Fitz sat in his room at the playground, tinkering with a comm set that he knew like the back of his hand. But then again of course he should know it. He designed it.

Only at this moment in time he didn't know it at all.

He was doing just fine, assembling the pieces as if his hands were on autopilot while his mind was busy on other things. But then his thoughts had veered back to the present task and he had started to think about the actions his fingers were doing which seemed to end the effortless flow of movements. His hands fumbled, the actions he had done only moments ago with such precision had become sloppy and his fingers appeared to lack any dexterity as if the series of nerves that connected his brain to his digits were failing, acting sporadically. An attempt to move his hands in one direction resulted in another.

He sighed, dropping his tools and taking a minute to just sit, not asking anything of his hands but to relax in the hope that they would regain their previous capabilities.

He picked up the tiny screwdriver again getting as far as attaching one of the inner mechanisms that he couldn't quite remember the name of but knew exactly what function it performed, the dimensions, and the date he had come up with the modified design.

He hated how much it annoyed him. It wasn't anything big on the surface. It was a name. Just a few syllables put together to define an item. On this occasion he remembered all the important things about it. It was just so frustrating to remember all the other aspects of the item in question but not recall the simplest part of the thing like it's stupid name.

Like having gotten to the very last part of a puzzle only to find a piece missing. And despite knowing all the main parts were there and the majority of the work was done it was the part that was absent that seemed to define it.

He aimed for the top of one of the miniature screws but his hand seemed to have other ideas and sent the tool smashing into the wrong part, dismantling a portion of the device.

"Dammit!" He screamed in frustration, dropping the screwdriver and the small parts and swiping the rest onto the floor.

He panted, feeling his chest rising and falling from the anger he felt and reached up to his head, tugging on his hair.

He was breathing so loud he didn't hear the door opening wider.

"Fitz?" He turned at the sound of Simmons voice and dropped his hands, holding them out in front of him.

"They're not working," he told her in a whisper "I'm not working."

"Oh Fitz," she came further into the room and took his hands in hers. She put a great deal of effort into keeping the emotions off her face as she knew how much he hated the pity. But she didn't feel pity for him. Not at all. She felt despair and hope and pride and so many different emotions that she wasn't sure what the result of their combination would appear as in her features.

"I've told you," she squeezed his hands resting in hers "They're not broken, they're adjusting. You're adjusting."

He shook his head but didn't move his hands from hers "No, no, you don't understand. I made that," he looked to the fallen pieces "I made that and designed it, if there was anything I should still be able to do it should be that. The piece inside, the small one the uh, it's the, the chip that converts analogue, made of monolithic silicon," he listed what he could remember so she would fill in the blank space like she had been doing for him recently.

"Digital signal processor?" She asked, knowing that was what it was. While it wasn't her forte or area of expertise she hadn't spent all those years around Fitz and his toys and not know some things.

He closed his eyes from the onslaught of anger that washed over him. He only ever really felt better for a few seconds when the words were supplied for him. After that he felt a sense of shame that the words were so easy and a ridiculous jealousy that others could not only recall the words in their mind but have no trouble getting them out at will.

He had only been this way for a few months yet it was beginning to feel like he had never had a normal functioning brain to begin with. Like the ease of speech and movement he had taken for granted before never truly existed. It had only been a weird dream of competency that would dangle in his thoughts like a reminder of what he once could do. A donkey chasing a carrot, always within his sight but never within reach.

"Yeah," he swallowed, his throat constricting as he fought off the need to cry "The digital signal processor," he sighed and looked at the ceiling trying to compose himself. After he was sure he had himself under control he looked back at Simmons "I can't do anything anymore Jemma." He admitted.

He sounded so defeated and she saw the tears glistening in his eyes, sure hers would be a mirror of his.

"You're right," she agreed and saw the surprise on his face when she didn't just give another rebuttal to his claims "You can't do anything anymore to change what's happened. But you can adapt. You can keep fighting to work around it. But what you can't do is give up. That's not who you are and I know you better than anyone Fitz. You're worried that you won't be useful anymore but that's just not the case and I won't let you believe it, not even for a second." she told him sternly, practically ordering him.

He studied her face and saw the certainty there. He knew she believed in him unconditionally and that was honestly the reason he hadn't packed everything in and ran away before now.

It made him believe in himself a little bit more.

"So," she spoke, voice full of tough love "What's it going to be? Give in to your fears and let them come true?" He looked down then back into her eyes "Or keep fighting?"

She hated being this harsh to him. It sounded like she was marginalising everything he'd been through but she knew that wasn't the case. She was the only other person after him who truly knew how hard this was. How hard it was going to be. Yet he needed this.

