Ward couldn't sleep that night so he did the one thing that he had stopped doing for days, exercising. He exercised. And exercised. And exercised. No punching bags, full body dummies, treadmills, weights, pull up bars. Nothing. Just leg lifts, dips, push up variations, and handstands. And as much as it shouldn't bother him that he didn't have access to exercise equipment, it did. Whenever he needed to relieve stress, he punched something. He was half tempted to punch the wall. Except he wasn't stupid. He sat back on the bed and ran his hands through his disheveled hair. He had been given his morning guck and hours had passed. Where the hell is Hunter? He wasn't used to this much anticipation. Not since he stopped looking forward to Skye's visits. There was no point in looking forward to those, not anymore. Not after he heard the way she spoke, saw the hatred in her eyes. It had deflated him, hurt him more than the first time Garrett had gotten mad at him. And that was hard to beat. He was getting frustrated. Calm down, deep breaths, compartmentalize. He couldn't do that, couldn't compartmentalize. It was getting increasingly difficult for him. His chest was welling up. His breathing grew shallow. Am I actually panicking? This never happened to him. He needed a release, an outlet. Something! Anything! He was about to slam his fist into the concrete wall when he heard someone walking down the stairs. Nobody had bothered to turn the wall opaque, so he turned around to look. He wished he hadn't. Leopold Fitz stood in front of him. And he looked like shit. They stared at each other. And then Fitz was gasping, bent down, staring at the ground.

"Fitz!" shouted Ward. "Fitz! Are you al-"

"Stop. Stop talking. Stop."

Ward backed off. Something was wrong. God, what have I done? He took a deep breath, knowing he could regret this, and spoke. "I wasn't trying to hurt you."

Fitz raised his voice. "You tried to kill us!"

Ward couldn't help it. He was angry at himself. He was frustrated with Fitz for not understanding even though he knew it wasn't the engineer's fault. He was saddened at both of their predicaments. He was probably a bit mentally disturbed too. He screamed at the top of his lungs. "The damn thing was supposed to float! It was supposed to save you!"

Fitz flinched at his tone, backing off slightly. He stared at Ward in panic before regaining his confidence when he grasped the datapad tighter in his hands. Ward narrowed his eyes at Fitz's constant tapping of the screen.

"Save me? Do do you do you do you know what the, um what you…okay. I, you know, I have trouble with words, so, um, it's probably best that I show you."

Ward's eyebrows raised. "Show me what?" he asked lowly.

"Hypoxia!" exclaimed Fitz. "That's what you did to me!"

All of a sudden, Ward was having trouble breathing. What in the hell? His eyes widened in realization. Fitz was cutting off his oxygen supply. Fitz was going to kill him.

"Fitz, what are you doing?" He was choking now.

"I'm showing you what it's like when you're deprived-" He gasped several times, trying to find the words. "of, uh, the oxygen, the, the, brain cells, they, uh, react first. They die. Three minutes, damage is permanent."

Ward was struggling harder. "Where's Skye?"

"Gone." What?! "They're all gone after Donnie. And I should be there with them! But I can't be because of you, because of what you did to me! I'm damaged!"

Fitz was crying now. Ward felt bad for him, he really, really did. But Skye and the others were in danger.

"Donnie. Donnie. Donnie Gill. Uh, Fitz." He was choking again, harder this time. "We can deal with our problems later." He was running dangerously low on oxygen. He backed up against the wall with a loud thud. "Fitz, listen to me. Listen. You." He collapsed on the ground. "They don't know what they're walking into."

Fitz's eyes widened suddenly, as if he just realized what he was doing. He turned back to the pad and adjusted the settings, returning the oxygen level to normal. He stared at Ward, who was currently sitting in a heap on the ground, taking in small breaths. "Ward! Are you, are you-"

Ward felt a twinge of guilt. The poor guy was suffering from brain damage and he was worried about a damn traitor. "I'm fine, I'll be just fine. You need to contact Coulson though, right now! And Fitz-"

The Scot had already sprinted out of the room, turning the wall solid as he left. Ward gently banged his head against concrete. "Please come back," he whispered into the empty room.

Ward was about to turn in for the night when he heard the door open to his cell.

"No, no, no, I shouldn't be down here. Coulson, he uh, he said that I shouldn't, shouldn't visit Ward. Besides, there's uh, what do you call 'em, security…security…ah yes, security cameras! There's security cameras."

"I looped them to play footage of Ward sitting on his bloody ass, we're fine. At least for a while."

The wall turned back into an orange grid and Ward could see out.

"You know how to loop footage?" Ward couldn't help the smirk that formed on his face when he spoke.

Hunter stared at him, a small smile on his face, beer bottle hanging loosely in his hand. "Mate, I'm slightly less dumb than I look."

Ward laughed wholeheartedly. The two men stopped reaching for their respective chairs and faced each other, before turning toward Ward and back again. He raised a questioning eyebrow. Fitz was the one to speak, an expression of shock on his face. "Did you, uh, did you actually just, uh, make Ward laugh?"

Hunter took a swig of his beer before sitting down next to Fitz. "You know what, I think I did."

Fitz glanced at Hunter before turning his attention back to Ward. "I'm sorry I tried to kill you earlier," blurted Fitz.

Ward stiffened slightly and Hunter nearly choked on his drink.

"You what?" questioned Hunter once he had gotten control of his voice.

What a great way to start off this conversation.

"I was, uh, very angry. I wasn't thinking. I wasn't going to actually do it. It was a…a…" Fitz couldn't finish the sentence.

Ward spoke calmly in a reassuring voice. "Fitz, look at me." Instead, the Scot's gaze found the floor. "Fitz, buddy-" Buddy. The word sent flashes of searing pain through his head. His companion sitting in front of him expectantly. A gunshot. Running. Just like Fitz in a way. Poor choice of words. He continued, steadying his heartbeat. "It wasn't your fault. All this," he waved his hand through the air, "is on me. Not you. None of this is your fault. Don't think for a second it is."

"What was that?" asked Fitz, his voice lowering.

Ward's eyebrows furrowed. Hunter took another sip of his drink, drumming his fingers on his knee hesitantly.

"What was what?"

"When you said 'buddy'. There was something in your, uh, eyes and, what was the word, uh, oh yes, expression."

Ward froze on the spot. Fitz wanted him to talk about Buddy. He wasn't ready for that, not yet. Still, he spoke softly. "Fitz, I'm not…it was something from my past. I can't, uh, it still hurts. I promise I'll tell you anything you want to know about my life. Just not today. Is that okay?" He was fighting tears now. The old Grant Ward would have never cried.

Fitz nodded, forehead scrunched together in worry.

Hunter leaned forward. "Hey, mate, neither of us are very good at the whole comforting thing. So, uh, could you do us a favor and cheer up?"

Ward's entire body loosened before it started quaking. But he wasn't crying. He was laughing. Hysterically at that. Hunter and Fitz glanced at each other as Ward doubled over in laughter. Yep, I'm definitely insane, thought Ward. Hunter and Fitz maintained their gaze before shrugging at each other and turning back to the prisoner before them.

Perhaps 'monster' isn't really the best term for this bloke, thought Hunter.


AN: Things are going to take a turn next chapter. Thank you guys so much for all the kind words! Let me know what you think in your reviews!