SUMMARY: In which each of the team members visit Agent Grant Ward in their make-shift prison.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Okay, so is chapter is also not very fluffy. I really wanted to do it, however, although I'm very iffy on whether I captured the characters essences or not. I felt May and Ward were probably the hardest. Any critique is welcomed, honestly.
Also, as I mentioned earlier, prompts are welcomed, as I'd love to write more, but just haven't really got the brains to come up with good ideas. I'm thinking something fluffy next, what do you think? Also, thank you for all the people who read, favourited or followed. It makes my day.
CHAPTER THREE: Nazi
The prison isn't exactly top-notch. It looked like no one had had any time or recourses to get him a proper holding cell. He doesn't care. Agent Grant Ward is too guilty to even think of breaking out. Where would he go, anyway? Back to Hydra? Who knew if they would accept him back. Now that he thinks about it, the only reason he ever joined was because of Garret's influence. There's no such influence now.
Ward spends a lot of his time thinking. There isn't particularly anything interesting to do in a bland room. All that's in the room is a bed, and a door in the corner leading to a bathroom. It's obvious that the room used to be a bedroom, or maybe even a bunker. Spacious compared to the bunkers of the Bus, but strangely it seems more cramped.
He has no clue where he is. He was knocked out upon moving him to the prison - or at least, he thinks it's a prison.
And so Ward spends most of his days thinking. Dreaming. Feeling guilt. No one visits him, apart from that one time - someone who claimed to be a doctor, and his bodyguard. Ward had half hoped that it would be Simmons. He'd known that the idea was stupid, but he hasn't seen the team since that fateful day. He still beats himself up over casting FitzSimmons into the ocean. He hopes they're okay. He knows they probably aren't.
And Skye. She had called him a Nazi. One of the most horrifying things in human history. Could he really be associated with that label? He decides that he can.
What was Grant Ward to do? Nowhere to go. No one to trust. Friends, family. None-existant. Somehow, he has screwed up his life even more than it already was. So he waits. For what, he's not sure.
But it's May that visits him first.
...
They're seated at a table that reminds him of a typical interrogation scene in a movie. Maybe it's an interrogation scene, but it's certainly no movie. May is seated on the other end of the table, her features the picture of a cool composure, but he knows it's anything but that. She hasn't changed a bit since he saw her. She's wearing her classic black leather outfit. Ward is almost positive that she has a knife hiding in her boots. The only difference is the new scars and marks along her neck. She doesn't give any indication that they hurt, but Ward is sure that they're fresh.
"May." He doesn't try to apologise, or grovel. It wouldn't work.
"I punctured your larynx," she states.
Ward inwardly winces at the memory, accompanied with recalling the pain of several nails piercing through his foot. "Yeah. I got that fixed. I thought Simmons would fix it." He's hoping for her answer, hoping for good results.
"Simmons is a biochemist, not a doctor. We wouldn't let her near you."
He snaps his head up to her suddenly, blinking at the fierce warrior. "She's alive?"
"Yes."
"And Fitz," he prompts.
"Alive." He gets cold chills, because although now he knows they're breathing, he isn't sure that they're okay. He opens his mouth, but May's withering glare stops him from enquiring about them any more.
"How's the team?" He tries carefully, watching May for any signs of aggression. His eyes flicker to the guard standing by the door. Ward get's the impression that he's not there to look after May, he's there to restrain her.
"You don't get to ask."
"I'm not sorry." He says impulsively. And then he realises that it's the truth. Ward is not sorry. Garret had helped him in more ways than he could recount, and he had simply repaid the debt. Yes, he felt guilt. Guilt and regret. But he wasn't sorry for his actions. Only the consequences.
"No," May agrees, startling Ward. "You're Hydra."
Ward gets the feeling he won't be seeing her again.
...
"Coulson."
The man's face is grim, but his eyes still hold some resemblance of a sparkle. it's not towards him, of course. He looks weary, and tired, but definitely satisfied. Ward can't help but wonder what he's been up to.
"It's Director Coulson, actually."
Ward raises his eyebrows, staring at the senior agent. So that's why he was tired? "Director?"
"You missed a lot," Coulson mutters by way of explanation, as if that would help Ward in any way.
"Yeah. I got the impression that I did." He knows he shouldn't pry, especially after how his conversation with May went, but he can't help it. He leans back in his chair, eyes focusing on the cuffs that bind his hands together. "How's the team?"
"Alive," Coulson says simply. Ward forces down the feeling of bubbling frustration. Why was no one giving him answers?
"I got that from May."
"You won't get much from anyone else," Coulson warns, his face scarily stern.
