Archive of Our Own ^beta

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The team was less openly hostile towards him now, and he could only call that an improvement. He had reached a sort of neutral truce state with most of them, but the atmosphere would still change whenever he entered. He couldn’t blame them for this, and he didn’t expect anything more. Ever. Not even in the hopefully not too distant future where he aims to have proven himself trustworthy, he wasn’t expecting anything more than neutral professional attitude.

Ward continued to have lessons with Coulson when he had the time. But he did not really leave his room (cell) except to visit the lab and offer his services. He has been added to the chore roster soon after what he was deeming his probationary period had started, and he did whatever he was assigned-cooking, cleaning etc without complaint, and with as little interaction as possible.

Coulson and May were perfectly professional, but perhaps lacked the slight warmth that used to be sensed behind their demeanour. Post-the Battle he had reached a sort of truce with May, and they had resumed their former training routine. But she made no overtures of anything beyond that, and he knew she was keeping a close eye on him.

Skye was still struggling and confused about how to deal with him, but taking her cue from May, as her mentor, and was focusing on being professionally distant around him. She endured his probationary status, but did not spend time in the same room as him if at all possible. He accepted this as his due, and tried to facilitate this by eating in the kitchen, or his room, whenever possible.

Jemma was cautiously kind, though at times lightly cool towards him, and he tried to give her space then. But she would always acknowledge him, even just with a nod as she passed by. But Fitz would sometimes seek him out outside of the lab, would come and sit next to him in the communal area, in the corner he had claimed as his, well away from the others, and he would converse with him, fingers flying away in front of him.

He had unrestricted access to his old room, and all the common areas (though he knew it would be all too easy to confine him to his room if needed). He was allowed in the training area with May (and he presumed Coulson, though this had not occurred)- a smart move as it occupied the same area as the vehicles. Jemma and Fitz could let him in to the lab if they so chose. He was not allowed in the cockpit, naturally.

He was part of the normal routine on the Bus again, and yet not. He felt isolated, and rightly so, from the team. He continued to offer his services to FitzSimmons in their lab; holding things in place, passing and fetching tools, cleaning up, sorting things. Anything that was within his capabilities. It was part of his penance-not just to offer his services in some small part to make their life easier, but also to be there, in the place where he had betrayed them, gaze upon their faces, and never ever forget what he had done. Sometimes they turned him away when he turned up at their door-whether they had nothing for him to do, or perhaps because he could not be trusted with what they were working on. Or perhaps they didn’t want to be reminded themselves by seeing his face. On those days he found himself at a loss.

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“How can they learn to trust you again if you remain in here all the time?” Coulson asked during one of their infrequent ASL lessons.

Ward allowed himself to fiddle with the pencil before answering. [May sparring. FitzSimmons help.] he replied without conviction.

“And Skye?”

Ward ground his teeth in frustration at his limited vocabulary. He wanted to say: “Skye’s hurt when she sees me. I don’t want to make it worse.”

[Make worse] he settled for, eventually.

“Yes, you probably will at first.” Coulson acknowledged. “But both of you need to get past this, and come to some understanding, if you’re to remain on the team. Redemption doesn’t come easy, Ward.”

Ward scoffed internally. As if he didn’t know that.

But he pushes himself into venturing out into the common areas where once he existed freely, and now feels like he is intruding. He stays in the room when they’re all eating dinner, at the opposite end of the room from Skye, and endures her glares. Fitz helps him clear away when it’s his turn, and sometimes coaxes him to sit in a corner with him and chat afterwards. He likes it best when he has the common area to himself, and he can curl up in one of the corner armchairs and read one of the novels they keep there. Sometimes he can even pretend everything is like it was before. Sometimes they come in when he’s there and he can watch them interact before he is spotted, and it’s like nothing has changed up until that moment.

He comes back out into the common area one evening, after dinner has finished and been cleared away, and is surprised to see everyone, but Coulson and May, sitting there, clearly about to start a movie. He hesitates just outside his room, but Fitz spots him, and beckons him over. He’s cautiously heading over to sit near to Fitz, when Skye speaks up.

