::GASP:: AN UPDATE ON THE WEEKEND?! Actually, I was watching random episodes from season 1 of Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D, and I have to say, I have an all new appreciation for the writers and the actors who play Ward and Fitz. Especially in the episode where Fitz and Ward have to go into the field together on a doomed op with no extraction plan. I realize the actors themselves didn't realize Ward would be a HYDRA agent in the end (I doubt even the writers knew what MCU was going to do in Winter Soldier), but still - the way the characters play off of one another really make me believe that Ward sees Thomas in Fitz. And the episode where Ward finally admits to not working for SHIELD and Deathlok induces heart failure to make Skye tell them how to decrypt the hard drive - as soon as Deathlok says 'I was following orders. Nothing personal' - you can see Ward lose his temper. That, I think, was the beginning of the end for him. He owed Garrett his life - but when Garrett wasn't afraid to kill him to get what he wanted, I think Ward started to break away.

Anyway, enough rambling. Read and review!

Fitz stared blankly at the wall. It soothed his frayed nerves and allowed his mind to go as blissfully blank as wall.

The smell of copper and lingering sickness still permeated the air, but they hadn't sent anyone in or offered any supplies for clean-up.

At least Ward was finally unconscious. He couldn't call it sleep, because sleep was supposed to be restful and natural. Instead, Ward's body just gave up. He still trembled occasionally, but it was like aftershocks instead of the constant shaking from shock and blood loss.

As horrible as it was, keeping an eye on his progress was Fitz's only way to judge time. Assuming Ward was as healthy as a rogue agent as he was when he was with SHIELD, then it had been nearly six hours since he'd been dragged in and dumped.

At least unconscious, Ward couldn't feel anything. The makeshift bandage Fitz made out of the torn hem of his overly long scrub top was long soaked through with blood. He didn't dare remove it though, in case the dried, delicate scabbing came with it and it started to bleed again.

Fitz scrubbed a tired hand over his face, fighting off exhaustion. He didn't trust himself to sleep. Not with Ward still in the same room, no matter his condition, and definitely not within the walls of HYDRA's research prison. Besides, Ward's six-three frame took up the entirety of the only cot. His feet even hung off the edge of it. Instead, he sat against it, back supported uncomfortably against the metal frame. He was far enough out of Ward's immediate reach if he tried to move, but close enough to hold him back if he had another round of seizures.

Fitz didn't care how tired he was. There was no way he was crawling into bed with the backstabbing former friend who tried to murder him. Who left him with a crippling gap in his mind he was still working on bridging. It was hard to reconcile the bloody, tearful mess of a human who clung to his shirt like a life line to the same agent who jumped from a plane without a parachute and lived to tell the tale. Hard, but not impossible. While Fitz may not be willing to watch another person die in front of him if he could help it, he was nowhere near forgiving Ward.

His right hand trembled against his face as he shielded his eyes from the incessant overhead light. He knew it was a tactic to rob him of his sense of time. No windows and no way to judge day from night meant he had no way of knowing how long he'd been awake, asleep, or how much time passed.

He glanced over at Ward and started when he realized dark eyes were open, staring back at him.

"Warn a guy, would you?" Fitz grumbled.

Ward blinked slowly, not answering immediately. The swelling in his face had gone down so he could see out of both eyes again, but the spectacular purple, black and red bruising spread from his temple down to almost his chin, disappearing into his hair line. He worked his jaw, trying to swallow and wound up coughing.

"No water," Fitz explained, waving his hand to indicate the empty room. "Not that I would drink anything they gave us, but I can't offer you anything."

Ward's dark eyes flitted around the room, obviously looking for someone.

"We're still alone," Fitz said. "And I haven't seen or heard about the girl since we were captured."

Ward frowned, and Fitz could swear he looked disappointed when he realized they were alone.

"You're not my preferred company either, thank you," Fitz said. "I'd feel better trapped with an actual monkey then one of HYDRA's failed attempts at a trained one."

It was a low blow, but Fitz didn't care.

However, instead of looking mad or hurt at the insult, Ward's dried and cracked lips quirked into a funny sort of grin, his eyes sliding shut again. "You and monkeys," he rasped. Despite how awful he sounded, like broken glass and sandpaper, there was a trace of fond amusement in the statement.

Fitz felt the tips of his ears turn pink, and he ducked his head. "Monkeys are awesome," he muttered defensively.

"You were our little monkey," Ward said, exhaustion making his Massachusetts accent thick.

Fitz remembered when Ward had first called him that – it wasn't an insult then. It was a fond nickname for a little brother complaining about paperwork and cataloguing.

