Her fingers hover over the screen, certain of what they have to do next but absolutely uncertain as to how she was going to find the courage to do it. The room seems deathly quiet, now that she's left behind the constant monitoring and testing that had filled her ears for the past five days; she thought it might have been a relief, not waiting for a tone out of time, not waiting for the alarms to start wailing. Instead, she just feels hopeless, helpless and far from home.

His mum's voice embraces through the cold connection, too familiar for comfort. She knows something's wrong instantly (why would Jemma call on his phone otherwise?) which makes it easier than trying to find the worse to ease them both in.

"Is he alive?"

A good place to start, easier.

"Yes."

She can make it that far, for now.

"And are you okay, love?"

Oh, how she wants to tell the truth. How she wants to break down and cry, lean against the cold metal of the wall and slide to the ground and stay there, tucked away in this corner she's found, and she wants to pour her heart out to the other side of the planet- but she is in charge, for now, she is the expert and carer - and she is needed.

"I'm fine." She waves her hand in reassurance, to no one who is watching. "I'm holding up."

Despite what people might think, lies come easy when it's for him.