Author's Notes

These will only be present in first Chapter if at all possible.

So I have read a lot of stories in AU written about the pairing of Fitz/Ward or Fitz/Mack which take into account Fitz injury but kind of play it down. After watching 2.3, where Fitz and Ward have their confrontation in the cell, I just had such strong feels I had to write something. Warning you now that the first half of this starts out as kind of a recap to that scene. Where will I go with this story? No idea! 2.3 is actually the last episode I've watched, another coming up shortly, and I'm sure my entire fic will be Joss'd to hell and back. However, I will deviate from canon, and keep this going, because I love the kicked puppy looks and sad face Ward gives Fitz and vice versa. So, this will go canon divergent or straight up near AU very fast, and we can all hold hands and jump in together. Also, I know I do not have the greatest track record of keeping up my fanfiction, but I am trying to practice setting schedules and writing due dates. So, we will see! Anyway, enjoy!

- Ward, Fitz, Couson, and other Agent of Shields are no property of mine.
- I do not have a beta reader to edit for me so forgive any typos you may see, please.

Containment 'D', dark and closed off, had made him nervous enough before without...this.

This - Ward - was too much for Fitz to handle and every breath felt like a fight. Fitz knew what a panic attack was, on an academic level he knew they were common for him now, but still, this. It did not help to close his eyes and busy his face in a palm. Ward would still be there, had been there, all along, and no one had told him. Perhaps that is what was rattling him? No. This room...

"You tried to kill us."

"No, I wanted to save you."

Ward, with his hospital scrubs and full beard that made him appear a whole new person, approached the glass as he explained. Fitz was not listening. He had given up on not looking. The panicked repetition of 'Stop moving please stop moving...' in his head would not allow it. Here was the man who had tried to kill Simmons and him, nearly had killed him, and he was calling it an attempt to save them. Something about Garrett. Explanations. Fitz heard them as if they were distant, not separated by glass, almost as if he were underwater again and fading into the black. That was ironic - the explanation of 'saving him' by dropping him into the ocean made it feel like he had returned there. This time there was no Simmons to swim him to the surface.

He would have to swim up himself.

"Do you know that...umm…" Words. Explanation. He had been good at explanations, why was this always so hard? Why was it so hard now. Unable to grasp the words Fitz felt his mouth open, close, and open again, all while Ward stared him down unblinking. He should not be here, Fitz that is, not Ward, he was exactly where he deserved to be. Except, he could breath. He was not damaged. It was not the words that sprang to mind first but the idea and that was how it should be. Fitz had ideas then he voiced them. He had ideas now and he could not voice them.

Visual demonstrations.

He was on his feet. Ward was still taller, had always been taller, and when he looked down at Fitz it was a literal thing. Fitz had always assumed that it was a little metaphorical too. Maybe the real explanation is Simmons and he were not worth a bullet? Though Ward had said he expected them to save themselves but Ward had said many things. Most of them were lies. The way Ward looked at him right now, frow furrowed and eyes in just that way that the rest of the team looked at him, he hoped was a lie. Fitz knew the rest of the team pitied him but his assailant too? Wait, could Ward even be considered his assailant or had it been the forces of submerged pressure? No, Agent, no, Ward had dropped them into that pressure. In a box. Fitz's thoughts spun out of control as he looked down at the datapad and desperately away from Ward. A thumping sound rang in his ears and distantly, analytically, Fitz surmised it to be his heart going wild in his chest. It likely also correlated with his blood pressure - that had to be astronomical.

Too many thoughts, he could not… "It's probably best that I show you."

"Show me what?"

He sounded…oh, the word!

"Hypoxia!"

Ward looked confused. Why should he? What else had the former Agent really expected when he dropped them into the ocean. No, Ward was not medically inclined, he likely expected simple drowning. Not that drowning was ever really simple though Fitz had read multiple...not now.

