Lance Hunter had never thought of himself as a vengeful person. Not really. He figured that if people did bad things, they probably got what was coming to them in the end. He didn't really think about it, just took money for his work, and went on his way.

That was all before SHIELD though. He didn't know what it was about these people. But they had a way of making you feel like you were a part of something, like you mattered, and like the people you cared about mattered. Standing outside of the lab and watching as Agent Weaver helped Bobbi hobble from one station to the next without the crutches that got in her way, he was reminded of just that.

They mattered.

And he was going to make sure that Grant Ward got his for doing this to her.

Instead of going in like he had planned, making a joke about physical therapy, and avoiding looking at the plastic case on the table that was creepily keeping Coulson's hand cut off from the open air, he turned on his heel and headed for the gym. Skye and Mack were in a meeting with Coulson, May was in the middle of the first vacation she had taken in, well, probably ever, and most of the lower level agents were keeping themselves busy with mindless tasks like inventory or monitoring the weird and unexplained crime reports coming in. Hunter would have the gym to himself.

Or so he thought.

Instead, he walked in to find Fitz, surprisingly in gym clothing instead of his usual cardigan and lab wear, standing in front of a punching bag and muttering to himself. Hunter hadn't seen Fitz in about three days, so he had just assumed the engineer was out chasing down another lead that he wasn't telling anyone about.

"Hey, mate."

Hunter hadn't meant to startle him, but when Fitz spun on his heels and gave a little jump, he held up his hands in apology.

Fitz muttered something that might have sounded like "hello" if Hunter had better hearing, but as it was, it just sounded like an indistinct mumble as he looked at the ground and started to walk off the mat.

"You want me to hold the bag for you," Hunter offered. If he wanted to hit things, he was certain Fitz wanted to hit things, maybe even tear the bag down and rip it apart. Focusing on Fitz hitting things for a while might make him feel better too.

Fitz gave a frustrated sigh and a shrug.

"Yeah, why not?"

Hunter moved around the bag, spreading his feet enough to brace himself against the impact as he placed his hands on either side, using his weight to make sure the bag wouldn't give as Fitz stood on the other side. Before Fitz could even get in position though, Hunter spotted the wraps on his hands.

"Fitz, you've gotta wrap your hands up better than that if you don't want to hurt yourself. Why don't you use gloves?"

Fitz glared at Hunter and shook his head. "It's fine. They're fine."

Hunter didn't push it, instead, just gripped the bag when Fitz put his hands up and bent slightly to get in position. He let Fitz throw a few punches before he told him, "you should try to keep one o' your hands in front to be ready to block."

Fitz nodded that he understood, and kept punching.

"You should shift your weight a bit too. Somebody came at you, they'd probably knock you over."

Fitz grunted to show he was listening, and gradually began to put more movement into his workout. Fitz wasn't pacing himself, and soon enough, he was panting with the effort of repeatedly hitting the bag, and Hunter cleared his throat, before taking a step back, motioning for Fitz to do the same.

"You want to talk about it?"

"It was another dead end."

Fitz shook out his arm in a way that Hunter hadn't seen him do in nearly a year.

"Maybe you're lookin' in the wrong places."

Fitz stared at him blankly for a moment, and then his eyes hardened as he spat out, "Jemma was eaten by a rock. I don't know wha' the right places are."

Hunter sighed and stepped away from the bag to find wraps for his own hands. "I just mean… you're lookin' at this like a professor, yeah?"

"I'm doin' the research, yeah. Tryin' to see what could make it open."

Hunter located his wraps on one of the shelves and set to work winding the fabric. "Yeah, but Skye-"

"She doesn't like that name anymore."

"Right. Not Skye. Daisy said that the lightning bug told her it was a weapon, yeah? It's ancient?"

"Yeah."

"So, maybe you need to stop askin' physicists for help. Maybe you need… I don't know… a weapons expert?" He finished wrapping up one hand. "Or maybe you need a history buff."

Fitz was silent, and his lack of a response worried Hunter enough that he turned around mid hand wrap to check on him, but Fitz was just standing there, eyes unfocused, nodding his head, his mouth slightly open. His lips were moving as though he was thinking aloud, but he wasn't loud enough for Hunter to catch what he was saying. As Hunter finished wrapping his own hand, Fitz's eyes lit up and he started running from the room.

