He thought Garrett was going to hit him, to beat him like he used to when he was still learning how to be a good soldier. He expected it, welcomed it even; perhaps it would be the one thing to finally get his head back in the game. Ward knew he was a mess; he'd been thinking of Skye too much lately, he couldn't focus, couldn't concentrate on his goals. His real goals. His goals to save John and just finally be done with this war.

His memories, his feelings: they were just distractions. He needed his S.O. to beat it out of him.

Garrett's room/office was ten times more elaborate (and twice as big) as Ward's room. Then again, Ward's room was nothing more than an emptied out broom closet, but that was beside the point. Garrett's room was large enough to accompany 5-7 men comfortably, so with just him and his S.O. standing in it, to Ward it looked much bigger.

But still… 'What an odd place to discipline me,' he couldn't help but think. Usually Garrett preferred to do it in front of other Hydra members; displaying Ward's weakness in front of other made the lesson sink in deeper. "Take off your gloves, kid," Garrett ordered. His voice was back to normal, under control, and Ward wondered why he sounded so pleased with himself. Halfway through obeying the command -he did so automatically and without questioning- he suddenly wondered,' Why?' But he didn't ask; he knew better than to ask.

So he just calmly took his gloves off and stuffed them into his pocket.

"Come here," came the command and he obeyed, like the good soldier he was. Ward liked being the good soldier.

Then Garrett stepped away from the desk and finally Ward could see the Berserker staff sitting upon it. 'What the hell…' filtered briefly through his mind before the memories hit him. It was a slow suffocation, as if all the oxygen in the room was being sucked away. Ward knew what suffocation felt like, had experienced it on and off the field. It was a heavy weight on his chest, and no matter how hard he tried to breathe in, his lungs couldn't expand and he got no air.

He felt a lot like suffocating right now, remembering the specific memories the staff had risen to the surface the last time he held it. Memories of the past, of his brothers, they belonged in the deepest recesses of his mind. Locked away and long forgotten. He could still feel the coldness, that wretched feeling, sitting in the pit of his stomach. ("50 to 60 years," that shitty Professor Elliot had said. Fucking joy.)

Too late, he realized John had been speaking," -think of this as motivational help for you. Something to help you set your priorities straight." Ward gritted his teeth; his 'priorities' were fucking fine, thank you.

"Pick it up, son," John's voice was calm, encouraging even, so reminiscent of the first years he met Garrett. This was the voice of the man that saved a hopeless boy and taught him how to be a real man. This was the voice of the man Ward owed everything to .

Grant's dark eyes roved over to his mentor fleetingly, wondering,' Then why?' Why make him pick up the Asgardian staff? Garrett knew how much Grant hated the thing, hated how it took over him, made him lose control. Garrett sounded so supportive, but this... was punishment.

"You need something to focus on other than that girl," John encouraged him," A little bit of anger, to help you remember why you keep fighting. You want revenge, right? To make your shit brother pay for what he did to you all those years ago?"

"Pick up the staff, Ward," he pushed," Do what you promised me and help me, and I promise you'll get what you want."

Slowly, as if reaching through fifteen years worth of horrible memories -he was-, Grant's arm extended towards the staff. And right before his fingers closed around the silver metal, which he knew would be blisteringly hot to the touch, he thought he could hear Skye's voice.

"You're good, Ward."

He used to have dreams. Good dreams that he looked forward to every night, dreams in which he could escape the world for just a little while. Once, in the beginning, he worried because they left him waking up hating his life and his choices. They made him regret; Ward did not have time for regret. So he pushed them to the back of his thoughts during the day, ignoring the whispers in the shadows of his mind.

Now, he wished nothing more to run back to those dreams. They were his only light in the darkness, the only place he could pretend he didn't have regrets. He just wanted to run away from the shadows, from his own darkness that the staff dredged up again.

First came the hot punch to his stomach, like he had swallowed a burning chunk of coal. A feeling so exquisitely painful and not even he could hide the pain on his face and he doubled over. 'Let it go!' he screamed in his mind, but the staff's magic held him, rendering the simple act of opening his hand incapable.