It was an insult now. It was a slap in the face about their entire relationship as a team. Ward had never cared about any of them. What he thought had been an affectionate nickname from an older brother was a mocking slur.

"Shut up," he snapped.

The ferocity of the words surprised Ward, and his eyes snapped open, frowning. "Sorry?"

Fitz turned towards him. "No, no. You don't get to be sorry. Not now. Not for something as stupid as that. You betrayed us, Ward. You tried to kill us, and you helped the enemy. You're a monster, so you don't get to say sorry, and you don't get to bring up the past like it meant something."

Ward's eyes narrowed, and he pushed himself up to a sitting position. He swayed dangerously for a moment, and he closed his eyes. When he reopened them, anything resembling the familial fondness was gone. The Ward that was an agent of HYDRA glared back. "You have very short term memory, Fitz. So does Skye. I didn't want to be on the team. I argued it from the beginning. Hill and Fury put me on the team. I told you I wasn't a nice person. That I wasn't a good man. You don't get to blame me for telling you the truth just because you don't like it."

"You're a killer," Fitz snapped. "A cold blooded murderer. I don't know how I could be surprised you turned out to be a traitor."

Ward leaned forwards, wincing as he did so. "You were okay with me being a killer when you thought I worked for SHIELD. So I guess it's the who more than the what I was that you don't like." He was mere inches from Fitz's face, dark eyes scanning over every feature, cataloguing and calculating every reaction Fitz had. "If it wasn't the killer part that bothered you, what kind of a person does that make you?"

Fitz clenched his jaw, grinding his teeth together. He switched tactics. He didn't have to defend himself. He could go on the offensive if he needed to. "Who's Thomas?"

What little color Ward had vanished. "What?"

"You kept calling me Thomas. What, was he a HYDRA buddy of yours?" Fitz asked, unable to keep the sneer out of his voice. "Was he someone who trusted you to have his back? Or did you kill him too?"

"Don't say his name," Ward growled. "Don't ever say his name."

Fitz smirked. "Hit a sensitive spot, did I? What're you going to do, bleed on me?" He held up his hands, which were covered in Ward's dried blood. "Because that's about all you're capable of right now."

Faster than Fitz would've thought possible, Ward's hand shot forwards, latching onto his throat and squeezing painfully tight.

Fitz coughed, pulling at Ward's surprisingly strong grip.

"I'm still capable of killing you, Fitz, if you ever speak that name to me again," Ward snarled, eyes cold and dark – every inch the professional assassin. He gave Fitz's head a slight shake, indicating he could just as easily snap his neck as crush his throat. "Understand?"

When Fitz didn't answer, Ward released him, collapsing back onto the cot, breathing hard. He stared straight up at the ceiling, his hand over his eyes to shield against the light above.

Fitz rubbed at this throat, scooting further away and out of reach.

They remained silent; the only sound in the room was Ward's ragged breathing, hitching every couple of breaths. It honestly sounded like he was trying not to cry, but this was Ward. Ward didn't have emotions. He didn't form attachments. It didn't make sense that just a name would set him off like that.

Unless it was someone close to him.

Mike Peterson only worked for HYDRA because they had his son. Maybe this Thomas person was their leverage against Ward?

Fitz shook his head, disgusted with himself. Even now, after Ward literally threatened to kill him again, he was trying to excuse his behavior. Besides, even if it was true, why would Magnus and that creepy other doctor be torturing him? Well, besides the obvious that they were complete psychopaths with questionable medical degrees.

"What's their interest in you?" he asked. He pulled his knees up to his chin, wrapping his arms around his legs.

"What do you mean?" Ward asked, exhaustion clear in his tone. He kept his hand over his eyes, breathing steadily in through his nose and out through his mouth.

"Why are they even bothering with…that?" Fitz gestured at Ward's head. "I thought HYDRA was all about the easy outs when it came to problem employees. Why don't they just kill you and be done with it?"

"They probably will," Ward said matter of factly. "But like I keep trying to tell you, I was a SHIELD agent a lot longer than I was associated with HYDRA."

"So what, they want intel?" Fitz asked. "And you would rather have that in your head then tell them? I thought you hated SHIELD."

Ward sighed. "I don't hate anyone, Fitz. Not anymore. And they would've done this to me anyway, even if I spilled all my secrets the second I woke up."

The thought was more than a little horrifying, and Fitz's stomach rolled. "But…why?"

Ward chuckled, dark and without humor. "To teach me a lesson."

Fitz swallowed dryly, his mouth feeling like the Sahara. "That no one goes against HYDRA?"

"That everyone breaks," Ward said.

"They couldn't have broken you too badly if you still turned against them. Or…whatever it is that you're doing," Fitz pointed out hopefully. Maybe there was a chance they'd still get out of this – while not whole, at least alive.

