Broken Inside takes place almost immediately after the end of the Season 2 winter finale. I highly encourage listening to Coldplay's song "Fix You" either before reading this or while you read the last part, when Ward is listening to the song.

This is the first fanfic I've ever written (I've read a lot but never ventured into writing my own). I hope you like it and I look forwards to hearing your thoughts. Enjoy. :)

I do not own the rights to Marvel's Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. or Coldplay's song ""Fix You".

Ward sat in the passenger seat of the pickup truck Agent 33 had hotwired. He looked over at where she sat on the driver's side; he noticed her hands gripping the steering wheel with a death grip, belying the casual and unconcerned expression on her face… oh God, her face. It was just plain weird to be sitting beside someone who looked exactly like Melinda May. Well, exactly like May *if* you ignored the huge scar on one side of her face, where her Photostatic Veil had been damaged and her face badly injured.

She spoke up, her eyes still on the road. "You should probably pay less attention to me and more attention to those bullet wounds."

Ward shrugged, gritted his teeth, and adjusted the dressing he was holding in place, thinking that it was doubly weird to be hearing her speak with a slightly electronic-sounding copy of May's voice. "It's not like I can do anything while we're driving. Besides, I've had worse."

She rolled her eyes. "Such a guy."

He shrugged again. "I got used to pain a long time ago."

She glanced at him briefly, then looked ahead again. "I'm pretty surprised that she shot you, to be honest. I didn't think she had it in her."

Ward immediately tensed up. "Skye is a good agent."

Agent 33 gave him another fleeting glance. "I didn't say she isn't. I said I didn't think she had it in her. I meant from an emotional perspective. It takes some steel to shoot a person you love."

Ward said "Love. Right. Not so much."

Agent 33 raised an eyebrow. "I think there's something there and it goes both ways."

Ward shook his head, then grimaced against his will as his wounded torso protested the motion. "It's no secret that I love Skye. She's probably the only person in this world I can say I truly love. But that feeling is definitely not reciprocated anymore. Maybe before, but not now. Not since…" he stopped and looked out his window.

Agent 33 replied "The level of anger she showed? There's no way she doesn't still feel something. Anger is the other side of the coin. You don't get that angry towards a person you don't care about."

Ward sighed. "Yeah, you do, when they've betrayed you and your whole team, when they've killed people, tried to kill people you love, and kidnapped you multiple times."

Agent 33 shrugged. "I know what I saw, what I heard in her voice. She cares. It might be buried pretty deep – in fact, it probably is, under the frustration and broken trust, because you definitely screwed multiple pooches pretty hard. But it's still there."

Ward scowled. "I don't want to talk about Skye." Really, the last thing he wanted was a lecture about her, or anyone or anything else from the team, especially not from someone who looked and sounded so much like May.

Agent 33 risked another glance at him. "Just because you don't want to hear it doesn't mean it's not true."

Ward's lips pressed together in the thin line that Agent 33 would eventually come to learn was a sign that he was annoyed or angry or something along those lines. "I said I don't want to talk about it." His voice had an edge.

Agent 33 said quietly "Maybe you need to. Burying things doesn't usually do any good."

Ward's face turned into a mask, but his eyes shot daggers at her, his voice became cold and hard. "I said, drop it. Now."

Agent 33 shrugged again. "Ok." She turned the radio on and fiddled with the buttons, looking for a station that didn't have an obnoxious DJ yammering on. The radio tuned to a station that seemed to play a mix of everything, she settled into silence, becoming lost in her own thoughts. Ward leaned his head against the window and, somewhat against his will, became lost in memories, thinking back over happier times before Skye knew he was a traitor, before she knew he was working for The Clairvoyant, before she knew Garrett was the Clairvoyant. Happier times when Skye trusted him.

On the radio, Linkin Park's song ended and the sounds of Coldplay came through the speakers. Appropriately enough, it was "Fix You." He had once thought maybe Skye could… not fix him, help him fix himself. Help him find himself. Help him put himself back together. Because despite his polished veneer, he was indisputably broken on the inside, broken from years of abuse and neglect at the hands of first his biological family (he hated to call them that), then – in his own way – Garrett.

