Snow fell in soft, sparkling clumps under the clear sky, lit with stars and moonlight on a night cold enough to turn breath to smoke and cheeks rosy red.
Fitz and Simmons sat together on a red, plastic sled. It was flat, with no runners and no seats, only a slight dip for them to settle into and a rope to hold onto which Fitz gripped as tightly as he could. It was difficult, still, to make a fist, but he seemed adamant on holding on himself so she'd let him. Skye had been telling her that she needed to let him push himself, to take risks, and she knew her friend was right so she let him hold the rope.
Of course, she was with him, sitting with a leg on either side of him, holding him against her chest with both arms like a human safety belt. She wasn't saying it, but much of her ease allowing him to steer came from the fact that she was there to ensure he didn't fall off.
She was shorter than him, so he was slouching, a little, to allow her to see over his shoulder and she rested her chin on it, letting her cold cheek brush his.
"Are you ready?" Skye asked behind them, preparing to push them down.
"Maybe... do you think you could try a light push this first time," she suggested tentatively and Fitz groaned.
"Nope," Skye giggled, shoving them forward so that they sped down the steep incline.
Simmons let out a squeak of surprise and tightened her grip around Fitz as they slid towards the bottom, bumped by the tiny craters pocketing the packed snow, footprints of past sledders returning for a second run.
Fitz was laughing delightedly, a wonderful sound she was certain she'd never grow tired of, one she'd been hearing more and more lately. He was enjoying himself and, despite her anxiety, so was she. It was thrilling, though short, and she was disappointed when the snow built up around them and they slowed to a stop.
"You should have heard yourself," he giggled loudly, leaning into her so she could feel him shaking.
"I did hear myself," she told him, amused. "I can hear myself right now."
"Smarty pants," he teased. "Do you have a comeback for everything?"
"Probably," she chuckled before she squirmed out of the sled, ready to pull it up with him in it.
She'd become wrapped up in her excitement however and, instead of using her left hand as she'd been doing for the past few days, she used her right, the rope digging through her thin gloves into the healing, burned skin of her palm and she flinched, quickly correcting herself.
"I can make it up," Fitz insisted, struggling to his feet and eying her hand, concerned.
"It's fine," she assured him, smiling weakly because, for just a moment, she'd forgotten about the burn and why she had it. "I don't mind pulling you, really, it's not a problem at all. I just need to switch hands, silly me, trying to use my right again."
He frowned at her, knowing as well as she did that it was not fine, and clomping ungracefully through the snow ahead of her, at least managing to stay on his feet. He was doing better, as determined as ever to become stronger, pushing himself while Simmons did her best not to hover worriedly over him and Skye egged him on.
It was good to see him with renewed vigor, but she was having trouble letting him go. He was like a baby bird, flight feathers barely grown in over the down, wanting to leap from the dizzyingly tall branches of his tree, to leave the safety of the nest, wobbly and new, for a world filled with predators and hard landings. It was difficult for her, however happy she was for him, to see him trying to integrate into that world when he was still so fragile. Especially now, after what had happened.
She took the rope with her other hand, he hadn't been ambitious enough to try pulling the sled with him at least, and followed after him.
"Hey guys, hurry up, I want a turn before the sun comes up," Skye called jokingly.
Simmons forced a smile and trudged after Fitz, sled hissing behind her, falling into step beside him about half way up the hill.
Fitz slipped on a loose bunch of snow and slid down about a foot before he righted himself, good naturedly denying her offer of help.
"I can do it," he assured her. He chuckled. "It's just one more banana... er... cactus... ahhk... hill." He frowned at himself before shaking his head and digging his boots back into the snow, pushing himself forward.
He'd been better lately, at falling, at not becoming frustrated. Better, not perfect, but he was certainly putting in an effort to be positive and it was making all the difference. In return, Simmons kept herself from coddling him, holding him back because she was afraid. Though, today, that was more difficult than usual.
"OK Fitz, you're with me this time," Skye grinned. "Ready for a real ride?"
'Deep breath, he'll be fine,' Simmons told herself.
Fitz grinned back, sitting back down in the sled. Skye sat behind him but she crossed her legs and only held on loosely to the tops of his shoulders.
"Ready?" Simmons asked hesitantly, palms on her friend's back, ready to give them a gentle shove.
"Give us a good one Simmons," Fitz requested, turning to face her, leaning so he could see around Skye.
"Sit up straight then," she chuckled.