He needs a good kick up the arse, she thought to herself. If the years of knowing Fitz had taught her anything it was that he responded better to straight facts, definitely not coddling.

"Ok," he whispered "Yeah, I'll keep trying."

She gave him another stern look and crossed her arms "What was that? It didn't quite sound like you meant it."

He felt a ghost of a smile on his lips at the sight of her being bossy.

He sighed and suddenly felt more prepared to deal with himself and his future mishaps "I will. I'll work around it." He said again, more forcefully. Louder.

She smiled and nodded "Good. Because we have the mission and no doubt there'll be something we'll need you to get your hands on to tinker with on the base. And don't forget," she looked into his eyes "You're the best at what you do."

He sent her a grateful but weak smile, looking down at the broken pieces.

No, he thought. Not broken. Just damaged.

————

"Tree."

"Road."

"Another tree."

"Oh look a car. Haven't seen one of those in a while."

"Tree."

"Was that a squirrel? Oh it was just a rock."

Skye looked to her left to sneak a glance at Ward.

This was all very suspicious.

She had been listing random and mundane things that they had driven by for the last 45 minutes and he hadn't said a thing. During their drive to the building where he went in posing as Amador she had gone on about advanced encryption standards for only five minutes and he had not so politely asked her to shut it rather quickly.

So why was he saying nothing now?

Was he ill?

She thought about how he had admitted to her being his best friend. The idea still made her feel slightly giddy and she wasn't too fond of that. She had been friends with plenty of guys and been in relationships with others. So this fuzzy feeling she was getting? Completely unnecessary. Stupid. Downright bizarre.

But she supposed that if he was her best friend now then you let your best friend go on rants about nothing. Right?

"Those trees are taller than those ones that we passed back there." She tried again to get a fraction of annoyance from him.

"And there's more clouds in this part of the sky," she said, looking through the sun roof.

Still nothing.

Ok, we're gonna have to pull out the big guns.

She reached for the dashboard and turned to a random station, not liking the song so switching to another. Then another. Then she finally settled on one she was familiar with.

She grinned.

"Making my way downtown, walking fast, faces pass and I'm home bound! Do do do do do do." She started to sing, in her opinion horrendously.

Nothing.

"Staring blankly ahead, making my way, making my way through the crow-wow-wowed!" Putting more enthusiasm into the song she kept going.

"And I need you, du du du du du duh. And I miss you. Du du du du du duh. And now I won-der!"

She turned once again to get a look at his face. And not only was he not livid at the annoying disturbance like she thought he would be, but he was...smiling?

Pissed, she reached for the knob again, turning the music off.

She turned her whole body around in the seat to glare at him.

"What the hell is wrong with you?!" She yelled.

His smile fell and he sent her a quizzical look, eyebrows raised "What? There's nothing wrong with me. You, however..." he trailed off, a hint of a confused smirk on his face "Just displayed a violent outburst."

"Yeah!" She yelled again in a 'duh' tone "Because you didn't!"

He frowned "What the hell does that mean?" He asked, trying to alternate between looking at Skye and keeping his eyes on the road.

"Since when have you been in this close proximity with me talking none stop and not told me to shut up? And you were smiling about it. It's weird." She added.

Oh, he realised the problem.

He remembered in detail each time he had told Skye to stop talking. Up until the incident with the berserker staff he said it quite a bit. But after that, when he saw the hurt in her eyes at his words, he had made a conscience effort to never say anything like that again.

But he still rolled his eyes and made other comments. He had to. It was part of his role.

But Skye didn't know the new him. Or the real him. He wasn't sure which was which. She didn't know that after months without any contact or even a glimpse of her he had started to replay the moments he had with her, even the ordinary and annoying ones like these.

He thought back to the time he was trapped in the vault and with every creak of the door or distant voice he heard outside he had hoped, prayed, wished, all of the above that it was her.

But it never was. He had found himself dreaming of the times he had been woken from his sleep in the early hours of the morning by loud typing or singing or other little noises that he knew she thought she was making quietly.

He had been frustrated then, he was a light sleeper after all and having a night owl on the same plane wasn't exactly ideal. But there, in that prison, it was the thing he wanted the most.

Just signs of her.

And now he had just that. In abundance. And he was making damn sure he enjoyed every last bit of it.

"You want me to be pissed about you talking?"

"Yes! No!," she rolled her eyes "I don't know. You're just being...not you."

"And what is me?" He tried to get the words out in a joking, playful sounding way. But he couldn't help the hint of desperate curiosity that seeped into them.

He truly wanted to know. Cause he sure as hell didn't.

