3 weeks.

21 days.

504 hours.

30240 minutes.

1814400 seconds.

That's how long Fitz had been missing. And Jemma hated it.

She hated not knowing where he was. She hated Eli Morrow for being responsible for his disappearance. She hated that she couldn't have at least been there with him. She hated not having someone to cuddle late at night. She hated how there seemed to be a crater in her heart where Fitz's daily interactions with her used to be.

But most of all, she hated Jeffery mace.

She hated him for not letting her be there with him. She hated him for being such a hypocrite. She hated him for not trusting her. She hated that he was a bad leader – more concerned about SHIELD's image more than its own agents.

But most of all, she hated how there was nothing she could do about it.

She could only go on silently, pretending that everything was okay, when it clearly was not. Mace had assigned a smaller portion of resources to getting them back than to finding Morrow and stopping him. Jemma was doing everything she could to maintain the power she'd worked so hard to earn and control the investigation.

But Mace was shutting her out. So she could only resign herself to getting her team back.

The amount of rage within her made Jemma want to throw up. It was a constant feeling, and all she could do was to commit her whole self – her whole mind and her whole body – to finding them, to finding him. It was all she could do to not be so overcome by anger that she blew everything.

But 3 weeks was really taking its toll.

She'd barely gotten 24 hours of sleep, and she knew that she was getting thinner from eating so little. But what else could she do? She suffered from insomnia with him away and working nonstop was the only way she could keep from letting her rage filled nausea take over; she couldn't stop for a food break.

In her mind she knew that Fitz would want her to eat, to stay healthy.

What good are you to us if you're too weak to work? She could hear him say.

And she wanted to, she really did. But she couldn't. Perhaps it was the anger that prevented her from being able to stop, or perhaps it was fear – the fear that if she did stop, even for a second, she'd miss something vital and miss bringing him back altogether.

The clock ticked over another minute.

3 weeks.

21 days.

504 hours.

30241 minutes.

1814460 seconds.