#missedpotential

The Redemption Arc Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. Never Gave Grant Ward

Today’s entry in They Deserved Better is one that still makes people spiral.

Grant Ward from Marvel's Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D..

And yes, I know. I’m about to step into dangerous territory.

But here’s my take: Ward was a character they burned far too quickly — in every possible way.

He could have been:

A villain with a slow, painful, meaningful redemption arc.

Or a morally gray character who never fully crossed the line.

Or even a long-term anti-hero struggling between loyalty and identity.

Instead, he became something flatter than he ever needed to be.

Season 1 Ward: The Man We Thought We Knew

When we first meet Ward in Season 1, he’s rigid. Controlled. Hyper-competent. Almost emotionally closed off — but deeply loyal.

He protects his team. He risks himself for them. He’s not warm, but he’s solid.

That’s why the Hydra reveal hits so hard.

Yes, he was undercover. Yes, he was trained by Garrett. Yes, he had a traumatic childhood filled with abuse and manipulation. All of that tracks.

It makes sense that he would latch onto Garrett — the first person who gave him structure, power, control instead of victimhood.

But here’s the issue:

Some of Ward’s early emotional moments feel too real to be pure performance.

His private interactions with Fitz. With Simmons. With Skye.

There are scenes where he doesn’t need to pretend — where no one is watching — and yet he still shows depth. Concern. Vulnerability.

If it was all an act, it was written almost too sincerely.

And that’s where the fracture begins.

The Line He Crossed

Everything that follows — especially what he does to Fitz and Simmons — feels like a sharp escalation.

Leaving Fitz with permanent trauma. Causing neurological damage. Weaponizing emotional trust.

It’s brutal.

And that brutality clashes with the layered man we were introduced to.

I’m not saying he shouldn’t have become a villain.

I’m saying the transition could have been slower. More internal. More conflicted.

Because the show did give him trauma. It did give him complexity.

And then it pushed him fully into villain territory without giving that complexity room to breathe.

Skye, Daisy, and the Missed Opportunity

Let’s talk about Skye.

Later Daisy.

Their relationship mattered. It was never superficial.

Ward loved her. That much was clear.

And I’ll say something unpopular: I think Skye’s reaction to his past was too clean.

Too immediate.

Too absolute.

Instead of trying to understand the trauma that shaped him, she shuts the door entirely.

No struggle. No emotional tug-of-war. No attempt to reach the humanity she herself had witnessed.

She goes straight to “you’re a monster.”

And yes — he did monstrous things.

But if we compare it to how she later treats other characters, the inconsistency is glaring.

The Hive Arc: The Ghost of What Could’ve Been

When Hive takes over Ward’s body, something fascinating happens.

Daisy is manipulated. Controlled. Emotionally tethered.

And fans immediately asked the obvious question:

If Daisy truly felt nothing for Ward anymore — if it was all gone — what was Hive connecting to?

Where did that emotional entry point come from?

Something was still there.

The show never fully explored it.

And people held onto hope.

Hope that Daisy might break free not by rejecting Ward — but by confronting what remained of him.

Hope that Ward, even posthumously, might still matter as something more than a vessel.

It never happened.

The Framework: The Cruelest Irony

Then comes the Framework.

An alternate reality.

And in that reality?

Ward is good.

He’s with Skye. They’re in love.

And this is where my frustration peaks.

Skye knows this isn’t her reality. She knows things are altered. She sees Fitz become someone unrecognizable — and she desperately tries to remind him of who he used to be.

But with Ward?

She treats him with cold distance.

She never gives him the same grace she offers Fitz.

She doesn’t consider that this Ward — this version — is real within that world.

It felt inconsistent.

If you’re going to hold onto the “real” versions of people, do it across the board.

If you’re going to judge them only by this world’s reality, do that consistently too.

But she doesn’t.

And it reinforces the sense that Ward’s emotional weight was selectively minimized.

The Fan Service Paradox

Here’s the part that drives me crazy.

Sometimes TV shows bend over backward for fan service — forcing ships or arcs that were never organically built.

But here?

Ward and Skye were built from Season 1.

The foundation was there.

The audience saw it. Responded to it. Rooted for it.

And for once, continuing that arc wouldn’t have been fan service.

It would have been honoring what the show itself created.

Instead, they shut it down completely.

And gave him no redemption path. No meaningful attempt at one.

For a character with that much psychological layering, that much trauma, that much narrative setup… it felt abrupt.

Why Ward Deserved Better

Out of all the villains in Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D., Ward had the most personal stakes.

The most internal conflict potential.

The strongest emotional ties to the core team.

After Coulson, he might have been the most narratively rich character on the show.

And yet, he was eventually reduced to a recurring antagonist — stripped of the nuance that made him compelling in the first place.

He deserved:

A slower fall.

A harder internal war.

A real redemption attempt.

Or at least a more detailed psychological descent.

Instead, we got fragments.

And the ghost of what could have been.

So now I’m asking you:

Did Ward deserve a redemption arc?

Were you a Ward/Skye fan?

Or do you think the show made the right call turning him fully into a villain?

Let’s talk.

H2O Deserved to Grow Up With Us

It’s been a while since I did an episode breakdown, so let’s talk about something that shaped an entire generation.

Let’s talk about H2O: Just Add Water.

A series that was probably underestimated at the time — and yet somehow had an enormous cultural impact.

It was clearly written for a younger audience. I’d say 12 to 15-year-olds. It wasn’t trying to be dark. It wasn’t trying to be edgy. It wasn’t trying to reinvent fantasy television.

And yet.

