Author's Note: I must really have it in for Ward, as quickly as I update to torture him a bit more. And just think…we're still in the beginning. Just imagine what I'll do over time…

"When the fires, when the fires have surrounded you
With the hounds of hell coming after you
I've got Blood, I've got Blood On My Name
When the fires, when the fires are consuming you
And your sacred stars won't be guiding you
I've got Blood, I've got Blood
Blood On My Name"

"Ward?"

Grant squeezed his eyes shut, turning away from the voice.

"Ward, wake up."

"Mmm, g'way Thomas," Grant protested, burying his face into the crook of his elbows.

"Ward!"

The tone of urgency finally sunk in, and Grant's eyes snapped open. He winced against the bright light, already reaching for his brother. If Christian was on the prowl again, they had to hide.

Except, when his vision finally cleared, it wasn't Thomas staring back at him, it was Fitz. Grant mentally kicked himself. He had no idea why he kept mistaking the young engineer for Thomas, they looked nothing alike. Thomas had the same dark features as all the Wards, and last time he'd even seen his little brother, it was before he even met Garrett.

"Wha-?" he started to ask, but Fitz shook his head. He tilted his head in the direction of the door, just as it slid open. He sat bolt upright, swinging his feet over the side of the cot. He felt himself sway dangerously, his vision tunneling briefly.

In stepped the flank guards, their faces covered with their goggles and face shields, automatic rifles at the ready. Two more soldiers followed, except they had their version of the Night-Night guns. A show that they weren't here to kill them, but they were more than capable of it.

Grant pulled Fitz closer to him, away from the door and the soldiers ducking his head close to Fitz's ear. "Don't argue with them."

Fitz turned his head, scowling back up at him. "So I'm just supposed to go willingly to be tortured?"

"They're not here for you," Grant hissed. "Don't give them a reason to change their minds."

Fitz's blue eyes widened, but otherwise barely acknowledged the order. If circumstances were different, Grant would be proud of the change in the young man. As it was, he wondered what the hell the team had gone through without him.

At least he hadn't changed like Simmons.

"Agent Ward," a man greeted cheerfully, and Grant's hand tightened reflexively on Fitz's shoulder. Painfully so, if the younger man's wince was any indicator. "So nice to see you finally awake."

"Magnus," Grant said, finally looking up. He let go of Fitz's shoulder, steadying himself on the cot's metal frame. "Wish I could say the same."

Instead of being put off by the insolence, Magnus smiled, wolf like eyes behind thin framed glasses glinting dangerously. "Can I just say, Agent, how happy I am to see your session with Zola has done nothing to dim your spirit?"

Grant felt a shudder go down his spine. He'd caught Zola's attention? They really didn't expect him to live. That little worm had been trying to live up to his grandfather's reputation in psychological reprogramming since HYDRA brought him on. He might've surpassed him, if his survival rate was better than two percent in his subjects.

"HYDRA didn't succeed last time, and they had months to try," Grant pointed out. He really wished he knew if he could stand without falling over. It was hardly convincing that he could withstand Zola's ministrations if he couldn't hold himself upright.

Magnus raised an eyebrow. "Do you have a pressing engagement elsewhere that I am unaware of, Agent Ward?" He pulled his glasses down on his nose so he could look over the rims. "Last I knew, Garrett was dead, and Coulson would prefer that you would join him. Exactly how do plan on getting out of here this time? No one is going to come and rescue you this time."

Grant didn't answer, simply smiling back.

Magnus chuckled, sliding his glasses back up. "If you were anyone else, I might actually believe you would kill yourself to get out of this. But you're a survivor, Agent Ward."

Grant thought of the scars on his wrists and beyond the hair line of his forehead.

"Don't think I didn't notice your previous attempts. But you were alone then. You had no mission, no purpose…you thought your life was over. You'd lived so long without orders, that without them you started to crumble. Correct me if I'm wrong, but you have a new purpose, don't you." Magnus glanced down at Fitz, who instinctively pushed back against Grant's leg. "I suppose trying to right the sins of your past is as noble as cause as any, but I suspect what will keep you here, what will make you volunteer, is your new little brother."

Magnus bent low, so he was almost eye to eye with Grant. "Make no mistake, Agent. If it's not you, it will be him. As long as you volunteer, your brother here will be unharmed. Zola won't come near him, and neither will anyone else."

Grant felt his stomach drop, his heart rate skyrocket, and his hands clenched white knuckled to the cot.

"Can you afford to fail another brother, just because you're afraid?" Magnus said, condescension dripping from his voice.

Grant's vision washed in red – he heard his pulse pounding in his ears, drowning out everything else. Reason abandoned him, and all he saw was Christian's face, heard his mocking commands and the cries for help from Thomas in the well. Without thought, he launched himself at Magnus, tackling the older man around his waist in a drive the NFL would be proud.

He heard yelling, but he ignored it – he drew back a fist and punched Magnus as hard as he could, snapping the doctor's head back with an audible crack. And he didn't stop. Not until something heavy collided with the back of his head, and his vision dimmed. When he could see again, he was flat on his back, staring up at the bright lights again.

He tried to move, but his limbs were sluggish and unresponsive. Voices sounded like they were underwater, but he could catch bits and pieces. Magnus was cursing out the guards for letting him get the upper hand, and for hitting him in the head. Apparently, they might have messed up some of Zola's handiwork.

"Ward?" Thomas whispered, patting his cheek. He sounded concerned.

No, not Thomas. Fitz. He needed to stop confusing them. And he needed Fitz to go away. Kindness was a weakness. You could not be weak and expect to survive. He needed Thomas to live.

No, not Thomas. Fitz.