"You're welcome!" Hunter shook his head and turned to the punching back. "Can't even hold the bloody bag for me and tell me what he's doing, can he?" He rolled his shoulders and faced off with the bag, then set to work.

-o-

It was five days before Hunter even saw Fitz again, and the only reason he did was because the engineer was next to Bobbi in the lab and the two were whispering over a computer screen when Hunter was returning from a failed effort to find a new Inhuman with Daisy and Mack.

"Should I be worried?" Hunter asked, his gaze flitting back and forth between them as he walked up.

Bobbi shook her head, eyes wide. "Nope. Just securing Fitz a non-SHIELD plane ticket."

"Where you goin'?"

Bobbi gave a hand wave and walked away. "I don't actually want to know," she told them both. She pointed at the screen and explained to Fitz, "you stole my access code. You used it. I've got plausible deniability when Coulson comes looking for you."

Fitz's face fell.

"Obviously, I'm not going to tell him you stole it," she added with a roll of her eyes. "Just, you know, if he puts in the effort to track you down. I'm just going to tell him you're chasing down an alien lead." She shrugged and started to walk away, her hand landing on Hunter's arm when she came level with him, and squeezed. "Fitz says you gave him a good tip," she whispered, low enough to not disturb Fitz as he clicked away on the screen, securing himself a plane that would take him somewhere very far away. "Maybe be careful with the tips you give him. We want him to keep coming back."

"I'm not going to stop him from finding her," Hunter responded, his voice just as low. "I wouldn't stop looking for you."

"I know." She gave him a tight smile and moved slowly to the other side of the lab.

Hunter sauntered closer to the table and eyed the computer screen as Fitz punched in information for a small country in Europe, and then flicked his eyes back up to his friend to pretend that he hadn't seen it. He wasn't going to stop him, but he didn't like the idea of Fitz being completely on his own either. If Bobbi was covering for him on the inside, Hunter could keep an ear out for him on the outside.

Especially since he was going to be nearby chasing down a possible Ward sighting.

-o-

Hunter's trip, despite giving him the satisfaction of knocking the heads together of a pair of Hydra agents, didn't turn up any news on Ward, though there were rumors that a Hydra faction in the US was under new management. A message from Bobbi, letting him know that she hadn't heard from Fitz in over 24 hours had him on high alert as he carefully picked his way through an airport in Spain though. He knew that Fitz was catching his return flight in the same place. He had made sure of it, and he was more than a little relieved to see Fitz slouched in a plastic chair, head tipped back on the seat, looking like he hadn't slept in about a week.

Hunter reckoned it was probably closer to a couple of months at the rate he'd been going.

Instead of greeting him, Hunter sank into the seat next to him without saying a word.

"Did Bobbi send you to check on me?" Fitz asked, not even opening his eyes.

Hunter waved a hand in front of Fitz's face, but the engineer didn't react, and he frowned.

"You're wearin' the cologne she bought you. And I can smell gunpowder," Fitz offered by way of explanation before he popped his eyes open.

"At least I smell good," Hunter told him with a smirk. "You smell like you just went three rounds with a rotting corpse in a pile of garbage. The other passengers are goin' to love you."

Fitz turned his head enough that Hunter could see the huge bruise forming around his eye. It was already moving from the ugly red stage to a purple.

"You didn't keep your hand up, did you?"

Fitz groaned.

Hunter had a fleeting image of Bobbi berating him for letting anything happen to Fitz while he was out on his own. As it was, they were going to have a hard time convincing Coulson that Fitz got that shiner training with him.

"Right, then. We're goin' to make a deal. I'll tell you everything I know about dealin' with the criminals you've been chasin' so you don't go off half cocked, and make sure you live long enough to find Jemma, and you'll tell me everything you know about the criminal I'm chasin' so I can…" Hunter lowered his voice and looked at the people around him. "... stop him from doing more bad things."

"You mean Ward?" Fitz sat up straight in his seat, then winced, one hand moving to rest on his rib cage.

"Yeah. But first, let's get you cleaned up." Hunter stood, gesturing for Fitz to do the same. "Where's the bloody loo in this place?" Fitz pointed to an alcove on the other side of the room. "Good. After that, we're getting a beer."

"It's 10 AM."

"What's your point?"

-o-