Simmons pushed Fitz's wheelchair into the large, high ceilinged store beside Skye who was bouncing excitedly on her toes and May who wasn't bouncing at all, her steps more glides, smooth and even.
"How'd you manage to get us a card?" Triplett wondered, grinning at Skye.
She wiggled her eyebrows at him. "Never underestimate my ability to fake identification," she giggled. "I could probably get you in anywhere- from my phone."
"Remember guys, we're just here for supplies," Coulson reminded them, flashing the card at the entrance. "We need to lay low and- hey look, they have a sale on black and grey ties."
May rolled her eyes and the team chuckled at him, all except Fitz who's eyes drifted to the ties and then back down to his plain, tieless attire.
"Yipee," he muttered under his breath, so low Simmons was sure she was the only one who'd heard.
As their leader waltzed over to throw a bag into the cart, Simmons leaned down so that she could whisper into his ear.
"I can get you a few and... and help you-" she offered gently.
"It's fine," he cut her off irritably, his tone low and serious, indicating that it wasn't at all fine but he didn't want to talk about it.
She sighed and patted his shoulder as she rose away from him. He placed his hand over hers for a moment, holding her palm against him before he returned it to his lap.
"Green...," he frowned, frustrated. "Thanks."
"Anytime," she smiled, moving on.
Skye dashed ahead to the electronics section and May and Coulson headed for frozen foods. Half priced jumpers caught Simmons' attention. One had pink roses on the sleeves, another was white with a thick black stripe across the top and there was a lovely green one that looked as if it were made from dark fuzzy moss.
"Do you mind if we stop here?" she asked Fitz, pausing next to them.
"Don't really... care, to be flamingo-... er, honest," he told her dully, twitching the fingers of his half-way clenched hand against his legs, scratching lightly against the fabric of his pants, a dark, almost vacant expression on his face.
He was miserable, it didn't take a mind-reader to see it, and Simmons couldn't help the prickles of guilt that danced across her stomach.
It wasn't reasonable or fair to herself, but she kept wondering if she had just swum a little faster, been quicker to grip Fury's hand, shouted louder so he'd see them sooner, done something different, then her best friend wouldn't be suffering the way he was. If she'd just been quicker he wouldn't be on only his eighth day awake and not wearing a tie. He wouldn't be struggling with words and his eyes wouldn't be dim and joyless like a Jack-O-Lantern's when the candle blew out.
He must have seen her expression, sensed her unhappiness because his next words were lighter, an attempt at cheerfulness.
"You'd... look... g-good in... thanks... no... the green," he suggested, reaching for the closest one. "This one's... a bit... a bit..." He grit his teeth, frustrated, and averted his gaze to stare at the deep green fluff.
She knelt down and took it from him, unfolding it and holding it up against her. "Yeah, you're right, I'd need a smaller one," she agreed. "Would you like one? We could match."
His shoulders jerked up in a shrug and he pressed his lips together as if he didn't want to continue fumbling for words.
"How about this," she decided, allowing him his silence. "I'll buy two and if you don't want the other one I'll have an extra.
His mouth twitched into a brief smile and he nodded.
"Now where did the others go?" she wondered, straightening and pushing herself up on her tiptoes to see over the crowd.
She spotted Trip an aisle away and waved to him. He grinned, waving back and came over.
"Do you know where the cart went?" She asked him.
"Yeah, May and Coulson have it," he told her. "Nice sweater."
"Thanks," she replied. "Fitz might get one too."
"Aw man, then I'd never be able to tell you two apart," he joked. "I'll just have to call you both FitzSimmons."
"I think that was Coulson's strategy the first week we were with him," Simmons laughed.
"We're... p-pretty... pencil... flower... different now," Fitz muttered, getting louder and more bitter at each wrong word.
Simmons wasn't sure what to reply to that. They had always been different, Fitz liked monkeys, she liked dissecting things, Fitz liked naps and she didn't, she loved traveling, he'd rather stay at home. The differences were countless but so were their similarities. She suspected, however, that her friend was talking about specific difference, specific new differences.
"Why don't you go find the cart to put those matching sweaters in," Trip offered. "I want to show Fitz my favorite thing about Costco, I think he'd like it too. You up for that Fitz?"
