"May."
"Sir?"
"Is everything all right?"

Leave it to Coulson to figure out something May herself was only contemplating telling him. He'd know what she had been up to today, she realised, but she had also assumed a newly appointed Director of SHIELD would not want to take any part in it. She had made her peace with being on her own. It was not May's place to question him, and it was decidedly not her place to blame him for assigning her a mission that was actually not a mission at all. There would never be an official report on it, only pages on pages of Ward's confessions without even his name on, intelligence that will seem to have been generated from nowhere. And she could have said no. Hell, she could have ignored all the faint exchanges. Pretended it wasn't bothering them, hiding in the shared silence. Pretended they weren't both thinking the same thing.

Violence was never a first line solution. That had always been a SHIELD directive, even if in the last ten years nobody except Coulson himself seemed to much adhere to it anymore. And as much as May had gladly broken Quinn's face once, she was perfectly aware that it hadn't been a right decision. Contrary to the popular belief, she was not a stranger to lashing out in hot bright anger, if the situation warranted it. She just collected herself afterwards, tended to her knuckles and never rued what was done. Still, elaborated plans of torture and intimidation were something different, something insidious and soul-chilling, and May hadn't ever thought she would find herself steeling for this, some day. Of course, Ward was pretty far from being just a prisoner. He was a soldier, an enemy combatant who had willingly found his way into their lines. He had known exactly what would come for him if he was ever found out. How long has he been sleeping inside SHIELD, anyway? He had been Garrett's trainee, both had talked about it happily enough, but at what moment of Ward's training did Garrett reveal himself to him? What did he see in that fresh out of the Academy rookie that Ward's instructors have all overlooked? His record had been shining, but he had had a rather bland personality, for a bad guy. A rule sticker and a follower. Always "yes, sir, no sir". Was that why Garrett chose him at all?

"Yes, everything is fine".
"Were you planning to work downstairs today too?"
This was how they were referring to it, now? Coulson looked at her a little longer then usual, but May could not rue it, not when Phil was coming through for her in yet another of his wonderful ways. His slightly smiling, slightly concerned expression told her that he knew what she had been thinking, and that he wasn't about to leave her alone to dry, at all.
"Every day as long as necessary", she said.
"I thought we could go together today. The good cop usually goes in right after the bad."

Yesterday, she had felt deeply unsettled until well into the night, and she could freely admit it. Feelings were not a weakness, and May never disallowed herself to have them. But they had to be worked through, identified and appeased so that they would never bottle up, and never uncoil in inopportune distraction moment. And so, she had gone upstairs and done her usual workup until her stomach was not churning anymore. That sickly, disquieted feeling was still there afterwards, and she examined it further while doing tai-chi exercises until her head was completely clear, and her mind had settled just so.

"Ward would never believe you're his good cop. He will be more scared of you than he already is of me."
"I do not know if he is capable of being scared. I am not sure there is a scrap of soul in him left. But if there is, he will be a hell lot more agreeable today than he was yesterday. And in a week, he'll believe exactly what we want him to believe."
"So you'd what, sweet talk to him and offer him a deal? He won't fall for it. He burned all his bridges and he knows it."
"I am not going offer him anything. I am just going down there because I have had a really shitty week and really could do with seeing some regret in his eyes."
"Good luck in finding it."
Coulson smiled warmly and shook his head. This was why May loved the man. He was so serene, so composed, and so human.
"It will be there," he promised, "if only at getting caught by us."

Ward has been quiet all night. May had checked the monitors regularly, knowing how delicate the first hours alone with one`s thoughts could be. At first, he had sat in the corner she left him in, but after a while she could see him walking the perimeter of the cell, going very slowly through stretching exercises in order to work off the effects of the shock to later drop into whatever part of his usual physical routine he was able to complete without proper gear. As far as she could tell, he went through with it three times before settling down again. The last time May checked on him before calling it a night, he was sitting with his back propped against the bars, arms resting on his drawn knees, head resting in his arms so that his face was completely hidden away. There was no way to know if he was sleeping.

