So for everyone who thought things might be getting better yeah no. Sorry. Serious triggers coming up./

Ward had never cut himself before. He supposed he had in some way self-harmed before be it attacking a wall and smashing his knuckles open or punching something until his body was bruised. He'd also never tried to kill himself. But there was a fine line between wanting to die and not caring if you did. He would rush in without thinking, he'd be the guy to go and diffuse a bomb with little chance of success. He'd run into a firefight with no concern for himself. But it wasn't just that, it was small things like not looking when he crossed a road and not caring who he got into fights with, That wasn't suicide, Grant told himself, that was just...not particularly trying to live.

He would rush in without thinking and the only time he made sure to keep himself alive was when someone else was at risk. Jumping out the plane after Jemma, frantically trying to get free so he could get Skye help when they were kidnapped, protecting Fitz in Belarus.

So no, he hadn't cut himself or tried to kill himself. Well soon it would be only suicide he hadn't attempted. Grant knew pain, he was basically an expert so he understood the way pain made someone feel so he understood it. He really did, but that made it worse because...he couldn't see any reason not too. He wasn't cutting to kill himself so what would it matter? He was smart, he wouldn't catch anything. Like he'd told Coulson, he'd has gun on him for the past few days and he hadn't done anything.

He'd been gone for little over an hour, skipping his mandatory evals in favour of sitting in the bathroom on his own. The hour had flew by and all he could think about was what he was about to do. He'd spent the time listening to his angel and demon, deciding that in the end, what did he have to lose?

He hadn't felt this low in a long time and to be honest, he didn't see the point in stopping himself. He knew he was being a hypocrite but it was so easy to tell somebody not to do something and then not take your own advice.

You don't need to drink pain away.

You don't have to starve yourself.

You don't have to work out so much.

You don't have to self-harm.

You don't have to hate yourself.

And he did, hate himself, more than anything. And that made his mind up.

Ward slid his knife from out his pant leg, holding it up to his face. He marvelled at how easy it was for someone to take their own life. He had his gun, one shot and...that would be it. One slash across his throat. One little tumble from the roof. One accidental explosion. One bottle of poisoned whiskey.

It would be so easy.

He didn't even recognize the man he'd appeared to be just a week ago, telling Skye she could do it, could achieve anything, telling her she would be happy.

Hypocrite, fucking pathetic piece of dirt, dammit they'd be better off without you.

The steel bit into his flesh, nothing happening for a moment before he saw the skin separate, saw white underneath before the blood beaded up and spilled over down his skin.

The high hit him like a freight train and he knew that he'd just fallen into something dangerous.

Ward did it again, getting braver and deeper as he went along. He knew that he could just stitch up himself later, that would be more pain anyway, he wouldn't use any numbing shit, no it'd be like even more cutting.

Sometimes even super spies slip up because he didn't hear the footsteps behind him until it was too late. He shoved his sleeve down, tucking the knife into it.

"You missed your evaluation." A voice said quietly behind him and he turned, realizing he'd done it, he'd managed to hide everything before they'd saw.

"And I'm sure you and May are here to ensure I turn up." Grant sighed, looking between the 'parents'.

"Ward, I asked you outside if there was something we needed to talk about." Phil stepped forward. "If we needed to discuss hospitalisation. You told me no."

"And I meant it, I'm fine." he shrugged and pushed past them and out the door.

Within seconds of leaving the room Melinda was somehow in front of, her arms crossed over her chest.

"We're discussing it. Now, you don't get a choice. This is serious, Ward." She frowned. "We don't...look the six of us, that's the only family most of us have. I'm not...we're not stepping by and watching you self destruct. You need to-" She stopped, tilting her head.

Her eyes widened and she lurched forward, grabbing his hand and pulling his sleeve up. "Jesus-" She muttered.

Coulson approached from behind, catching sight of the blood. "You didn't. Agent Ward, tell me you didn't."

"I...I was just...I wasn't trying to kill myself, I-"

"Okay, okay, I need you to hand me your weapons, everything you've got on you, guns, knives, string." Phil's voice shook a little and Ward mechanically stripped himself of everything, May and Coulson both staring at the bloodied knife with a kind of horror.

"Ward? Alright, you need a doctor, we'll take you to a doctor." Melinda said quietly, looking at Phil over Grant's back.

They were in so much trouble.

/haha down down down dowwwwwn.