Second was the rage, the all-consuming hate and anger that bubbled up out of the pain. He knew from experience that it was impossible to contain this rage, that he was more than just steaming with anger. He was a fucking inferno, a furnace inside him and all that wrath had no outlet. All he could do was rage against anything and everything in his path.

Third, and this he hated the most and was the main reason why he hated anything even remotely Asgardian, came the memories. John was right; Ward had gotten lax, forgetting why they did what they had to do. He'd forgotten about how much he hated his brother, how much he hated that SHIELD -for all their claims to 'see and protect everyone'- didn't do a damn thing. Grant only needed to see it again for himself to remember.

But he did not see his brother from over twenty years ago. He did not see his brother at all.

That memory had been the first time he felt hate, his worst memory of his childhood. The memory that came up to clench him in its jaws was that and so much more. Thisbrought back all the feelings of hate and betrayal and fear he had felt at the time.

'She's dead…she's dead, she's dead, she's dead,' each successive word echoed in his head too loud and too painfully, the image in front of him a thousand times more painful. Her lips were blue, her skin a deathly greyish-white, and her clothes a bloody red. 'She's dying,' he reminded himself, as if he could ever forget, or perhaps to reassure himself that she was not dead…yet.

Simmons -Jemma, he had to remind himself again- told them that the hyperbaric chamber would prevent Skye from losing any more blood, but until they got her to a hospital there was nothing more they could do. But Ward knew better, he knew gunshot wounds, and he knew two to the gut was fatal. It didn't matter if they stopped the bleeding by literally freezing her, unless a doctor stitched her up (and that was only if the bullet missed any vital organs) and Skye got more blood in her, she would-

He couldn't take looking at her anymore. He stormed out, trying to distance himself from that pain, from the girl that made him care too damn much. But every step he took further from her felt like a nail in his heart and he stopped just short of the SUV. There he paced like a caged animal.

'Why did she go in alone?!' he yelled in his mind, wishing he could yell at her, if only it meant that she'd be okay,' What did she have to prove? Why couldn't she just wait for back up?'

Why didn't she wait for him?

But she didn't, and now she was dying. He wanted someone to pay, someone to hit, someone he could blame. He won't lie, he enjoyed storming that house, shooting (with dendrotoxin but it still felt good) everyone in sight. Wondering which one of them dare hurt Skye, which one of them knew where she was. Then Quinn had to smile and open his mouth and Ward felt his heart drop into his stomach.

Ward wanted to shoot Ian Quinn dead on the spot… But he couldn't, so he settled for hitting the hood of the car.

...

It was under orders… Quinn shot Skye under the orders of the Clairvoyant.

As soon as the ridiculous nickname for John Garrett was mentioned, Grant suddenly felt a shooting pang that could only be described as fearful shock. Soon followed by anger fueled by lingering Berserker rage.

'John did this,' he remembered quite clearly thinking,' Garrett wanted her shot; he wanted her dead.' The overwhelming instinct to protect, to avenge, reared its head within him and it took all of Ward's willpower not to seek out and hit his supervising officer.

'He did this,' echoed in this head as Grant stood over Skye's still form,' He's the reason she's dying.' And for the first time in his life, Ward felt a shred of hatred for the man he thought of as his father figure.

When Ward came out of the memories, he was only dimly aware that he was yelling. In pain or rage, he didn't know nor care. The anger, the wrath, coursed through him like fire and Ward just wanted to destroy something .

"Easy there, Ward," Garrett's voice filtered through and Grant turned his head to glare at his S.O," Embrace that anger. Remember all that bastard did, remember how much you hate him."

Ward knew Garrett was talking about Maynard, but frankly he couldn't give a damn about his brother. All he could think of was John Garrett and all that he'd done.

'He did this.'

And then Ward finally understood all of his dreams, finally knew why he'd been having them, realized what his subconscious had been trying to tell him. In all his dreams, he had been happy. In all his dreams, there was no Garrett.

Garrett was the reason for all his unhappiness, for all his pain. If there hadn't been a Garrett, Ward could've been happy with his team. He could've freely loved Skye. He could've had that future with Skye and Fitztrimmons and Coulson and May and… he might've even had little Douglas Ward as a son.

