Author's Note: Thank you nedda-modena for your help with this. This chapter had some challenges, mostly because I couldn't decide on who the third party was going to be. All of them presented different issues, but heads up: Hunter has become my favorite go-to third character. One, he's sarcastic (though I feel like I don't do him justice in this chapter) and two: he's a lot like Ward, which is why I think he's a decent character to use as basically a translator between Fitz and Ward and the team. His decorated soldier turned mercenary background lends a fair amount of things to work with for character development (and I like him the most out of everyone in second season [except Fitz & Ward]). And because people asked about it - No, this is not going to be a slash fic. Sorry, but no romantic interests here, especially after I spent so much time harping on the brotherly relationship I like between them. That would just make any part of a slash fic seem incestuous to me, and sorry but...no. Nope. So Bromance/BROtp, however you want to call it.

Read and review, as always! I love hearing from you and I must say, this is the LONGEST fic I have ever stuck with. And that has a lot to do with you guys. So big thanks to you guys!

He knew there was someone else in the room. It was a talent he'd developed over the years and it was now a second nature. Different people walked different ways, had different patterns of movement, breathed different, smelled different. In the year he worked with the team, he got to know each of them well enough he didn't have to open his eyes to tell who was in the room with him.

Jemma smelled like tea and lab solvent. Coulson had carefully measured everything, from his breathing to the steps he took. May was almost silent. Skye was unsure and absent minded in her movements. Fitz was measured chaos and occasionally smelled like burnt wiring.

The new members of team Good Guys were beginning to fall into their own set patterns, but he didn't care enough about any of them to really pay attention. Besides, they posed little threat and even less interest in showing up in his room unless they were following Fitz.

"He's fine," he muttered, careful not to wake Fitz.

The poor kid hadn't slept very well in weeks. Maybe it was months. He knew he didn't sleep at the compound. Knew from the way the shadows under his eyes had only deepened, his cheeks hollowing out and the nervous and erratic movements in everything he did that he hadn't done any better back at SHIELD.

"I wasn't going to argue," Hunter said. "Frankly, I think you're adorable. Should I expect a happy announcement by the end of the week?"

"I'm not the marrying type. Besides, hard to get down on one knee when I'm confined to a bed. If I'm proposing, I'd like to do it properly."

"So instead you're settling for snuggle buddies?" Hunter joked. "You two make a better couple than Bob and I, and we were married. Sure I shouldn't be picking out a Best Man tux?"

Ward smirked, and felt it pull on his chapped lips. "What can I say? I make an awesome security blanket."

"Sure it's not the other way around?" Hunter asked. His tone was light, but Ward could hear the sincerity in the question.

"It's freezing cold in here. He's not a security blanket, he's a nuclear generator of heat," Ward said. He cracked his eyes open, wincing at the light. It wasn't bright. It was actually fairly dim. But migraines plagued him on an almost constant basis. A side effect of almost daily ECT, he supposed.

He really wants to close his eyes again and go back to sleep. He always feels exhausted now, and that by itself is even more exhausting. Not many people realized that being constantly tired no matter how much rest you got was almost as bad as insomnia. He wants to sleep, but he doesn't trust Gonzalez or Coulson while he's out. Every time he wakes up, something is different. They moved bases. They added a central line catheter to his neck for 'antibiotics', but he'd torn it out as soon as he realized it was there. He had new stitches. A nasal cannula. He even heard them talking about inserting a PEG feeding tube if he didn't start actually gaining weight instead of losing it.

Hunter chuckled lightly at the response.

Ward liked this one. He knew little about Hunter other than he used to be married to Mockingbird. When he worked for Garrett, it seemed of little use to know about the ex-wife of a mercenary only loosely associated with SHIELD. Mostly he seemed indifferent to the game of alliances between Coulson SHIELD and supposed 'real' SHIELD, but what ultimately won Ward over was Fitz liked him.

Fitz didn't like a whole hell of a lot of people these days.

"How's he doing anyway? He looks like he's trying to burrow underneath you," Hunter asked. He took a sip from his coffee mug, settling back in his chair.

It had become a ritual of sorts. Hunter almost always had night shift to keep an eye on Fitz, and more often than not, Fitz wound up in Ward's hospital room. Usually he wound up dozing in the semi comfortable chair on the far end of the room, leaving Ward and Hunter to talk on their own. Well, as long as Ward managed to stay awake, which wasn't very.

"Not the best," Ward answered honestly. "How's he act out there?"

Hunter grimaced. "About the same. He's angry. Very, very angry, and I don't think he knows why. Which, of course, makes him angrier." He took another sip of his coffee.

Ward sniffed the air, staring wistfully at the mug, and Hunter smiled apologetically.

"Sorry, mate. You're having issues with water and broth, I don't think black coffee is going to do you any favors."

