AN: trigger warning for blood loss, injury (gunshot wound), violence/fighting (mostly friendly), and mild self harm.

Trip didn't need an official diagnosis to tell him that Fitz had a broken arm. Fitz had also lost a lot of blood on his way here. From outside the lab, Trip watched as Fitz turned weakly and smiled at Trip. He smiled back. Fitz had lost a lot of blood and was probably terrified out of his wits, and he needed all the support he could get. Trip smiled wide, all dimpled cheeks and white teeth and twinkling eyes. Gave him the support he needed.

Fitz turned away as Jemma injected what Trip suspected was a sedative into Fitz's arm. His suspicions were confirmed when she turned around and mouthed he's asleep. Still smiling, Trip gave her a thumbs up before heading to the exercise room.

He ignored everything else and went right to the punching bag, forgetting to put on bandages or gloves. Punch. Fitz had a broken arm. Punch. It was his fault. Punch. He let Fitz get hurt. Punch. Fitz could've died. Punch. His fault. Punch. Punch.

"Hey."

Trip looked up from the black bag. It was May.

"Want something that can punch back?" She was smiling.

She was obviously up for it. "Sure. How do you wanna fight?"

"Hand to hand combat." She had already stepped into the ring. He joined her, immediately assuming position.

They were both slightly crouched down, surveying each other, seeking weakness. He aimed a right hook that she dodged easily, shifting back to her earlier fighting stance.

"Heard Fitz got injured today on the mission." Her words distracted him enough that he got kicked in the side.

"Yeah, broken arm," he said, trying to maintain his focus. Trying, and apparently failing, as May got in another light punch in the shoulder.

Despite the fact that she'd barely touched him, Trip let himself fall down. The impact hurt a little, but it was incomparable to how his insides felt.

May looked down at him in concern before crouching down beside him on her haunches. "You wanna talk?"

"No." That was when Trip realized that tears were leaking from his eyes. Fuck. "Yes."

"Fitz got hurt." She said this slowly, cautiously.

"Yes."

She waited. Her arms were at her sides, but they weren't touching her torso, as if she wasn't sure if she could hug him or not. He then realized that he hadn't told May anything else.

"Fitz almost died...and it's my fault." That's when the tears went from a leak to a waterfall, when snot started coming from his nose, when Trip's arms were reaching for May. His center of self-control had apparently shut down.

She had pulled him off the floor and into a hug. She was shushing him as he blubbered, "it's my fault...it's my fault" over and over and while there was something immensely calming about the small hand at his back, it also made him cry harder. Trip couldn't remember the last time he'd cried this hard. Well, he didn't want to remember.

Eventually, the snot mostly stopped clogging his nostrils and the tears had ceased. May kept holding him for a few more seconds before pulling away from him and examining his face, apparently assessing damage control.

"Let's get you cleaned, shall we?" She was smiling again. "Before Fitz wakes up."

Trip was too tired and confused to do anything but nod and follow her lead.

Fitz blinked his way back to consciousness. He was in the lab and Jemma was hovering over him. She looked worried, but otherwise alright.

"Where's everyone else?" Memories of the mission came back. "Is Antoine alright?"

"I'm right here, Fitz." And then he was there, with his deep voice and his warm eyes and this strange thing about him that made Fitz feel safe.

Fitz reached out to hug him, only to find his left arm in a sling. He stared at it, confused.

"What the hell is that?" He whispered.

"Oh, well, that's for your broken arm," Jemma said, not looking at him, checking his vitals and writing something down on a clipboard.

"Is it," he said, still staring at it. He was remembering more and more of the mission, how-

"Hey," Trip said, gently pulling up Fitz's face so that they were looking in each other's eyes. "You survived. That's what matters."

"You saved my life." Fitz remembered, vividly, how a scream of "get down!" had been closely followed by Antoine jumping on him, bullets flying just over his back. Then, just after Fitz had finished his part of the job, a bullet had lodged in his right arm. After that, Antoine had made sure Fitz had gotten back to the Bus without sustaining any more injuries.

"You saved my life."

And then Fitz was kissing him, soft but fierce, trying to put in that kiss everything he couldn't put into words, gratitude and love and something else, something more, and if it wasn't for the other people here Fitz would have just gone on kissing him forever.

But there were other people here. Fitz broke off the kiss to see May behind Trip.

"May, hello."

"I'm glad you're okay." She smiled.

He blushed and smiled back. "Agent May. He-he saved my life," he said weakly.

Her smile widened. "Are you saying you want some privacy?"

He blushed harder, amazed that he had all that blood left over to rush to his face after his injury.

"Doctor Simmons," May turned to Jemma. "Do you think it would be possible for Agent Fitz to be released early?"