Disclaimer: I don't own Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. or The Avengers 1 or 2 or Iron Man 2 or Captain America: the Winter Soldier or the upcoming Captain America: Civil War.

Note: As I said before, Skye won't be onscreen for a while, and neither will Coulson, though Coulson will show up sooner. While I debated cutting away to them from time to time, the fact of the matter is that the broad strokes of what happened on the show will happen in more or less the same way that they did, minus Ward's presence, and so there isn't as much point. Plus, the tight focus of the story is on Ward's process of redemption. We will return to Skye, and the Skyeward will happen, I promise.

Skye will, however, remain a constant presence in the narrative.

Note 2: Clint Barton has his first appearance in this chapter. If you think I have his personality or points of canon about him wrong, please inform me. I am aware that comics Barton and MCU Barton are very different people, apparently. I'm going to be using the Clint Barton of the MCU however, and so please only correct me about his MCU personality/canon.

Ledger Dripping Red

By Alkeni

Chapter 6: I'll Let You Know When I Get There

Natasha Romanoff's Safehouse

October 5th, 2014

Ward's sleep had been... well, not unusual.

Ward hadn't had anything resembling a true good night's sleep in months, maybe even longer. Every night in that cell, his sleep was filled with dreams and nightmares. Or dreams that turned into nightmares.

In his dreams, he was...

Well, he was happy.

Sometimes he was just back with the team, in the early days when he was just Skye's S.O., when things were simple. But in his dreams, he wasn't there to spy on them for John. He wasn't there to find out anything about Coulson's resurrection. He was just there as a member of the team. A loyal S.H.I.E.L.D. agent.

Sometimes, he dreamed he hadn't turned on the team, that he'd stayed with them. That he'd not let Garrett go. That he and Skye...

That they'd let their feelings become something. That they were together, and happy. He dreamed of the future he could have had with her – never mind that he'd never have been able to have it... Sooner or later John would have put a stop to it, even if Hydra hadn't come out of the shadows.

But if I'd refused to turn on the team. If I'd let him go to that cell in the Icebox...

Ward had never dreamed of forgiveness. Of being let out of that cell. Of becoming a member of the team again. Of Skye ever looking at him with anything but hate and disgust. No matter how much he'd wanted that – and how he wanted it – he couldn't have it. And he knew that. He could never be friends with Fitz or Simmons again. He could never have a working partnership with May. He could never have Coulson's trust again. And he could never have Skye's trust. Or anything else from her but hate.

He deserved it. He deserved their hate, their rage, their disgust.

Every night he dreamed, he resented John a little bit more. Hated him a little bit more. He'd given the man so much, given him everything. He'd thrown all morality aside because John needed him. Needed his help. Because John was the only man who cared about him. The only man who could care about him.

So much for that.

But it wasn't John's fault. Natasha was wrong. He hadn't been brainwashed. He'd made his choices. His failures, moral and otherwise... they were his own.

Last night had been dreams. Other nights... other nights were the nightmares.

Ward didn't want to think about the nightmares. Of Skye dying in his arms because he'd shot her at John's order. Of simply shooting Fitz and Simmons. Or any of the rest of the things his nightmares showed him.

Ward's internal clock hadn't failed him. Awake at 5:30. A small part of him, the ever vigilant specialist, was satisfied to learn that he really had been waking up at 5:30 in the morning every day in that cell. That he'd kept up his routine.

As much on instinct as anything else, he started his post-wake up exercises, push ups and everything else. It was... a half-hour span when he could afford to shut down his mind, to stop thinking about what he'd done. When he could just focus on a familiar routine. One he didn't have to think about at all.

He hadn't been surprised to find that Natasha was already in the kitchen when he left his bedroom, drinking a cup of coffee. He was a little surprised when she pushed a steaming hot mug of the drink into his hands as well.

"You don't usually make coffee for me in the mornings." Ward said softly, the whole thing more than a little disconcerting. It just wasn't what he was used to.

"I didn't make it for you. I just poured the rest of the pot in a mug for you." Natasha replied, taking another sip. "I see you've kept up the habit of waking up at 5:30 every morning." It wasn't a question. "Even in the cell with no clock you managed it."

