Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Author Note: Set before episode 2x06 'A Fractured House.'

AVERSION THERAPY

Fitz visited Ward again. This time, they were very carefully watched, the basement's cameras tracking their every move. Fitz could have disabled them but then he would have been dragged out and it would have been even more difficult to see Ward, to talk to him.

And he wanted to talk to Ward. He did. He'd promised that he wouldn't try to kill him this time.

May hadn't been happy but she'd looked at Fitz for a long moment and must have seen something lodged there because she hadn't tried to stop him. Coulson told him not to give Ward anything he could use. Like what? Ward already had everything. He'd scraped out Fitz's insides and had watched him fall. He'd claimed he'd given them a chance to live because a chance was all FitzSimmons needed to succeed.

It hadn't felt anything like a chance.

Skye had watched Fitz with haunted pained eyes. She hadn't needed to say anything.

The basement was quiet. Fitz noticed that first. He remembered noticing it before as well, when he'd stepped into the shadows to find out what was being kept hidden from him. Now he knew and his heart still thundered loudly in his ears. He wondered if Ward could hear it, only he knew that Ward couldn't so why did he wonder?

Ward made everything worse – the way that Fitz thought had always been so clear and fast to him, leaping from idea to idea, only now it was fragmented and words were missing and he couldn't form as many as he had before. Ward had done that and he made it worse now just by existing, by sitting in the basement and looking at Fitz with calm warm eyes.

Too warm. Not real. Not fair.

Fitz's grip tightened on his computer tablet, his other hand pressed briefly to his chest. Then, taking a deep breath, he swiped the right code in and unblocked Ward's view of the world. There he was, facing one of the walls, concentrating like he was counting bricks. Fitz's throat tightened and his fingers trembled but he stayed where he was.

Ward looked over and his expression softened, his eyes lightening. He didn't move towards Fitz at all, he'd learned not to. Ward was being considerate. Fitz didn't relax, he couldn't.

"Fitz," Ward sounded so sincerely glad to see him. "It's good to see you again."

Fitz stared at him, at the scars that he knew were hidden by Ward's hair and beard, scars from when Ward had repeatedly smashed his head against the wall. Despite what Ward might have said once, Fitz didn't have every degree possible but he didn't need them anyway when analysing what'd pushed Ward into snapping like that – the father figure that he'd dedicated so much of his life to had gone crazy thanks to an alien substance corrupting his system, and had ultimately been killed by Coulson. The people that Ward claimed to care about had rejected him and locked him in a box.

Fitz jerked his gaze down to his tablet. He knew what'd happened to Ward recently but he didn't know the before, what had led John Garrett to him. Fitz didn't know enough.

He couldn't, it wasn't...Fitz huffed out pained frustration and didn't look up again. There was a splinter stuck in his chest, that was what it felt like. It always hurt, it'd been there for months without any sign of disappearing. It wasn't actually physically there, Fitz knew that, but it still hurt. Like the barrier.

Fitz was breathing the same air as Ward but Ward couldn't touch him. The barrier was invisible but it was there, Fitz had seen how powerful it was. But Ward was still there too, so close, like he had been before.

Fitz thought about falling, the rush of air around him and the certainty that he was going to die and how he wasn't going to be able to save Jemma and-.

His fingers slid across the computer tablet again, the barrier became opaque and Ward disappeared, without protest, without even a murmur. His gaze remained firmly fixed on Fitz though, Fitz had seen that.

He walked quickly up the stairs and out of the basement. He headed to his room, nobody stopped him.

It took him three hours to stop shaking completely.

Skye had destroyed all existing records of Coulson's team. It'd been the only way to keep General Talbot from locating them, back when Garrett had still been alive, and even though Talbot was now on their side, their identities had gone unreconstructed. Fitz wondered what Ward's file had once said. Would it have revealed anything that could have helped them realise what he was actually capable of? Or were those same details the reason that Ward had done so well inside SHIELD?