A slider displayed on the datapad and further ado Fitz tapped it down, deoxygenating the room. It made a sound. That surprised him, why would they need a sound to signify air being removed, and he looked up for a sound and instead got him, Ward, whose brown eyes were wide, his head tilted, and maybe...panicked? No, Ward did not panic. Agents of, no, traitors who had spent that long uncover as their friend were likely not capable of panic. They held eye contact and though he wanted to break it, Fitz found himself frozen, datapad clutched so tight his knuckles were turning white and it was a wonder the screen did not crack. Ward was the one losing oxygen rapidly; why was it then hard for Fitz himself to breath? In, out, in, out, the simply tricks he had learned in recovery to control his 'condition' seemed entirely ineffective as Ward backed away from the glass. Ward, whom in this tiny room that echoed everything, was already gasping.

"Fitz...what are you doing?"

"Showing you."

Show power over your fears to master them. Fitz had read that somewhere, once, long ago. He wasn't sure where. It seemed correct. Though, arguably, was Ward really a fear? Or an enemy? Enemy. Most likely. He even had the insane man beard now, he had not when he had tried to…

Fitz pressed the datapad against the glass so Ward could understand his own fate.

"What it's like when you're deprived," Why were the words so hard? His head pounded behind his skull as he grasp for them. Explaining Hypoxia should have been easy - a basical medical condition he had learned mostly through costudying with Simmons. Simmons, who had left him after his condition became apparent. Once again, an effect linked back to the cause before him, Ward, whom nearly stumbled back to his cot as more oxygen escaped the room. Talking should become difficult soon. Motor movements. A blackening of the vision. Slowly though, not all at once the way Fitz had experienced it when a surge of water pressure nearly crushed his lungs. From there it was, ah right, "The brain cells...they react first. Three minutes, damage is permanent." They were not his words. No, quoted straight from Jemma when she explained it.

...and all Ward had to say was, "Where's Skye?"

It felt like a switch had been flipped. Here he was, standing before Ward, and he asked about Skye - who was not the one he had hurt. Oh, wait, no, Ward had hurt her, but a breach of trust was entirely different from damaging someone mentally. From breaking someone like had been done to Fitz. Everything came out at once, a jumbled mess, as a dam broke in his head and it felt like he was screaming. Later, when the footage would be played back to him, Fitz really would be astounded at how calm he sounded. Now, in the moment, it felt as if every word roared out of his mouth without a filter as he raged at Ward about missing a mission, about Gil, about being damaged. No one had used the word with him but Fitz knew a product, even himself, for what it was. Damaged. Broken. There was no restore to factory settings in sight though everyone around him seemed convinced otherwise. No though, Ward wanted Skye to be here.

It was not enough of a struggle for Ward to speak, "Donnie...Donnie Gil? Thats why Skye was-"

Why did Fitz feel his own eyes watering the more Ward spoke of everyone else?

"No! No, I...I...I don't answer-"

"Fitz! Listen to me, you...they don't know what they're walking into!" Ward's voice strained and from across the glass, in oxygen that felt too thin with no intervention, Fitz could see the veins in his neck straining. That was the start. It was how it began. Except now the scientist froze in place and his mind went blank like Ward had dropped a nuclear strike. 'They don't know...what?' Did he even care? That was the worst part, Fitz wanted to know but could not tell his natural curiosity apart from the concern. Anything Ward said would be a lie - it always had been - meant to hurt them in a long con…

Yet his tone when he spoke next brought Fitz up short.

"Fitz...please. They are in danger. They don't...don't…" A coughing fit cut him off.

"Why are they in...in…" Oh god, Ward had just said the word, why did it seem so far away? If both of his hands were not in a death grip on the datapad Fitz would be snapping. Literally, physically, not mentally, which a part of him knew he already had as a tremor took his entire body. He was shaking - quaking really, a great word but not the one he had wanted - and his body was leaned forward towards the glass with his cheek almost pressed against it. Something was in his eyes. No, water, tears, he was…it was all just so frustrating! He blinked his eyes against it and crashed his forehead into the glass once, twice, and he went for a third before an impact from across the glass stopped him. There was Ward, standing on unstable looking legs, with his hands pressed to either side across the glass from Fitz's head. Leaning against the glass more than standing - not that Fitz was any different. A panel separated him from his attacker. The scientist knew, intellectually, he should have jumped away but that same damnable instinct that foiled him before had been there. Somehow, he never felt unsafe around the traitor. Even when Ward had chased them into the room before dropping them he felt…

"Fitz...listen to me, please."