He rushed to comply, almost tipping both Skye and himself in his excitement, except that Skye tightened her grip on his shoulder and leaned the other way to balance them.
"Good thing I'm training in the school quick reflexes," Skye giggled.
Simmons smiled, feeling better. She was being silly, Skye had him and the three of them were suppose to be having fun. Before she could think too much about it, she leaned in so that her elbows bent and then straightened her arms forcefully, giving them a good strong push down the hill, rewarded with their cries of delight.
She was happy with her decision, watching them enjoy themselves and feeling a warm glow as their laughter floated back to her, for all of five seconds, until the sled hit a bump of packed snow and launched into the air. Neither Fitz nor Skye had been expecting it, the bump had blended in with the rest of the hill, white on white, and they were thrown from the sled. Skye landed on her side and rolled down but Fitz flipped over his head in a painful looking summersault and landed on his back while the sled slipped slowly past him on its side, coming to a stop only a few feet away from him, as if it had realized it were empty and decided to wait for them.
"Ow," Skye groaned.
"Bloody kids," Fitz swore, holding his head as Simmons half ran, half skidded towards them. "They couldn't have put a sign up when they made their stunt track, poured some grape juice down or a used a dingo...a branch to mark the spot."
"Are you alright?" She inquired anxiously, looking him over. She took his wrist and gently moved his hand away from his head. "Let me see that."
"It's fine, just hit it on a hard patch that's all," he told her dismissively.
"It's going to bruise," she fussed. "Skye are you hurt?" She called.
"I'm good," she replied, collecting the sled and starting towards them as Simmons helped Fitz to his feet.
"This was a bad idea," she muttered. "We should go back."
"Simmons-," Fitz began, raising his hands, attempting to calm her.
"No," she interrupted sharply. "We can't be mucking around outside in the open, doing stupid dangerous things that could get us hurt," her voice was rising, shrill and both her friend's seemed a little intimidated by it. "You could have broken something, broken your necks, both of you and it's not as if we can go to a hospital. If you did, we'd be found and they'd break the rest of you."
"Well... we have you," Skye pointed out tentatively.
"I'm not actually that kind of doctor you know," she snapped. "I don't know how to operate, fix internal damage. I can't carry both of you back to the Bus, I'd need to leave one of you here... alone... exposed..."
"Simmons it's just sledding," Fitz soothed, reaching out to her but she stepped back. "Little kids do it," he reminded her.
"Little kids aren't running for their lives," she raged. "They aren't being hunted by a group of insane ex-agents who've forced them into hiding, who would shoot us on sight, who send grenades at us and blow our teammates to pieces."
She was breathing heavy, fists clenched and probably red in the face. She didn't like sledding, it was stupid, dangerous, out of control. Like their lives were. Did they really need more of that?
She could still see agent Turner, bloody and torn apart and buried under piping, could still feel the metal searing her hand as she tried to lift it off of him even though she knew it was too late. She still felt May pulling her away, heared her telling her there was nothing they could do and that they needed to get out. May was hurt too, a piece of debris lodged into her shoulder, spilling her friend's blood.
She saw further back, other people, friends, other agents, strangers. Skye's blood was on her hands, she was dying, Seth had stopped breathing and she couldn't get his heart to beat again, she followed agent Hand down a hallway to her team, fearing for their lives and stepping over bodies, agent Keohnig's blood dripped beside her and she tilted her chin up to find him hanging between the beams. She was pulling Fitz up with her through an impossibly tall column of water, breaking through the surface and lifting him out even though he couldn't breath the air around them and his head lulled lifelessly against her. She watched him, kept alive by machines, praying he'd wake up. When he had he'd been broken and scared and miserable.
People got hurt, she watched it, unable to stop it. It was out of her control and she hated it. She hated that every morning, when she opened her eyes, her first thought was that she hoped none of her teammates would die that day.
And now this? They could have been injured over a stupid game.
"Jemma it's OK," Fitz consoled, expression softening as he lay a hand on her shoulder.
"No," she squeaked.
Fitz moved forward, hooked his arm behind her and pulled her towards him. She let him, leaning on him a little, careful not to throw him off balance, as he rubbed her back.
Skye watched, concerned, a few feet away before moving towards them and gently touching Simmons' shoulder. "I'm sorry," she said quietly. "I just thought... you know... with everything... we needed some fun. I didn't think-"
"It's OK," Simmons mumbled, sighing at herself before pushing her cheek against Fitz's shoulder and returning his embrace. "I'm sorry if I ruined your fun."