Mack wanted to know if Fitz was okay. He looked concerned but didn't push when Fitz replied in a clipped tone that he was fine and didn't that airbag look off?

Jemma had lots of opinions but Fitz told her that he was busy. They'd argued enough about this already. Anyway, it wasn't like she ever appeared in the basement so she didn't have all the facts, did she?

Fitz focused on work; it was what he was supposed to do. But the connections still weren't there, even if Mack was helping. Fitz knew that he used to be faster than this, both his thoughts and his hands. He used to think of ideas that could save the day. He used to be better than this.

People were staring; they were staring and they whispering. They didn't think that he belonged.

"No one's whispering, Fitz."

He glanced quickly at Jemma, who was looking reassuring or trying to. He glanced away again. He couldn't...she wasn't...He had work to do.

Skye still questioned Ward; he always looked pleased to see her and answered her questions. His smile wasn't right though, Fitz studied the security camera footage. That wasn't the smile that Fitz remembered, it was too disjointed like it'd been smashed up and then put back together again in the wrong order. It made Fitz frown.

It stayed him with him too, digging under his skin and into his every thought, until, frustrated, he went down to the basement. He told May because he didn't want people to shout or try to keep him out.

"Why?"

"Because it's, there's...wrong and I need to work, I need to just be there. No questions, I won't say anything."

May's expression shifted the tiniest amount, "But he'll talk to you."

And Fitz couldn't say that he wouldn't listen. His shoulders moved and his face followed. May looked at him.

"The medics will want to sedate you afterward."

Fitz blanched and shook his head vigorously. That'd only happened once or had it been twice? Because of how he'd reacted to Jemma or Ward or something, Fitz tried not to think about it. He did not want sedation again, the sharp scratch of the needle and then his mind becoming even slower and more disparate. He'd refused them entry to his room after he'd last gone to see Ward and they'd respected his wishes. He hurried away before May changed her mind. She wasn't careful with him but he could feel the difference in how she treated him now. She expected more of him and he'd disappointed her. What use was he to her if he stayed like this?

What use was he to anyone?

He stepped down into the basement and changed the barrier's appearance; Ward was doing press-ups. He'd taken his shirt off; he had kept himself in good shape, even though his cell lacked any exercise equipment. Fitz watched a bead of sweat trickle down Ward's chest until Ward paused and got to his feet. He didn't smirk or give any indication that he'd felt Fitz's gaze.

He stood and he looked at Fitz as though he was drinking him in, as though he needed to see Fitz. When he smiled a little bit, his expression was the one that settled something inside Fitz. It wasn't the smile that he'd seen Ward wear for Skye – was it another weapon? Something he'd learned from Garrett?

Garrett had wanted Fitz and Jemma dead. He'd told Ward to shoot them. Ward had tried to kill them and had also tried to help them. He'd killed Victoria Hand and other SHIELD agents; Fitz didn't know how many.

Ward had been his friend, he'd teased Fitz, he'd saved Fitz's life, they'd played board games and video games together. Fitz had liked him, more than he'd liked most field agents. That'd been nice, good, warm. That'd turned out to be fiction though, Ward's innocuous cover, the skin that he'd worn before.

But his smile comforted Fitz.

Fitz took a step back, he should leave. Ward studied him, something changing in his eyes, dimming, something dimming in his eyes. Fitz didn't leave. He didn't step closer either though; he sat down and turned his attention to his computer tablet. With Ward hovering in his eyeline, Fitz pulled up the files that he'd been trying to work on all afternoon and concentrated.

He got through over half of them, identifying possible uses and combinations with the artillery that SHIELD already owned. He only filled in the bare minimum when emailing reports to Coulson but he wrote something on each one. He tried to focus, to take his time so that something like the right words came out. He didn't ask Ward for any suggestions or help.

Eventually there was a beep from his tablet – Coulson wanted to see him. Fitz got to his feet; his hands had started trembling. Ward was frowning, peering at Fitz and taking a step closer to the barrier, like he wanted to cross it. Fitz could feel angry pained words building up inside of him but he kept his mouth shut.

