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He watched, helpless, as the door closed behind her. He sat there for a few more minutes before an armed guard came and took him back to his cell. He hadn't been expecting her, out of everyone, she was the last person he thought would come visit him. He figured if any one was going to come, it would be Skye, or maybe Coulson. But when a guard escorted Jemma Simmons in he was genuinely shocked. Guilt rolled through him as she silently walked into the room and took a seat opposite him.
They had sat there in silence for what seemed like hours, but truthfully it was only minutes. Jemma hadn't looked at him yet, just sat there looking at the table, her hands folded on the scarred wood. Finally she'd looked up at him, her eyes boring into his, his throat felt like it was closing up and he swallowed hard. She looked furious, and sad, and something else he couldn't place. He tried to be that strong, aloof person he'd always shown he was, but looking into Jemma Simmons' eyes he couldn't do anything but lower his head in shame and regret.
Fitz was right that day on the plane. He did care. He cared more than they knew. More even, than he knew himself. At the time, he was convinced his feelings were a weakness. That they'd distract him from his mission. So he did the only thing he knew how to do. He buried those feelings. He pushed them away and tried to focus on his orders. And his orders were to get rid of the two scientists. As he watched them slowly fall from the plane, Ward had felt something break inside of him. It hurt, it was almost as if Death Lock had fired something else into his heart. But then they were gone, and someone was telling him that Garret needed him.
Now though, Garrett was dead and Ward was locked up in a S.H.I.E.L.D facility. He'd had plenty of time to think about everything that had happened. Everything he'd done. He'd had time to try and decipher everything he felt for Coulson's team. What it meant and how it affected him. It took a long time, and a lot of inner turmoil, and fighting with himself, until finally he started to understand and accept all the things he'd said and done wrong. All the people he'd hurt, all the lives he'd taken. He'd made excuses for long enough. Convinced himself that he was just doing his job, following orders, repaying the man who'd saved his life, saved him from becoming just another statistic.
But in reality, John Garrett had turned him into a monster. He had bullied, and lied, and pushed Ward until he had broken him down so he could mold him into his own little soldier. Wards thoughts weren't his own. They were Garrets. Ward had had no idea who he was now that Garrett was gone, he had no one to tell him what to do, how to act, how to think. He'd had to learn how to be someone other than Agent Grant Ward. And just become Grant.
Sitting there, in that small room, looking at Jemma, he felt like all his progress had been worthless, that to her and everyone else, he was and would always be, the guy who betrayed them and almost killed Fitzsimmons. He'd been about to speak when from across the table, he heard Jemma ask why. She didn't say anything else, just looked at him and waited. He hadn't known what to say, his throat was dry and he felt like his heart could beat right out of his chest. Finally he'd spoke, but he didn't answer her question. He'd bowed his head again and quietly asked how Fitz was.
"You don't get to ask about him." Had been the reply he'd gotten. He'd apologized and asked her to at least tell him if Fitz had survived, that he was alive. He needed to know he hadn't killed the younger man. He knew he wasn't acting like the Grant Ward Jemma knew, or thought she knew. He was almost pleading with her, his voice breaking. For a second, her hardened face and piercing stare had softened just a little, but just as quickly she schooled her features and growled out a reply. She told him that Fitz was a live, just barely. But that he'd never be the same again. Would probably not be able to work in engineering again or even with SHIELD. That's even if he woke up. It's been three months and he still hasn't woken up, she'd told him coolly. Her voice chilling him to the bone.
The thought that Fitz wouldn't be able to work in his lab anymore, hit Ward like a tonne of bricks. He felt liked he'd been punched in the stomach by the Hulk. He'd slammed his fists on the table, causing Jemma to jump a little in her seat and the cuffs around his wrists to dig into his skin. He mumbled out an apology just as a guard came into the room, asking if everything was okay. Jemma dismissed him. And leaned across the table.