'How are you even still talking...there should be no oxygen left to even…stop, please, just stop.'

It never even occurred to Fitz that he may have spoken out loud.

Ward's eyes blew wide, bloodshot now from lack of oxygen, "Fitz...I can help...please."

That did it. No, something did, maybe the inches that separated them as Ward's head sagged forward lamely against the paneling. They were practically pressed together, Fitz's cheek to Ward's forehead, were it not for the glass between them. Through his watery eyes Fitz could see the other in focus as his attempted (but ultimately fruitless) breathing became increasingly ragged and his eyes began to shutter close. That made it better, the not looking into each others eyes, the lack of acknowledgement of what it Fitz was doing as Ward sunk to his knees...

And just like that it occurred to Fitz exactly what he was doing.

It was a scramble as Fitz surged back from the glass and tapped the screen of the datapad quickly. Honestly, he had probably done it too fast, re-oxygenating the room, and it was a wonder when Ward did not pass out entirely as his ragged breathing turned to huge gulps. The formidable man's held a crouch on the floor though his large hands were still pressed to the glass, palm down, and when Fitz crouched down to be on level with him the scientist saw them. 'Scar. Surgical style wounds going vertical up the artery. Depth, angle of trajectory, self inflicted.' The voice of analysis in Fitz's mind was Simmons, though no phantom of her lurked nearby, and he welcomed it. Simmons had a calm about her that he had never seemed to grasp. A calm that appeared to be impossible for him now, these days, that he was damaged. Jemma had not been damaged though and now Fitz clung to the life-line that was his mimicry of her 'diagnostic mode'.

"...You tried to kill yourself."

Ward's forehead was still pressed against the glass and he nodded once, twice, before tilting his head back to catch Fitz's eyes once more. Fitz expected the 'agent eyes' - that hardened killer thousand yard stare so many agents slipped into at times and that Ward and May were famous for - but this was a look that seemed surprisingly less...guarded? Hostile? Double-O seven designation levels of 'you are going to die'. No, Ward's eyes were still bloodshot and his pupils blown all out to hell but he looked … Fitz did not want to think about that and he looked away, at anything, the datapad in his hand first and then the floor in general as Ward opened his mouth.

"Yes. That's not important right now though Fitz. Please," He coughed, not even covering it with his hand, and Fitz took a moment to mentally calculate the time of oxygen deprivation as a counter-current to his entirely frozen thought process of 'I almost killed Ward.' Ward, whom recovered and kept going, "Please Fitz. I swear, I will never betray you again. I regret it. You don't know how much but...I regret it. Just please, Fitz, you have to warn Skye and the others. They will die if you don't. Do that then you can do whatever you want with me. I swear, you can kill…"

"I'm not a killer…" Fitz could barely hear his own voice in his head it came out so small and tired.

"I know you're not Fitz. In my case though - maybe you should be. Everyone will forgive you."

Ward paused, a breath that seemed to rattle Fitz and his eyes felt pathetically misty again.

Chances are Ward had not heard him either. He probably read his lips. Ward could do that. Supposedly all Field Operatives could but Fitz had never heard anyone but Ward say they could do it. Nor had those people spent ten minutes of their good time proving, much to Fitz's amusement, that they could. They had been...that was the past, and Fitz closed up the borders of his mind as best he could against the assault. Not that it was concentrated - the assault was coming from inside his own mind and seemed to consist of every feeling he had all at once.

The final nail in his coffin was Ward's quiet, nearly whispered, "Even me. Just Fitz, please."

A nod.

That was all the acknowledgement Fitz could give him as he flipped through screens on the datapad and brought up a quick notice to send Coulson. A call would have been better - Coulson would have appreciated it far more - but Fitz did not trust himself with thought much less words right now. Easier to just type it out and not bother with his brain rebelling against him.

"Donnie is a sleeper agent who has been conditioned by Hydra to…"

Ward talked, Fitz typed without ever raising his head to look at the other, and they were both still kneeled on the floor with thick, bulletproof glass between them when Fitz finished. Message sent.

Neither spoke nor moved for a moment, Fitz stared into the cell floor while Ward stared at him.