"I told you before, I've got a pretty good internal clock." Ward replied. And he had. Natasha was a fairly early riser herself most days, but there were times when she would sleep late, or at least not get out of bed until later. Ward well...

Staying in bed after he was awake was never something he was comfortable with and, unless he was sick, he never slept past five thirty. Usually not even then.

"Do you have Garrett to thank for that?" Natasha's tone was pointed, direct and unflinching.

If she'd asked him that a month ago, two months, he wouldn't have been ready to give that answer. He still...

He still didn't want to talk about John. What John put him through. He hadn't even meant to when she'd come down to his cell the first time. It was only when she revealed that she knew things that no one should know that he'd said anything and that was as much out of shock as anything else that he told her.

The thing was, as much as he resented John, for everything, he couldn't really, truly, completely hate the man. He had made his own choices, after all, and...

John had used him, had only helped him for his own benefit, but...

He still did help me. He still did help 'make me a man'. He couldn't hate John. Not completely. He did owe John so much – John had gotten him out of Juvenile Hall. John had saved him from his family. John may have used me, but at least he built me into something when he did it.

"Yes." Ward replied, hoping she'd be happy with just that, but suspecting that she wouldn't be.

"The Red Room taught us to wake early through our... education." Ward wasn't sure exactly what she meant by that, but he could guess. He didn't know the intimate details of the Red Room, but he knew some small things. He'd heard stories. Rumors. Urban legends, perhaps. Natasha hadn't told him much about her training though she'd occasionally shared the details of her 'missions' before she'd met Barton. "What did to Garrett do to you to train you so well?"

Ward took a step back, taking a sip from his coffee, stalling. He didn't want to talk about the woods. He didn't want to share those details with anyone. He didn't want to think about John beating him if he wasn't awake at the right time – if he wasn't awake when John got there. Waking up every morning at 5:30 had been a survival mechanism, like everything else he'd learned in those woods. John had exposed him to a danger, a threat – of his own design – and forced him to learn to counter it. And it had worked. And Ward had a record of successful missions behind him.

But I failed the most important mission, didn't I? John's dead. But he had gotten John what he'd needed. Gotten him the G.H. 325.

For all the good it did him in the end.

Ward moved to the table, leaning against it, still holding his coffee. He sipped again, still stalling.

"You're stalling, Grant." Natasha stated the obvious. "If you don't want to tell me right now, say so. You're going to have to tell me about those five years one way or the other. But I could lay out the mats and I could... express my feelings about your little 'eye candy' comment." Ward winced mentally at the slightly vicious note in Natasha's voice.

He'd said it to see if he could get Hill off her game. He hadn't expected it to work but it was worth the effort, which was negligible. And, as he'd expected, it hadn't worked. I really should have thought through Natasha's reaction. Well, Ward hadn't thought a lot of things through right after Hydra came out of the shadows.

If he and Natasha went onto the mats, she'd beat him. Under the right circumstances, Ward suspected he could probably beat her. But those circumstances required him to be some distance away with a high quality sniper-rifle and near total surprise. The first two weren't too hard to get but even from a thousand yards away, surprising Agent Natasha "The Black Widow" Romanoff was much easier said than done.

In a hand to hand fight – Ward could put up a good showing, and he supposed if Natasha had a couple broken ribs, hadn't slept for forty-eight hours and had just fought off a half-dozen people nearly as good as he was, he might have a chance against her. Maybe if she had a broken arm or leg, rather than broken ribs. But otherwise... not really.

But it was a better option than talking about the woods with her. And it would be... well, it wouldn't be mindless. Shutting your brain off in the middle of a fight could be fatal. But a fight with her, even one he was guaranteed to lose, would take up so much of his mind that he couldn't think of anything else. Like all the things he didn't want to think about. Like all the people he didn't want to think about.

Ward took another sip of his coffee and set the mug down on the table. "I think I'll take the mats." Then Ward paused, and looked over at her, eyes directly on her face. "Well... just how upset are you about the comment?"