Ward huffed. "Then why do you bring it in here? That's just cruel and unusual punishment."

"Just because you have to suffer doesn't mean the rest of us do," Hunter said, smugly taking another sip. "Start eating and I'll bring you a cup of your own. A very tiny one."

Ward let his eyes drift shut again. "You act like I don't eat."

"Yeah…about that," Hunter said, sobering slightly. "You know they're talking about force feeding you, right?"

Ward hated the traitorous uptick in the heart monitor. "I don't suppose I get a say in that, do I?"

Hunter shrugged. "Gonzalez has you listed as a prisoner, not a patient."

Of course he does. Not that it would make any difference if it was him or Coulson. Last time Ward was a prisoner of SHIELD, he opted for the 'early out' route. Instead of letting him go, he found himself confined to a hospital bed, sedated until his injuries healed and they decided he was no longer a danger to himself.

"I do eat," Ward protested, though he knew it sounded feeble. "It just doesn't make a difference."

"Yeah," Hunter said quietly. "I know. They figure out what was wrong with you?"

Ward snorted. "Everything."

Hunter was quiet for a moment, and Ward thought maybe he'd given up the twenty questions.

"Can I ask you something?" Hunter asked.

Ward could hear the change in his voice. This wasn't a light question, or something he even wanted to bring up. It was laced with concern, and possibly even dread.

He sighed, turning back to the ex-mercenary. "Fine."

"Do you want to die?"

Ward didn't answer. He couldn't. He didn't know.

Hunter hurried to fill the silence. "I'm not saying I wouldn't understand if you did, but I really need you to think about it. You went through something terrible that no one else can understand. I get that. But you're not the only one. I'm not asking because of you. I'm asking because of him." Hunter nodded his head towards Fitz.

Ward still didn't answer.

"I don't know you," Hunter admitted. "But I know him. And I know that if you let yourself die…if you just give up, then so will he. Fitz isn't the same guy anymore. That kid used to be the most kind hearted person I've ever met. He was fun. He was smart. He's still smart, and I think that's what's causing a lot of problems. He knows there's something different now. He knows that he's changed. But unlike Skye, it's not something he can use. He's got a language barrier between him and everyone else that he can't get past because no one understands what he's been through. He's so angry and so afraid that he's going to be alone because he knows you're dying."

Ward shut his eyes, refusing to react even as he felt the unwelcome prickle of tears. He didn't know what Zola managed to do this time, but he seemed to have no control over his emotions, which just made him feel like a weepy teenaged girl in a soap opera.

"I don't know if you've given up because you think you don't deserve to live, or what. I know you have problems with the rest of the team, and I know you've done some shitty things in the past. But we all have. Our past does not define us. You may not see something worth saving, but that kid…" Hunter paused, taking a steadying breath. "That kid sure as hell does. And if you die, don't think he's going to be far behind."

Ward pulled his arm reflexively tighter around Fitz's shoulders.

"Whatever they did to you, either of you, don't let that be what defines you. You are a survivor. Fitz isn't. He takes everything to heart, and that kid has miles of heart. And he needs you just as much as you need him. Do you know he's the only one you don't flinch away from?" Hunter asked. "You do that with everyone. Even when you're asleep. You used to do it with him, too, but you've stopped. You might not feel like you're making progress, but you are. And he's not."

"That's not fair," Ward protested quietly. "You can't put that on me."

He could hear Hunter shrug helplessly. "No, it's not fair," he admitted. "But it's true. Fitz isn't going to get better without you. Whatever the hell you two went through…that's all he cares about. You must've done something extraordinary –"

"I didn't do anything," he protested, opening his eyes again. The traitorous burn of tears was gone, but something took its place. Something he couldn't quite identify except as foreign. "I didn't do anything."

Hunter raised an eyebrow. "You sure about that? Because that's not how he tells it."

Ward shook his head. "But I didn't…I didn't." There was something painfully blank in his memory. Something that gnawed at him even in his nightmares, something that was terribly false in his terribly real world. Every time he tried to concentrate on it, the more transient it became, like trying to remember a nightmare after waking.

"Whoa, hey, you're looking green," Hunter said, putting the coffee mug down on the nearby table. He glanced at the monitors, and whatever he saw must not be good, because he looks downright panicked. "Ward, you have to calm down."

He was calm. Wasn't he?

"Shit, Ward, you're having a fucking heart attack," Hunter swore. He reached for Fitz's shoulder, and Ward panicked.

"No, don't!" he protested, holding up his hand as well as he could. It was a pitiful attempt and he knew it. "Please, don't. Please don't. Please don't." He didn't know why he was begging. It was Hunter. Hunter wasn't going to hurt Fitz. And in that same level of certainty, he knew he couldn't let them take Fitz.

