Backstory: Ward gets a little downtime after the Hydra mission at the fridge.
Ward walked through the rooms in one of Garrett's many safehouses where they were spending the night. It was, from his quick inspection, a well-stocked refuge, complete with medical supplies, an entire closet of provisions, and - more importantly, thought Ward - alcohol. After he poured himself a glass of one of the stronger whiskeys in the selection, he reached for the cabinet of painkillers Garrett had pointed him to, then stopped.
He deserved to feel the pain.
He had killed innocent soldiers today. Soldiers who were just doing their duty. Who had risked their lives (or so they thought) to help him.
Ward drained his glass and reached for the bottle to fill it up again.
"I wouldn't do that," came a voice from across the table. "You've probably got another mission tomorrow."
Ward jerked his head up. Sitting across from him, with something resembling a frown on his face, was...him.
But on second glance, there were a few differences. The Ward across from him was wearing a tailored suit. His hair was combed; his face was clean and unbruised. He looked like...well, he looked like Ward from a few weeks ago.
"Starting to figure it out, huh? That's right, Agent Ward - oh, but you're not an agent anymore, are you. You're just a man who betrayed people who gave him nothing but kindness." The expression on other Ward's face had changed to a sneer. "You're despicable, you know that?"
"And what would you have me do?" shot back Ward, driven by an unknown urge to defend himself from the apparition. "Leave Garrett to die? I owe him everything! He saved me - us - from our family, from jail. How could I just leave him?"
The other Ward raised his eyebrows. "Sounds like you're trying to convince yourself there, Grant. Tell me, if you owe Garrett everything, does that mean you owe nothing to anyone else? What about Fitz, whose gadgets saved you from countless hazardous situations? Simmons? She patched you up after every mission, no matter how light your injuries were! May? Where would you be without her fighting by your side in battle? Coulson? Has there ever been -"
"Shut up!" cursed Ward. "I don't want to hear it."
The phantom just laughed. "Truth too painful? Deal with it. Coulson is the best man you know - yes, even better than Garrett - and you know it, you know that it's true regardless of how much you don't like what I'm saying." He paused for a moment. "Can you think of anyone else on the team? Anyone else you might...owe something to?"
"Shut up," whispered Ward, cringing. He knew what was coming. Oh god, he knew.
"How about a certain hacker who broke through that icy wall you call a heart and actually got to know you? Who you've told things to you've never told anyone, except for Garrett? Who actually cares about your sorry existence? How about her, Ward?"
"Shut up..."
"Skye. What about Skye?"
Ward finally broke. "Shut up!" he bellowed. "I hate you!"
Other Ward leaned forward, with the air of a predator that had exhausted its prey and knew that it was about to eat. "You know what's sad, Ward? You don't hate me. You hate that you can't be me anymore. You hate the time you spent as me, SHIELD Specialist Grant Ward, was the only time in your pathetic life that you actually felt anything resembling happiness."
Ward swiped his hand forward, out of responses. When it just passed through the other man, who regarded him amusedly, he reached instead for the whiskey.
"Ah, good choice, Ward," sneered the visage. "Run, hide, it doesn't matter. I'll still be here when you wake up. Know why?" he said, tapping Ward's forehead as the man lifted the bottle to his lips. "Because I'm you. And no matter how far you flee, you can't run from yourself."
The alcohol poured down Ward's throat and he closed his eyes. When he opened them again, he was alone.