A/N: Okay, I think that I'm going to start updating more often - maybe twice a week now because I feel like this story has been going on for quite a while, and it's time to get it moving towards a conclusion! Reviews always inspire me to update more as well =P.

His alarm sounded - 6am. Immediately, Ward sat up and pressed the button to turn off the irritating buzzing.

His eyes burned with fatigue. Yawning, he rubbed them with one hand as he swung his legs over the side of his bed and stood up.

He hadn't slept at all last night; he was too busy tossing and turning, constantly reliving his conversation with Jemma, wishing he could forget the look on her face as he confirmed her accusation. Wishing he could forget the sight of the tears glistening in her eyes, clinging to her eyelashes in a desperate attempt not to fall.

I have to find her.

The thought struck him with surprising force and clarity.

Suddenly, he knew what he had to do - fight. He had to fight for her, or else he would lose her forever.

Decisively, he grabbed the closest shirt to him - a black one hanging off the edge of his dresser. It was the one he had worn yesterday, but he didn't care. Pulling it on, he ran a hand through his hair, quickly, not wasting a moment. He slipped his shoes on on his way out the door, not bothering to wear socks. Who needs socks when it might already be too late to win back the woman he loves?

No one stopped him as he strode purposefully through the labyrinth of corridors on his way to Jemma's room - he was much too intimidating with his determined face and tightly-bottled fear.

Arriving at her door, he glanced around to make sure that no one was around, then knocked quietly on the door.

There was no answer.

Knocking more firmly, he called, "Agent Simmons?"

Again, no one answered the door. Ward started to get slightly nervous. He knew Jemma, and he was sure that she wouldn't be working by...he paused to check his watch...6:12am. She never hit the lab before seven at the earliest. Something was wrong.

Trying the handle, he frowned. It was locked, meaning that she wasn't inside.

An uneasy feeling settled into the pit of Ward's stomach - all of his senses told him that something was off.

The lab was his next destination, however unlikely it was for her to be there. This time, though, someone joined him as he walked.

"You're up early," Garrett commented, falling into step beside Ward.

Barely even glancing at his supposed mentor, Ward growled, "Couldn't sleep."

"Ahh," Garrett nodded sympathetically. "Don't suppose that it has something to do with the lovely Agent Simmons, now does it?"

Ward stopped dead in his tracks, a murderous rage building up inside him. His hands balled into fists and it took all his self-control not to punch Garrett in his smug face. "What. Did. You. Do. To. Her?" Each word was forced out from clenched teeth, his anger barely contained.

"Calm down," Garrett smiled nastily and resumed walking, expecting Ward to catch up with him.

Seeing no other option, Ward resumed his pace next to Garrett. "Answer me."

"She's fine. For now." His casual tone contrasted with the horror his words evoked in Ward's heart.

"What do you want?"

"We will continue this talk in my office, Agent Ward," Garrett replied, cutting off all further conversation.

The remainder of the walk to his office left Ward with plenty of time to seethe. And plot. In the short distance, Ward thought of nine different ways to kill Garrett with his bare hands. Only the thought of what could happen to Jemma if he acted on his murderous impulses kept him from attacking.

Finally, they reached Garrett's office. "After you," the man gestured him in through the open door.
Silently, Ward entered and automatically took a seat on the plain wooden chair in front of Garrett's desk, aware that the man wouldn't explain until he was ready. His foot drummed an uneven rhythm on the floor.

"Drink?" Crossing around behind the desk, Garrett lifted a decanter and gestured towards Ward.

"No."

"Suit yourself," he shrugged.

"How long?" Ward asked, his voice cold.

Lifting an eyebrow, Garrett asked, "How long what?" He paused, waiting for an answer. When none was forthcoming, he continued, "How long have I had your girlfriend? Only since last night."

Clenching his teeth together and reminding himself that strangling Garrett right now wouldn't help Jemma, he clarified, "How long have you suspected me?"

"I never said that I did."

"You wouldn't have taken Jemma if you didn't."

"Jemma, is it?" Garrett leaned forward, a dangerous glint in his eyes. Changing the subject from Simmons, he dropped the jovial tone. "I'm disappointed in you, Ward. I wouldn't have pegged you for a traitor. But then you messed up, met the girl in secret. It wasn't hard to put two and two together and figure out that you were double-crossing me."

Gripping the armrest so hard that his knuckles turned white, Ward stared at his former mentor with undisguised hatred.

Garrett chuckled. "Now that we have the truth out, you will have to do something for me."

"I don't think so."

"Your girlfriend's life hangs in the balance," Garrett smirked at him. "If you do exactly what I say, she will be fine. If not…" He left his threat hanging.

"I want proof of life."

"Of course." Taking a cell phone out of his pocket, Garrett dialed, then passed the phone to Ward.

"Jemma?" he gasped into the receiver the instant the phone was in his hands. "Are you okay?"

"Grant?" Her use of his first name showed him just how scared she was - she needed some form of comfort.

"Are you okay?" he repeated again.

"Yes," she replied, her voice thick. "I'm fine. I'm scared, though." Her voice trembled, nearly breaking his heart. She was brave and would never have admitted that in other circumstances.

"It will be okay," he managed to say past the lump in his throat. "I promise."

"Grant?" she sniffed, "Just in case, I have to tell you that...that I love you. I don't care about Skye, or your past, or…" the rest of her sentence was cut off as Garrett snatched the phone back, before Ward could respond.

She loved him.

Somehow, despite all of his mistakes, she still loved him. That knowledge was a small ray of hope amidst everything that was wrong. It also doubled his determination to rescue her - he had to tell her how he felt. That he loved her too.

"There. Proof of life." Garrett leaned on his elbows on his desk. "Now - put on this tracker," he tossed a wrist tracker that Ward snapped onto his arm without hesitation, noting that Garrett put the key into his desk drawer, "and go kill the rest of your team."

"What?" Ward exploded, jumping to his feet.

"Kill them," Garrett repeated calmly. "Coulson, May, Fitz, Skye. If I see so much as a sign that they are alive after tomorrow, your girl will pay the price."

Ward's blood ran cold.

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