"Remember the time we sparred after the mission in Helsinki?" Ward flinched visibly this time. Well, he deliberately flinched visibly. He didn't want Natasha to think he'd forgotten about that particular incident. "I was thinking something along those lines."

"I think I'll take the mats." Now if she'd mentioned that time after Cairo... talking about the woods might actually have been more pleasant.

"What would you have said if I set the time after Cairo as the standard?" Ward blinked. "It'll be Helsinki either way, whatever your answer. If you're not ready to talk about it, you don't have to. Yet."

"I think I would have taken talking." Ward admitted after a moment. He took another sip from his coffee. "But as you say, you said Helsinki." I probably deserve that much from her for that comment.

"Then I'll lay out the mats. You should eat something first. And well..." She set her own coffee mug down, though since she was by the counter, that's where she put it. "You're going to have to start telling me everything you have on Hydra." She took a step towards him. "What you know on Hydra isn't that important to me. What's important to me is giving you the same second chance I got. But I made the deal with Coulson."

Its not like this is that much of a surprise. "I don't know as much as Coulson probably thinks I do. John's gone, and his section of Hydra with it. Most of what I know now is rumors, supposition and gossip. A few useful bits of information." And a phone that can contact someone high ranking in Hydra's North American branch. He didn't know who, but he did know it would someone be connected at the highest level. Not all the way to the top, but close. Strucker wouldn't be in the States, I know that. So who's running things here? He could think of a few, but he didn't know who. "Some names, accounts, drop boxes. But a lot of them will be obsolete now, with John gone."

"What you know is what you know." Natasha replied. She raised an eyebrow. "I'm grasping that you care about Skye." Yes, yes, Natasha, I know that love is for children. "Did you hold out on telling Coulson anything just because you wanted to see her?"

Ward wouldn't deny that that was part of it. Initially, his remaining threads of loyalty to John were part of it. Once Coulson made that early blunder, telling him no information would ever get him out – not that he'd expected it to, but still, a terrible interrogation tactic to tell him that. A small part of him had just wanted to spite Coulson, out of professional distaste. Very small.

But it wasn't just seeing Skye. He knew things. About her father. Things about her past that she needed to know. If Raina was right, and there really was a darkness inside her, something she'd inherited from 'monstrous' parents, then she needed to know. Skye needed to know so that she could fight it. Resist it.

For a brief time, after hearing what Raina had to tell him, Ward had entertained the idea that if Skye really did have darkness inside her, then they could be together. That she could love him. But... he didn't want Skye to be like that. He didn't want Skye to be dark.

Skye was good. She was a bright light in a dim world, color on a canvas of gray. Poetic maybe, but true. He didn't want to see Skye become like him. If she did... Ward would still love her. He couldn't not. But...

"I told him I'd tell Skye because I know something. Something about her father." Ward said after a moment. "She's been searching for her family, for years." He wasn't going to tell Natasha what Raina had told him. It was for Skye to hear. "I thought... I thought if I gave her the intel I had, I could... eventually have her trust me enough to believe what I told her about her father."

Natasha, who had dropped her eyebrow, raised it again. "Why not just give that information to Coulson? He'd give it to her, no?"

Ward shook his head. "I doubt it. He sees her as the daughter he never had. He wouldn't want her to have anything to do with her father." And he wouldn't want Skye to go looking for her father. Not if he slaughtered a village to find her.

Skye has the right to make that decision herself. Not have it made for her.

"You're saying Coulson wouldn't want the competition for her paternal affections?" Natasha didn't sound like she believed it. "If he really cared about her-"

"He'd be doing it because he cares about her. But he's not going to tell her. You didn't spend six months on that plane with him, and more months hearing him ranting and raving. He's not the guy you knew before his death." Well, the last year has changed us all.

"He proved he was close enough when he dug into your past himself and let me get you out of that hole." Natasha replied, still unconvinced. "We're going to the mats, and then when we're done, you're going to start writing down everything you know about Hydra." She didn't sound like she was going to brook any argument.

She stepped back and lowered her voice a little, her tone less steely. "If you want to make up for what you've done, Grant, you need to start somewhere. Just like I had to."