And John Garrett, like the monster he was, took all of that away.

Ward took a step towards that monster.

Clint Barton was taking his turn with Tony's Asgardian 'Chill Pill' when Fitzsimmons and Stark pounced on him. "Oh come on!" he protested loudly when the three crazy scientists poked and prodded him back to the Bus lab," I thought we were done with all these tests." He openly glared at Tony, who was chortling by the holotable.

"That was a half hour ago," Simmons chirped, getting in his face -literally- and checking his pupils," We need to monitor everyone's reaction to the bracelet every thirty minutes for a three hour period to ascertain if the effects differ between biological status."

He simply gave her a blank look. Damnit, he was an assassin, not a scientist. "Simmons, English," he retorted.

-and immediately wished he could take it back. As a trained assassin, Clint always saw the little things, people's reactions and right now Simmons reacted badly to his words. Her face paled and her eyes widened, then blinked rapidly as if that would stop the tears from welling up, before she quickly moved away from him. He wished he knew why such a simple sentence upset her. But, he was smart enough to not ask.

"Have some patience, Katniss," Tony was saying and then Clint snorted. He's a sniper; he's the epitome of patience. "We just want to make sure it doesn't calm only some people and turn others into-" Tony paused and looked up, shrugging," well, the Hulk."

"Joy," Clint blanched.

"Just think," Fitz beamed up at him," Only one hour to go til we stop bugging you." Clint wasn't entirely sure if it was the Chill Pill or that Leo Fitz was adorable like a pet monkey, but he found that he couldn't even pretend to be mad at the nosy scientists. A smile tugged at the corners of his lips, breaking his resting 'bitch face' (Natasha's words, not his). 'Kids…'he mused,' All of them.'

"So who's next on the roster?" he asked instead.

The answer came immediately as Trip trounced into the lab (yes, he really did have a bounce to his step) and announced with his signature pearly white grin," Me." He looked far too happy for someone only an hour away from being a science lab rat. By May's annoyed expression, she agreed with Barton on that.

Who glanced dubiously at Simmons. "Will it even work on him? He's already so…" he searched for the right word," peppy."

Trip opened his mouth to defend himself and his infinite sense of optimism, but Simmons spoke before he could. "Agent Triplett is the perfect candidate for the test," she said with a smile and was somehow the only one who didn't notice Fitz's scowl," His optimistic personality is already similar to the traits imbued by the bracelet, and it'll be fascinating to see how it affects him, if at all."

Right. Everyone knew that she only wanted to do some more sciencing and stuff.

"Besides, we've already tried it on everyone else," Tony added.

That was true, with varying levels of success. It appeared that the Asgardian bracelet did affect people differently, or as Coulson put it, finding various and multiple ways to 'calm their soul'. For Stark, it greatly reduced his anxiety, allowing him to think and work efficiently. For Fitzsimmons both, it was like a calming balm. They could think about all that was going on, everything they didn't have an answer to, and wouldn't feel any of the resulting panic or fear. They felt more sure of themselves, more confident. Skye simply said it made her feel like she did a month ago, and Barton somehow knew she was alluding to Grant Ward, but he was so not going to touch that with a ten foot pole. Then Coulson claimed the bracelet calmed him; he actually said it felt like smoking marijuana, much to everyone's shock. ("Coulson, were you a hippie?" Skye asked, smirking a mile wide. )

Someone, no one really knows who and no one was admitting it, convinced May to try it on. After five minutes, she handed it back without a word.

They all have their own demons, he realized and wondered if Trip even had any. His happy go lucky attitude seemed too sincere to simply be a cover up; maybe Antoine Triplett has already faced his demons long ago and therefore felt free to be this peaceful and happy…

It took another five minutes for the tests to be completed and then Clint was free to go, after promising to return in a half hour, and he wasted no time in making his escape. Leaving the five in the lab, he decided to hunt down the only two people on this base he actually got along with. After deciding that he really didn't want to talk war and Hydra and strategies with Phil, he chose to find Skye.

The girl had a lot of haunts, a fact he both appreciated and abhorred. On one hand it was smart to have multiple hiding spots in case of attack, on the other it made finding her a difficult task. "Challenge accepted," he muttered under his breath as he walked down the ramp of the Bus.

