Pieces
He watches them with cool eyes and a heavy heart. Seeing them glow like this despite everything they've been through—it's almost painful, and he looks away before he can be burned by their shining light.
She notices, though (she always does, goddammit) and before he can turn away, Skye calls his name. "Ward!"
It feels as if a thousand bricks have crushed his already battered skin.
"It's simple really. Once we've got that, we've got our guy." Coulson explains as he ready's the team for their next mission. His eyes are alit with something Ward has never experienced for himself and he silently wonders if he should even be there.
He is briefing his team. The last time Ward had checked, that group did not include him. He did not deserve to be included. He was an object here. One to be used and recycled only to be worn once more. A tiring cycle, really.
But he liked it.
After all, it was better than the alternative.
He's woken up every day by various guards and put through various routines until one day he finds himself awaking to the sound of birds chirping and he realizes that perhaps maybe he does deserve something.
Nightmares consume him that night, however. Bleak visions of broken promises and empty silences fill his mind so quickly that he has to take time to breathe before he can lay back down.
By then, he is already trapped in his own skull-caged prison.
Punch.
Punch.
Punch.
The bag is swinging violently now but he does not care enough to stop.
Punch.
Punch.
Punch.
His hands are growing bloody, he realizes once they are in view.
Good.
Maybe now they will match the rest of him- bruised skin and dulled bones with only frayed limbs to drag them along.
Punch.
Punch.
Punch.
"Ward?"
There it is, his name again. It sounds foreign to him now. He almost does not realize that they are referring to him when these certain syllables and letters are strung together.
He does not deserve a name; they are made for humans. Not for monsters.
He deserves a label.
Punch.
Punch.
Punch.
The voice goes ignored by him until its owner is now quite literally cornering him, blocking him from throwing yet another punch. "Oh dear… Your hands, Ward. They're all bloody!" Simmons exclaims, shaking her head. Her voice is laced with something he really should not be hearing.
Compassion.
She reaches out to him, waiting for him to place his hand in hers. Her arm is almost like a lifeline, a rope to save him from thrashing around in these cruel, icy waters.
He walks away, her hand untouched.
Monsters deserve to drown.
There is a glass of water in front of him. He picks it up from its position on the table and raises it to his lips slowly. Before the liquid can touch his tongue, he is joined by another party.
"Hey," he is greeted so casually it almost makes him feel sick. He cannot bring himself to utter even a single word back. Skye takes notice of his hesitance and shrugs, accepting his silence in a manner that is so unlike her Ward cannot help but worry. "I, uh, heard that you've- once again- taking a liking to the punching bag."
He nods. It's all he is able to do at this point. The nod is not much really, just a small move of his head, and it only lasts about a second. Skye, being her, grins so widely upon witnessing an action other than walking away being performed by her former SO that Ward nearly shields his face from her radiating happiness.
He almost does, but he decided against it.
He's been in worse situations, really. Being shot would hardly be classified as a tragedy, especially when he is the victim.
These people, however, live to disagree.
They're all beside him, holding his hand the entire time. The only time they leave is when they are so sleep deprived that Simmons can barely walk upright and Fitz trips over his own two feet.
Well, everyone but her.
She stays, of course. In the back of his mind, he knows that she always will.
So maybe he is just a skeleton. Skeletons are not necessarily bad, they are just creatures lacking skin.
He's had his doubts about being fixable. He used to think that he was too far gone.
However, when she believes his false snores, Skye leans down toward him and whispers, "stay alive. We need you."
He then begins to piece himself back together.
A/N: This is just a random Ward redemption like fic that I have had the urge to write now for a few days with a hint of Skyeward thrown in the mix because hello, Skyeward.
As always, please leave a review! I would love to hear your thoughts on this.