“You’re not seriously going to let him join us?” Her disdain for him dripping in every syllable. He stops moving towards them, and resigns himself to going back to his empty room, and overhearing snatches of the film, and laughter, through the door. Jemma looks sorry for him, but is clearly not willing to fight Skye over this. He’s turning away when Fitz speaks up.

“Yes. He is.”

“I don’t trust him.”

“I trust him.” he retorts. And Ward, even now, starts in surprise to hear it.

“How can you trust him? He dropped you in the ocean. He betrayed us all.”

Skye and Fitz are now both standing up and facing off against each other. Ward is frozen, unsure what to do, what he can do that won’t make the situation worse.

“He apologised to us.” Jemma pipes up out of the blue, taking a side, and surprising Ward. He knew she had slightly warmed to him, and was more friendly than Skye, but she had remained fairly neutral outside of the lab so far, keen to keep the peace, and maintain team unity.

“To you! Not to me!” Skye bursts out.

“You wouldn’t let him!” Fitz shoots back, but with understanding.

Ward is suddenly between them, pushing Fitz back away from Skye. He makes the sign for sorry, whilst also mouthing the words, holding eye contact with Skye, who looks startled, but unwilling to back down. He holds eye contact long enough, he hopes, to send the message that he is sincere, then turns to face Fitz.

[Too soon. Another time.] he pauses, then signs [Thank you. Don’t defend. Deserve.]

Fitz is frowning at him, but Ward goes back to his room, and sees Skye also leaving to hers. He sits on his bed, and doesn’t answer the hesitant knock he hears at his door.

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Ward wakes up screaming, but it’s silent. Stuck. He struggles for breath-his body temporarily forgetting his limited supply of oxygen is normal now.

It feels like there is something permanently lodged in his throat, blocking his air. His throat spasms in an attempt to dislodge the non-existent blockage, and he coughs, and wheezes, until it seems like he’s hacked up what feels like half a lung, and he can’t catch his breath.

He can’t.

He can’t breathe.

Every breath is like sandpaper and it never seems to make it fully down to his lungs.

He stays as still as he can, afraid of starting another coughing fit. His breath rasps in and out, catching in his throat.

Normally, he is used to his reduced airflow, and his body automatically compensates for it, but now, in the dark, fresh out of a nightmare, his breath has been stolen from his chest, and he doesn’t know how to get it back.

As he’s sitting there, upright in bed, hands braced on the mattress, there’s a faint knock at his door.

He makes his way off the bed, and heads to the door, one fist held against his chest to feel the rise and fall. Shuddering with the effort of forcing air into his lungs.

When he opens the door he finds Fitz standing there-he’s not in pyjamas, so he probably hasn’t made it to bed yet-coming from a late-night session in the lab.

[Okay?] he inquires. Ward hesitates, then shakes his head.

[Breathe. Hard.] he signs without vigour. Reluctant to remove his fist from his chest, in the mistaken belief that if he can’t feel it rising, it won’t.

[Help?]

[Nothing. Wait.]

Fitz misinterprets, perhaps purposefully, as if he should wait, and shepherds him back into his room. Ward lets him, too exhausted to really try and understand what’s happening. Somehow they both end up sitting side by side on Ward’s bed, backs against the headboard.

Fitz then pulls out a music player from his pocket and sets them up with an earphone each. The soothing tones of Stephen Fry’s voice come through into his ear. He sits there, feeling his chest rise and fall against his clenched fist, skipping a beat every so often, but gradually calming down to normal rhythm. The warmth of Fitz’s body next to his radiates out like a blanket.

His mind blanks out, and he loses time as the interrupted sleep begins to catch up with him, now that the panic is fading away. He jerks when he feels a touch on his shoulder. He looks down, and Fitz’s head has slipped half off from where it has fallen in sleep. He looks exhausted-giant purple circles under his eyes again. With a sleepy grumble, Fitz readjusts himself against Ward’s side, and Ward stares down at the top of his head, not sure how he has ended up in this situation.

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He had too much respect for their own skills to overtly protect Coulson and May- and a healthy fear of May’s reaction- but he still kept an eye out for any weak points or momentary falters he could cover for them. He still watched their backs.

