I know, I know, I know...this is one of the longest gaps I've had on this story but OMFG was I having problems coming up with this chapter. Hopefully, it was worth the wait. I don't have a lot of free time lately, so sorry about the delay. Please let me know what you think! Does it work, what do you want to see happen (that would be really, really lovely...and helpful), etc. Read and reviews as always!

"There's something not right about him," May insisted.

Coulson had to fight the urge to smash his head into the desk. "So help me, if one more person brings up a vague concern about Fitz without either a solution or a definitive problem, I'm going to slap the taste of their mouth."

"No one has put a name to it because there isn't a name to put to it," May pointed out. "Fitz isn't even necessarily acting odd, he's just acting…" she shrugged. "Different."

"Not everyone has the same reaction to a traumatic experience," Coulson said. "You of all people should understand that."

"I can understand stress," she said, nodding in agreement with the Director. "But it's like he's developing a split personality to compensate for an inability to process what happened. Fitz wasn't ever trained for the field. He never went through SERE training, and the closest he got to interrogation resistance was that chair at Fury's HQ when we found out Ward was HYDRA. Instead of leaning on his friends, he's leaning on his former cell mate, someone who he's tried to attack in the past and now will attack anyone else who so much as looks at Ward the wrong way. That's not normal, and more importantly, it's not healthy."

Coulson sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I know, I know. I just don't know how to fix it. Every time someone pushes, Fitz pushes back harder. I'm afraid if we keep pushing, it's going to be like letting go of a branch too soon and it's just going to hit us in the face. Skye keeps pestering me about moving Ward, but honestly…" He shrugged, making a helpless gesture with his hand. "Ward is the only one that seems to calm him down. And before you say anything, Fitz is the only one who can be in the same room as Ward when the doctors have to do anything. So far he hasn't done anything antagonistic towards anyone, except maybe to get into arguments with Skye or Simmons. But that seems to be more and more only when they harp on Fitz."

"That's because their relationship has become symbiotic," May said quietly. "If we don't figure out what the hell is driving their codependency, then they're just going to get worse – maybe to the point of it being permanent."

"Worse case scenario," Coulson asked.

"They literally become inseparable. Think of it like separation anxiety in animals, like if you leave a dog alone for twelve hours and come back to find your house destroyed. Except imagine if for whatever reason those two have to be separated. Or, keeping in mind the line of work we're in…what happens if one of them dies? I still don't know what Hunter said to Ward to get him to make an effort to live, but I will bet anything that it was something to do with pointing out Fitz's similar deterioration," May said quietly. "It's not healthy for anyone or anything to have a complete dependency on someone or something else."

"But how do we even start to try and separate them now? Fitz is a fifty-fifty shot of being slightly okay or completely irrational. If we try it with someone he trusts, like Mack or Hunter, if it backfires, there goes all the progress those two have made. Mack, twice over. And if we try and use someone else, even Simmons, he's going to know something is up, and he's going to resist."

May considered their limited options carefully for a moment. "What about using Ward?" It pained her to suggest it, but in reality, they were going to need his help. If for no other reason, he was the most believable liar out of all of them. Not many people got one over on Melinda May, but she begrudgingly had to admit that he was one of them.

Worse, he hadn't done it just once. He'd done it twice. Once, when the Asgardian version of Delilah revealed it wasn't her Ward thought about, and a second time when he'd turned out to be a HYDRA sleeper agent.

And even worse than that, she couldn't help but feel just a smidge of professional awe. Because Ward hadn't been especially stealthy or deceptive. He'd simply been standoffish. He intentionally and believably created a cover that relied on simply not telling anybody anything about him, and when he did choose to share, he was perfectly honest about it. Why did the Berserker Staff have an effect on him? Because he'd gone through a horrific childhood. Why did he have one of the best records of anyone working for SHIELD in the field? Because he wasn't a team player, and worked best when he didn't have an audience. Few operatives besides Barton and Romanoff could deal with no extraction team. Ward seemed to be one of those few, and she tried not to think about how many times he must've been left in the cold for him to become so self-reliant.