"He trusted you. Even when we all had given up on you, he didn't. He trusted you Ward. He believed there was good in you, that you cared. That you weren't the monster we were painting you to be. He thought Garrett was controlling you like he was mike. He couldn't believe, that Grant Ward, the guy who jumped out of a plane to save me, who got mad at the fact that he couldn't protect us from things he couldn't see, who played pranks and board games with us. Who even though he didn't want to, would protect us and keep us safe, who became are friend, our savior. He couldn't believe that man would turn his back on us. He was convinced you cared about us. Cared about him. He looked up to you! You were like a big brother to him. He trusted you. Right up until the end he trusted you. Believed in you. And then you threw us away like garbage and destroyed his life. You hurt him, You hurt all of them. I will never forgive you for that."
Ward could still hear the words that she'd thrown at him. She had started crying half way through her speech but refused to acknowledge her tears until she was done yelling at him. Then she took a deep breath and wiped at her face. He finally met her eyes again, and didn't even try to hide the shame and regret and the pain that were swimming in his own eyes. It didn't matter anymore, he'd ruined everything. They would never forgive him. He couldn't blame them. He couldn't forgive himself.
The room had fallen silent again and after that. Then, suddenly, the scrape of the chair on the concrete floor had brought Ward out of his thoughts. He'd glanced up to see Jemma standing, and before she could leave he asked her a question that had been playing on his mind. "You said I hurt all of them. Did-what about you? Did I hurt you too?" Looking back he wished he'd never asked. Because her answer affected him more than anything else ever had. She'd stood up from her seat, her shoulders sagged and she looked at him with that same look he couldn't decipher earlier, and then she spoke.
"Yes, Grant, You did. You broke my heart, shattered it really. I was in love with you. Am still actually. And I hate that I am. I hate you for making me love you. Even when I thought you were good and with us, I knew how I felt. Didn't matter though. You were with May. And had something with Skye. But apparently the heart wants what it wants. Or well, technically the brain wants what it wants. And then all of this happened and I was so furious with you. I was furious with myself. So yes, you hurt me too. And as long as I continue to feel the way I do about you, the more you're hurting me. I may have escaped my watery grave, but I haven't escaped you. You're still burning my lungs with each breath I take, I keep kicking and kicking but I can never break the surface. I'm always being pulled back under, and coming here today, it's just sucked the last breath from me and I'm drowning all over again."
She turned then, and made her way to the door, knocking lightly on the glass so the guard could open it for her. Before she disappeared through the door, Ward called her name, but it was too late, she had gone. And now here he was, staring at the door, tears burning the back of his eyes. But he wouldn't let them fall, he never did. She loved him, Jemma Simmons had said she loved him. How could someone so pure and good ever love someone like him. Especially now. He didn't think it was possible for anyone to love him, let alone, the awkward yet brilliant woman that had just walked away from him. Granted, she said she also hated him. That he could believe. As he was ruminating on what had just happened, the guard finally came and took him back to his cell. He just lay on his bed, thinking.
He didn't know how to feel about any of what just happened. He wanted her to come back, he wanted to talk, to understand, to apologize. He wanted to make that heart wrenching look on her face disappear. He didn't want to continue to be the cause of her pain. Of any of their pain. But that look, her sorrowful, heartbroken eyes, they would haunt him forever. He'd see them in his dreams. Everytime he closed his eyes, Jemma Simmons would be there. He'd have a constant reminder of the devastation he'd caused. And he felt he deserved it.
His true punishment for all he'd done would be the face of the girl who patched him up whenever he was beaten and broken. Who fixed him and made him feel better. Who made sure he was always ready to fight another day. Her face would be his penance. He'd picture her every time he questioned himself. Everytime he was reminded of his actions, he'd picture her and he'd know. He'd know more than anything, no matter what SHIELD did to him, Jemma's face would be the one thing that would break him. Nothing anyone could say or do would hurt or matter more than her. She would be the one to slay the monster that lived inside of him.
She would be the one to save him.