Another fic from the pre-Will days in series three with me basically thinking about what could have happened... This one deals a lot with Jemma's PTSD storyline thing and has some blood in it. Title is from twenty one pilots and shout out if you can find the Doctor Who and Firefly reference. Hope you enjoy!
Trigger: blood, PTSD and panic attacks.
She needed it. She needed it. She needed it.
Where was it? Where was it? Where was it?
It was under her pillow, it had been since she returned, she didn't sleep without it, couldn't sleep without it. She had had it since she was trapped there. It had been her one constant. Her one single constant besides...
Fitz. Fitz had been there. She liked Fitz. She liked him a lot.
"Jemma?"
She looked up from her bed, a wild look in her eyes. He had it.
He was holding.
She tried to reach for it, stumbling across the room but he held it out of reach.
There was something about his eyes. Something that made her feel sad.
"What?" was the only word that he could say.
Her breathing was laboured, she felt an attack coming on. She was getting used to the warning signs, as was everyone else. That made Bobbi proud (and Fitz).
He noticed her breathing, how it was becoming laboured, heavy, like she was about to start screaming again.
She was looking at the piece of wood in his hand and he noticed that. Fitz was good like that. He noticed things like that.
"Jemma," he said, wanting to reach out but not wanting to scare her, startle her. "It's dangerous."
She shook her head. It wasn't dangerous. It protected her from the dangerous.
She reached for it again. She hated that this made her feel like a child but everything scared her, everyone scared her.
Except Fitz.
Fitz who had saved her.
Fitz who was there for her during her darkest night. Her darkest days.
Everything blurred into one. She didn't know any more.
Everything hurt.
"Jemma! Jems!"
His voice, in her hear. His hand, on her shoulder.
She flinched. There was a dampness to her face, wet and sticky.
Footsteps retreating.
Darkness.
The next time she awoke, terrified from nightmares, there was so much (too much) to take in at once. Everyone though that the plain white walls of a medical room where to be reassuring, comforting, peaceful.
They weren't.
They were the opposite.
Annoying.
Painful.
Deafening.
An IV was in her arm, providing her with fluids and there was a presence beside her. Fitz.
She wanted to call to him. But she couldn't speak. Didn't want to. It might find her. Might kill her.
Might kill him.
She didn't want that. She had hurt him enough for one life time.
Maybe even two,
"You collapsed again," he said, giving her a sad smile. She hated that.
She wanted a happy smile. Like when he had rescued her. That had made her feel safe.
Being in his arms.
There was something in her hand, something she hadn't noticed.
Her stick.
She let out a breath, one she didn't know she had been holding.
It was there.
She could keep him safe.
She turned it over and over in her hand, realising that it used to be good, but it wasn't any more. She couldn't protect Fitz with a stick, as sharp as it may be. She needed something sharper.
Something twice as dangerous as the beast hunting them.
She needed something that could hurt.
It was Skye (Daisy) that first discovered her, rummaging in the kitchen. Searching through the drawers, looking for the weapon, looking for the blade.
"Jemma?"
The voice was anxious, but not as anxious as Jemma was. She needed this. She needed this to protect Fitz. She couldn't let him be hurt, be killed.
"Jemma!" This time Daisy (Skye) was louder, more angry. She wanted Jemma to stop, but she couldn't. Not until Fitz was safe.
She reached for Jemma, trying to pull her arm away from the cabinet. But Skye (Daisy) knew that she shouldn't do this. She had been told by Bobbi that this was bad. That this scared Jemma.
Jemma screamed, a natural reflex with anyone touching her, or even getting too close.
The scream alerted Mack and Bobbi who had been in the next room.
"Shit," Bobbi muttered under her breath, watching Daisy try to wrestle a knife of Jemma.
Mack was across the room before Bobbi could stop him, advancing towards an armed and extremely volatile Jemma.
Jemma spun, instinct, after being trapped for so long. The knife caught Mack's chest and she heard a cry of pain, not realising it was a team mate, a friend who she'd hurt.
She was back on that planet and the whole world was spinning.
And turning black.
Again.
She woke to more arguing.
Coulson.
Fitz.
"She hurt him, she needs time off!" That was Coulson. She has never heard him this angry.
Would he hurt Fitz? Would she have to protect Fitz from him as well?
"They cornered her! She was frightened. She didn't mean to."
Coulson gave a heavy sigh. "How's she acting with Andrew?"
Silence.
Then whispers.
"She's still not speaking. The last time she spoke," Fitz paused. She hadn't spoke. Yet. But she wanted to. She needed to know that he was safe. "Was when we were in the..." He didn't need to finish. Coulson knew what he meant. That was good. He wasn't going to hurt Fitz. Fitz was safe.
The door opened and she turned to face whoever was entering, reaching under the pillow as part of her morning routine. Would they take it off her?
Surprisingly they hadn't.
Fitz must have guessed the danger, explained and they let her keep it.
She was the only one who truly understood the danger, who would be able to protect them. She pulled it to her side, spinning it.
"He's okay," Fitz said, gently moving his hand to stroke her hair. She let him do this, didn't flinch.
Fitz was the only thing that made this feel real. Made her feel that this wasn't a nightmare.
But they were still in danger, no matter how real this was.
She had to protect him.
She was sitting in her room, her head on Fitz's lap. She refused to sleep otherwise. She had to be near him. Any other time she had slept without him had been a drug induced sleep. One she hadn't been prepared for. What if she slept too long?
She could be responsible for so much death.
He was stroking her hair. It was getting some life back. Life returns. Life prevails.
"I'm scared."
He paused for a second, taken back by her speaking.
"It's gonna hurt you."
"No," he reassured. "You're safe."
She shook her head. She wasn't. She would never be safe.
Whether from the beast or her own inner demons. She would never be free.
"What if..." she began, not knowing how to continue. She sat up, resting her head on his shoulder and burrowing into him. She still hadn't gained much weigh. She was still light, too light.
She still managed to fit perfectly next to him. They were made for each other.
"Fear. That's all there was."
Fitz wrapped his arm around her, pulling her closer even though this wasn't possible. But he still tried.
"Hunted. That's what they did to me. I didn't think..." she couldn't continue. Sobs escaped her. Sobs that were mournful. Sobs that she had kept in for so long. Sobs that she couldn't contain any more.
"Jems" Fitz said, placing a kiss to the top of her forehead. "Whatever comes next, whatever happens, I'll be here."
Her eyes closed as she allowed his words to wash over head, making her feel at ease, at peace. Even if it were only momentary, Fitz would be there with her. He would be there the whole damn time.
And if it were a beast hell-bent on killing her, he would help her fight it. Help her defeat it.
And if it were her own inner demons she was fighting, he would help her fight them. Help free her from them.
Even if that took months, years or decades.
He would be there the whole time.
Because he loved her.
And in all the time she had known him, she had fallen for him. And she had only discovered that recently.
Something she had almost lost. Him. Her chance to tell him how she really felt. But now she did.
But now she was with him.
She had an eternity, possibly more (if that were possible) with him.
"I love you."
And she wasn't going to waste a single second.