And dammit all if it wasn't simultaneously annoying and impressive.

"So how do you plan on getting Ward's cooperation?" Coulson asked. "He's belligerent at the best of times."

May shrugged. "Belligerent unless it comes to Fitz's mental health. I hate to say it, but Ward knows more than anyone of us do right now. You can see him worry over Fitz's behavior, and that's what Skye is misinterpreting as 'having Fitz wrapped around his finger' – part of the delay in Ward's recovery is that he's more focused on Fitz's than his own. I'm not suggesting a Cold Turkey approach – just get Fitz to leave the compound for like an hour or something. I don't care if it's to the grocery store or to the Bus. If we can get Ward to be the one to suggest it, he might actually listen. And once we can start separating the two of them, we might actually finally be able to officially debrief them."

"Are you going to be the one to suggest this?" Coulson asked.

May scoffed.

Coulson sighed. "Didn't think so. I'm going to get Hunter. He and Ward seem to be doing fine together."

"Just one more lift," Hunter needled, hands hovering over the cushioned bar of the leg lift.

"I hate you. So much," Ward panted, leg shaking from exertion. It was embarrassing, really, that something as simple as a twenty pound weight seemed like he was trying to dead lift the sky. His hands gripped white knuckled on the chair, and he could feel the sweat dripping down the side of his face.

"Physical therapy is supposed to hurt," Hunter reminded, smirking.

"I'm burning your tea," Ward grumbled. "As soon as I get the energy to walk from here to the kitchen."

Hunter feigned hurt. "You told me you liked it just as much as I did. So much for honesty amongst friends."

"That was before you decided to torture me and call it 'therapy'," Ward said. With one final push and feeling like his leg was going to snap in two again, he shoved up with his last bit of strength and was rewarded with the click of the lock as the bar locked in place. He let his leg drop back down, sighing in relief.

"I know it's awful. However, just think how much worse it would've been if you'd had a plaster cast on the last five months. Your leg would be like a toothpick. And you would need to air out something fierce."

The fixator had come off several weeks ago. Ward remembered almost nothing of it, because he hadn't been conscious enough to. What little he did remember, he wished he could block out.

Removing a fixator was painless, according to the doctors. Use some wire clippers to cut the smaller supports, and then a drill to unscrew the three major ones that screwed into the bones of his lower leg.

Pain didn't matter, as it turned out. It was the sounds that caused him to hyperventilate and threw him back into the memories of his time with HYDRA. Almost instantly, his world dissolved from the familiar glass walls of the medical ward to a dark, blue lit laboratory, the taste of blood in his mouth and phantom pain in the memory of a drill in his skull. And even worse were the gentle reassurances of the nurses standing by – the more soothing their voices became, the more warped the memories assaulting him. Things he couldn't pinpoint or rationally recall – just the absolute conviction that gentleness was followed by pain. The dim memories were bad enough, but without context of place or time, every memory of every op gone wrong blurred together. The female nurse was his mother, the surgeon in the glasses became Zola, and even more bizarrely was the vague memory of Fitz telling him not to fight, and it wouldn't hurt if he didn't fight.

Distantly he heard shouting, and then his world went black.

When he woke up, his mouth tasted like iron and despite the fact that he didn't have what looked like a set of K'Nex around his leg, it felt impossible to move.

Both Fitz and Hunter were still in the room, and it took a muddled moment for Ward to realize that Hunter was there for Fitz, not him.

The iron taste in his mouth was from when he bit his own tongue trying not to scream, Fitz informed him. The lethargy was from the sedative they administered when he started to fight against them when the drill started up.

The good news, at least, was that he no longer had the fixator, and he could start rehabilitative therapy the next day. Even after a month, it was grinding his nerves how long the road to recovery was.

"I used to be a top field agent, and now I can barely do a leg lift," Ward grumbled. "That's embarrassing."