Seven hiding spots later, including Koenig's office and the pantry, he found her with Coulson in one of the three cafeterias. Both were standing over a laptop and looking a bit worried. Alright, 'a bit' didn't quite cover it.

"This is really really bad," Skye was saying," Quinn is the least scary of the bunch and he shot me. Twice."

Clint paused midstep; she's been shot? Twice?

Coulson nodded, neither of them noticing that he had even entered the room yet. "Quinn's more a sociopath," Coulson said," A lot of those inmates are full blown psychopaths: violent, impulsive-"

"-and some with superpowers," Skye finished and that's when Clint felt his stomach drop, despite the bracelet. 'The Fridge,' he realized with a jolt of fear,' The Fridge inmates are out and free.' How many had he and Nat put away in there? And those were just the ones he knew of; what other psychopaths and monsters had SHIELD put away over the years?

A beat passed, in which still no one noticed Clint, til Coulson asked," Is Marcus Daniels on the list?"

Skye searched the list quick, then with a nervous glance turned the laptop around so Coulson could see Marcus Daniels' inmate profile. Phil gulped, a look of fear crossing his face momentarily," That's him," before automatically going back into 'Agent mode'," Crosscheck the inmates with crime databases. Recent activity. I have a feeling there's going to be an uptake." She turned the laptop around and began typing furiously.

"Okay," she acknowledged," but it'll take time and more computing power than I have." She glanced up," I bet Koenig has-"

"I'm sure Agent Koenig will help you with anything you need," Coulson cut her off and by his tone it was obvious Eric Koenig would help whether he agreed to or not.

"Agent Barton," he suddenly turned to the (not) eavesdropping man," Mind if we borrow the jet you flew in on?" Clint pouted; he should've known better than to think he could sneak up on Phil.

With a nod, he walked the rest of the way into the cafeteria. "We should leave as soon as we can, sir," he said," If we hurry now, we can probably beat him to Portland." It goes without saying that he knew exactly the kind of fear Daniels' instilled in Phil Coulson, and after all he had done for Clint, he was willing to help in any way he could to help save Coulson's true love.

"Not you, Barton," Coulson suddenly said, causing the younger man to freeze.

"Excuse me?" Clint blinked, affronted and even Skye stared at Coulson incredulously.

Who just gestured to Skye herself. "Skye here will remain behind to crosscheck that list," he explained," And right now, you're the one I trust most to stay behind and keep her safe."

"What?!" Skye nearly shouted, more insulted than surprised," I don't need a babysitter, Coulson! We're in a hidden base; what's going to happen to me here?"

"I agree sir," Clint threw in and soon both their voices were overlapping as they argued with Coulson. In the end, all Coulson had to do was hold up his hand and they both fell silent.

"My decision is final," he said, more like ordered," Skye, you can't forget that Garrett's after you and he won't stop. Even if this is a hidden base, I can't take the chance to leave you here alone without any protection. I'd prefer an army against Garrett, but Barton here is just as good."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence," Clint murmured, but didn't sound too grateful. Another time, he'd probably be tickled pink that Coulson called him a one man army. "But what about you?" he asked," They're after you too. And Daniels? He's not exactly an easy target."

Coulson reassured them," We already know how to take down Mr. Daniels; Fitzsimmons can more than incapacitate him with their gizmos. And if anything goes wrong, Agent Triplett will have my back."

"The one with the tracker bracelet on him?"

A smile was Coulson's answer. "I'm don't think you've noticed this or not, but Trip doesn't have the bracelet on anymore. Turns out, he's the legacy of a Howling Commando. He couldn't be Hydra even if he tried; there's nothing but SHIELD in his blood."

"Well that's good and all, and I'll have to ask later what a Howling Commando is," Skye piped up," but what about May? Surely she could stay with me, or go with you to take out the baddies."

"No offense, Clint," she glanced at him apologetically," But she's the freaking Cavalry. Her name actually means army."

"Hey!" Clint shot back, clearly offended," I have a bad ass codename too! Did you forget that I'm Hawkeye? An Avenger?" Skye just stuck her tongue out at him briefly.

