A/N: Hey. It's been a while since I last updated, but I've been pretty busy, with the netball and (field) hockey seasons starting up again, so at least I have a half-decent excuse.
I apologise if Bobbi seems OOC at all during this chapter. I tried to stick to the facts, but used a little creative license here because she has to be afraid of something, right? (Other than needles, of course.) Tom Odell's Long Way Down if you're looking for something to last the five seconds it will approximately take to finish this chapter. Sorry it's so short, but short update is better than no update, right?
Many thanks to Sanctuaria, SarahDoll165 and parisindiny for taking the time to review, as well as to those who followed and added this story to their favourites list.
Enjoy and please review!
Thanks!
TRY NOT TO BREATHE
8
PROBLEMATIC
Problem is, she's scared of heights.
Not directly, of course - not oh-damn-I'm-having-a-panic-attack-and-can't-breathe scared, at least. Just enough to make jumping off a who knows how many floor building into empty space with a bustling city down below fairly ... interesting. Yes, interesting is a good word for it. Not terrifying, not exhilarating or enjoyable. Uncomfortable. Disagreeable.
It's these moments (hell, not the high speed gunfights or the times when someone dies) that make Bobbi think that actually sometimes she kind of enjoys her life and maybe she'll fall on someone's head and oh, I get my pay check tomorrow and also, for better or for worse, that she has some really nice veg in the fridge and it'll be a shame to let it go off.
All the while, Jemma Simmons is screaming beside her and she's flying and falling and oh shit her ankle and she somehow manages to land on her feet on top of a quinjet.
She's stood on a quinjet.
And for a split second, there's noting below her but empty air and she panics that she's falling -
The plane comes into view beneath her and she relaxes slightly. Simmons (Bobbi can't for the life of her work out why) is laughing, in a kind of death-cheating way, and then Bobbi remembers that she's stood on a quinjet and she tenses up and then wobbles -
Shit shit shit shit shit -
Even though she has more than enough room to fall over and stay on the jet, she's suddenly shaking and the wind's whipping all around and she's feeling a little dizzy, but that's when she notices that a hatch has opened and Simmons is climbing in, so she follows.
There is conversation.
Somehow, she is unconsciously joining in.
But deep inside, she's just imperceptibly shaking. Shaking like a leaf in the wind. She's so small. So inconsequential.
It's such a long way down.
She smiles but all she wants to do is sleep. Sleep and sleep and sleep and pretend that it's all a dream, because when she wakes up, suddenly it won't be so bad.
Then she remembers that Hunter's at the base and he'll be interrogating her for about six days before he finally runs off to some secluded area with a large amount of alcohol, to "think things over".
"Bobbi?" Mack says, breaking her out of her trance.
She blinks. "What was the question?"
"What's up? You're staring."
She has a habit of staring at the ground when she's thinking deeply. She's probably doing it now. "Hunter," she says vaguely.
He laughs and Simmons looks at him quizzically. "He's the one who almost shot you," he explains.
They start a new conversation and Bobbi braves a look at her hands. They are perfectly steady.
She doesn't see what was so bad, looking back. It wasn't that high, right? She didn't even panic that much. Not enough to need help.
It isn't like it's getting any worse, and she's always had it under control.
Agent Bobbi Morse always has things controlled.