No matter where I start, I can't undo what I did.

"How long did it take for you, then?" Ward asked softly. "To make up for what you did before you joined S.H.I.E.L.D.?"

"I'll let you know when I get there." Natasha replied.

Natasha Romanoff's Safehouse

October 5th, 2014

Had Grant been anyone else, Romanoff might have offered to get him an icepack. She'd hadn't broken any of his bones, or even hurt him close to permanently, but no one could lose ten rounds out of ten without collecting a few bruises and bumps. On the body as well as on the ego. She'd gotten a few bruises out of it as well, though not as many as he had.

It wasn't that he had a problem with losing to a woman. Nor had he gone into the sparring match with any expectation to win – she liked that about sparring with Grant. He was good enough to give her a real challenge in hand to hand combat but not good enough to actually have a chance at beating her unless she got complacent – not that she ever had in a fight with him. Unlike with say, Cap. She'd beaten him, but not as often as he'd beaten her in a hand to hand fight. All in all, it didn't bother her that much – she was good but Steve Rogers really did put the 'super' in 'supersoldier'. His gun-skill was practically nonexistent and he rarely even picked up a gun these days.

But Romanoff didn't offer Grant an icepack. He hated being offered more than the absolute necessary assistance when he'd been injured. Knowing what she did now, she understood where it came from – bred into him by Garrett. Being hurt was weakness and letting other people help you was even weaker. It wasn't an attitude she'd gotten out of that easily either. And she still didn't like taking help when she was hurt though she took it much better than she once had.

Grant would have to learn to take help in these situations, just as she did, but one thing at a time.

Grant was seated at the table not letting his back touch the chair's back, hands flat on the table. She'd been content after a few rounds – she hadn't been interested in seriously hurting him, or dashing his ego. Just making him go a few rounds as payback for what he'd said about her to Hill. But Grant had insisted. It hadn't taken her long to realize that he was trying to punish himself. She'd let him keep that up for a bit but stopped after the tenth time.

"If you're going to treat a sparring match like some sort of ceremonial self-flagellation, Grant, then we're not having one again." She told him, sitting across the table from him. "You aren't going to make up for anything by experiencing pain."

"I deserve it." Grant replied. "After what I-"

Romanoff stood up and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Grant, are we going to go through this every day?" She hadn't been as guilt-ridden initially, but she'd gotten there soon enough. She knew where it could go, the dark places the mind could go. Where it had gone, with her and with Grant. She wasn't going to let him go back to those places. She'd done what she could to take as many options for committing suicide away from him but Grant was a clever man. He could find another way if he slipped back into where he'd been before. She didn't think he would, but she didn't want to take any chance.

"Have you done things? Bad things? Things that you can never make up for? Yes. You have." Romanoff agreed. "There's no promise of forgiveness. There's no glorious return to your friends guaranteed. I can't and I won't promise you that this is going to be easy, I can't and won't promise you that you'll make it through to the other side. I can promise you that you won't make it through if you don't start accepting that whatever you think about it, I am giving you a second chance. You don't deserve it. I didn't deserve the one I got. But I'm giving it to you." She didn't bother dressing up her tone. Clint hadn't been anything but blunt with her. It had worked then, and she was fairly confident it would work now.

She watched Grant. As had been common during their partnership, she couldn't read his expression. His brief stint of very readable expressions – by his standards, anyway – seemed to be over. Or maybe he was just on his game now. She couldn't tell what he was thinking.

"Why? Why are you giving me this chance then? Just because we worked together? I worked with a lot of people. None of the rest of them came to offer me anything." Grant's tone wasn't hollow which was an improvement. Just flat.

"Because of what Garrett did to you. I don't know all the details, because you haven't shared with the class but I know enough. Five years under his care – I went through what he put you through. I was brainwashed and you were brainwashed." Romanoff stood up from her chair, walking away from the table a moment.

"I wasn't brainwashed. I made my choices." Grant replied. "John may have manipulated me but I was the one who let him. I was in full control of my own choices." He looked up at her. "You said you spoke to people. People who knew about John coming to me in Juvenile Hall. Why did you talk to them? How did you know to talk to them?"