Watching all of this, Coulson couldn't help but smile. When he had asked Agent Barton and Mr. Stark to come, he fully expected Skye to befriend the Stark millionaire instantly. They both had so much in common, ie: computers and hacking and just overall breaking the law. But seeing the hacker and the assassin bicker was like watching brother and sister. And he didn't fail to notice how the two of them always seemed to instantly agreed on something (like Clint going with Coulson), also much like siblings.

Phil hadn't been lying when he said Clint Barton was the one he trusted most with Skye's life. He'd also give anything to have Natasha Romanov here too, but he supposed he'd have to worry about that later.

Just as Skye was starting to suggest Clint get a new codename, Coulson decided to intervene. "May is actually going on a trip of her own," he told them," She and Mr. Stark are returning to New York."

"Why?" both asked, and Coulson had to stop himself from smiling at how they spoke at the exact time.

"We've recently gotten word from Maria Hill," he explained," She's in New York, and Ms. Potts has employed her to Stark Industries. But Mr. Stark needs to go and rally up his lawyers, so that she can't be arrested for being the Deputy Director of SHIELD."

"May should be telling him right about now."

A moment passed, in which both of them thought over what Coulson had just told them. Then Skye glanced at Clint," Since we're gonna be stuck here with boring, stick in the mud Koenig, want to make a list of stuff to annoy him with?"

He grinned," Hell yes."

'It's all his doing,' Ward thought darkly, taking another step towards his S.O. If it hadn't been for John, Ward could've been happy. If it hadn't been for John, Skye never would've been shot. Ward would be with her right now, if it hadn't been for John Garrett.

A full squad of Hydra soldiers entered the office behind Garrett. Ward froze, eyeing the new men with a critical eye. Five men, heavily armored and armed, and he only had a glorified stick and no armor. Even Grant Ward wasn't that stupid.

"Right on time, boys," Garrett smiled at them, unaware that his life had been in danger just moments before," Please escort Agent Ward here back to his room." He grinned back at Ward and it was only then that he saw how cruel a smile it really was.

"You didn't think I'd just let you off easy for what you did earlier, did you?" he boasted," You're tough, son, and I know a good disciplining wouldn't do me any good."

"Now, you're going to sit in your quarters, with that staff, and you'll do nothing."

Ward furrowed his eyebrows, resisting the nearly overwhelming urge to just leap and attack. Sit in a tiny room, with the Berserker staff so near, and do nothing? That would be torture.

"Think of it as a chance to think about what motivates you, and why don't you work on channeling that anger. When I need you for a mission, I'll come get you and you'll get to see some action. Until then, you're grounded." Garrett grinned, as if he found it funny that he was grounding a full grown man like a misbehaving child. But before Ward could say anything, Garrett exited his office. But not before reminding the squad to ensure that he makes it to his room.

Ward growled at the first man that dared try to grab his elbow," I can walk." Then he stomped out and headed down the hallway, mindful of the guns pointed at his back in case he tried anything in his new Berserker mode. But Ward had no plans to act now; no, he'd channel his anger like Garrett suggested and he'd plan.

'This is far from over.'

.

.

.

A/N:

Whew, this was such a pivotal chapter and I've been so meticulous in making sure I've got it all right. This chapter is where everything from the previous three chapters comes together. Remember in the beginning how Skye was mostly angry with and hated Garrett, more than she was with Ward? That's because she knew it was all his fault, and if it weren't for him then Ward would've never betrayed them. Well, now Ward knows it too.

And his dreams, they were more than just fantasies. They were yet another way for him to finally come to this conclusion as well.

Then we have Trip and the tracker bracelet. As a Howling Commando legacy, he's undoubtedly good, and so of course he would volunteer to being tagged just to prove himself. Even in the show, he didn't tell anyone who his grandfather was because he didn't want to be treated any different.

And finally, that little Asgardian 'Chill Pill' bracelet. I'm not sure if any of you noticed this, but I never went over how it affected Clint. I did that on purpose. Clint has a little bit more need for the bracelet, and in the upcoming chapter we will see how without it he has some certain…problems.