"You regrew a few centimeters of bone," Hunter pointed out cheerfully. "Technically, that part of your leg has never done a lift. Or anything else besides exist. You should be proud of it!"

"Are you always this cheerful torturing people?" Ward muttered half-heartedly, as Hunter threw him a bottled water from the cooler in the corner. It was a routine now – Hunter had an obnoxiously cheerful attitude every time he was in charge of PT. Nothing but smiles and jokes, even when he was perfectly aware of the fact that he was causing Ward pain.

"Why do you think Bob divorced me?"

"You said you divorced her," Ward pointed out. He took a long drink. Water never tasted so good.

Hunter shrugged. "More of a tie, really."

Ward studied the former mercenary for a moment. There was something forced about his cheerfulness today. Normally their banter back and forth came easily. Ward was hesitant to call anything friendship lately, but Hunter was one of the closest things he had to one.

And while Ward's physical capabilities might be diminished for the time being, that didn't mean his observational ones suffered.

"You want to ask me something I'm not going to like," Ward said. "And Coulson put you up to it because he doesn't think I'll consider if he's the one doing the asking."

Hunter's smile evaporated and he scratched the back of his head. "Yeah…about that…"

"Out with it," Ward said. "I'm not going to like it any more the more you draw it out."

Hunter dropped down on the exercise ball across from Ward, balancing easily while bouncing slightly. "You want it sugar coated?"

Ward frowned, raising an eyebrow.

"Figured as much." Hunter sighed. "They're worried about you and Fitz. Namely, your codependency. And more specifically-"

"They're worried about Fitz," Ward summarized quietly. "He's not improving?"

Hunter shrugged helplessly. "I don't even know how to describe him, mate. He's…erratic. Paranoid. He drifts off into his own world like he did when he was injured in the pod. He's…it goes beyond PTSD," Hunter said. "I know the signs, I know the symptoms, but this isn't survivors' guilt. Not like any I've ever seen anyway. Do you remember anything about when you two were prisoners? Something we're missing? Anything?"

Now it was Ward's turn to shrug. "No. And…yes. I don't really know. Whenever the flashbacks hit, it's…it's in nightmare format. Like some American McGee version of Alice. I don't even know that they're real memories, there's too many things in them that make no sense. And I always remember things."

Hunter's head picked up. "What do you mean?"

Ward's gaze shifted towards the door. "Did Fitz tell you…anything? About when we were imprisoned together? At the lab?"

"Not that I know of. He gets agitated when people ask about it, and it always leads back to him demanding to see you, to make sure you're okay."

"If you were going to be honest with me, how much of this place is under surveillance?" Ward asked, still hedging answering the question.

"Not this room. At least, not this moment. Part of the deal with being in charge of your PT was that I could turn the cameras off while we were in here. If you don't want to tell me whatever it is, then I'm not going to make you," Hunter said.

Ward offered a weak smile. "Then why did you ask?"

"Honestly?" Hunter asked. "I didn't think you were going to answer."

"The first time HYDRA brought me in, they did the same thing they did with every new recruit that wasn't a True Believer and put me through the Faustus Device. It's basically a mind control thing – there's a whole science behind it, but it doesn't really matter. No one resists the Device. Not for long, anyway. It hurts much worse when you resist. But for me…it didn't matter about resistance. It just…didn't hold. I could still tell what were suggestions and what were my own thoughts. As far as I know, I'm the only one who did. That caught the interest of the Research division, which is where I met Zola the first time. He wanted to see how much I could take and still remember. Sometimes it had no effect at all, except migraines. Other times, it took days for the memories to come back. But I always remembered. And this time…" Ward trailed off. "This time, nothing comes back. Not as a whole. Just weird bits and pieces that make no sense whatsoever."

"Like what?" Hunter asked, genuinely curious.

"Like instead of Zola, which would make sense, I have these memories of my mother being the one who was there. And then I have these weird images of Thomas and Christian and then Fitz's voice telling me not to fight and to just give up…" Ward shrugged. "No matter how hard I try, I just get the jumbled version. The only time something seems to really come back to me is when-" he stopped abruptly, feeling his face pale.

