Fitz stood awkwardly in the door for a moment, staring at him. Finally, he ran a hand through his curly hair, and opened his mouth. "Um, hello, Agent Ward."

Ward said nothing for a long moment. "I'm glad you're alive," he said finally, and then winced at his own words. He had no right to speak them, especially not to Fitz.

"Me too," Fitz laughed, dropping into the seat across from him. "So Agent Coulson told you what I remember?"

"He said your last memory was our mission," Ward said quietly, looking down at the floor.

"They needed a guy like you and a guy like me," Fitz grinned. "You destroyed the world's most dangerous sandwich, the one with Simmons' special aioli on it. Do you remember that? I suppose it was a long time ago for you."

"Ages," Ward said.

"I didn't believe what they said about you, you know," Fitz said suddenly, and Ward looked at him briefly. There were tears shining in his eyes.

"You should," Ward said abruptly. "You should believe all of it. I'm not a good man. I never was."

"I don't believe that," Fitz shook his head. "You jumped out of a plane to save Jemma. You gave me your rations when I was hungry—though mind you, you did destroy my bloody sandwich first. And you were going to let me run even though you thought you might day."

"I was trying to gain your trust," Ward lied cruelly. "It didn't mean anything."

It meant hope and safety and a little brother who had promised to stick around. To take care of him. It meant everything.

But Ward had fucked up enough in his short life, and he was determined that if he could do nothing to atone for his sins, he would at least do this one decent thing: make sure Fitz stayed far, far away from him.

Fitz just looked at him, a small smile on his face. "Oh, Ward," he said lightly, that familiar accent nearly shattering Ward. "You're not fooling anybody."

"I'm good at fooling people," Ward said brutally. "That's my job."

"You're not f-fooling me," Fitz said, and Ward realized suddenly what Coulson had meant about having difficulty communicating. "You're trying to push me away, and you're trying to save me from yourself, but you can't get rid of me that easily, Ward. You may have gotten rid of the most dangerous sandwich of all time—and the best damn aioli to ever exist—but you won't be getting rid of me."

Ward said nothing.

"Earth to Agent Ward," Fitz said. "Or do you answer better to one of Skye's nicknames. Like Robot? Or Tin Man?" Fitz grinned, and the sight seemed so out of place in the interrogation room.

Ward tried to smile, for Fitz's sake, though the memory was painful. It took a long moment to realize that he couldn't. It was as if his lips couldn't even remember how to form one.

Fitz's face sobered. "Listen, Ward, I know you're—you're having a hard time," he said quietly, his young face wrinkled with a concern that tore Ward's heart in two. "And I'm going to be back as often as I can. Coulson wouldn't let me bring a board game today, but I have to stick around this area for the next few weeks, anyway, for my—m-my"—Fitz broke off, frustrated at his inability to control his words.

Fitz's face twisted with frustration and embarrassment, and—

"It's okay," Ward said softly, before he thought better of it, and then he jerked his gaze back to his hands. "Take your time."

Fitz sighed. "Everyone's being too nice," he complained. "Especially Simmons. And Skye, of course. Those girls." He looked at Ward, shaking his head as if he expected a response full of manly solidarity, and Ward felt his lips twist into the tiniest of smiles.

"Anyway, I'm going to be around for the next m-month," he continued. "And I'm going to visit you as often as I can. When Coulson goes back to the Bus"—

"They're leaving you around here?" Ward sat straight up, anger and concern flooding him in equal parts.

Fitz laughed. "Well, not here, obviously," he said. "There's a base I'll be staying at, with a speech therapist and some doctors who think they can help me get my memories back."

Ward swallowed hard, and Fitz stood.

"Coulson's going to kill me if I take any more time," Fitz said. "Well, actually, he'll just stand around looking mildly disapproving, because he isn't over the fact that I almost died."

Ward didn't know if he should be laughing or crying.

"You shouldn't come back," he said roughly. "You should listen to Coulson."

Fitz just grinned. "Nope," he said cheerfully. "Agent Ward, you're my friend."

"You were never mine."

Stay away from me. Please. Get better, tell Jemma once and for all that you love her, goddamnit, and stay away. Live a good life, Fitz.

Fitz's face fell slightly. "You don't mean that," he said. "And I… I may not remember everything that happened, but I—I saw some footage of what Garrett did. To you. What you asked him to do."

Ward jerked back so hard he nearly fell from the interrogation chair. They weren't supposed to have that footage.

"I wasn't supposed to see it," Fitz confessed. "And if Coulson's watching us now, he's really going to be pissed at me. But… Ward. You didn't deserve any of that." Fitz's voice was thick with emotion. "I don't care what they say you did. You're our friend, and you're a good man."

"No," Ward said adamantly. "I'm not a good man. I did all the terrible things they said. I followed Garrett"—

"That wasn't f-following, Ward, that was—that was"—Fitz's voice broke, and Ward stared at him in amazement. "What Garrett did to you wasn't your fault."

He had asked Garrett for the beatings. It didn't concern him, and it shouldn't concern Fitz. He was used to it, and it was all the same—Maynard or Garrett or May in their last fight. They had all nailed him to the floor, all robbed him of his voice, but it wasn't just that. In one way or another, he had asked for it every single time.

"What I did was my fault," Ward said firmly. "And you can't keep defending me, Fitz. I made my choices."

"No," Fitz said firmly. "I'm not going to stop defending you, Agent Ward, even from yourself. Coulson told me once that you can save someone from themselves if you get to them soon enough."

"It's too late, Fitz," Ward said gently. "Please, please accept that. And then go, and don't look back."

Fitz shook his head. "I believe in you," he said simply, and his words left Ward breathless.

Ward stared at him, mouth hanging slightly open.

"I believe in you," Fitz repeated. "And I'm not going to let you rot in here alone. I'll be back tomorrow, but I have a question for you, Ward."

"What is it?" Ward asked, his voice barely a whisper.

"Do you think nearly dying will make someone feel sorry enough for me that they'll get me a monkey?"

Ward did smile this time, his lips twisting into position without being asked. It almost felt like hope.