He was suddenly being hauled upright, his vision swimming dangerously. If he'd eaten anything since his arrival, he'd have thrown it up.

"Look at what you did," Magnus cursed at the guard now holding him up. "If it's damaged, you'll have Zola to answer to."

Hands scraped through his hair, prodding none too gently against the electrode site. Spots danced in his vision and Grant felt his legs give out on one particularly harsh jab.

"Hardly ideal, but I'm sure Zola will make do. Take him back to room three. Hopefully, you can manage something that simple."

"No, wait!" Thomas protested, and he felt someone grab his hand, pulling the guards up short.

No, not Thomas. Fitz.

"Something to add?" Magnus asked irritably. "Or would you like to join him?"

Don't say anything, Grant thought, trying to work his mouth to get the words out.

"You'll kill him like this!" Thomas protested, voice pitching higher than normal. He sounded frantic, worried…concerned. Kindness was weakness. Weakness got you killed.

Lights spun wildly in his vision, even as he tried to focus on his brother. Magnus had one hand on Thomas's chest, holding him back, but Thomas refused to let go of his hand.

No, not Thomas. Fitz.

"Dr. Zola knows what he's doing. Besides, I thought you didn't care what happened to him. By your own words, he's a murderer. Doesn't he deserve something for his crimes?"

"I-I don't. No, I mean he doesn't. He is, but not this! You can't take him like this, he'll die!"

Magnus sighed. "It's either him, or you. Make your choice. I know Agent Ward will survive, but I don't know about you. Personally, I would prefer not to take that chance, but I'll give you the option."

Grant couldn't let his brother make that choice. Fitz was too good for something this bad. Fitz didn't deserve it. Thomas didn't either. With the last of his strength, Grant wrenched his hand out of Fitz's grasp.

"Hmm. Maybe there's some good in him after all," Magnus mused. "We'll fix that. Take him to room three."

The two guards supporting him dragged him backwards, his feet scraping and dragging against the floor.

"No, wait! Wait, don't take him! Please, wai-WARD!"

The door slid shut, and the darkness of the hallway was a blissful relief. He could hear pounding on the other side of the door, but if Fitz was still yelling, he couldn't hear him.

"I like your friend, Agent Ward. He's helping us even more than he knows," Magnus said. "He definitely makes things interesting."

There was another door opened, and Grant felt the temperature drop several degrees. He willed his eyes open, forcing them to focus even as the world swam before him. The room was back lit in blue, except the one bright spot of light over the chair.

The guards threw him into the chair, and while two of them held him down, the others made quick work of the restraints. In moments, thick Velcro straps fastened across his ankles, his wrists, biceps and around his chest. His head lolled to one side, and he didn't care enough to lift it up.

A cold, nitrile covered hand lifted his chin, turning his head from side to side. The gentleness was worse than the callous touch of Magnus. Grant shivered, and tried to convince himself it was because of the cold.

"You damaged him," a thickly accented voice accused.

"Yes, well, he didn't want to come quietly," Magnus said. "The guards will be suitably reprimanded, I assure you."

"Damaging is my job," Zola whined. The same cold hands prodded at the back of his head with the same terrible gentleness. He muttered in German, and Grant wished he couldn't understand him. "Ah. He should be okay for now. He'll need repair work later, but for now he can continue."

He gripped the hand rails of the chair, white knuckled. He tried to keep his breathing under control, but as he felt the doctor attach the various monitors to his skin, he could hear the frenetic beating of his heart on the monitor. IV's slid under his skin and cold flushed through his veins, leaving burning in its wake.

"You must relax, Agent Ward. Take a deep breath, and calm your mind. Your compliance will be rewarded."

Ward felt a surge of anger so strong the monitors caught it, beeping wildly as he yanked against the restraints.

"Hmm. Perhaps you need a different incentive. We could always bring you company, Agent Ward, if you think that might help."

Grant's thoughts spun wildly back to Fitz. Thomas. No, Fitz. No, they couldn't see him like this.

"Are you ready to comply?" Zola asked, and against his will, Grant still shook his head.

"Your compliance will spare his life," Magnus said.

Grant squeezed his eyes shut, clenching his teeth against the offered mouth guard and turning his head away. He felt them wire in the electrode, the weight shifting subtly against his skull.

"You or him, Agent Ward. You already made the decision once. Are you strong enough to make it twice? Or are you going to let your brother suffer in your place again?"

Grant felt a traitorous tear escape his closed eyes, and he wanted to nod. He was strong enough. But he knew what was going to happen if he said yes. The drugs coursed through his veins, muddling his thoughts even worse than they already were. He didn't want to give them permission to hurt him. He'd let everyone hurt him. He could hardly argue that he didn't deserve it.

"Agent Ward?" Zola prompted.

He didn't want to die.

"Three seconds, or we'll make the decision for you, and I think you know who we'll pick."

He didn't want to die, but he couldn't let his brother suffer in his place again. This wouldn't be the well. It couldn't.

Grant nodded slowly, barely moving his head, but he knew Zola and Magnus could see it.

"Good boy. You made the right decision. Remember, Agent Ward. You deserve this. You chose this."

White, hot lightning shot through his brain, slamming his teeth together, and his back arched against the electricity surging through him.

And everything was lost.

Author's Note: So, what do you think? This is more psychological conditioning than physical torture, though that's obviously still a part of it. I'm trying not to lose the readers, but Ward's point of view is going to be very muddled (can you blame him?). Yes, eventually I will bring up the other characters, like the invisible girl (she's not a specific character, just in case you're wondering if she's from MCU). But for now, my focus is Fitz and Ward and their very damaged relationship. Speaking of which, what do you think of Fitz's reactions so far? On point? Unbelievable? Read and review and let me know how I'm doing!