Soooo...about the delay. I found out the last Thursday in June I was leaving the Navy on the first of July. So I've been running around like an idiot, getting paperwork, going through physicals, packing a whole house my myself while injured...it's been chaos and a mess and I haven't had any time to even think about this story, so I'm sorry for how long it took. I'm still not sure I like it, but...the more I meddled, the worse it got. So I stopped meddling. Please read and review and tell me what you think! Or, better yet, where you want this story to go. I make no promises, but I'm trying to come up with one more "bad thing" to befall Fitz and Ward. Either Gonzalez getting snarky, Zola rears his ugly little head (he's not dead, remember?) etc. So, what as an audience do you want to see? And no, I am not taking romance/slash suggestions. Sorry.

Read and review! I've missed you all!

"Step by step, heart to heart

Left right left, we all fall down like toy soldiers

Bit by bit, torn apart

We never win, but the battle wages on for toy soldiers"

"Fitz, it's fine," Ward repeated. "It just hurt."

Fitz was pacing anxiously back and forth, gnawing absently on the edge of his thumb nail to the point he was wearing it raw. "She shouldn't be allowed to do that," he said darkly.

Between Hunter and Fitz, they'd managed to help Ward hop back to his room, trying desperately not to jar the fixator or his leg. The on call doctor scolded him for being up and around already when they'd only just given him the boot that morning with the restriction of no further than the end of the hall – not to the other end of the building.

"Fitz, don't," Ward said. "Just leave it."

"Why should I?" he snapped. "Why should I?"

Ward glanced quickly over to Hunter, who was standing by just in case Fitz had another meltdown. The other specialist shrugged, at a loss on what to say to convince Fitz that personal retribution was a terrible idea.

"She didn't mean it," he said halfheartedly. Personally, he didn't really care whether she meant it or not. He was already looking at permanent nerve damage if he did anything to upset the work the orthopedic surgeons did. He didn't even like the weight of a blanket resting on the fixator, never mind a vindictive former partner punch it.

On the other hand, he did get to punch Skye in the face, which he found rather satisfying.

"What happened?" Coulson demanded. His worried gaze immediately went to Fitz, but Ward subtly shook his head.

"Skye," Ward said.

The on call doctor stepped back in, rubbing at the bridge of his nose. "Remember when I said don't overdo things because you'll just make them worse?"

Ward half shrugged as well as the figure eight would allow. "I didn't account for other people."

"How bad?" Coulson asked.

"Not as bad as it could've been. There's marginal fracturing around the newly developed bone, but if you stop touching it, it should be fine. All in all, you're set back about a week in recovery."

"Minor fracturing?" Ward asked, disbelief written across his face. "It felt like she'd snapped my leg in half again."

The doctor glowered at him. "Did you blank on our whole conversation we had earlier when I put that boot on?"

Ward smiled sheepishly. "Not the whole conversation…"

"Oddly enough, not reassuring," the doctor grumbled. "Anyway, it hurts because of the nerve damage, not because of the bone. It's because of the frankly epic amount of damage you did to the periosteum – those tiny little nerves that cause pain when you break bones. Right now, you have both actual pain and psycho somatic pain. Basically, your body is trying to tell you to stop doing things because it's going to hurt you – whether that's true or not. So, once more and this time with feeling –" He made a rolling motion with one hand.

Ward sighed. "Don't overdo it," he grumbled.

"Very good. And if the pain isn't enough to get that through your head, if you keep it up, you're going to wind up with permanent nerve damage. That means this," he gestured towards the broken leg, "will be how it feels forever."

"Got it," Ward said sullenly. He'd only just gotten his freedom back, and now he had to be even more careful. "Can I still try to walk with the boot?"

"Old man with a walker shuffle speed only," the doctor warned. "Or I will confine you this room until it heals completely." When Ward nodded reluctantly, the doctor left, muttering under his breath about wayward patients who couldn't follow basic instructions.

"What an ass," Fitz said. "It's not like you did anything. It was Skye."

Ward shrugged, smiling faintly. "I dunno. I kind of like him. He reminds me of a British version of House."

Coulson interrupted. "What exactly happened? Mack came and got me and said that something happened between Skye and Ward but wouldn't elaborate. Would one of you like to?"

Fitz and Hunter both rounded on Ward, who purposely avoided looking directly at them.

"Yeah, Ward. How about you tell us what really happened, because there was no way that was an accident."

Ward glanced away. "Skye and I got into it. I don't think she meant to do anything."

"I'll kill her," Fitz growled, so vehemently Ward wasn't sure he wasn't joking.

"Stop that," Ward snapped. "You've been acting weird for weeks now. What the hell is going on with you?"

Fitz didn't immediately answer, eyes flicking towards Coulson and Hunter before back to Ward's. He shrugged.

"Guys, leave us for a minute," Ward ordered.

"Not until I know what the hell is going on with the members of my team," Coulson said.

"I'm finding out. Go away. Fitz and I need to talk," Ward said icily. The look he shot Coulson would've given May second thoughts, and the Director sighed.

"Update me as soon as you're done. I'm going to go talk to Skye," he said, and both he and Hunter left.

As soon as the other two were gone, Ward turned to Fitz, his gaze softening. "Fitz, sit down before you wear a hole in the floor."

Without resistance, Fitz dropped onto the edge of Ward's hospital bed.

"What is going on with you?" Ward asked softly. "You're still not sleeping, I can see that much. You should be putting on way more weight than you are. And what's with the perpetual rage mode?"

Fitz worked his mouth a few times, opening and closing without saying anything at first. Not like his aphasia was kicking in, but like he really didn't know how to answer.

"That's okay. You don't have to answer right now. But there's something that's obviously bothering you, and –"

"How do you come back?" Fitz blurted. He looked immediately embarrassed, and suddenly found his raw thumb fascinating.