They made their ways downstairs, May running possible scenarios of their next interrogation, Coulson chatting pleasantly about the food stocked in the Playground. By the time they came up to the cell, Ward was standing at the front of his cell at perfect parade rest, hands clasped behind his back. He was looking right at Coulson like they were still on the Bus and he was waiting for his next mission, not a flinch from him at Coulson's less than friendly scowl, face a mask of patient expectation. He looked like a perfect little soldier. Why did he even choose to join SHIELD?

Coulson stopped in front of the cell looking as he always did, relaxed and with a little smile on his lips. He did not pay Ward a lot of attention first; instead he surveyed the video setup and the surroundings. There was a new untouched sandwich in the corner. The bottle of water was thankfully empty. May made a note to have Koenig write up a strict list of Ward's actually eaten meals; it would not do to let him get away from them that easily.

Phil took his precious time observing the setup, and all the while Ward's eyes had not moved away from the face of his ex commanding officer. He was acting more wound up by the silence directed at him - for a given value of wound up one could read from a specialist, anyway – than by May's threats of yesterday.

"So tell me, was Mr. Petersen the only involuntary Deathlok of the lot, or were there more coerced into doing Garrett's bidding?"

The question and the offhand delivery caught May by surprise. She was expecting something more along the lines of Phil's previous moral lecturing. It had been glorious to behold. It would be completely lost on Ward, but hearing Phil rant would be pretty cathartic all the same.

"There were eleven cells in Cybertech", Coulson went on. "We freed ten prisoners, and thankfully all family members of the employees are accounted for. But we are still not sure if there could have been anyone left behind. If you friends are looking to disappear for a while, these people could simply get disposed of."
"I can't answer that."
May found it a fascinating little bit of insight into Ward's psyche that he had to catch himself before he ended that sentence with a "sir". Phil, rightly fascinated in his own right, came up a step closer.

"Come again?"
"I don't know if there were any more hostages."
"Well, so you can speak. May here wasn't very sure. I feel like this is a good first try, considering your vocal cords, but the answer is not very helpful. You have not exactly been forthcoming up to now. Opening your mouth only to deny involvement will not get you any points."
"I did not deny involvement," Ward had the audacity of looking vaguely irritated, "I said I do not know."
"Were you blind and deaf as you flew in the same plane as Garrett over half the globe?"
"Garrett did not have any more hostages. If anyone else was running a parallel op…"
"What did he have, then?"
It really was the million dollar question. For a second there, May imagined she could see everything they wanted, all the intel going though Ward's head and being catalogued into tight little numbered boxes... And then put into a steel safe and thrown out into the ocean.
"I can't tell you what you want to know".

Coulson's face darkened. He came closer to the cell, so close that he could easily get a handful of Ward's shirt and bang his face against the bars if he would so want. Which, strictly speaking, meant Ward was able to do the same move. There was a night-night gun at Coulson's waist, and from the way Ward has not looked in that direction even once, May just knew how well aware he was of it. She moved minimally behind Phil, ready to take action.

"Keep that thought, we'll see how well it works for you. Because you will. You so much will, you will be grateful to spill everything by the time we are done here, you spineless backstabbing bastard."
And Ward must have suddenly come in touch with his inner death wish, because instead of shutting up and taking it, he very calmly moved his head from side to side.
"Things I know, none will be any help to you right now. You have a single primary objective: establishing a new base of operations after a ground zero defeat. You are basically still on the run. You do not want be hitting Garrett's hidden places."
"It's not for you to decide".
"It's basic training. You do not split up and leave half of your people unprotected, just to go hunting after some cash and low level firepower."
"I said, it's not for you to decide". Thing about Phil was, he never screamed. He did not need to, he could be perfectly terrifying talking in his normal voice. "You don't get to talk about this like you are planning a SHIELD mission, you don't get to call yourself an operative. You have forfeited your right to speak up, to be heard, to decide anything, and you are this close to forfeit your last chance at being treated as a human being. You could help us."
"Phil…" May put a hand on his shoulder in order to make him back up, then turn around and face her. "Good cop, remember?"
"There is no good to be found here". Coulson all but spit out. He turned around again, facing the cell. "Your answer?"
Ward glanced up to him and then down, and finally at May. He knew precisely where the wrong answer would lead him.
"I cannot help you," he said again.
"Fair enough. But then, do not expect help yourself."