He did look at Ward though before he started climbing the stairs. He wanted to memorise Ward's expression, he didn't know what his own was doing. He didn't care. No, he didn't. Something lurched inside of him as he left as quickly as he could.

"You didn't say anything and apparently neither did he."

Coulson seemed to be wanting a confirmation so Fitz answered him, "He didn't."

Coulson nodded thoughtfully and then gestured towards one of his office's large flatscreens, "You got through a lot today. It's good work."

It wasn't. Fitz had done much better before. His mouth twitched downwards and his hands couldn't stay still. Coulson looked at him keenly but didn't push for any verbal reply. Coulson expected more out of Fitz too. Fitz used to be useful, now he was hard work, wasting time, not giving SHIELD the answers it needed. His right hand clenched.

Coulson leaned purposefully against his desk, "There any particular reason why you had to work down in the basement, with Ward?"

Fitz's gaze darted up to meet Coulson's before darting away again. His shoulders lifted uncomfortably. He didn't know, he didn't know anything. He just knew what he'd felt itching under his skin, how wrong Ward's expression had been.

"It wasn't right," he managed to say, his gaze darting up then down again.

"What wasn't? Ward?"

"Yes, no, partly, part of him, fiction, his..." Fitz's fingers curled and flailed, drawing a shape in the air. "It was wrong."

Coulson looked like he was following, "And seeing him locked up helps."

Maybe. Fitz's body shifted again in a not-quite answer. Coulson looked pointedly downwards.

"You're sure?"

Fitz looked down too; his hands were trembling. Coulson waited, until Fitz knotted his fingers together and said, "Worse, it was worse before."

Coulson raised an eyebrow, "That's progress? I know the medical department want to keep a closer eye on you but what you've been doing with Mack and now this; it felt like maybe a corner's been turned."

Fitz's heartrate had spiked at the mention of the medics wanting to spend more time with him. Now he felt himself calm somewhat but not settle. He managed a jerky nod at Coulson's conclusion. He felt like he was facing a lot of corners and his drones still weren't responding to him.

Coulson continued, "Be careful, especially if he starts talking again."

Fitz waited for more but apparently that was it so he left for the lab. He had more files to look through and some vehicle points to look at with Mack. He could do that for now because the itch was gone from under his skin and maybe his thoughts, words and actions would click together too if he hurried.

He passed a room occupied by Skye, Hunter and Trip. He caught a snatch of their conversation.

"...and his safe place is apparently with a psycho killer. Are we sure there isn't..."

Fitz moved on quickly, his heart and head pounding. His hands were shaking hard.

Fitz didn't remember his dreams. He refused to.

The next day, Fitz went down to the basement after breakfast. There were no missions on deck; he'd be contacted if the team was called out. He watched the barrier appear to melt away but he knew better as Ward came into view. He looked expectant this time, his mouth smiling a little warmer. The right smile. He still didn't speak; like he knew what Fitz needed.

Fitz moved his chair a tiny pace forward and settled himself down, preparing to focus on his computer tablet. Ward sat down opposite him and continued to watch.

Fitz concentrated and worked, his thoughts joining up. He emailed Coulson. It wasn't good work, any staff member in a white coat could do it, but he was the one doing it and that, that was something. He stayed down in the basement for hours. No one bleeped him, maybe they didn't need his help, maybe they'd found someone whose thoughts didn't break apart, someone who could speak in whole sentences. Ward's gaze never left Fitz's face.

A line of barrier code glimmered briefly. Fitz thought about the barrier, there but not there. He wondered how much it would hurt if he pressed his hand into it, how that pain would feel, if it'd be worth it if he could push through and touch Ward, if he could find out how fictional Ward really was.

Ward looked at him like he was thinking the same thing.

When the shaking began this time, Fitz didn't leave. He let it happen.

-the end