This is my first story, maybe last I'm not sure yet. Thanks for the help Rowen_lefay, nathyfaith and v23474. You're the best.
I know it's not great but please don't leave hateful reviews ;-)
Ward was sitting on the floor in one of the four corners of his prison cell. Holding a pen and a piece of paper given to him to write down all he knew about Hydra plans. He stared at the blank page for a long moment, unaware of what he wished to tell. When he started to write it down, it wasn't what they wanted to know. He wrote all of the things he was sure nobody wanted to read, but he didn't care. His life had ended before he was even born. He knew there was nothing he could do to be the person he always wanted to be. He never had a chance to be his own man. At least not from his own perspective.
He wrote about his family, about Garrett, about everything in his life that he thought it would matter to someone, someday. He knows that no matter what no one was interested in his actions. It didn't stop him from writing down his motivations. Ward knew that one day someone would want to know what took him to this path. Don't misjudged him. He didn't sought for any forgiveness, kindness or love any longer.
When he finished writing, he put that piece of paper on his mattress. The only place he could actually rest something on. Except the floor. However, he didn't want to leave it on the floor. Not with the plan he had in mind.
Ward thought once more about the damage he inflicted on the team. A team that he had grown to see as a family. He thought about his time with Garrett, how in the process of being under his claws he had lost himself. Grant wondered if they would miss him after he was gone. He hoped there was no such thing as after life.
Perhaps they finally would be freed of him. He would be freed of the torture promised by Coulson. After all, they did tortured him for weeks, even longer, he didn't know.
He knew that there was only one thing that would make them understand. In his mind, this final act would push them to listen to him. To see him as he saw himself. A lost boy. Someone who never had a chance of being himself. That the only reason he had followed Garrett was that he had been tricked to think that the man saw him as a human being. Except, all he ever wanted was to mold him into a tool.
He broke the pen with his foot. Ward took the sharp piece into his hand. He held it between his fingers as if it was most precious thing in the world. Once again, he thought about his family. The only family he ever had. His team. People who brought light in his life and took it away the moment he betrayed them.
The interrogators were right, he fought for so many years to survive that he didn't noticed when he became the man he had always feared. He didn't noticed that he had a family and that now they're gone. He didn't had anyone who would fight for him. He had nothing left to fight for. He was alone without a chance to be a better man. He could only do one thing to make their life easier. He had to disappear for good. They need to start fresh. So, they could live without the constant reminder of the things he had done.
He let the tears stream down his cheekbones as he sliced his wrists with abandon using the sharp piece of the pen. He chose a corner of the room and taking a cover with him he sat and hid himself.
He cried softly as only a child would. He didn't want to be alone, but he was too scared to wish for anything but fear. He knew he didn't matter to anyone. He didn't matter.
He was starting to lose conscience. He could feel his life slipping through his fingers and for a moment, he was happy. He welcomed this feeling with open arms. A whisper left his lips before he closed his eyes for the last time "I'm sorry".
He feels darkness surrounding him. However, it was not unpleasant. There were voices. He knew those voices. He was tired. He didn't felt like breathing. It was so hard.
Where the hell he was anyway?
"Simmons, what if he really gave up?" It was Fitz? No, it was- the voice was deeper. Trip. Ward didn't feel pain, just major discomfort.
"Trip, come on." Skye. He knew it was her. He could never forget her voice. No matter what. She was still talking, "May needs you upstairs. I'll stay with him."
Was he back at the Bus? Had the team take him under their wings again? He was so exhausted.
He felt Skye's small hand run through his locks.
"Hey Robot. You've got to come back to us. It's been months." He heard her sigh, as she sat on his side and took his hand.
"Just open your eyes. How many times do I have to tell you we won't give up on you that easily?" Skye ran her fingertips through his knuckles. She sighed deeper.
"I know that the doctor said you lost your will to live. That you may never wake up. It scares me, watching you dying like this, Grant. Incapable of breathing on your own." She arched her body and kissed his forehead.
So they hadn't gave him up? They were keeping him?
Her voice was a sweet melody to him. "We love you Grant. Come back to us soon." She grabbed his hand and squeezed it gently. He chose that moment to squeeze her hand back and open his eyes.
He was home.