The next time May came down, she found Ward sitting with his head thrown back and face not hidden for a change, legs stretched and arms lose. He even had the cheek to manage a little greeting smile at her, and feign an interest at her arrival.
"Up. Hands behind your back."
He hesitated then, the mask of confidence falling just a little. Or maybe she simply wanted to believe that. It could not have been more than quarter of a second.

The third time she came down, he started fidgeting as soon as she secured his arms, and did not seem to even realise it. May did not ask any questions. There was no need for it; they had an understanding. Ward knew what was expected; the ball was in his court.

She managed to not throw up by the fourth time.

He did not come willingly to be tied down by the sixth. May was expecting it and shot him with an icer, tied him up and left him there for an hour just to stew. He wasn't struggling when she came back, but his bloody wrists she could tell that he had been.

She kept expecting him to actually pull something, day after day. Start fighting her, start figuring some ways to get out of the cage. He had to realise that if he allowed May to continue much longer she could end up killing him, or drive him mad. Self preservation was an instinct, an order of nature, and Ward was a survivor by nature. All specialists were, and he even had repeatedly told Skye so. The poor girl had vehemently protested against Coulson's orders to write down all their conversations word for word, but she needn't have worried. She had been admirable in her compassion first, and later in her level headedness. As for Ward's words to her, they generally made little to no sense, and May was almost sorry to have forced the girl to relive them needlessly. One thing stood out, though, which was such a mind-boggling screw up that May had gone right to Phil's office with the paper.

"Did you know it?"
"Yes."
"Then why the hell was he even considered? Who vetted him?"
"He passed all evaluations. Not with flying colours, but he passed. And his social skills tests were always consistent…"
"And nobody thought to look further that a test? He beat the shit out of his younger brother, because his older brother did the same to him. He burned down his house as a teenager. Did nobody thought that maybe, just maybe, he wasn't the best candidate for a weapon specialist? What level was the unredacted file?"
"Eight."
"So that was how I missed it."
"… and Garrett got a hold of him. It seems to be the most probable way. John Garrett always loved explosions, so maybe…"

May squared her shoulders.

"I will lead with saying that I hope to never stop following you, but if this agency we are building anew ever does something like that, you will have my resignation. A watchful eye in case he ever decided to buy himself a firearm should have been the full extent of SHIELD's involvement with someone with this background. That, and an anonymous call to social services."

Coulson, speechless for once, was smart enough to nod once in agreement.

The next day she came down, Ward was leaning on the wall clearly awaiting her. Arms crossed at the chest, a closed off posture. May did not spare much time to the wishful thinking that today would be the day when he'd be agreeable and talk. Still, some life had returned to his eyes after being all but gone as the imprisonment slowly took his tall of him. He hadn't been in full control of his body language for the last couple of days: face openly ridden with tension, lips cracked because he kept worrying at all the cuts when he was left alone. When May would leave, he mostly huddled in the corner in any number of defensive positions, and if he was asleep he startled badly at the sound of the opening door. But through it all he never, ever said anything. And didn't it just make May see red. A normal person would have acquiesced to their questioning already. They knew his crimes, he literally could not make it worse by spilling everything. They were SHIELD, the good guys, and he had spent enough time with them to know it. Know Coulson. Know his dedication, his compassion and his drive. All he could do was earn leniency on their part. Could Ward not see that? Why would he not even try for a way out?

