With Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. returning in less than a week and still reeling from the mid-season finale; I had to get this short story off my chest. It upset me that Ward's death didn't feel like it should of happened. I was hoping Coulson would give him a chance. But alas, that did not happen. So this is the result of my emotions towards that ending.
I only intended for this to be a one-shot. But I do have an AU plan in mind if people are interested. Feel free to let me know! Hope you enjoy!
Darkness. The pull of the black void. It was all he felt as the remaining light faded from his eyes. His time had come, fate had made its decree; sentencing him to execution on the desolate planet. He accepted this. He deserved this - death. He was nothing but a psychopathic monster after all. Reigning destruction with every move. He killed, he lied, he betrayed, and he hurt, but worst of all, he shattered hearts. It was for this very reason that he deserved to succumb to the beckoning calls of the void.
"I don't regret my actions. Everything I did was of my own free will."
Lies. He was afraid. It was a lie he told himself to justify for what he believed to be right.
"I tried to protect you!"
Despite what they believe, he was never Hydra. Merely a pawn. A weapon. He was loyal only to Garrett. So he believed. His mission, to protect. Protect the ones he cared about.
"I know you care about us Ward!"
He realizes this now. Garrett was the mission. To protect the one who saved him, raised him from the ashes. Yet, the team; they became a part of that mission. His mission. He deeply cared for them. He refused to believe it. Fitz and Simmons, the younger siblings who replaced the ones in his previous life. The ones he lost. Failed to protect. May, the presumed stone-cold calvary who showed him compassion in a time of need. Who held the staff when he no longer could. The woman who opened his eyes: being weak and showing emotions is a strength in itself. Coulson, the man who demonstrated praise and made him feel wanted. Made him part of the team; the family. And Skye, his sweet and innocent Skye. The only one who could see through his barriers. The one who brought his entire world crashing down; melting his heart. Made him feel again. She was his everything. The one who could have saved him.
He did not fully want to die. He had left a stone unturned. Words unspoken. He wanted to look into the dark brown eyes of his saving grace. To feel her soft lips connect with his. To run his fingers through her silky dark hair. To whisper her name one last time. He needed desperately to apologize. To say goodbye to the only one who had seen the good in him. The one who loved him. His light in the darkness whose candle he blew out.
"Skye detests me. She thinks I'm a monster."
A monster can't love. It's a weakness. But he did. He loved her strongly, but he destroyed her. For that, he deserves this fate. She will never fully repair. He groans as cold steel meets flesh. It chills his bones. It terrifies him to watch a man he once knew commit the dark deed. Bones crack. His heart frantically pumps. Unrelenting, he knows Coulson will push until the task is finished. Till Grant Ward breathes no more. Hesitation. Pain stops. He glimpses up at the man. At the familiar look in his eyes. Sorrow, hatred, grief. Revenge. He did not want to take his life. He hopes.
"Anyone can be saved. So long as you get to them early enough."
He attempts to speak. To plead for his life. For a second chance. But the words do not come. Five seconds, he breaths his last. He knows it was a necessary deed. So Coulson believes. If only he knew the pain that would follow. He will never be the same. He stares straight into the face of his killer. A face clouded with despair, pure anger. A face that will receive nothing. Satisfaction, none. Only a final groan. Too quick for struggle, solid hand plunges through soft flesh into blood. His heart. Or what remains of it. His gaze becomes hazy. Bone has pierced lungs. With a final breath, he looks to the sky.
This is evil. For his victim to die helpless. Without a word, without a trial is more than evil itself. To die alone, unloved is indescribable. As he slumps into the black, the sound of his executioner dislodging his hand is all he hears. Coldness takes over and darkness wins. It is finished. Until death approaches.
"You've kept me waiting for quite awhile"
"I was not yet ready to die."
"Why do you not fear me?"
"I have always felt that I was dead. Grant Ward died the day Hydra emerged from the shadows. I floated through this word without a care. Without emotion or thought. Without love. I was hardly even there. So I am no longer afraid. You can already see that I am nothing. They made sure of that."
Death merely nodded. What he spoke was true.
"It is time for me to take you. You still have much to offer."
"Wait…."
"Sshh...Grant Ward, rest. For Death has risen."