"What now?" Ward asked,
"We'll find somewhere quiet, stock up on supplies." Weariness had smoothed the worry lines on Coulson's face, but it couldn't erase them. "We could all use some rest." He glanced into the medical cube. "I'll keep an eye on her."
"We have equipment for that, sir." Fitz said.
"He's right. Get some rest; I'll do it." May's offer cut off Coulson's objection.
"If anything happens—if she wakes up—"
"I'll let you know."
Coulson sat in his office, glancing up at the intercom every five minutes. Anything to distract himself from those moments in the Guest House.
It was real. He'd never doubted Dr. Steitins, but seeing the room in person—nobody's go through that much trouble for one person. How many others had been treated there? And how many times had that procedure failed? Just what was in that serum anyway? He had fought extraterrestrials, but that specimen was nothing he recognized.
"Sir." The speaker crackled. "Simmons is taking over, nothing new."
"Thanks." Coulson rubbed his face. She was going to be okay. Of course she was.