The evening was cold. A really cold one. This part of the world was known for being cold, and Rebecca Fitz had enough time to get used to it. A phone called, which was not usuall at all, sand he answered it, curious but also a little disturbed.

"Hello?"

"Hello?" she heard a nervous voice "Mrs Fitz?"

"That's me. Who's calling?"

"Simmons. Jemma Simmons."

Her son's best friend. That couldn't be good.

"What happened?" she wasted no time for courtesy or chit-chat. Something was wrong.

"There was an... accident" girl started talking slowly, even more nervous "During a mission... we've found ourselves in a very... unfortunate possition and..."

"Is he alive?" she interrupted, because details be damned, she wanted an answer to her fear, fast and clear.

Silence. Breath in.

"Yes. Yes, he is."

Breath out. With relief.

"He saved me" the girl added, but her voice was still wavering. There was still something more, something she wasn't saying.

"Just tell me" Mrs Fitz tried to be calm, she really did.

Silence. Deep breathing on the other side of the line. The girl was steeling herself. Preparing.

"He's in coma. He nearly drowned. The oxygen depravation could cause severe malfunction in wast areas of his whole constitution... " now words were coming one after the other, faster and faster, like a flood, and their meaning was becoming more and more lost "but we've only done Electroencephalography and X-Ray and some other tomograpies and the results are not clear, his temporal lobe could be damaged and there is also hypoxia and decompression sickness to take into account..."

"Sweety, I don't understand your science-babble" Rebeca cut in "Tell me facts. Simple ones if you can."

"He's not waking up" long breath, the girl probably tried to calm herself and searched for simpler words. "The rescue wasn't fast enough, he was without oxygen for a long while. Too long. I'm afraid his brain was damaged. It can be permanent. We can't really say... We can't assess full damage when he's not conscious "

They've told her it would be difficult. People told her this for the first time after her husband had died in car accident. She'd known it would be hard a month after, when she was staring at a positive pregnancy test. She'd known it that night she was crying because it occured to her that her child will never know his or her father. She'd known it, when her only son just couldn't make friends and she couldn't understand what he was talking about. She'd known this when he went to the Academy, far away from home and far too young, and when he joined SHIELD. She'd known it would be hard when her only child started to work in the field, dealing with God only knows what.

That knowledge hasn't prepared her.

"Can I see him?" she asked

Silence. Silence. Silence.

"No. I'm sorry"

Nothing prepared her for this.

"I'm sorry but we're hiding, we can't risk it. They are still looking for us" the girl's voice was even more shaking, more desperate. "It's not safe. I'm sorry."

"Do you even have a doctor there?"

"I'm a doctor" instant, automatic reply.

"No, sweetheart. You've got two PhDs. You're not a healer"

"There's a med team with him. Director said they are the best."

"And they can't say if he'll get out of this?" She didn't want to snark, wasn't looking for an answer, words have just escaped.

Silence. No words, just a shaky breath and choking sound on the other side. Poor kid couldn't deal. The little voice in Rebecca told her to focus on this girl, her pain and words, because otherwise she will have to focus on her son not waking up or her own desperation and heart being ripped apart. Not yet. Later. When they finish this conversation. The girl. Focus on her for now. Life has just started kicking her. She will yet have to see how painful it can become, how it can hurt. But now Rebecca couldn't find the strenght to comfort this girl. Not when her only child was in a coma with little hope for recovery. Not when she couldn't even go to him and see her boy.

"Could you sing to him?" she asked, because there was nothing else she could do. "The Heart Asks Pleasure First. I used to sing this to him when he was sick. Or you can hold the phone while I sing, would he hear it that way?

Silence. Breath in. Breath out.

"I will. I will sing" another shaky breath "I'm so sorry"

"Don't be, child. It's not your fault."

There was a strange sound on the other side of the line. Something like a whine or painful moan. The girl wasn't dealing well, that much was evident. She was young. She hasn't suffered yet, not so much and as long as Rebecca already has. What doesn't kill you makes you stronger. Strong enough not to break. Not stright away, not over the phone while talking with stranger.

Later. Not now. Later.

"Call me if something happens" No words in answer, just a sound. She has to end this conversation, she's running out of time. Not now. Later. She can cry later.

"I will call immediately" Simmons promised.

"Thank you for your call. Goodbye."

"Goodbye."

She hung up.

Then she broke down.

And the evening was much, much colder than it was just ten minutes ago.