"Everyone breaks, Fitz. That's the point. It took them twenty years, but they broke Barnes. They've improved their techniques since then. They'll get creative. They'll use standard methods at first, even though they know they won't work on me just to have a baseline. Then they'll move on. Hypnosis, drugs, intracranial electrical stimulation…and if that doesn't work, then they'll do a clean slate."

The list of horrors that Ward prattled off was sickening enough, but the way he said it - like he was reciting the Dewey Decimal system – made it so much worse. There was something disturbingly familiar in the way he listed the various tortures that were in store for him. He wasn't guessing, or assuming, he said it like he knew. There was a confidence there that made it sound like he was just being blasé, but Fitz could see the tremors in his hand. True, it could be an elaborate ruse. The shaking could simply be the leftover strain from earlier activity or the massive blood loss.

"Ward…" he began, but his voice hitched. He licked his lips, starting again. "Ward…why do you know what will happen?"

Ward didn't answer. He pretended like he didn't hear him.

"Ward!" Fitz said again, this time loud enough that Ward couldn't pretend he didn't hear. He tried not to focus on the rising pitch in his voice. He was terrified. There was no point in hiding it.

With a sigh, Ward turned over, moving cautiously. He met Fitz's eyes, searching for something, but Fitz didn't know what. A lie? Just how terrified he actually was that neither of them would make it out of here alive?

"Do you want me to lie to you?" he asked, and Fitz heard the sincerity in the question. "Because I will if you want me to."

"Will it make me feel better?"

"Probably not."

"Then just tell me the truth."

He didn't immediately answer, dark eyes again searching Fitz's face. Maybe he was trying to judge his reaction ahead of time, debating on the words to convince Fitz of his story. Ward glanced away, and for a moment, Fitz thought he wasn't going to answer at all.

"This is where I was most of the time, early on. My interview answers and responses to field tests were unusual enough that I caught the Science and Research division's attention. When I failed my final field test for qualifying as an agent, they brought me here to see if they could…fix the flaw in my design."

"So…so you know from…?"

"Experience," Ward said flatly, turning away from Fitz.

Fitz's jaw dropped and he almost immediately slammed it shut again, forcefully clacking his teeth together. He felt bile rise in the back of his throat, and if he'd been allowed anything to eat or drink in the last few hours, it would be all over the floor again. "You…you went through this before? And you still became a HYDRA agent?"

Ward snorted. "I keep telling you…I wasn't a HYDRA agent. I never was. I worked for Garrett."

Fitz could feel himself start to panic, his breathing growing fast and shallow. He didn't even know why he was panicking. He shouldn't care what happened to Ward years ago. Like May said – they all had their tragedies.

Fitz seriously doubted anything they went through even came close to touching the demons that followed Ward, but still.

"But…why?" Fitz sputtered. "How could you…how could you work for a man who put you through this?"

Ward's answer was so quiet that Fitz had to strain to hear it.

"Garrett didn't put me through it. He's the one who got me out of it. After that, I owed him everything."

Entirely too much of Ward's personality made sense now. Fitz knew beyond a doubt, whoever got them out of this, if they got out of this…he would be in their debt for the rest of his life, and Ward and Garrett weren't any different. A lifetime of Nazi inspired experimentation and torture or following in the shadow of a madman's pursuit of immortality and revenge. The sick, twisted brilliance of Garrett's plan made Fitz want to throw up all over again. If Ward still couldn't be trusted to obey at the end of his training, what better way to assure his allegiance than to show him the alternative, and then be the one to rescue him from it? It was Stockholm Syndrome as a science. If the biggest challenge presented with indoctrinating Ward was to do it without him noticing, what better way to do it? Make sure that he was aware of it, and convince him that you were the lesser of two evils. If the codependent personality Magnus mentioned was true, then the whole scenario was a thing of psychological beauty.

"Ward?"

He waited until the older man looked back at him, pain and exhaustion etched into every line on his face.

"In case we don't make it out of this…if this is the end of the line…" he swallowed, clearing his throat. "Then I need to tell you something that someone should've told you sooner – that I'm sorry. That you had to go through this."

Ward's brow furrowed in confusion. "Why? It's not your fault."

Fitz nodded shakily. "I-I know. I'm still sorry."

Because while it may not have been his fault Ward suffered through it the first time…he had a sinking feeling he was a significant part of the reason why Ward was going through it now.

So, what did you think? Not an instant forgiveness, but moving towards understanding. More whump ahead for our boys. And for those of you who review every chapter - Shanza, annavale23, PhoenixFlame17...you guys rock out loud and make me update this faster than anything else I've worked on in a long time. Read and review and show me love!