For once, Fitz looked as if he cared about what was happening. "S-simmons would be... g-gone?" He asked worriedly. He seemed upset by the thought but he bit his lip and nodded, determined. "Sure," he answered. "Go have paper... er... fun."
He didn't want her to go, she could see that and she knew, though he'd never admit it, that he felt safer with her there, but she hadn't heard him so adamant on anything in a while. When he told her to 'Go have fun,' he'd meant it, a bit of the life had returned to his eyes, so she she smiled warmly and crouched in front of him, taking his good hand in both of her own.
"I'll be back soon," she promised, staring gently at him until he made eye contact.
"Take your... t... time," he insisted, mouth twitching up again.
"OK," she agreed softly, giving his hand a squeeze before rising to meet Triplett's gaze, silently telling him to take care of their friend.
He nodded, understanding. "C'mon Fitz," he said brightly, taking hold of the wheelchair's handles and pushing him forward. "Let's go experience the best thing about Costo, you're gonna love this."
"Yipee," Fitz cheered and Simmons thought maybe there was a tiny bit less sarcasm in his voice than before. It was still clear, however, that he was not at all excited.
She watched them go, resisting the urge to follow after them, and realized that Fitz wasn't the only one who felt safer when they were together.
Taking a deep breath, she turned away and, jumpers in hand, set out in search of the Coulson, May and the cart.
Halfway to frozen foods, she passed the toy section and spotted an entire shelf of experiment kits. Curious, she decided a quick look wouldn't do any harm, and entered the aisle. She was reading the back of a crystal growing kit, one that made glittering stones from simple ingredients, when she noticed a small girl reaching up for a Chemistry Wizard kit. The poor thing couldn't have been more than four feet tall and was having trouble pulling it down.
"May I?" Simmons offered kindly, momentarily placing her jumpers on the shelf and reaching for the kit herself. The girl nodded appreciatively. "There you go," she said handing it to her. "You know, the Chemistry Junior kit has two more experiments for the same price," she told her, pointing it out.
"Is it better?" She asked curiously.
"Well, there's a question," Simmons mused. "You could argue that the Science Wizard is better, because the end result has a little more flash, but this one," she held up the Chemistry Junior kit. "This one lets you write secret messages."
"Woah! Like a spy?" She squeaked excitedly.
"Just like a spy," Simmons chuckled.
"I want that one then," she decided and Simmons traded with her, placing back the Chemistry Wizard. "Thanks Ma'am."
Simmons didn't get a chance to reply before she'd skipped off, calling for her mother.
Chemistry Junior, that brought back memories. Simmons' mum and dad had spent hours with her and her sister, turning things blue, writing secret messages, combining seemingly benign liquids to create fountains of frothing foam. She really hoped her family was alright. She really hoped they knew she was alright and not injured or worse. Did Fit's mum worry about him? What would she say if she could see what had happened to her son?
He probably missed her, just like she missed calling home, but this was the only way to keep them safe so she shrugged off her bout of homesickness, scooped up the jumpers and continued on.
She found Coulson further into the clothes section, attempting to convince Skye to try on a tie.
"You'd look so professional," he insisted but she was shaking her head, laughing.
"Sorry AC... or... DC? That sounds weird... how about big C?" She inquired.
"How about sir?" He suggested flatly.
"No, that sounds weird too," Skye teased and he rolled his eyes but he was smiling.
He noticed Simmons and motioned for her to come over.
"Simmons likes wearing ties, don't you Simmons?" He said grinning. "Because it's professional and-"
"Actually... sir...," she objected hesitantly. "I'm... I'm not really in the tie wearing mood." She frowned, chewing on her bottom lip unhappily and her leader understood.
"Don't worry about it," he dismissed breezily, waving his hand.
"Besides," Skye added, smiling mischievously, "I know something even better you can wear, follow me," she took the jumpers from Simmons arms and handed them to Coulson. "Hold these for a minute Big C, please."
"Nice sweaters," he commented, setting one down to hold the other up. "I like the colour."
Skye took a black jacket from the rack and held it out in front of Simmons, nodding and smiling as if she could picture exactly what it would look like on her.
It was Simmon's turn to laugh and shake her head. "No Skye."
Skye pouted playfully at her. "Oh C'mon, you haven't even tried it on."