Fitz did not know how long they stayed like that. It was long enough for Coulson to receive the information and respond - a terse note of thanks and a stern notice that they would be talking when he returned to the Playground. It felt oddly like being chastised by a father figure and Fitz gave a quiet little laugh into the silence that made Ward tilt his head curiously. Simmons called it his 'labrador look'. Said it reminded her of a dog. Fitz saw it when she said it. Now it just looked sad...wait, when had they gone back to the eye contact? The scientist's teeth nibbled at his bottom lip as Ward kept up the unceasing eye contact, both of them looking a state, before the ex-agent nodded at nothing and climbed to his feet. Fitz just watched him go across the room to his bed, drop on it, and face away. It felt like a dismissal which was odd considering he was the captive...though also he was now technically an attempted murder victim of sorts, Fitz guessed.

"Ward."

The prisoner in question did not budge a muscle but Fitz knew his voice surprised them both.

"Please don't lie to me...us again. Ever. Please. Don't hurt Simmons, Sky, and the others again."

Ward did not make a single move in response, not a stiffening of the shoulders or anything, and Fitz mentally chastised himself for even saying such a thing. The man had fooled them for months upon months without any of them suspecting different. Nearly every word out of his mouth had been a lie carefully poised to harm them later. To expect him to be honest now, simply because he asked nicely, Fitz felt dumber than he had in days which was saying something considering he had forgotten what to call the damned toiletries the day before. No, it was time to get out of this room. Forever. Period. Never come back. They would all know what he had done, there was no avoiding that, but Fitz mentally assured himself he'd never have...

He almost missed the quiet response as he shuffled to the stairs.

"I promise I won't hurt you again, Fitz."

The scientist all but ran out of the cell block so strong was his effort to not stop and turn.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Ward knew that he would have a visitor when the team came back. What took him by surprise, though he schooled his face into impassivity, was that Coulson entered the prison and not Skye.

Coulson who had not been to see Ward without May or Skye in tow since he was locked up.

"Coulson. I must have done something to get a visit like this-"

"Ward, stop talking."

Despite himself, Ward's mouth snapped shut. Years of training instilled in him to be silent when a superior officer - though technically Coulson was not his superior anymore - spoke in that tone. It meant they had something important to say. A mission, a debrief, something of importance was happening and it was his job to stand there in his tiny glass box and listen with rapt attention. His comprehension of the situation worsened with that. Coulson never used the tone.

Coulson stood at attention, arms folded behind him into the small of his back in a military stance, and his face appeared the very image of stern authority. Clearly whatever role the man had these days mattered.

"I am only going to ask you questions and I want honest, quick answers. Are we clear?"

Ward, having expected this - from Skye notwithstanding - nodded, "Crystal."

"Why did you not tell Skye about the situation concerning Donnie Gil and other possible programmed units?"

Direct and to the point; this was an actual interrogation then. Ward instinctively mirrored Coulson's military posturing and held his chin up, back straight, for what amounted to a debrief, "Skye gave me no reason to believe the gifted was in fact Donnie Gill. There are very few people who had undergone such an in-depth programming routine. Had I know the asset was Gill, I would have been able to immediately warn her and the rest of you as to the danger." It was a half-answer and they both knew it, Ward since being allowed to talk to Skye was to volunteer all relevant information. This would be perceived as a breach of what nonexistent trust they had managed to establish and Grant knew it. Mentally, he schooled himself for a dressing down, though it never materialized as Coulson simply nodded.

"So you did not volunteer the information as you did not believe it relevant."

"Yes."

Coulson sighed, the first sign of the man behind the mask, "In the future, do feel free to elaborate."

Ward, short of what to say at the notice there even would be a 'next time', nodded.

"Next question, do you believe that Hydra has other assets programmed in such a way active?"

Ward nodded, "Absolutely. Though Coulson due to my containment I'm unaware of any active."

"Of course."

Ward had no way of knowing if that meant Coulson agreed or if it was a platitude. Coulson had been known to deal in those on many an occasion. Compared to Garrett, he was not a strong interrogator.

"Okay then, we will revisit that in full detail later, I have another matter to discuss with you."