"When you're with the doctors in the medical ward?" Hunter said quietly.

Ward's mouth had gone dry, and he simply nodded as he took another drink.

"Explains why you don't like going in there."

"I've seen enough hospital rooms for a lifetime. I was sick of them before this even started," Ward said.

"Did they put Fitz through it?" Hunter asked suddenly.

Ward shook his head. Then frowned. "No? They didn't, but for some reason I keep picturing him there anyway."

"So Fitz shouldn't have an issue remembering?" Hunter pressed.

Again, Ward could only shrug. "I guess not. At least, he says he doesn't…but…if he knows what's wrong with me…why wouldn't he say anything?"

Hunter didn't reply immediately, bouncing slightly on the giant exercise ball as he considered the new information. "Maybe that's the reason why his behavior is so off track?" Hunter said slowly. "Maybe it doesn't look like survivor's guilt because it's just guilt? Maybe he had a hand in what happened?"

Something in Ward fractured. Is that what was making Fitz behave so strangely? Is that what he meant by he shouldn't trust him? He'd already point blank said he knew why Ward's nightmares caused him to wake violently – why he had lingering problems with coming into physical contact with anyone. He was only dimly aware of Hunter trying to get his attention as his thoughts spiraled into familiar dark territory. Why should Fitz try and help him? Why should he want him to remember? After what Ward did to Fitz, it would be more surprising if Fitz had become a friend. What would possibly change that?

"No, no, Ward, I know what you're thinking and stop it right now," Hunter said, suddenly an inch from his face. Both hands were on his shoulders, forcing Ward out of his twisted thoughts. "Don't you dare think that kid has any sort of ulterior motive when it comes to you. It may have been under less than favorable circumstances, but don't you dare think that he wouldn't do everything he could to help you – shit." Hunter pulled back just as suddenly. "That's why he hasn't said anything. He thinks if you remember, it'll be worse. He's trying to protect you."

"Help me hurt him, or I'll hurt him worse," Ward blurted. His eyes widened in shock, mirrored on Hunter's face.

"Where the bloody hell did that come from?" Hunter demanded.

"I don't…I don't remember. Someone said it. I think someone said it to…Fitz?" Ward stumbled over the thought. "I don't…it wasn't about him. But he wasn't an accidental prisoner. They needed him. They needed him for –"

And suddenly the world disappeared in an explosion of lightning and fire and oh god he was dying and someone was screaming in the background and it just wouldn't stop.

Out of nowhere, Ward cried out in agony, hands dropping the water bottle to splash across the floor as they came up and clutched the side of his head.

"Ward, what's wrong? Look at me! Ward! Come on, mate, not again…MEDIC!" Hunter shouted towards the door.

Blood poured from Ward's ears and nose like he'd suddenly contracted Ebola – he curled in on himself and it amazed Hunter how small a six foot three man could make himself, except he kept twisting to get away from some unseen force.

"WARD! Tell me something!" Hunter demanded, trying to pry Ward's hands away from where they were gouging out his skin.

"You can't….hear that?" Ward gasped between blood stained teeth.

"Hear what?" Hunter asked. "What, Ward?"

It didn't matter. Whatever the hell it was, Ward could only take so much – and he hit his limit. As soon as the medics arrived through the door, Ward's body gave out, and he collapsed into unconsciousness.

"Take him to the hospital ward, run a CT scan. Something isn't right, and I'm going to find out what," Hunter ordered, before taking off towards the Director's office.

He didn't even bother to knock – just burst through the door to find May and Coulson mid conversation.

"We missed something. Something is wrong with Ward, and I think I know what's wrong with Fitz. Get Zola out of the Vault. We need to talk to him."

Been awhile, I know. But I work on a farm and I spend most of my days outside and away from TV and the computer, so this is the first chance I've had to work on it. Was it worth the wait? How long should I be dragging this out? Send me a line! I love to know what you guys think and you definitely help the massive writer's block!