"You didn't," Fitz asserted. "Whoever made that damn jump did, leaving it out like a booby trap for us to booby into... er... umm..."
She chuckled softly at him and kissed his cheek before pulling away.
"We should cover this up," she suggested. "Find a way to mark it, someone really could get hurt on it." She was done with people being hurt, by anything.
"Oh can we make it into a snow hedgehog?" Skye asked, grinning widely at the thought. "We just need some sticks and some rocks."
"A hedgehog?" Fitz raised his eyebrows.
"Cute little prickly things," Skye explained, cupping her hands into a ball. "Covered in tiny little quills," she showed them the size between her thumb and forefinger. "And when they yawn, the cutest." she let them know, emphasizing the last two words.
"I know what a hedgehog is," he told her. "I just don't see why it has to be one of those."
"Because they're the cutest," Skye, once again, emphasized the final two words. "Weren't you listening?"
"Uh huh," he replied, unimpressed. "You don't think there are any other, cuter animals, we could make it into?"
"Like an armadillo?" she wondered.
"Or... what? No... never mind, let's just make a hedgehog," he conceded, likely wanting to move on before Skye put out another random suggestion.
"I like potato bugs," Simmons told them, picturing one. "Armadillium vulgare. They're a bit like armadillos, anatomically at least, and they roll into balls." They curled into balls to protect themselves, they wore armor.
"Umm...," Skye made a face.
"I'm changing my vote," Fitz announced, raising his hand. "I like potato bugs too." He smiled at Simmons who couldn't help but blush under his warm gaze. He was looking at her as if she were an adorable little potato bug.
"Well... we...," she fumbled, staring back at him, suddenly tongue tied.
There was another thing she couldn't control. Something had shifted between them but, with everything else that was going on, neither of them had really had much of a chance to re-evaluate their relationship. She'd liked things the way they were, easy, simple, reliable and, in truth, change frightened her, but she couldn't deny the twist in her stomach or the blood that rose to her cheeks when he looked at her with that face, those eyes.
"How are we suppose to make a potato bug?" Skye questioned reasonably, cutting into her thoughts.
She snapped her attention back to their friend. "Right... how... I guess a hedgehog would be easier." Hedgehogs had armor too, prickly armor. She wished her friends had armor.
"Then let's make a hedgehog," Skye said and Simmons hopped into action, walking briskly ahead into the trees to collect twigs for the tiny quills.
"Thanks for that Mr. Puppy Love," Skye complained teasingly behind her, talking to Fitz in a low voice that floated to Simmons as if caught on the wind.
"What... Skye... I didn't," he protested feebly.
She laughed. "Everyone knows. Everyone."
"I don't know what you're talking about," he denied quietly.
Simmons could feel her face reddening, heating up. Fortunately she wasn't facing them.
"Twigs, hedgehog, no one crashes," she mumbled, focusing herself.
It was actually a lot of fun, making the hedgehog. Skye made whiskers out of pine needles and eyes out of pebbles while Simmons snapped twigs into inch long pieces which Fitz slowly poked into the snow. She could tell it took an incredible amount of effort for him to get them where he wanted them, and his hand shook near the end, but she didn't jump in to help until he asked and when he did he was almost finished anyway. He was getting better, day by day, and it made her relieved and happy for him, hopeful for the future.
"Simmons, would you mind..." he asked wearily.
"Of course," she replied, taking his hand with both of hers to steady it, guiding the final pieces into place.
"Adorable," Skye declared, stepping back to examine their work. "Now he needs a name."
"Don't name him, he's going to melt or be trampled by children," Fitz warned. "It's best not to get attached."
"I built a snowman once," Simmons added, agreeing. "Mr. Twigs, but it was close to spring so I had to pretend he was an experiment gone wrong, someone gave him a blue syrup and he could melt things with his mind. Unfortunately he also melted himself and I was very sad."
"So you were buckets of fun, even as a kid," Skye mused as Fitz patted her shoulder consolingly.
"My classmates smashed my snowman," he sympathized.
"They did not," Simmons gasped. "Oh Fitz, why didn't you ever tell me?"
"It never came up," he shrugged. "Second grade."
She winced empathetically. "Not a good year."
"Nah, not really," he agreed.
"Well let's hope it's never a good year to be a snowman," Skye kidded, receiving a pair of raised eyebrows. "'Cause, you know, all year winter... that's no fun."
