When Coulson said that Ward was demanding someone come down to his cell, she had a sinking feeling that Coulson would send her. Ten minutes later and she was descending the steps to his cell, datapad in hand. Her expression was blank, but her heart was pounding. She wanted to yell at him. She wanted to hurt him. She wanted to hurt him just as badly as he had hurt her. She, quite frankly, wanted to cry. But she bottled up her emotions and sealed the lid tight. There would be time to cry later.

"What do you want, Ward?"

Her voice was sharp, laced with unspeakable amounts of anger. More anger than she had wanted to speak with. She wanted to take it back, but reminded herself of who she was talking to. Grant Douglas Ward, traitor, Hydra agent, and monster. She dismissed any thoughts of guilt. It was his fault that she hated him. His. He was the one she trusted, the one she loved. And he had been playing her the entire time.

She watched him flinch before recovering and staring at her. She was getting impatient. Why was he staring at her? She was about to turn around and leave the monster to his cage when she noticed his hands moving. Her eyes widened as the thumb and index finger of his right hand dug into the thumb of his left. What the hell is he doing? Slowly but surely a metal tip emerged from the finger. She watched, refusing to move as he finished removing a metal paperclip. Pressing a button on the datapad, the force field retracted slightly at the bottom. Wordlessly, he kicked the paperclip to her. She pressed the button again and the square closed. She bent down to pick it up.

"What's this for?" she questioned, her voice low. She was suspicious.

"It was my escape plan," he replied gruffly.

Skye nodded. Was. Does that mean he's given up hope? She almost wanted to ask, but she stopped herself. Why should she care? It was his fault. He was the traitor. Turning the wall solid, she walked back up the stairs. Shutting the door behind her, she felt guilty. But why should she? It was his fault…right?


The next day, Ward did not exercise. It felt odd, wrong even, to not be doing his morning routine. But he couldn't bring himself to do it. He couldn't even bring himself to stand up. Instead, he laid on his stiff mattress, hands behind his head, and stared up at the dull, gray ceiling. It was almost completely dark all around him. He could only tell that it was a new day based on the once a day delivered food and water. By food and water he meant a gray colored mush and steaming hot, probably left in the sun, water. He wasn't even sure what was in the guck. It didn't matter to him, he'd had worse. Sometimes he'd eat it, sometimes he wouldn't. The water was shit, but at least it was water. He wasn't going to complain to Coulson. At least he was semi-hydrated. Today was one of the days he didn't feel like taking the food. A guard was walking down the stairs with it. Ward shook his head and the guard left without a word. Days passed and he still did not exercise, still did not get out of bed. Skye came for information and then left. When he was first locked in the cell, those were the days he was looking forward to. Now, not so much. He knew everything was his fault. The venom laced with her words, the way she sometimes yelled, the abrupt exits. Through it all, he remained collected and emotionless, laying on the bed without looking at anything but her. Afterwards, he would break down. He hoped no one would see it, but he had a feeling that one of his former teammates would watch the security footage and see him cry. He couldn't bring himself to care enough to cover it up. It was his fault, after all. But why was he starting to resent Skye, the woman he loved?

A few days past again, no human contact and no sleep. Just staring. For hours and hours on end. Under normal circumstances, even as one of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s best spies, he would be slightly fidgety by now. Instead, he laid there, unmoving, perfectly still. It wasn't like he could be anywhere else, deserved to be anywhere else. His ears perked up slightly as he heard unrecognizable footsteps. Skye's were quiet, almost as quiet as May's, like she didn't want him to hear her coming. Except he could. He was a Specialist after all. It was part of his job. Part of my former job. These footsteps weren't loud, but they weren't quiet. They were just normal footsteps. Except he had no idea who they belonged to. So, instead of continuing to stare at the ceiling, he actually had to look to see who the damn person was.

The man had short, blonde hair, no bangs, and the stubble of a moustache and beard. He wore a white t-shirt and beige pants. Ward did not speak, choosing to glare unwaveringly at the stranger.

"Lance Hunter," the man introduced.

Ward easily identified him as British. He did not respond.

The man continued. "No, no, please, by all means, be rude. Sheesh, they told me you were closed off." He waved his hand absentmindedly. "But this is some next level shit."

Ward smirked. There was something about this guy that didn't make him feel alarmed. In fact, he found himself wanting to talk to this man. Still, he remained silent.

"Well go on, say something," encouraged Hunter.

Ward was silent for several moments before answering hesitantly. "What do you want? More Hydra information?"

Hunter looked appalled at the thought. "No, nothing of the sort. I wanted to see the resident-" He curled his fingers into air quotes. "monster."

Ward stiffened at the name. "Is that what they're calling me now?" he asked bitterly.

Hunter sighed, rubbing his eyes. "I'm sorry, I hadn't meant for it to sound like that."

And something about his tone, the way he moved, the way he looked at Ward, told him that this man was telling the truth. He hadn't been trying to insult him. And it felt good, strange even, but good.

"It's fine." His voice came out strangely soft. It sounded foreign to him.

They sat in silence until Hunter's phone buzzed in his pocket. He glanced at the message before turning his attention back to Ward. "I've got to go. Mission debrief and all that bollocks. I promise I'll be back tomorrow, and I'm gonna bring someone with me. Okay?"

Ward sighed, he should have known that Hunter couldn't stay long. They had literally talked for less than five minutes. Still, he was going to miss this man's presence. This man, who he knew nothing about, who knew nothing about him. It was an inexplicable feeling, but he was looking forward to seeing him again.

"See you tomorrow," was Ward's reply. But he had a small smile on his face as he said it.

As Hunter walked toward the door, he turned around. "And Ward?"

"Yeah?" He followed the man's movements with his gaze.

"My ex-wife is a Demonic Hell-Beast." Ward's eyebrows furrowed in confusion, but his face softened at the next sentence. "You don't seem so bad."

The door shut gently behind him. Hunter hadn't turned the wall solid, and it felt good to have some light to illuminate the area. Ward remained still, his eyes transfixed on the door. He stared and stared until his expression cracked and a smile formed on his face. Demonic Hell-Beast. Heh. All of a sudden, Grant Douglas Ward burst out laughing.