Grant Ward awoke in a white hospital room with a splitting headache. He had to squint to see through the blinding fluorescent lights. It hurt to move, hell, it hurt to breath. So he laid there trying his best not to move with ragged breaths escaping his chapped lips.
He got the feeling he was being watched. It was then that he realized the figure standing in the doorway. Fitz. His hands were shoved in his pocket and he had on the same plaid shirt and jeans he had on the last time Grant saw him, just a little bit more wrinkled and disheveled. The corner of Fitz's lips quirked up into a small grin, but Grant could tell it was forced. The other man looked exhausted.
"Sleeping beauty finally wakes," Fitz quipped striding across the room. "You look like bloody hell, Ward."
"You don't look too hot yourself," Ward rasped choking a little on his words.
"Well, it's two a.m. and we have all been here for over twenty-four hours," Leo replied sitting down in the chair next to Grant's bed.
"How's Skye?" Grant asked.
"A little shaken up," Fitz sighed. "She's pretty much sleep walking around this place, but she's holding up pretty well considering all that's happened."
"Is she hurt?" Grant persisted.
"Just a few scrapes and bruises," Fitz replied. "She was apparently shot in the shoulder, but Tripp cleaned her up on the way here."
"Fitz," Simmons said from the doorway. She looked a little bit better off than Fitz did. There was evidence of tears on her cheeks, but she had clearly changed clothes. Instead of her SHIELD gear she was now wearing a black skirt with blue flowers, a white tank top with an unbuttoned yellow sweater, and leather sandals. Her dirty blonde hair was damp from showering, but the bottom was already curling a bit and pieces were falling into her eyes.
"Yeah, Jemma," Fitz asked.
"Coulson wants to talk to you about something," Jemma said quietly. She clearly was timid to be even this close to Grant.
"I'll be there in a minute," Fitz replied looking at the girl in the doorway.
"Hurry," Simmons said before leaving.
Fitz didn't turn to look back at Grant, but watched her leave. His eyes remained where she was even after she was out of sight.
"She's still scared of me, isn't she?" Grant said.
"More scared of what you did," Fitz replied turning away from the doorway.
"So," Grant said. "Are you guys like a thing now?"
"No," Fitz huffed. "We are not together. We decided that given the situation we are all in, it would be best to remain friends."
"Fitz," Skye said from the doorway. Her arms were crossed over her chest and she looked irritated. There was a line of stitches over her right eye and her eyes were bloodshot. "Coulson is going ballistic in the waiting room."
"Alright," Fitz grumbled rising to his feet.
Skye stood in the doorway for a minute leaning against the doorway. She stared at him with her big brown eyes, but there wasn't anything stirring in them. They were blank, unreadable. Grant wondered when her emotions drained from her eyes, where she learned how to do that. It made her look hallowed out and lost.
"Hey," Skye whimpered still in the doorway. Her arms were wrapped around her body and she seemed to look anywhere but at him. The wall, her feet, the chair, the foot of the bed and even the picture above his bed, but never at him. She didn't trust herself to look at him, trust herself not to cry.
"Hey," he replied. Grant watched her step timidly toward the bed. She sat down in the chair that was occupied by Fitz not too long ago. "How's your shoulder?"
"A little sore, but I'll be okay," Skye said. "How's your…um…whole body?"
"The doctor said I'm gonna live so that's good, right?"
Skye chuckled quietly closing her eyes. When they fluttered open, they were plastered on him. A small smile lingered on her lips as she leaned back in the chair. "You know, you scared the crap out of all of us," she stated. "We thought you were gone."
"I'm not that easy to get rid of," Grant said.
"You're a real dumb-ass, you know that right?" Skye said. "I don't need you to protect me; I can take care of myself."
"I know," Grant replied.
"Next time you try to save me and almost get yourself killed, I'll kill you," Skye threatened halfheartedly.
"You got it, rookie," Grant replied.
"Thanks, robot," Skye said. "You know, for saving me, even though I didn't need it."
It was then that she reached out and surprised him by grabbing his hand. Skye held it in hers and squeezed it. Grant smiled at her and she gave him a sad smile back.
May, who was standing out in the hallway, watched this. Watched this series of events unfold in the small hospital room. It was like it took Ward almost dying for Skye to finally start rebuilding the bridge that had been torn down years ago. Like she had opened her eyes to the fact that now was as good a time as any to forgive Grant Ward and accepted that no matter what happened, he was the only man that really loved her.
The older woman might have detested the man for what he had done. He had taken her and made her believe that he was a good man, then he had destroyed her. Grant had ripped apart her team and helped bring down SHIELD, but even she knew that it wasn't really his fault. Yes, he had made choices and followed John Garrett to the end, but it was about debts. Grant thought he owed that twisted man his life.
What if May or Coulson had been given the assignment to get that kid out of Juvi? What if a good agent picked him up and trained him? Ward wouldn't have made the choices he did, wouldn't have so much innocent blood on his hands. Maybe May did hate him and it was possible that part of her always would, but she understood that it wasn't really Grant Ward that she hated. It was the John Garrett part of Grant Ward that he hated.
Ward was a good man, he had proven that when he jumped on top of Skye. He didn't deserve the life that he had been given.
"What are you thinking, May," Coulson asked from the other side of the hallway. She wasn't sure how he had managed it, but he was one of the few people who could still sneak up on her.
"That we aren't a team without him," she said. "If we send him back to prison, Skye will leave again."
"What do you suggest we do?"
"Well, you are the director now," Melinda replied looking over at him. "You can decide that he can be released early for good behavior."
"I would have the council on my ass for it."
"Since when have you cared about what the council thought?"