"No," she insisted. "I'm not... I'm not the kind of person who wears this particular kind of black jacket. I like the one I already have, and stylish jumpers and long sleeve shirts with cute little patterns, they make me feel nice."
Skye rolled her eyes. "How do you know this won't make you feel nice?"
Simmons narrowed her eyes and pressed her lips together, making a noise somewhere between a whine and a grumble.
"Please," Skye begged. "Just try it on, no pressure."
She stared with round eyes, expectant, and Simmons sighed, giving in.
"Alright," she conceded, allowing Skye to slide the sleeves over her arms and come around her to adjust the front before stepping back to view her work.
She seemed satisfied.
"You look great," she declared.
"It's really cool," Coulson added, giving her a thumbs up.
"Don't do that," Skye half scolded, half teased. "You look great, really," she assured Simmons quietly.
"Isn't that what I said?" Coulson wondered and Simmons smiled as Skye giggled at him.
"Uh huh," Skye answered. To Simmons she added. "I'm getting this for you."
"Oh but..." Simmons tried to protest however Skye raised her eyebrows at her, disapproving.
"You get to buy a sweater, I get to buy you a jacket," she insisted.
"But I-"
"You'll thank me later," she promised as Simmons removed it. "Didn't you like the haircut?"
Simmons hand brushed the tips of her locks, shorter now than she was used to.
"Yes, I did," she admitted. "But-"
"Uh uh uh," Skye waved a finger in front of her. "You aren't arguing your way out of this. We're about the same size anyway. If you don't like it, I'll wear it."
Simmons remembered using the same argument on Fitz not so long ago.
"OK..." She agreed and Skye beamed at her.
"Great, now add it to your pile and go find May to put it in the cart," she ordered. "I'll try to drag Coulson away from the suits."
Simmons grinned back at her before strolling back to Coulson, piling the jumpers on top of the jacket and heading off in search of May and the cart.
May was exactly where she'd said she'd be, in the frozen foods aisle, strategically choosing food to stack into their cart. Neat piles maximized the efficiency of the large basket.
Simmons hesitantly placed her bundle of clothing on top of a tall stack of boxes.
"Nice jacket," May commented.
Simmons smiled at her. "Skye picked it out."
She nodded, as if that made sense. "Can you find me some frozen vegetables? The ones from Bishop Dynamic are the cheapest and we need about six bags."
"Of course," Simmons complied, hopping into action.
For the next ten minutes she assisted May in filling the cart with food, wondering curiously if her friend hadn't been distracted by anything in the store or if she simply had superior will power to the rest of them. Probably the second, May liked things, just like everyone else, and they sold just about everything in the massive warehouse-like space.
They didn't talk much, but they enjoyed each other's company. May told her what they needed and she retrieved it, receiving an approving nod, or a small smile when she placed it tidily into the cart. It became a sort of game, with Simmons challenging herself, trying to go faster, find what they needed rapidly so that they could move on. May even started calling out her time.
"Thanks Simmons," May told her gratefully when they were just about finished. "You've been a big help."
"Well... it's for all of us," she replied shyly. "I was just doing my part."
"While the rest of the team had fun exploring the merchandise," May mused.
Simmons chuckled. "I've been on quite the adventure myself," she informed her. "Why don't I finish up and let you have your own?" She offered. "They have some very nice black clothing, and boxes of tea... or coffee if that's more your thing."
"That'd be nice," May smiled. "Can you handle the cart?"
"Pffft, of course I can," Simmons dismissed, taking May's place at the handle to find that it was unbelievably heavy, even on wheels. She shoved it forward, digging her feet into the ground. "See, fine," she smiled back.
May raised an eyebrow, disbelieving, but Simmons waved her hand to shoo her away, feigning unconcern, and she complied.
Simmons was inching the cart forward, looking for hamburger patties, when she spotted Fitz and Triplett approaching one of the free sample booths.
She narrowed her eyes, confused, because they were wearing Groucho Glasses, square black plastic frames with dark bushy eyebrows, a large nose and a bristly black mustache. What in the world were they doing?
Simmons shoved the cart closer and watched as Trip wheeled Fitz up to the booth.
"I know it's you two," the woman serving the samples laughed. "If you want more, buy a box."