Skye did not let him shadow her, and in the end he was satisfied that May, as her mentor, was enough protection, and settled for watching her back from a distance. But it had been his original assignment on the Bus to protect FitzSimmons- the more civilian-types on the team-the less field experienced- and so he took up that role again, and back in the field concentrated his efforts on being a shield between them and any dangers they might encounter. The rightness of this act, and the irony was also not lost on him, felt like he was doing penance, doing some small thing to make up for his actions.

He knew that they found it annoying- as they had in the beginning- though Jemma was too English to let him know. Fitz had no such compunction these days in letting him know he was hovering. He didn’t realise how worried they actually were (or that they could in fact be worried about him) until Coulson came to speak to him, after the third time he got hurt protecting them- this time from an arrow of all things, heading for Fitz- on their behalf. They were apparently worried he had a death wish, and was valuing their lives over his own.

“I wanted you back on this team to help you grow into a better person, not to use you as cannon fodder to protect the others. Don't throw away your life.” Coulson had lectured him in his sickbed. Then he had assigned him bout time with May- “to help exercise your self-preservation skills, so you remember how to use them out in the field.”- given him a stern injunction to talk to FitzSimmons, as well as a promise to talk again about finding a clearance-level therapist and organising secure sessions for him. He’d also apologised for not finding him one sooner, an action that left Ward speechless.

The whole thing left him confused, and trying to rework his world view, yet again. Wasn’t it his job to go down, protecting those he was assigned to? Wasn’t that what he had been trained to expect?

[Arrow would hit my leg only.] Fitz scolded later when he came to visit. [Not fatal. Why catch with your shoulder?]

[Idiot.] he signed for good measure.

[I protect you.]

[What good you dead? How protect dead? Don’t do again. Ever.]

[Got lecture before. Coulson.] Ward signed, resigned. [Can’t promise. Will try.]

[Try hard. Or else.] Fitz attempted to look threatening, and only succeeded in looking adorable. Not that Ward would ever tell him so.

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Things are better than they ever have been, maybe even more than before. In a way this is almost how it should have been before. It’s been almost 8 months since that fateful day-almost 4 months since he turned over a new leaf. Coulson has started bringing him back into the senior briefings with May, to help put the missions together-not just briefing him with Skye, and Jemma and Fitz, if they’re required, with basic mission parameters and his role.

He’s been seeing his new therapist for almost 2 months. They still have lots of ground to cover, but he’s finally starting to forgive himself for his role in the Bus attack. Not forget, of course. But forgive that boy, so twisted, and bitter, and misled by the people who he trusted. And acknowledge that he doesn’t have to be that boy anymore.

He’s even cleared the air with Skye, with advice on how to approach her from Irene, his therapist, and her neutral professional air actually becomes neutral. They’ll never be friends, he thinks, but working together becomes infinitely easier, and Coulson lets him know he’s pleased with this development.

Ward is bringing Fitz lunch in the lab one day when Fitz looks up and beams at him, and all of a sudden it hits him. That tugging in his chest whenever he saw Fitz, that he used to think was guilt, it’s longing. The weight of his feelings for Fitz, his romantic feelings for Fitz, slam into him as a tidal wave, and he almost staggers with the force of it. He manages to put down the plate next to Fitz, and makes his excuses so he can, subtly, flee.

He mulls over this new revelation for a week, before he can talk to Irene about it. Fitz has, somehow, miraculously, forgiven him, and more than that, considers him a friend again. More of a friend, even, than they’d managed to be Before, the deception now removed. But, the possibility of even more is ridiculous, right? Irene is sympathetic, and also seemingly unsurprised by his revelation, which annoys him in a way he can’t quite put into words. She counsels honesty with Fitz, once he’s ready.

He doesn’t feel ready, but these feelings, now he knows what they are, overwhelm him. He’s distracted, confused, a liability. Luckily it’s a quiet week of downtime between missions, so he gives himself a deadline to confess, and move on. He approaches Fitz with coffee in hand, but fumbles over conversation starters after giving it to him. He brings cookies, chocolate, even an apple one day, but finds himself making excuses and leaving soon after, time and time again.