Coulson's posture shifted a fraction, an impossibly small tightening of the shoulders, and Ward only saw it due to the depths of his training. Whatever the senior officer had to say, he was not eager to. That only served to put the imprisoned ex-agent on guard as he steeled himself for something rough. Perhaps concerning his personal history, an unsafe to discuss matter of secrets entrusted to him, depths of Garrett's conspiracy that he had yet to discuss with the SHIELD agents.

Instead what came out of Coulson's grim was, "I need to know right now. In your professional opinion do you believe Leopold Fitz will make another attempt upon your life. At the moment, until your usefulness expires, you are an asset to us in our fight against Hydra. I've already gotten the opinion of Agent May," It shook Ward somewhat, though he should not have been surprised, that Coulson took such a formal attitude as to refer to them by titles and full names, "on the matter. She believes I should deal with this matter now. However, as the 'injured'," It felt like Coulson, if he were acting as he used to, would have used air-quotes there. He didn't, "party, I would be interested in your opinion. I'll be honest Ward, there were segments of your conversation the video did not pick up. Fitz is not in a good place right now and I know you are a professional at interpersonal relations management." Coulson sighed, a tired sound enforced by the older agent rubbing his eyes, "In your opinion, is this an issue."

Ward...did not understand at all. He, the prisoner, a traitor, was being asked if his life was in danger. It made no sense, even for Coulson whose methods were not always the most straightforward, and it put him instantly on guard. It would have made more sense to simply amp up the security on his cell.

Unless…

"You want to know because you do not have the resources to ensure at all times Fitz will not succeed."

The look Coulson threw his way, equal parts stern authority and some measure of disgust, confirmed.

"Astute as ever, Ward. Now answer the damn question. Am I going to have an issue here."

Ward shook his head and dropped the military stance to cross his broad arms over his chest, "No, I do not believe you'll have an issue between myself and Fitz. His attempt to suffocate me, while sincere, was a moment of intense emotion and I doubt Fitz could bring himself to premeditate my murder. Me being here took him entirely by surprise and he reacted." A reaction that had nearly ended in him suffocating but it was not the first time Ward had nearly been killed in an interrogation room. He proceeded, "Fitz does not have it in him to kill in cold blood. So no, I do not believe you have reason for concern. Good luck ever convincing May of that though. Think she still wants you to, what was it she said, 'put the bastard down and lets move on'?" It was close enough to the words she used while a team of guards, Coulson, and May herself monitored a team repairing the nail damage to Ward's foot. Honestly Ward was surprised that it was not May who snuck into the room and offed him. She would have succeeded.

"Remains to be seen if her instincts are spot on. They usually are, you know."

Ward lip twitched, "We'll just have to see. Personally, I'd prefer to see her be wrong for once."

A moment passed after that as Coulson stared him down, Ward returning the look, before the older man nodded and turned to leave. Apparently the debrief session or whatever it had been was over.

Ward was content to settle back into his nap but something, a rush of emotion that nearly caught him off guard, let to the ex-agent calling out to the man's retreating back, "Coulson...what did I do to Fitz."

The suited man stopped but did not turn. His hand was on the railing leading up out of the containment facility and he looked ready to ignore it and leave. It would have made sense. Popular SHIELD protocol was pretty clear about what rights prisoners, especially traitors, had and did not have. Ward could practically feel the tumultuous storm inside of the man as he hesitated to answered. When Coulson finally did turn Ward had pressed a hand up against the glass, the same arm that held his scar, and could see the older man staring at it intensely. It probably looked staged, displaying his suicide attempt scar, but considering it was probably Coulson who sat behind the camera and let him get as far as he did, Ward knew it was an irrelevant gesture. The ex-Hydra was not even sure why he had moved.

"I told you before. They survived what you did to them. I believe my exact words were, 'Fitz may never be the same.' right?" Coulson took a step back towards the glass though his posture was looser than before, more tired, and what looked like months of stress showed in his face. It reminded Ward of times when they had been on the bus and Coulson had opened up to him, the few times May was not available, about some field troubles the old man dealt with. Things that Skye, Fitz, and Simmons were not really equipped to deal with. A bit of nostalgia chewed at Ward that he squashed down.

Those days were gone.