Simmons laughed too, they were trying to get more free samples of the frozen brownies. They couldn't have really thought the disguises would work but they were adorable. Maybe that was their strategy.
"We are," Trip told her, Fitz held up the box on his lap. "It's just that they're so good we can't wait 'till we get home."
Fitz was nodding along with what Trip was saying, smiling, and Simmons wanted to dance in circles at how happy he looked, fooling around with his teammate.
"You can share one," the woman conceded, shaking her head and chuckling at them. "But you know, this isn't Halloween, you didn't need a costume, and if it was you'd need to say trick or treat."
"Trick or treat," Trip grinned.
"Treat... or t-trick," Fitz tried, frowning for a moment before his smile returned.
She shook her head at them again but gave them two brownies.
"Thanks Ma'am," Trip said, tipping his imaginary hat and she laughed again.
Fitz waved jerkily and the pair moved on, contently munching on their brownies, almost passing right by Simmons.
"Well aren't you two trouble," she called, amused.
Fitz beamed at her, clearly delighted to see her, and she beamed back, just as happy to see him, as Trip stopped beside her, eyes widening when he took in the cart.
"You alright pushing all that?" He wondered. "I can do it if you'd like."
She shrugged, trying not to look so relieved. "If you don't mind." She let Trip take her place and went to push Fitz instead. "So we're getting brownies?" She mused. "What have you been doing? Trying all the food in the store?"
"Yes," he replied, cheerful. "We wanted to toaster... d-decide... on a... treat for... everyone."
"And you chose brownies?" She guessed.
"Yes... you should... sa...sample some," he suggested. "Marie is very mango... er... nice."
"How many times did you go up?" She chuckled.
"T-twice," he answered "She... told us... where they were. Go get a... square," he insisted.
"OK," she agreed, patting his shoulder. "I'll be right back."
She skipped over to the booth, lightened by his good mood.
"You friends with the super spies?" Marie asked, handing her a sample.
Simmons nodded happily. "I am," she told her.
"Well good luck with those two goofballs," she laughed. "And enjoy your brownie dear."
"Thank you," Simmons smiled, returning to her friends.
Fitz told her all about what they'd sampled, slowly, faltering at times and allowing Trip to fill in the blanks. There were hot dogs made of turkey and gummy butterflies and cheesy nacho dips, he and Trip had tried them all.
They asked her what she'd been up to and she told them about her own adventures. Trip eyed the jacket when she reached the part about Coulson and Skye and Fitz turned his head towards the cart to see it.
"Skye wouldn't take no for an answer," she explained when Trip raised his eyebrows.
"Hey, we could always use more dark clothing," Trip pointed out. "It's easier to hide in darker colours."
They fell silent, sobered for a moment by the reminder of what they were really doing there, gathering supplies for their safehouse, the place they were hiding in from people who were trying to kill them.
When they'd retrieved the hamburger patties and arrived at the line they stopped to wait and Fitz reached over his shoulder, turning his body to place his hand over hers.
"It'll wheel...," he took a breath. "It'll be OK," he assured her.
She swallowed, holding back tears, fighting against her guilt and her fear, focusing instead on her friend's extraordinary courage, hoping she was even half as brave as he was.
Simmons circled around the chair so that she could bend down in front of him and he read her mind, leaning forward and holding out his arms for her to hug him. She gave him a tight squeeze, feeling him return the embrace as firmly as he was able to. Then she released him, kissed his cheek and stood, walking around the chair to push him forward again because the line was moving.
There were so many things she wanted to say to him. 'Don't ever leave me again,' 'I promise I'll never give up on you, I'll make this right,' 'I'm so glad we still have each other.'
She settled on, "Wonderful dessert choice," instead but the way he looked at her, glancing over his shoulder as she said it, she was almost certain he'd heard the other things too.
The rest of her team joined them and as she listened to Skye chat cheerfully with Trip about the brownies and the jacket and saw May and Coulson exchange an amused glance, she found herself believing it really would be OK, that they could make it through this, together. Together they were strong, together they could make things right again.
'Watch out Hydra," she thought, chuckling as Fitz and Skye tried on the Groucho Glasses. 'We're not out yet.'
/-/-/
There is a reference to the TV series Fringe in this story. It is Bishop Dynamic, which is the alternate universe's version of Massive Dynamic (a massive, fictional company in the show)