In Italy — and I know this because I’m Italian — we are now thirty-year-olds who are still not over H2O. We still talk about it. We still rewatch it. We still think it deserved more seasons. More development. More depth.

Which is why I genuinely believe that, if revived properly, H2O could become something incredible.

Not darker for the sake of being dark — we don’t need it to turn into Siren — but deeper. More mythological. More emotionally layered. More intentional.

And that brings me to the series finale.

The Meteor Comet Arc: The Promise

When Season 3 ended with the meteor storyline, I remember being genuinely excited.

For the first time, it felt like the show was expanding its mythology in a meaningful way.

A comet returns to Earth’s orbit every 150 years. It threatens to collide with Earth. 150 years earlier, an Irish mermaid had stopped it — alone — and then disappeared.

That detail alone is powerful.

What happened to her? Did she die? Did she sacrifice her humanity? Did she choose the ocean?

Already, the mythology felt bigger.

And then there were the blue crystals. The new necklaces. The hints that Mako might be connected to the comet itself — that maybe Mako wasn’t entirely terrestrial in origin.

What if Mako was created by that celestial event? What if the girls’ powers weren’t just magical, but cosmic?

The show introduced these ideas…

And then resolved everything in what felt like five minutes.

“A Date with Destiny” Was Almost Better Than the Finale

Ironically, the episode before the finale — “A Date with Destiny” — is almost more compelling than the finale itself.

The rising temperature of the moon pool. The compass no longer spinning wildly, but pointing south. The fish disappearing from around Mako.

The girls investigating. Piecing together clues. Realizing the scale of what’s coming.

At the same time, Sophie is trying to exploit Mako for profit, creating a grounded, human conflict parallel to the cosmic one.

That episode builds tension beautifully.

It feels mature. Elevated. Almost like H2O is stepping into something bigger.

And then we reach “Graduation.”

And everything gets resolved… very quickly.

They create the massive water vortex. They lose consciousness underwater. For a moment, it feels like they might die.

They sink.

They disappear.

And then… they come back.

The next day: graduation ceremony. Smiles. Life goes on.

And that’s it.

The Ending I Thought We Were Getting

Now, I never expected them to die. It was still a teen show.

But I genuinely thought there would be consequences.

Permanent ones.

What if stopping the comet had amplified their powers beyond control? What if they could no longer fully return to being “just human”? What if saving Earth meant binding themselves permanently to the ocean?

That would’ve explained the Irish mermaid’s disappearance 150 years earlier.

Maybe she didn’t die.

Maybe she chose the sea.

Maybe once you cross that threshold — once you protect the planet — you no longer belong to land.

That would’ve created a before and after.

Instead, the story resets.

And that’s where it feels like a missed opportunity.

The Mako Mermaids Question

Then came Mako Mermaids.

I watched it. I wanted answers.

In H2O, we have human girls who become mermaids but remain rooted in their human lives.

In Mako Mermaids, we see “pure” mermaids with a full underwater society, rules, clans, politics.

But how do these two systems connect?

Are the Mako mermaids originally human? Did some transformed girls choose to stay in the ocean permanently and build a society? Are they entirely separate species?

The show never clearly bridges this gap.

And because of that, the two series feel adjacent instead of unified.

It could have been one massive, cohesive mythology.

Instead, it feels slightly fragmented.

And that fragmentation is probably why I never fully connected with Mako Mermaids the way I did with H2O.

Why H2O Deserves a Reboot

I truly believe H2O deserves a mature reboot.

Not dark. Not gritty. Not violent.

Just… layered.

We’ve seen this work before. Look at what was done with Roswell and then Roswell, New Mexico. The newer version didn’t betray the original — it deepened it.

Or think about Marvel's Runaways or School Spirits — teen protagonists, but emotionally and thematically accessible to adults.

H2O could do that.

Keep it in Australia. Keep Mako. Keep the ocean.

But expand the mythology. Explore the cost of transformation. Explore identity. Explore the divide between choosing humanity and choosing the sea.

There is so much lore sitting there, untouched.

It’s been sixteen years since H2O ended.

And I still have questions.

If you have answers, please give them to me.

Final Question

So I’m asking you:

Would you want a more mature H2O reboot?

Would you want deeper Mako mythology? Clearer answers about the mermaid society? Real consequences for cosmic-level events?

Or do you think it’s perfect as it is?

Let’s talk.

And if you grew up with H2O and still think about Mako Island at least once a year… you’re not alone. 🌊✨

If You Loved H2O… You Might Want to Meet Naples’ Mermaids

Before I end this breakdown, I need to say something.

If you loved H2O — and especially if you ever wished it had gone a little deeper, a little more mature without losing its heart — there’s a series you might not know about.

It’s called Sirene, and it aired in Italy in 2017.

And I say this as someone who is very critical of Italian TV: it was surprisingly beautiful.

The premise? There are only two places on Earth where mermaids can live among humans: New York… and Naples.

Yes. Naples.

According to legend, the city was founded by the siren Parthenope — and in the show, that mythology actually matters.

The story follows a family of mermaids — not just three girls, but a mother and her daughters — who come to Naples searching for the last surviving merman in the Mediterranean.

What I loved about it is this: it explores the tension between sea and land in a way H2O only hinted at.

What does it mean to choose humanity? What does it cost to leave the ocean? Can you belong to both?

It’s romantic, funny, emotional, and unexpectedly layered.

If H2O was about girls discovering magic, Sirene is about what happens when magic has to coexist with real life.

So now I’m curious:

Have any of you seen it? And would you watch a subtitled mermaid series set in Italy if it expanded the mythology H2O left behind?

Because honestly? If we’re talking reboots and expanded universes…

Maybe the answer isn’t to remake H2O.