Chapter One (What's After Freedom?)

Ward ran as fast as he could away from the FBI caravan he had just escaped from. He was out in the middle of nowhere, with nowhere or no one to go to. He was alone.

But he still ran, before the FBI agents could catch up to him, before he could be caught and thrown in another cell. And his hand hurt like hell after breaking it to get out of handcuffs. But something didn't seem right. Why would Coulson have him thrown into handcuffs that obviously he could get out of? And then put him into close proximity of armed FBI agents he could clearly take down. Something wasn't right.

But he ignored that feeling and continued to run, the misfit boots on his feet chafing his skin. He hadn't worn shoes or even seen sunlight in over six months, and both were uncomfortable at the moment.

Where was he to go though? All he could see all around him was trees, and nothing else. He had no clue to where he was. And there was no clue to what state he was in, or even if he was still in the country. But he figured he was still in America since the FBI had picked him up.

Judging that he had good distance between himself and the agents, he stopped to catch a breath and rest his raw feet. He looked around at the foliage, trying to see if he could determine his basic location just from the trees. After a while, he figured he was on the East Coast, most likely the Northeast. But he really wasn't sure.

He started again at a slow pace. He had to find some shelter soon, for it was starting to get dark. And he was also hungry. But he was probably way out in the middle of nowhere with nothing around for miles.

And even if he found civilization, he wouldn't probably be able to get any form of help. A massive manhunt would commence after the FBI would announce his escape. Local authorities would be everywhere looking for him. He wasn't safe anywhere.

And he still continued on, hoping for the sign of a lone cabin in the foliage. A cabin that was maybe someone's second home and hopefully was still stocked with at least some supplies that he could use. He clung onto that small spark of hope that someone was foolish enough to build their precious, little cabin out here in the probable middle of nowhere.

And after another hour of tiring walking, that hope held out. He was actually surprised when he made out the faint outlines of a small cabin in the light of the dying sun. He quickened his pace to get to it, he couldn't believe it. Not at all.

But of course he found the door locked, but that wasn't a problem for a man of his skill set. He took a quick look in the windows, and with the dying light he saw that no one was there. He managed to get the door unlocked and made his way inside.

He found a light switch and turned the lights on. Blinking his eyes to adjust them to the harsh, sudden light, he looked around the small, one room cabin. A small bed lay in the corner. There was a couch and a TV. On the other side there was a small kitchen with a fridge and stove and some cabinets. A door on the far side of the room must've led to a bathroom he figured.

But something seemed familiar about this small cabin. He took another look and that's when it hit him. This was the very same cabin that he had built himself as a teenager when Garrett had thrown him into the woods for five years. But it looked as though someone had found it and renovated it to make it their getaway cabin for the weekend or something like that.

He couldn't believe it and he knew where he was. Massachusetts. Did that mean that Coulson's new base was located in the state? Or was it a state over? He didn't know and didn't care to find out. He was trying to forget his last experience with the team.

The glares seething with hate. The silence. And what Simmons had said to him. 'If I ever see you again, I'll kill you.' He tried to shake all of this out of his head, trying to forget it.

Sighing, he slunk down onto the somewhat dusty couch. He figured that the cabin hadn't been abandoned for long, so there had to be at least some good supplies here he could use. Hopefully.

He rubbed his left hand, trying to make it stop hurting. But he figured that that wouldn't happen since it was most likely broken. He had to find someway to stabilize it before anything else could happen to it.

But what now? What was there to do? He had nowhere to go, he had no one to go to. He was a fugitive in a massive country, there was nowhere to go. Everyone hated him.

For some reason he gave a soft smile. He knew that he was somewhat a free man, even though the US government would soon be on his tail. What now? He finally had something that he had never had. His own free will.

As a child he never had it due to his parents and his older brother Christian, then it was Garrett for years on end, then he was at the mercy of Coulson and the team for six months.

And could he even call them the team anymore? He still cared for them, he still wanted to see them safe, but they hated him. He meant nothing to them. He was a monster, pretty much the Devil, in their eyes. There was never going back to them, probably. They wanted him dead. What was the use of him going to them when they would kill him on sight? There wasn't. Not now.

So what was there after freedom? Free will. He was now free to make whatever choice he wanted to. And what was that going to be exactly? He was going to try to do something good for a change, the best he could.

Author's Note: I don't own AoS, Marvel does. Trying something sort of new again! And of course it's Ward oriented! This is based off of the last episode 2x06. I'll try to finish this up before November 11th when the next episode airs, but no promises as this may be at least 20 chapters if it does well. But what will he do with this 'free will' he has? (This is based off of several posts on Tumblr that I got ideas from and hashed them together. And yes it's a redemptive fic.) Hope you enjoy! Keep reading and please favorite, follow, and/or review! ~AwakeAndAliveSpartan.