"When you try your best but you don't succeed.
When you get what you want, but not what you need.
When you feel so tired, but you can't sleep.
Stuck in reverse."

That was him. Agent Grant Ward, specialist at blowing things up and hurting people. Unfortunately, good at hurting people he cared about. Stuck in reverse nailed it, nailed him.

"And the tears come streaming down your face.
When you lose something you can't replace.
When you love someone, but it goes to waste.
Could it be worse?"

He bit the inside of his cheek, struggling to maintain control. He hadn't cried in a lot of years. More than he could count. He didn't really like to try to remember when the last time was, actually. And he didn't care to start the clock over again today. Especially not in a truck with Agent 33. He wouldn't give in to the weakness of emotions.

"Lights will guide you home.
And ignite your bones.
And I will try to fix you."

Agent 33 pulled in to a rest stop. "I've got to use the bathroom and grab a drink. You should probably stay here so nobody sees that you've been shot." Ward barely heard her, lost in memories, seeing only Skye's brown eyes laughing at him as they played Battleship on the Bus.

"And high above or down below,
When you're too in love to let it go.
But if you never try you'll never know
Just what you're worth."

It had taken him so long to realize he loved her. He'd been frantic when he saw her lying on the floor in the basement of the house in Italy, bleeding from where Ian Quinn had shot her in the abdomen. In that moment, when he felt like he'd been shot too, when he was unable to catch his breath as fear wrapped tentacles around his heart as he feared he had lost her, he started to realize how much of an impact she'd had on him.

"Lights will guide you home.
And ignite your bones.
And I will try to fix you."

He flashed back to the church where he'd taken up the Berserker staff to defend his team, how Skye had helped him up off the floor as May had taken over, and to the hotel bar afterwards when Skye told him she was there if he needed to talk. She'd sensed that the memories triggered by the Berserker Staff had to do with his brothers, and had sensed how deep the wounds were that he was hiding. Her eyes had been so concerned and open, so caring. He'd thought then that if anyone could help him become whole, it would be Skye. But he hadn't let her. Instead, he'd lost her, and he doubted that she'd ever let him find her again, ever be able to trust him.

"Tears stream down your face
When you lose something you cannot replace.
Tears stream down your face
and I…"

But he hadn't let her in, hadn't let her try. He'd come closer to it, opened up more than he had with anyone else, but he hadn't really let go and trusted her to help him, hadn't done the right thing. Instead, he'd lost her, and he doubted that she'd ever let him find her again, ever be able to trust him.

"Tears stream down your face
When you lose something you cannot replace.
Tears stream down your face
and I…

Lights will guide you home.
And ignite your bones.
And I will try to fix you."

Ward groaned, slammed his fist against the dashboard. He welcomed the pain that the movement brought. It was a small comfort to feel physically what he was fighting inside. But, he still didn't let the tears fall from his eyes. He couldn't afford to appear weaker than he already did by virtue of the bullets Skye had put into him, accompanied by the fire that leapt from her eyes and scorched his conscience, damning him for his treachery and betrayals. He closed his eyes and called on his training, took deep even breaths and intentionally relaxed each muscle, forcing emotions and thoughts into boxes in the back of his mind, compartmentalizing as Hydra and S.H.I.E.L.D. had both taught him how to do, and do well. He would regain control of how he felt and of the image he presented. It was the only option.

By the time Agent 33 got back in the truck and turned the keys, he once again looked calm and impassive, his face a blank but mostly polite mask, betraying nothing of the turmoil within. No tears escaped from his eyes; instead, they built up within his heart and began to crack the stony barricade he had spent so many years building to protect himself from the hurt that could only be inflicted by people you allowed yourself to care about. For now, he was solid and immoveable. On the outside, he was once more the calculating specialist who cared about no one but himself. But on the inside… on the inside, where nobody but him could see, the ache built, gathered strength. One day, he would give way to the cracks in his heart, to the ache of loss, to the tears uncried for so long. One day…