to form words, and you know it's your fault he's like that."

"No," she replied with a shake of her head, voice dripping with venom. "It's your fault."

"It is," Ward agreed. His face screwed up at the words and his eyes seemed pained, but Simmons ignored both of them. He deserved to feel pain. And the regret he felt, well, she didn't want to dwell on it. It was his business. "But don't think I haven't noticed the way you've been acting lately," he continued, voice more choked than before. "The guilt is swallowing you up, too."

She crossed her arms, deeming that the statement didn't deserve affirmation from her, even if it was right. "So what?"

"So I know someone who can make it better." He took a step closer, holding out his hand to her. "Want to help?"

She looked at his hand. If there was one person in the world she hated, it was the man standing in front of her. He had ruined her life totally and completely. But she also knew that the one person in the world she loved and cared about more than anything was struggling just to exist. And the man in front of her was offering a way to change that.

Standing and ignoring his outstretched hand, Simmons turned hard eyes on Ward. "I'm not forgiving you."

"I understand that," he replied with a nod.

"And I'll never forgive you. Even after all of this is done, I still won't forgive you. This is not your redemption. Do you understand that?" He nodded again, and she tried to ignore the slight downturn of his lips. She sighed before asking, "What do you need me to do?"

His face didn't change like she thought it would. She thought he would sag in relief, maybe even give her the classic Grant Ward smile. Instead, he only seemed to get more nervous. Her eyes narrowed instantly in suspicion.

"What is it?"

"We have to leave. Now," he added, as if his urgent tone hadn't made it obvious.

She wanted to ask why they had to leave so late, in the middle of the night. She wanted to ask why Ward was acting so nervous. She wanted to ask, but she was afraid of the answer.

An older part of her was asking, no, demanding that she find those things out before moving another step forward with him. It was the part of her that craved preparation, the part that couldn't improvise to save her life, the part that shot Sitwell in the chest.

But the new part of her, the part that was formed in the fire of her world burning down and the rushing of water filling up a med pod, told her to do what was right and damn the consequences. Because Fitz needed her, and what else really mattered?

"I'll be outside my door in five," she told him briskly, already moving to place things in her duffel bag

"You're- you're coming?"

"That's what you told me I needed to do."

"Right. I just didn't…" Ward let the sentence trail off and regained his composure. He looked more like Grant Ward again, all confidence and bravery. She hated the act. "I'll meet you out there."

It took Simmons a few moments to compose herself as well after he left the room. If she thought about what she was doing for too long, she knew she would get cold feet and back out. And she didn't want to do that. She owed it to Fitz to take this plunge with Ward. Fitz had believed in the traitor until the very end. Maybe that belief was finally being rewarded, and it was up to Simmons to see it through.

After she stopped her hands from shaking (for the most part) she finished packing and turned off her reading light, deciding at the last moment to grab her book as well. Closing the door behind her, she glanced around to find Ward. He was standing in the shadows of the hallway, black shirt and dark pants blending into his surroundings.

"Ready?" he asked.

She held up her bag. "Let's go."

Their footsteps clicked against the tile floor. The base was as silent as it had been ten minutes before while she was reading, but it had shifted to fill the space between her and the man beside her. She used to think she knew him like the back of her hand, or at least as well as the back of her favorite book. He'd been there for the team, the big brother she'd never had, but had always read about in books and seen in the movies. She'd mended his wounds and scrapes, had run his diagnostics. He'd saved her from harm and death more times than she cared to think about.

And then he'd lost it all. He'd hurt her in the most excruciating way possible. He'd stolen her best friend, the one that she had shared her mind, soul, and life with since that day they'd been partnered at The Academy.

So the silence filled the gap between them that had once been filled with trust. It was made of nothing but broken promises, half-truths, and a strong desire to save Fitz. Simmons just hoped it was enough to get them through this mission.

It wasn't long until they reached the door to the hangar where their vehicles (along with the BUS) were kept. They both paused in front of it, waiting for the other to enter the room.

Simmons lost her patience first. "Well?"

"I can't." The words were said simply, almost matter-of-fact.

"What do you mean you can't?" The spark of anger she'd been nurturing sparked to life at those two words. "You dragged me out of my room to walk over here and do nothing? You told me there was a way to help Fitz, gave me this hope. I knew I shouldn't have trusted you, Grant Ward. If I-"

"I can't," Ward repeated, cutting her off. His voice was clipped and angry, and his movements matched his tone as he pulled up the cuff of his trousers. The device that was fixed onto his ankle blinked angrily at her. The anklet restricted Ward's access to certain points of the base, including the hangar. "You need to turn it off."

"What do you think I am?" she countered with a scoff. "Stupid? I'll deactivate long enough for you to get through the door." She bent down and reached for the device, but he yanked his leg back. Letting out a frustrated sigh, Simmons didn't bother to disguise her frustration as she glared up at him. "What?"

His eyes skirted around the hallway, landing on anything but her. "Why do you think we're leaving in the middle of the night?" He licked his lips.

"Because you're an annoying twat?" Simmons clipped.

That made him meet her gaze, and he gave her a withering look. "We don't want to be followed."

"Why not?" She stood and crossed her arms. "Are you kidnapping me?"

"You're coming willingly, Simmons." His eyes cast about the room again, searching this time. "This mission isn't wholly legal. If Coulson found out, he would stop us. And the negotiations may take more time than we would have with the team on our tail. So if we want to save Fitz, we leave now with this thing off my ankle. For good." He had turned back to her during the speech, his eyes holding hers with an intensity she hadn't seen from him in a long time.

Her brain was screaming all the logical reasons why she should return to bed. Her heart was already reaching out and disbanding the device. So she turned to her gut. It warned her of danger, of all the things that could go wrong, but it also knew this was her only chance to return to Fitz what she had inadvertently stolen from him. And she trusted her gut.

"Fine." It was quick work to take the anklet off, and she was thankful she'd been the primary designer of it. Once removed, Ward wasted no time in stepping through the door and striding to the black S.U.V., the silver eagle long since removed from its doors.

Ward yanked open the driver's side and got inside, leaving Simmons to scramble to the passenger door and duck into her seat. She unceremoniously threw her bag in the seat behind them.

"Buckle up." It was all he said as he started up the car, the engine revving to life along with Simmons' heart beat.

Somehow, someway, she had ended up in a car with Grant Ward the traitor, speeding off to God knew where, in the hopes of saving her best friend. She only hoped she didn't regret it in the end.

Thoughts?

-princessmelia