Work Text:
Calm down, breathe, Ward’s mind ordered.
They wouldn’t send you back to your brother. Not after you begged them not to. It’s all in your file, everything he’s done to you.
Skye knows, Coulson knows, they can’t-- They won’t.
Surely Skye wouldn’t think that you lied to her about being terrified of your brother. Not after everything you’ve told her. You haven’t lied to her yet, she knows that.
Ward’s mind was spinning. There was no way Coulson and Skye would betray him like that. He might deserve their anger and their hate, but he did not deserve this.
He did whatever he could, all those years ago, to get away from his brother, his parents, his hell.
Everyone knew that Grant Ward was not afraid of many things, but one word about his older brother and he had always found himself panicking.
Ward stood up from his spot on the bed and began pacing the small cell. He knew what the signs of a panic attack were; difficulty breathing, blurry vision, a mind all over the place, a pounding heart, shaking, nausea, all of which were signs he was experiencing right now.
Breathe, he reminded himself. He tried catching his breath, but it felt as useless as when Fitz purposely stopped the oxygen flow in his cell.
He clenched his fists and shuddered as he took a breath. He dug his nails into his palms, looking for a distraction as his mind thought of all the possible things Christian might do to him once he was in his custody.
A wave of nausea washed over him, making him double over in an attempt to not throw up. He shut his eyes tight trying to block it, trying to block the images that were flooding his mind.
Christian taunting him on the fact that he had failed and was now a prisoner.
Christian praising himself for being able to ‘save’ him from his imprisonment.
Christian looking down at him and feeling disgusted.
Christian punching him for ruining his image and the family name because of his Hydra status.
Christian saying, “did I not tell you that you would not amount to anything?”
He straightened his back as the room began spinning around faster than Ward’s mind was.
Ward held his head in his hands in an attempt to block out the images of all the different scenarios as he mumbled “no” over and over again.
He held out his fist and punched the wall of his cell, still hoping that the pain would clear his mind and the images would disappear.
One punch.
Another.
And Another.
Ward kept punching the wall, harder and harder, until he suddenly felt a hand on his left shoulder.
He turned around, trying to catch his breath and coming face to face with Skye.
“Wh- what are you doing here?” he croaked as he tried to keep breathing.
Inhale.
Exhale.
Inhale.
Exhale.
“Ward,” Skye’s voice cracked, worry etched onto her face.
“I asked you what you were doing here,” Ward spat out. “Is it time? Is it time for you to send me back to hell?” he yelled.
Ward was still trying to gain control over himself again. He shrugged off Skye’s hand off of his shoulder and began pacing the room again while absentmindedly scratching at his right wrist.
Inhale.
Exhale.
Inhale.
Exhale.
“Ward, please,” Skye tried again, begging this time.
Ward did not so much as turn around to face her. He had stopped paying attention to Skye, mumbling incoherently to himself.
Skye grew more worried as she watched Ward mumble, suddenly catching sight of what he had been doing to himself.
Eyes growing wide in alarm, Skye walked over to Ward; hand on his arm, turning him around.
“Ward, hey, hey, hey,” she cooed, placing both of her hands on his shoulders. “Look at me. Breathe, just breathe.”
Ward shut his eyes.
Inhale.
Exhale.
Inhale.
Exhale.
“Grant?”
At the sound of his first name, Ward opened his eyes; the room was once again as still as it should be.
Skye noticed that Ward’s eyes were clearer, but her worry hadn’t yet lessened. She took both his hands in her own.
“Grant,” she spoke his name once again, this time tone sweet and gentle. Skye began caressing Ward’s wrist, thumbs tracing his self-inflicted wounds.
All of the sudden, Ward felt as though his throat had closed up, “Skye.”
“Shhh,” Skye soothed. “It’s okay.”
Ward watched, eyes wide and in disbelief, as Skye held up his left wrist in her right hand. She traced circles into his palm, then slowly lowered her thumb until she was caressing his wrist once again.
She traced his first cut.
He used a button, he had told her, her heart aching at the memory.
Then she traced what seemed to be a new mark on his wrist.
She locked eyes with Ward and brought his left wrist to her mouth.
“Skye, no,” he spoke, voice filled with desperation.
“Shhh,” she murmured softly before kissing his wrist. First the scar, then the new mark.
Ward’s breath caught in his throat. Never had anyone been this intimate with him before. It did not make sense to him, especially after the way Skye had been treating him.
“Wh- why?” he gasped.
This time Skye did not answer. She held his right wrist, never breaking eye contact with him.
She traced his other cut, right along his vein.
A piece of paper, she remembered him saying, her heart shattering in half.
She brought his wrist once again to her mouth, kissing his scars.
When she was done, she held both of his hands again, lacing their fingers together.
“I’m sorry. I’m just so sorry,” she mumbled, eyes filling with tears.
All Ward could do was stare, his mind confused as ever. He tried to speak, to question what was happening, but couldn’t for the life of him form any coherent words.
Skye continued rubbing circles in his palms with her thumbs for a few minutes before she spoke again.
“Grant, we’re breaking you out.”
That statement was enough to bring Ward back to reality.
“And you did all of that just to tell me what you already told me earlier? Unbelievable,” he shook his head in disbelief.
“Hear me out,” Skye locked eyes with him again. “Coulson knows what your brother did. He talked to him, and your brother denied everything.”
Ward shook his head again, a bitter laugh escaping him.
“Ward, Coulson knows which brother is telling the truth. He knows Christian is the one that’s been lying.”
Before Ward could even muster a word out, Skye looked at her watch and let go of his hands.
“You have one hour to figure out an escape plan. In exactly an hour and a half, guards that your brother hired will be here to collect you.”
“An hour?”
“An hour,” Skye confirmed as she walked towards the stair case. “Good luck.”
With the sound of the door shutting, silence filled the cell again.
Grant Ward sat back on his bed.
One hour to figure out how to escape, he thought to himself.
He began rubbing his thumbs once again; readying himself for the moment he would have to get away from the guards.
His name was Grant Ward; he had always had an escape plan planned out.
He focused on the task at hand, welcoming the distraction instead of having to think about what Skye had done and what it meant; because figuring out her reasons behind her actions might just be harder than his actual escape plan.