"Why?" He genuinely wants to know, although he has the feeling that he already knows the answer.
"We don't humour backstabbers, Ward. Especially not Nazi's."
Great, so now Coulson's joined the Hitler Youth club?
...
The next visitors made Ward's heart swell. Simmons and Triplett. But no Fitz.
"Simmons," he greets. It's supposed to be a friendly gesture, but Simmons only takes a seat at the other end of the table, looking terribly withdrawn and distrustful. Triplett waits by the door, watching with careful eyes. Ward knows that he'll be in trouble if he messes up anything with Simmons.
"Hello Ward," Simmons answers cordially. Her eyes are weary, there are dark circles under them. He feels a jolt of sudden fear, and his thoughts run wild as he imagines the possibilties of Fitz's whereabouts.
"Where's Fitz?" He finally manages to choke up the question. Too bad he doesn't get an answer in return.
They sit in tense silence, with Simmons looking as if she was weighing him up heavily. "Why did you do it?"
Her voice has a tone of defeat, and Ward leans forward on the table. He pretends that he doesn't see her flinch away from him. "You and Fitz were a weakness." When she doesm't respond, he takes it as his cue to continue. "Garret.. he gave me everything. I was in prison, Simmons."
"He broke you out," Simmons countered dully.
"Yeah. He broke me out. But.. he trained me. Like the father I never had. I had to help him. It was a.. sense of loyalty. You understand loyalty, right? You and Fitz." He waits for a nod, but she only sits in silence. "Tell me," he said finally. "If Fitz turned out to be Hydra.. would you follow him? Would you follow him into Hydra?"
"I'd follow him anywhere."
Ward sits back, and he sees that she recognises the point he's trying to make. He almost smiles at her, but then she continues, her tone rising louder with every word.
"But not to Hydra. Not to a group of heartless, cold people. Not to help betray my friends. Not to.. to throw them into the ocean-"
"Simmons-"
"-and not to murder. Not to become a cruel, cold-blooded backstabber."
"Where's Fitz?" He blurts out suddenly, because he has to know. He has to justify his actions somehow. He can't do that without knowing if the engineer is okay.
"Fitz is in a coma," Simmons says, her tone thick with a sense of finality. "He won't ever be the same, Ward."
"It was supposed to float," he tells her quietly.
"It didn't."
...
Ward anticipates the last visitor the most. He prepares his words. But she doesn't show up. Not for days after Simmons' visit. A week. Two. A month later, and there's no sign of the young hacker. He begins to think that maybe she had really just gotten over him. And why shouldn't she? He betrayed them all, stabbed them in the back. Fitz was in a coma because of him.
Then one day, he is escorted to what he calls the interrogation room. Even before he walks in, he knows Skye will be sitting down at the desk, waiting for him.
As soon as he sits down, she's loosing a string of swear words at him, and only a warning from one of the soldiers prompts her to stop.
"Nazi," she spits, and Ward holds his hands up in a sign of peace - surrender.
"I'm not a Nazi," he replies calmly. "I was doing my job, Skye."
"Yeah? Well, last time I checked, doing your job didn't mean betraying everyone who trusted you. Doing your job, is being loyal!"
"I was being loyal," Ward retorts, irritation bubbling through. No matter how strong his feelings were for him, she could always rile him up. "Loyal to Hydra. Loyal to you."
"Not me," Skye shakes her head, and his stomach drops suddenly. "Never me. You ripped apart this team, Ward! Do you know what it feels like to have a team meeting now? To be a part of SHIELD? To watch Coulson struggling with rebuilding SHIELD? To see May's anger, to hear Simmons crying? Fitz's cold, cold body?"
"I'm sorry."
"Sorry doesn't cut it!" She's slamming her hands on the table, and for the first time Ward notices the red around her eyes. Skye's been crying. For him? No. For Coulson's team. The team he left behind. The team he was never a part of, not really.
"Did you ever feel anything, Ward? When you were snooping around our backs, killing people? When you murdered Agent Koenig?"
"Skye.." He attempts to stop her, but his voice is doubtful.
"Tell me. Did you?"
It's a long time before he can pluck up the courage to speak again, but when he does, he's surprised to find that his voice is perfectly clear. "I did. I did, Skye. I'm still a human. I still have feelings."
"I wish you didn't." Her comment surprises him, and he reaches out a hand for her.
"Skye.."
"Don't touch me," she warns. "Don't come near me, I swear."
"I'm sorry," he tries again. It's a hopeless effort, but what else has he got?
"I'm sorry too. Sorry for your cold heart, Agent Ward."