"You weren't in full control, but we'll get to that later. As for why I looked... I wanted to understand why the person I worked with for a year and a half turned Hydra. I was curious. You did save my life three times, after all. Even if the only time I really needed the help was in Buenos Aires." She spared a small smirk, hoping to restart an old argument.

Fortunately, Grant took the bait. "I'll accept that you really didn't need my help in Johannesburg. You should have told me your plan but I'll take that. But you had no weapon and a dozen highly trained mercenaries had their guns on you in Barcelona. You needed my help there too."

"I had their boss eating out of my hand. Five more minutes and we'd have secured the package without you needing to break out the sniper-rifle like you did." Romanoff replied. Maybe even just two or three.

"Their boss was not fooled." Grant disagreed. "I was listening on the comms. He wasn't buying your story." She heard the door opening and the sound of footsteps approaching and Grant pulled up short, so he clearly heard it too. She wasn't worried. She recognized the footsteps. Besides, only one other person knew where this place was and had a key. Well, Coulson knew where it was now, she supposed.

Romanoff shook her head. "Don't worry. It's just Clint."

"Just Clint?" Her fellow Avenger walked in. "That's all I merit?"

"Would you rather I borrow from Stark and start calling you Legolas?" Romanoff asked, turning to greet him with a smile. "I wasn't expecting you to come by for a few more days." Clint had been with his family. She'd spoken to him before she'd gone to see Coulson the first time. Told him what she'd learned about Grant Ward – Clint had never really met him, but he was familiar with the man in passing and when she'd shared what she'd learned... he'd agreed to be part of a deal that would get Grant out of there and into a second chance.

"I wanted to come by and see him before I went to talk to Coulson. Give him a piece of my mind about not letting us know he was alive for so long. A few other people's minds too." Romanoff knew what he meant. Laura Barton had known, liked and respected Coulson – Phil, Maria and Fury were among the few people in S.H.I.E.L.D. apart from her who knew about Clint's family. Laura hadn't taken the news of his death well.

Grant didn't know about Clint's family and she wasn't going to tell him. That secret was Clint's to tell. She didn't expect he'd tell Grant any time soon, if ever.

"Sounds like a plan. I still need to really give him that piece of my mind myself." She'd given him a bit of it, but she'd had other priorities as well. "But I've got to stick around here for a bit." Grant was silent in the exchange.

Clint walked over to Grant. "Ward. We haven't really met, but I've heard good things about you... and well, not good things about you, in recent times." He waited for a moment, then held out a hand to him. Romanoff watched Grant look at the hand carefully for a moment and then he stood and took the hand, shaking it.

"Natasha had a lot of good things to say about you during our time working together." He said after a moment. His tone was not entirely flat anymore. He was meeting one of the legends of S.H.I.E.L.D. One of the Avengers – sure, Romanoff was one too, but he'd met her before that, and when he'd been assigned to work with her, he'd had a bit of that... ever so slight awe the first time they'd met as well. He was better at controlling it this time. He let go of Clint's hand. "As for what you've heard about..."

"I'm not here to judge you, Ward." Clint told him. "I agree with Nat. You didn't belong in that cell. And you're getting a second chance, which counts as a good thing in my book."

"I think he's going to insist on doing enough judging for the three of us." Romanoff pointed out. "So will you be staying over, or heading to 'The Playground' later today?"

"Probably later today. I assume you gave my usual room to him, after all." Clint pointed out. Romanoff nodded. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched confusion form on Grant's face. Oh don't tell me...

"Your room? Wouldn't you..." He looked from her to Clint and back again. With a slight sigh, Romanoff took ten dollars out of her pocket and handed them to Clint. Now Grant looked even more confused. "What bet did I just lose you?" Okay, not completely confused.

"Clint bet me ten dollars you'd make the same mistake most of the rest of S.H.I.E.L.D. makes and assume that he and I are in a relationship. I figured you'd be on one of the ones perceptive enough to not make that mistake." She managed a wry smirk. "I guess not."