"What do you want from me?" His voice was rougher now, hoarse from the disuse and swelling. Simmons had walked May through basic care and things to look out for, explaining how the first days weren't necessarily the worst as the swelling took time to set in. May knew that she wondered about Ward and that Skye did, too, but they never asked her and she took it as a blessing.

"You know perfectly well what I want."
"I won't tell you anything."
It came out almost childish, half defiant and half forlorn.
"You will."
Frustration, anger, tiredness. He seemed constantly exhausted now in a forsaken, downbeat way, and it reminded May the way he all but crashed after destroying his punch bag in the aftermath of the Berserker mission.
"It won't help you any."
"I will decide what it will help. Why are you hanging onto it, if it's so completely worthless?"
"It's not to me."

Ward gazed to the floor, arms clasped tight around him, misery coming off him in waves. For a little while, he actually looked like he had just forgotten May was there. She moved to finally open the door and he recoiled away.

"Suppose I…" vague gesture. Clearly unwilling to even say it. May stilled again, to better pay attention. This was what she's been waiting for, it had to be. "What happens after that?"
"You will be locked up," she said without hesitation.
Coulson would never stand for anything harsher than that, no matter how well deserved. And May herself… she would have gladly killed Ward in a fight, but she would not become his executioner.
He nodded like he had expected it.
"How long?"
"How long you think?"
He scowled.
"It is a fair question."
"I have another one for you. How many people did you kill?
Hand and her two minions, for sure. Some of the people in the Fridge. First Clairvoyant, first Koenig…
"Over a hundred?"
Delivered with a perfectly straight face, too. Counting kills for SHIELD and Hydra all together. May straightened up.
"Your gall is sickening. You will be locked up until you die."

It was a better deal than old SHIELD would ever offer to a sleeper double agent, but going by Ward's reaction it could have been a punch right to the gut much harder than any May had had the pleasure to deliver. He did not look like someone whose life has just been undeservely spared by the enemy, but rather like a person whose world had just come crashing over him, bewildered and scared stiff, unwilling to believe the information. He stared to the floor, hands closed tight in fists, eyes frowning in deep concentration as if this was still a problem he could solve. May waited out. There was no solving this for Ward; his second chance had lasted months and had featured five people he could have chosen to confide into.

A full minute passed by, or maybe more, with Ward not saying anything. May waited. If being locked up was scaring him the most, than by all means, she'd let him sweat on all implications. She would have waited even more, but then he breathed out deeply once and nodded, shoulders uncoiling and head coming up and down in a short nod.
"Understood".

And that had been all from him that night. Ward did not speak again, to offer intel nor to ask some further questions. He also did he speak the next. Whatever May would throw at him, he did not fight it anymore. There were no further revelations, no offers and no bargaining, in fact he'd barely react to her at all. After another week, it literally felt like he had closed some secret door and threw away the key. May had heared him talk about compartimentalising long ago, and even then it had seemed like an unhealhy coping strategy. She never realised he was able to go to such an extreme. Reactions - even flinches and defensive movements - were missing, emotions up to fear and anger had been washed away until Ward's entire personality seemed gone, leaving a hole that May were unable to reach, to measure and to fill away.

"I am sure you have done everything you could. You are my right hand woman, May, but you are not Natasha Romanoff".
"I am afraid I did too much to him", May answered quite bluntly. Coulson had frowned and sighed and frowned some more when she announced that she would be leaving Ward alone, but he did fight her on this one.
"I am afraid I asked too much of you", he said instead. "This had been ugly all around, May, so please try to not blame yourself. You might think of it as a mistake, but I am sure you did everything you could."

Coulson was wrong about that, she thought as the night went away and the morning came, and she had yet to close her eyes. The mistake did not lay in all the things she did to Ward, but rather in the only one she did not do.