A/N: Hi, everyone! This fic takes place just after 3x02. I had it half-completed for a while sitting on my computer, but I couldn't get it out of my head so I decided to finish up and post. I hope you enjoy and I'd love to hear your thoughts!
It's the third time Bobbi's heard Jemma cry out in the past minute, her whimpers strangled and muffled by the sheets surrounding her.
Fitz is exhausted, spending the past six months tracking down his partner and the past three days by her side for every waking moment has inevitably taken its toll on him. Bobbi knows that on the other side of the door, the engineer is slumped against the wall nearly passed out, so deep in sleep that it's unlikely Jemma's distress will wake him. He's been so good, so selfless, and it doesn't come without cost. Bobbi sees it in the dark circles beneath his eyes, the reemergence of shaky hands and muddled sentences.
Then there's Jemma. And Bobbi knows that Jemma will do everything in her power to keep from waking Fitz, compassionate human that she is. She'll let it eat her away before she'll burden anyone else the slightest. She'll trap herself in the room before she lets someone breakdown the door for her.
She doesn't see how much they want to help her.
But that's okay, because Bobbi and Fitz are resolved to show her.
Bobbi knows the biochemist has more determination in her pinky finger than in the whole body of most people Bobbi's met. It was one of the first things Bobbi noticed about the younger agent, saw it flickering and flaming in her eyes. She knows that behind Jemma's innocent, little smile is a whole lot of spunk and spirit that proving to be unbreakable. Maybe it doesn't look that way now, with Simmons appearing so small and shaken, so unsteady and shattered. But Bobbi's always thought that you don't survive the kinds of things Simmons has without becoming a little bit invincible. In a heartbeat Bobbi had recognized a fearless curiosity, a ferocious strength in the wondrous sparkle that had once lit up Jemma's brown eyes.
It's the little things that are lacking in the scientist's demeanor now: shiny, bright eyes, a brilliant smile, posture straight and sure, science chatter in a light voice that ballooned excitedly, filling the room. Their absence makes Bobbi sick with worry. Jemma's survived, but how much did she have to give? What did it take? What did she sacrifice?
There's a secret to survival. It's a tradeoff. You lose pieces of yourself, they're stripped away and you're dwindled to a core, to a desire to keep fighting when it becomes all you know. At that point, when you no longer feel like 'you,' it's almost too easy to give up.
Bobbi had paced the hall the first night Simmons was back, unwilling to be far if anything happened and Fitz needed extra help. Her shoes had scuffed against the floor. She'd been up for more than twenty four hours, but she wasn't tired. She was worried over Jemma's condition, yes; but the relief of having the biochemist back was so overwhelming that Bobbi was buzzing with energy. She wanted to be close to Simmons and Fitz. She couldn't lose either of them again, and maybe it was stupid to think that walking up and down the hall in front of their room would keep either of them safe, but Bobbi didn't care, she had to do something, she had to be close just in case.
On the second night, Bobbi had perched outside the door, making sure the two scientists she'd come to view as her little brother and sister were safe. She'd managed to stay awake until early morning, thoughts swirling around her head in a hurricane, a tidal wave, a flurry of things she didn't really want to consider or contemplate.
During the time in which night's darkness fades to pale light, Coulson had gently shaken her awake and given her a concerned, but firm, order to go catch some sleep in her own room, promising that FitzSimmons would be okay when she woke. That it was only a short period of time and things wouldn't change while she slept for a few hours.
Apparently, Coulson didn't approve of her self-appointed position as guard.
Bobbi had gotten up, slightly flustered, a bit embarrassed, and feeling guilty for reasons she couldn't quite describe.
Coulson's words had replayed in her mind as she walked back to her bed, brows contorted in thought. It was something she was having trouble with: how suddenly things could change, how quickly Jemma had been ripped away from them and everything had dissipated into a horrible, twisted hell.
Tonight, the third night, Bobbi refrained from starting her night camped out close to Fitz and Simmons. In the end, however, her efforts to stay calm and undaunted prove to be worthless. Maybe it was missing Hunter that was adding to her concern (although she'd never admit it), or her frustration with her injured knee, but she was feeling emotional and protective and she couldn't stop herself when she tossed off her sheets and walked down the hall.
She didn't intend to stay for long, just wait for a while and make sure they sounded okay. That's how Bobbi finds herself where she is now, listening to Jemma cry and feeling more helpless than she ever has in her whole life.
Bobbi lowers herself to the ground, her knee extending in front of her in a way she hates. It's a slap. A reminder of all the things she needs to do but can't. A flashing bright sign telling her that she isn't enough. Not quick enough. Not ready enough. Not good enough.
She couldn't keep herself safe, which is fine. Long ago, Bobbi had accepted that the job came with hits. It was okay when it happened to her, she could get over pain and recovery; it was the inability to help that tore her apart. It was the fact that Jemma had suffered so immensely for so long and Bobbi hadn't been able to prevent it and now she can't do anything to fix it.
Another cry startles Bobbi from her thoughts. She wants so badly to open the door and enter the room, to remind Jemma that they're on her side, that she isn't alone anymore.
Maybe, if Bobbi could comfort her this time, Fitz would actually get a full night's sleep for the first time in months. Maybe then his step wouldn't drag so much and his cognitive functions would get better again.
Bobbi contemplates the thought, unsure of how to help Jemma without invading their privacy or entering when her presence. Maybe she's already crossed that line. She's about to stand up, deciding that Simmons needs someone and Bobbi's not going to leave the scientist in need, when Bobbi hears the mattress creak, hears Fitz whisper gently. A soft sob falls from Jemma's lips, reverberating through the door and into the hall where Bobbi crouches. It doesn't worry the agent as much as before, now that she can hear Fitz beside Jemma, talking in a slow, calm voice. They have each other.
Bobbi's glad she can't make out their words, she wouldn't want to intrude further on their moment, especially when they're unaware of her presence. Instead, the blonde listens to the incoherent hum of their conversation, she still needs to make sure they're okay. She waits until it slowly fades and Jemma's cries are nonexistent. Until Bobbi can faintly make out Fitz's lull of words and the silence that takes the shape of steady breaths in the agent's head.
It isn't until she's sure the scientists are okay that Bobbi gets up, standing on sore legs. She wants to tell them how happy she is to have them both back, that she's missed them, that she's so sorry for everything that happened, and maybe, she'd also tell them that she loves them like the younger siblings she never had, and that she wishes every single day that she were better at protecting them.
Instead, she glances at the door, knowing that Jemma will be okay with Fitz there to help her sleep. Bobbi's gaze hovers for a few seconds before she turns and makes her way back down the hall, fully aware that she'll stay up all night for however long it takes, if she can offer even an ounce of help to her favorite scientists.