He gives up on bringing an offering with him, and just seeks out Fitz one afternoon in a private corner and confesses his feelings with fumbling fingers. Somehow he thought this would be easier to say when he didn’t actually have to speak, but he can’t seem to make his fingers trace the familiar patterns he has practised and practised in his room. Fitz waits patiently until he can get it all out.

***

Ward approaches him one day and asks to talk in private. He’s tense in a way he normally isn’t these days. Fitz is puzzled, and slightly concerned-has something happened?

After several false starts Ward manages to sign that he likes Fitz, romantically. It takes a while for this to register in Fitz’s brain. He has to ask him to repeat it, which Ward reluctantly does, what almost looks like a blush rising on his cheeks. He knows Ward has a soft spot for him- attempted murder aside- prefers his company over the others. He thought this was at least partially due to the convenience of Fitz being able to understand him where others cannot. Jemma is starting to learn as well-more for communication with Fitz on difficult days, but she will use it with Ward too- so the circle of people who can understand him is slowly expanding.

Ward can’t meet his eyes. Fitz doesn’t really know how to respond. Ward is pretty, there’s no denying. He might have had a slight crush on him in the early days, but such thoughts have not crossed his mind in a very long time. He values their rebuilt friendship, enjoys Ward’s company. Worries when he gets hurt. He bites his lip-he needs more time to process this revelation from Ward, and his own feelings.

He catches Ward’s eyes with difficulty and signals their shorthand for [reconvene later] trying to convey reassurance without leading him on, just in case. Ward nods and leaves him alone in the corner, without asking for a timeframe. Fitz watches him go, and is relieved to see May intercept him down the corridor. He spends some time with his thoughts in the common area, picking through his memories, and the last few months. Analysing every interaction with fresh eyes.

He eventually moves to the lab, needing to think whilst keeping his hands busy, passing Ward and May sparring as he does. He spots an empty plate at his workstation as he enters, and recalls with some humour the instances this last week when Ward has presented him with food or drink out of the blue and hovered weirdly, before making an excuse to leave suddenly. He realises the fondness these memories bring up in him, the fondness for Ward.

Jemma is in her corner, busy with simulations. He briefly thinks about confiding in her, and asking for advice, but doesn’t. He uses the excuse that he can’t interrupt what she’s doing, but something in him rebels at revealing this to her just yet. Something feels like it could break if spoken aloud.

He busies himself with work that he could do in his sleep, leaving his thoughts free to spiral.

***

Ward is supremely glad when May catches him not long after he leaves Fitz, to ask for a sparring match. He loses himself in the familiar rhythms, and lets the exercise wipe his mind blank, release the tension he can feel in himself.

He needs all his concentration to focus on blocking May-their spars have moved back to more equal fitting as he regains her trust. Fitz passes by on the way to the lab at some point, and it takes everything not to to try and gauge what he is feeling with a look, but he resists.

He believes he will not lose his friendship with Fitz over this, he has to. If their friendship survived the betrayal of the past, a confession of feelings cannot do anything worse. Awkwardness is inevitable, but he is used to that, he thinks humourlessly. Every interaction he has nowadays has some form of awkwardness to it, if not from his past actions, then from his difficulty communicating in the normal fashion.

After dinner that night, when he is finishing the dishes in the kitchen, Fitz approaches him. Everyone else is gathering in the lounge for another movie night, and Ward was planning to slip silently back to his room. Having made peace with Skye he thinks he could join in safely this time, but he doesn’t think he could be in the same room as Fitz with this still hanging unresolved over their heads.

Wiping his hands on the dish towel he turns to face Fitz, and notices he is carrying a plate of dessert. Fitz looks determined, and extends a hand to him. Ward pauses, having expected Fitz to hand him the dessert. He notices there are two spoons on the dessert plate, and looks sharply up into Fitz’s eyes. He’s smiling softly at him, and Ward can’t breathe again, as Fitz leans in to place a soft kiss on his cheek. Fitz’s hand slips into his, and all thought is wiped out. He follows where Fitz leads, hands entwined, and communicating without words.