When Ward is five years old, his older brother catches him playing with one of his toys. It's the last time he ever makes that mistake. He chases him out of his room, screaming, yelling all the things he'll do to him once he catches him.

Ward runs as fast as he can. But he gets caught anyways.

Later, after the blood dries on his shirt, his father asks him what happened. He sniffles, trying hard not to cry, and explains how Maynard chased him out to the backyard, tackled him, beat him.

His father smacks him in the face and sends him to bed without dinner.

You should have run faster, he sneers, before shutting the bedroom door.

…

Sometimes, when things are slow, Garrett organizes fights between the recruits. No weapons, just fists and feet. It's a good way to let off steam, he promises. It'll be fun.

His first night in the ring, Ward somehow ends up against three other men. There's no better entertainment than an underdog, Garrett shouts from the sidelines, and the next thing he knows, there's an elbow in his stomach, a knuckle across his jaw, a foot on his throat, and then, everything goes black.

When he comes to, half his face is in bandages and he can't breathe without gasping and wheezing.

You know how much money I lost betting on you, son? Garrett asks, leaning against the door.

Ward sits up in surprise, doubling over in pain at the effort. Sir, with all due respect, you said it was just to let off steam. He continues, insistent, sir, those men weren't just having fun, they were trying to kill me.

Garrett just shrugs his shoulders. You should have fought harder.

…

Coulson is the first to visit him in prison, and probably the only one, to be quite honest. He sits down in the chair across from him and asks about Garrett, about Hydra, about any information he has. Ward doesn't speak, and his silence isn't out of loyalty, but self-preservation. He knows once Coulson has what he needs, he'll dump him. It's what he would do if their roles were reversed, but that doesn't mean he'll make it easy for him.

I see this is going nowhere, Coulson finally says after an hour of interrogation. He gets up to leave, then pauses and turns back to face him. Fitz suffered permanent brain damage, he says abruptly. And Simmons left the team. Because of what you did. He stares at him coldly, his mouth set in a firm line.

The news hits Ward in the gut and he runs up to the wall, slamming his fists against it in frustration.

I was trying to save them!, he shouts. I was trying to save them from Garrett!

Coulson scoffs, then turns and walks back up the stairs, the lights shutting off as he leaves.

You should have tried harder, he says, his voice echoing in the shadows.

…

A few weeks later – or maybe it's days or maybe it's months, it's hard to tell time down here in the dark – Skye visits him.

There's something different about her. She's harder, stronger, with a glint in her eye. He wonders if this is his doing. If this is what he's done to her, what he's caused her to become.

He catches her staring at his scars and starts to explain, about the button, about the paper, about the wall. It's easier than he expected, telling the truth. Has it always been so easy?

When he's done, he waits for her to speak. To say something, anything. But when she finally does, her gaze harsh and cold, the words send a chill down his spine.

You should have run faster.

…

Later that night, he sits down on his bed, her words echoing in his ears. It's not the first time he's heard those words, but coming from her lips, seeing the coldness in her eyes, they seem to cut more deeply than they ever did before. He wonders how she knew, how she knew exactly what to say to do the most damage.

The truth is, he's been running ever since he was a child, ever since that first time.

If only he had run faster.

…

Fin