"Come back?" Ward repeated. He didn't sound like he was scoffing at the question, just curious about context. "From where?"

"Not where," Fitz said, picking at his hands. "From when. I-I'm angry all the time. For no reason. And I know it's for no reason but I can't stop it." He rubbed at his face, scrubbing both hands across his eyes. "Every time I look at people, their face is never the first I see. Every time I wake up, it's never my room I see. And every time I look at you…" Fitz trailed off. "They remade us, Ward. How do you come back from what we became?"

Ward was quiet, mulling over the question. It was something he wondered often, and until very recently, assumed that it was simply something he was never going to overcome. It was just a downward spiral, and he hadn't started off very high to begin with. His mother, Christian, Garrett, and more recently Zola and Magnus all tried to twist him and bend him into something they wanted him to be but wasn't his nature and he had let them anyway.

"We weren't remade, Fitz," he said slowly. "Remade means that what they did was permanent. That they changed us for good. We…we were unmade, and this is us rebuilding what we lost. You can always rebuild. People rebuild after disasters all the time."

"But what if it is permanent?" Fitz swallowed audibly. "What if it never gets better?"

Ward reached out a cautious hand to Fitz's shoulder and could feel the younger engineer shaking. "Fitz…I'm not going to pretend that I understand what you went through-"

"But you did go through it…" Fitz protested. "You're the only one that has even a vague idea of what happened…" he choked off the last sentence. "Please…don't tell me I'm alone."

"Fitz…is that what you think?" Ward asked. "That you're alone in all of this? Is that why you won't talk to anyone?"

"How do you try and tell someone what it was like? When they don't do anything to you, but you still wind up…less? How do I tell anyone that…"Fitz stumbled, hands shakily covering his face as he buried his head. "How do you make them understand when I don't understand? It's…it's not just one thing, it becomes a thousand things. I-I remember feeling glad that you thought of me as Thomas, and that you protected me when you didn't….didn't fight. I was happy that you felt safe enough to come to me after one of their sessions even if you couldn't remember who I was. And when I thought about it, I would just feel so…sick. And that's how it feels now. Every time something happens that makes me think of there, that same feeling comes back. Like we never left. It feels like I'm stuck in the room without shadows forever. This is the dream, and that's the reality. Every single time."

Ward sighed, leaning forwards as well as he could with the figure eight. "I don't mean that it's not going to hurt. It will always hurt. I'm not the best person to talk about recovery methods…I mean, my solution to the memory of my mother and brother torturing me was to kill them. That's not…good. But how you deal with the hurt is what will define it. But Fitz…it's going to take a while. You're too good for it not to. You can't compare the two of us because you're you. The reason why it affects you so badly is because you're empathetic to others. When you were treated differently after your injury, you couldn't stand for other people to be treated differently because of their differences. Now you've been hurt, and you're freaking out because as far as your brain is concerned, it still hurts. You just left a place where pain is all that was understood, and it didn't matter what kind, so now when people are hurt around you, you have to hurt them to get them to understand what they do hurts you as much as you hurt them."

Fitz didn't lift his head, but Ward could tell he was listening.

"You need to understand that no one here is trying to hurt you. You don't have to try and scare them off, or hurt them first before they can hurt you," Ward said quietly.

"But what if they are?" Fitz said.

"Coulson wouldn't do that," Ward said firmly. "Neither would Mack or Hunter." He purposely avoided mentioning the women because he honestly didn't know what they would or wouldn't do anymore.

"But…what if it's not me I'm worried about?" he asked quietly.

Ward smiled. "I can handle myself, Fitz. I've been through worse."

Fitz didn't share his smile. "I can't….I can't risk it again. I can't let someone do that again. I just can't."

"Fitz, I'm an operative…a specialist, a spy. This is always going to be a risk."

Fitz shook his head. "No. Not…not this," he said, waving at Ward's broken leg. "This." He touched Ward's forehead.

Ward's eyes almost crossed as he looked at Fitz's finger planted on his forehead. "That might not be as salvageable as you want it to be."

Fitz suddenly looked exhausted. Guilt drew his fine features into sharp edges as he frowned. "You still don't remember, do you?"

Ward moved his head away, eyes narrowing at the younger man. "Remember what?"

Fitz grimaced, ducking his head and looking down before turning back toward Ward, watching him out of the corner of his eye. "The last few weeks in the lab. When Zola really started messing with you. With us."

Ward rubbed absently at the back of his head, running fingers over the now familiar raised ridges of a thin scar running across his scalp. It actually really did bother him how little he could remember. It wasn't normal for him. He always remembered. Now the closest thing he had to understanding was locked in the nightmares that seemed to evaporate every time he woke up screaming and couldn't remember why.

Fitz had that odd faraway look he'd started to get when he started developing dissociative episodes. He would mentally check out of wherever he was and it was like he would forget he was awake sometimes. Whatever he saw was not whatever was in front of him.

"If I'm honest, I hope you never remember. I know why we wake up screaming every night. I know why you can't remember anything. I know why you flinch from every touch. I know why I can't past the idea that if I'm not here, something terrible will happen to you." Fitz's eyes suddenly welled with tears, and he swiped the back of his hand across his face. "Because I remember. And I hate every part of me for it. Because when you look at me, I know you trust me. But when I look at you…I remember every reason why you shouldn't. Because I'm the reason you can't remember. It's why you'll never be remade. We'll never be remade."

"Fitz…"

"They couldn't break you. Did you know that? They couldn't break you. Not this time. So they didn't. I could break. And I did. And when I broke…I broke you too, so I wouldn't have to be alone." Fitz laughed darkly. "And the worst part? I don't think I want to be put back together again."