"I heard you with him. You said you wanted to 'save them' by allowing them to 'save themselves'. Well they did. If that is really what you thought, then good job, you were correct. They broke out of the box and managed to escape the ocean floor. Simmons escaped with little more than scraps and bruises."

Ward swallowed a lump in his throat, "...and Fitz?"

"When they blew the pressure and escaped the lock, the water pressure and sudden force of exit knocked him unconscious. From the reports I'm gathering he sacrificed himself for Simmons. Good kid. Unfortunately, doing so caused his brain to go for an extended amount of time without oxygen. He told you right, Hypoxia?" Ward nodded. He remembered, it was nearly to impossible to forget anything Fitz had said while so calmly pronouncing his death sentence. "Parts of his brain were damaged. Oh, he can function to extents, but certain things just do not seem to…" Coulson paused, grasping for a word much like Fitz had done before, but Ward knew this was more a calculated word choice than an absence. It was dancing around a serious issue through 'nice words', a tactic Ward knew well. Coulson sighed, "Certain things do not connect. As I'm sure you noticed - he has issues with language and motor skills to some extent. Nothing absolutely detrimental but then again who am I to define any man's detriment?"

Ward...did not know what he felt exactly. Something had lodged in his chest and while intellectually he knew it was guilt, he did not want to acknowledge it as such, and roughly shook his head at nothing. Coulson arched a brow, that look that said something caught his interest, and for once Ward did not really care what it could be. Instead Ward ground his teeth before, "Is it permanent?"

"Honestly, we have no idea. The damage you caused might be permanent."

That stung, Ward suppressed the flinch that almost escaped his control, at the acidity in Coulson's tone. It had probably been lurking there all along. Ward could only imagine what the rest of what had once been his team probably felt about the situation if Coulson reacted like that. Though, to his near surprise, Ward felt he might have enough animosity at himself over this situation to trump even May or Skye.

"You do not know for sure though. He could get better?"

"Anything is possible Ward. That does not mean it will necessarily…"

Ward shook his head and tightened his crossed arms, "No. Coulson, I know I'm in no position to ask favors, and you'd probably rather see me shot than help me...but please, find some way to help him."

There went that cocked brow again and it infuriated Ward, "Fitz is a valuable member of the team and I personally count him as a friend. Of course, we will do whatever can to fix him-"

Ward cut him off, "Don't let him hear you say it that way."

"What?"

Sighing, the ex-agent turned away from Coulson and leaned back against the glass, breaking their eye contact. Any doubts about the uncomfortable nature of the conversation were confirmed by that but Ward could not bring himself to care. It felt too bizarre, too strange, to be speaking up for the benefit of someone who he had hurt so deeply. This was especially true when Coulson had their intrigued look.

"Fitz would hate to hear it said that way. You know him, he might talk," He paused, a lapse of a moment, irritation seeping from his every pore at himself for even speaking, "He would talk a lot but he did not want to trouble anyone. So just, don't say 'fixing' around him. Just help him. Get him well." He turned his head just enough to see Coulson with one eye, the suited man had not moved an inch and still had that same look on his face. Ward didn't like it and he even kind of still liked Coulson.

"Got it?"

"Of course, I appreciate the correction. You are correct - he would hate to be described that way."

Ward nodded, approvingly, and pressed one more time, "So how is he dealing with my near murder-"

He lapsed off as Coulson shook his head and looked down, checking the golden watch at his wrist, and turned away, "Sorry, but we're done for the day. Know that we'll handle that situation on our end. You will continue to provide information to Skye - in detail this time - and we'll see where things go from there. If anything comes to mind that you might want to inform us please feel free to yell at the camera." A clear dismissal and no wasted time as Coulson stepped towards the stairs and started up without glancing back.

Ward was not sure what brought him to do it. This went against all of his training, hell, it went against the kind of person he'd always seen himself being. As Coulson almost slipped out of few Ward slammed a hand on the glass and yelled, "I want to talk to him again Coulson. I need to!"

The man never stopped, "Not gonna happen Ward," and he was gone.

Author Note

And that is the first chapter, hope you enjoyed the set-up.
Little heavy handed with the connection between the two but I need groundwork!
This story is going posted both here and on AO3.