"Don't what?" Hunter asked, not reaching anymore but not retreating either, frozen midway between the two of them. "Ward, I'm not going to do anything to him, I just don't want him in the way of th-"

"Don't take him!" Ward blurted out, biting his lip almost instantly. He couldn't give orders. He couldn't tell them what to do. He could do nothing. "Please don't take him!"

"Take him?" Hunter echoed. "I'm not taking him anywhere. Ward, calm down. You're in SHIELD HQ. You're not at HYDRA."

Wasn't he?

He knew it was irrational. He knew he wasn't in the present. He knew it and could do nothing. Every time he time he tried to focus on Hunter's face, it bled into Magnus's features. It was Hunter and he was at SHIELD. It was Magnus and he was in the lab. Both were real. Both were lies. He squeezed his eyes shut.

It wasn't real. It wasn't real. It wasn't real.

Yes it is.

"Ward?" Hunter said, sounding unsure and cautious.

He was at SHIELD. Not HYDRA. SHIELD. Not HYDRA.

There was no difference.

"Take me," he said, and cursed himself for sounding so weak. Cursed himself for even suggesting it. He didn't want to go. But he couldn't let them take Fitz. "Don't hurt him. Take me." He managed to get his arm around Fitz so he was effectively blocking him.

"Ward, look at me."

No.

"Come on," Hunter wheedled. "Just for a minute."

Ward took a shuddering breath, fully prepared to open his eyes and be back in the lab. He could feel his heart start to race again. He cracked his eyes open.

"Look around. Really look. Where are you?" Hunter asked, quiet but firm.

"The lab," he bit out, then blinked. Details started to blur back to reality. "Hospital?" No. Almost. "SHIELD."

Hunter smiled. "Yeah, mate. SHIELD." His smile faltered slightly. "Sorry about that. I didn't think about it."

"About what?" Everything was muddled. His head was killing him.

"What Fitz meant by making a choice," Hunter said carefully, studying Ward's face like he was gauging his reaction. As if he expected it to go badly. "He said you made the choice he couldn't. There's not hardly a scratch on him because of you, isn't it?"

Ward looked away. He hated that look.

"I'm just going to guess here. This guy, Magnus…that's his name, right? He worked on Fitz. Zola worked on you. One of you was going to be tortured, yeah? That's how it normally goes. Usually it's reserved for soldiers that were already friends. Make them turn on one another trying to save themselves. But not with you. Fitz couldn't choose, so you chose for him. Am I right?"

He refused to look at the former mercenary.

"Fitz said he'd rather shoot you then let you go through what you did a third time. That means you went through this before, didn't you? You knew what was coming, and you chose to go through that again rather than let it happen to him." Hunter wasn't asking anymore. He knew he was right. Ward could hear the conviction in his voice.

"Ward…that's the most bloody heroic thing I've heard."

Wait. What?

Ward's head snapped back to Hunter so fast he was surprised bones didn't crack.

"Did no one else tell you that?" Hunter asked.

Ward felt himself shake his head mutely. Why would they tell him? Hardly anyone besides Fitz and once in a great while, Coulson, came by his room.

He almost jumped a mile when Fitz abruptly buried his face into his side, hunching up and curling his legs up. "You're my hero," he muttered sarcastically, voice pitched high like a girl's and dropped his accent. "But I swear to God, you call me a damsel in distress and I'm leaving and taking my body heat with me and letting you freeze to death."

Ward laughed. He couldn't help it. "How long have you been awake?"

"Somewhere around the existential crisis when you moved your arm. I was using that as a pillow, thank you. Pillows aren't supposed to talk," Fitz grumbled.

"Neither are space heaters," Ward pointed out.

"I was asleep."

"Then go back to it."

"Trying."

Hunter chuckled, scrubbing a hand over his face. "Both of you, go back to sleep. I'll make sure no one bothers you."

"What're you going to do, lock them out?"

Hunter scoffed, reaching for the handle. "Don't be ridiculous. I'm going to stick a sock on the door."

He dodged the plastic cup Ward hurled at his retreating back, grinning like an idiot as he dodged out the door.

They were left in comfortable silence and he began to drift again.

"Ward?" Fitz said.

"Mmm?"

"I meant it."

"Go to sleep."

Again! Look! Marginally fluffy! This was INSANELY difficult to end because I couldn't quite decide where to end it or how. So it wound up a thousand words longer than I thought it would be. Whoops? Please let me know if it's still interesting.

Also - this is going to be the last of the fluffy chapters for a bit, though I'm debating if I want to skip ahead a couple more weeks in the timeline. Thoughts? Opinions? Is there anything you would LIKE to see happen, but hasn't? Except romance. Sorry. I'm awful at it. Awful, awful, AWFUL.

And third - again, a lot of Ward's reactions are directly from experience with PTSD from people I know and work with.