"Ah," "Of course," they nodded, understanding.
"I'm naming him Prickles," Skye decided. "Better to have loved and lost right?"
"I guess," Fitz conceded. Simmons remained silent.
/-/-/
A short while later Simmons and Skye were pulling Fitz behind them in the sled. He'd fallen asleep, exhausted from the night's efforts, trusting them to bring him home.
"He was cleared to go out into the field again with the rest of us today," Skye commented, looking ahead somberly.
"Yeah," Simmons mumbled flatly.
She glanced back at him briefly. "Do you think he's ready?"
Simmons blew out a breath. "I don't know," she answered heavily. "I guess, probably. As ready as anyone can be."
"Are you ready?" Skye wondered seriously.
Her gaze shot back to her sleeping friend and she felt as if a thorn had lodged in her heart."Honestly, I haven't been ready for any of this," she admitted.
Skye laughed, not at all happy, shaking her head. "I don't think anyone's ever ready for things like this," she told her. "You just need to do the best you can and hope it all turns out OK."
"What if it doesn't?" She asked, her usual optimism crumpled and worn.
"It will," Skye insisted firmly.
She smiled sadly. "You sound so certain."
"Well, I guess I just don't like the alternative," she reasoned, eyes bright. "I've finally found somewhere I belong... a home, and I don't really want to think about losing it."
Simmons felt her heart wrapping protectively around the person beside her, sensing her sudden vulnerability. Skye was right, she belonged with them.
"You won't," she promised, nudging her affectionately with her elbow.
A small smile lit her face and she nudged her back and they continued on through the snow under the cold, empty sky, back to the Bus.
/-/-/
Later that night Simmons stood in front of Fitz's door, fist lingering a few millimeters away as she debated knocking, asking to come in.
Her conversation with Skye had comforted her but she was still frightened, still frustrated and hurt and she wasn't sure if it was because Fitz had been given the OK to go into the field or because their short break had allowed everything to crash down on her but she really needed a friend.
She tapped three times, hoping she wasn't waking him.
"Simmons?" he called. "Come in."
Of course he knew it was her.
He sat against the wall, a comic book on his lap.
"Captain America," he told her brightly, holding it up. "Coulson let me borrow it, he said he used to read it to me when... you know... I was... sleeping."
Simmons nodded, she remembered that. It had been sweet, though sad.
Without speaking she crossed the room and settled beside him, unable to keep in a weary sigh as she leaned against him, examining the brightly coloured pages.
"Rough day?" He guessed.
"Rough... really long time," she answered, feeling exhausted by the weight pressing down on her.
"Yeah," he mumbled. "Me too. Worse than second grade," he added, humor returning. She couldn't help but smile at that. "That year was horrible," he remembered, not sounding too upset. "I broke my arm, failed my first test, lost my favourite tooth, was attacked by the neighbour's cat."
"Had you're poor snowman viciously murdered," Simmons added, catching his light-heartedness.
"Poor Mrs. S," he lamented. "But you know what my mum told me?"
"What did she tell you?" Simmons asked, resting her head on his shoulder.
"She told me to keep looking up," he told her. "After it rains, keep looking up and someday you'll find a rainbow."
"You're mum's as smart woman," Simmons commented. "Did you? Find a rainbow I mean."
"I found you," he answered. She felt him tense beneath her and guessed this was one of those times where he said out loud what he didn't mean to. He must have been really tired.
She didn't mind his honesty, her heart swelled at what he'd said, spreading warmth across her chest. "I found one too," she smiled, stacking her hand onto his.
He relaxed, leaning his head on hers and they read Captain America together until they fell asleep.
/-/-/
The hitting the hidden bump thing happened to me as a kid. My uncle thought I had broken my neck but I was fine.
This story has not one, but two references to Fringe (Oh My!). The first is the snowman Simmons made as a kid. In the first season episode, The Cure, people are turned into human microwaves, cooking everyone including themselves. The second one is the part about rainbows. It is what Olivia says to alternate Olivia before she returns to the other side for good. She says it because, in the other universe, they lost rainbows when their world began to decay but the bridge between the two worlds had began to fix the damages and she wanted her double to see one again.
Mrs. S is a reference to Mrs. S from Orphan black. She is one scary lady.
The thing about the booby trap is from Avatar the last Airbender. There is a part where Aang tells Sokka "There was a booby trap and... well... we boobied right into it."