"Surly and grumpy and scowly," he sent her a doubtful look "And yes I know that isn't a word but it's you! We have this thing where I say something you think is annoying so you tell me you think it's annoying and we have a mini argument."

"You really liked it when we had arguments?" He wondered out loud. He had secretly loved them, getting to see the way her cheeks turned a light pink at the exertion when she used to yell at him, or the way her eyes lit up with determination when she countered something he said and tried to prove him wrong. But he never thought she had enjoyed them too.

"Sort of," she shrugged, looking down "And what do you mean when we had arguments? We had one just last week. Like the day before that space witch showed up."

He kicked himself for talking in the far past tense. Then he tried to remember the argument she was talking about.

The day before Lorelai was...he tried to think.

Oh. She was badgering him about starting training again after being shot. He had told her it wasn't just too soon but idiotic.

She had spat out a childish retort of him being the one who was idiotic and how he just didn't want to train her because he wanted a break from her.

He told her nothing could be further from the truth and had said some things in anger to her that he regretted. But everything he said had just been manifestations of his fear and worry and despair he had felt when she had been hurt. When she had been dying.

"You're right. And I'm still sorry about that. I only said those things cause I was worried and I hope you know that." He told her, giving her a quick glance then putting his eyes back on the road.

"I do. And I'm sorry too."

He nodded.

"But ever since I woke up everyone has been so different. I wondered if it was something to do with my head injury or whatever but I'm guessing that a lot went down in the two days I don't remember, huh?"

He sighed "You could say that."

She nodded slowly "I guess I was just worried you weren't you anymore. That something so major had happened that everyone had changed but I couldn't even remember what. And you've hardly said anything you-ish so I wanted to test you to see if you were really that different that you wouldn't even complain about my singing."

"I'm still me," he reassured her "Everyone is. Just with the fall of Shield we've had to reevaluate what we think is important, that's all."

"So when you told me I was your best friend..." she let the sentence hang, a teasing grin on her lips.

He huffed out a laugh "Yeah. We've all had some close calls and I didn't want anything to happen, to either of us, without you knowing how much I-" he stopped himself from saying something she wasn't ready for "How much I need you as my friend." He finished instead.

"I need you too," she quickly added "As my friend. But part of that friend thing is you being yourself. So if you ever feel the need to tell me to stop singing or saying stupid shit please just tell me," She practically begged, wanting the banter they shared back "You being tolerant of my annoying habits is super weird."

"I will. I promise," he frowned, knowing he was setting major warning bells off with his attitude so he decided to put her mind at ease regarding his odd, as she put it 'tolerant', behaviour.

"I like them," he spoke after a few minutes of pondering.

"Hmm?" She asked, looking out the window.

"I like your annoying habits." He felt her stare at the side of his head but he didn't dare look at her.

"I-thank you." She felt her cheeks heat and didn't know what to say to that comment.

"I mean," he tried to get the words out "After you were shot and you were lying in that hyperbaric chamber being rushed into hospital," he gripped the steering wheel hard, his knuckles turning white "I honestly thought I would never get to see you again," he spoke of the near death experience but was also talking about his time away from her after Hydra was revealed "Never get to see you roll your eyes at me, smile at me, hear you typing or singing or going off about something that annoys you," he took a deep breath that seemed to rattle his chest "But you came back. And now that I can see you do all of those things each time I do they just seem so," he shook his head "Important. And fragile, like something that wasn't really meant for me. Like they can be shattered at the slightest wrong move."

She watched his jaw tense as he talked, the stress clear in his movements.

"So yeah. I like your 'annoying' habits."

Tucking her hair behind her ear she cleared her throat "I'm sorry."

"Don't apologise," he chuckled, looking at her in confusion "You have nothing to apologise for."

"Yes, I do. If I hadn't been stupid enough to go in there alone in the first place then-"

"You weren't stupid. You were brave. I can't tell you how many times I wished you had waited for back up but the fact is you were selfless and thinking of the greater good of the mission." He told her, adamant about what he was saying.

She tried to think of how she would have felt if Ward or Simmons or any other member of the team had done what she'd done and ended up getting shot.

She would have been devastated. And she felt such guilt at putting them through it that it was sometimes hard to bear.

"Stupid and brave can overlap sometimes. And I really am sorry," he went to interrupt her but she stopped him "For making everyone worry and especially for putting your lives in danger for going to get the serum for me."

"We would all do that again in a heartbeat Skye."

She felt the overwhelming love she had for her team resurface and smiled "I know. I would do the same for you guys too."

"We know." He echoed, though he knew this was still the old Skye talking. He had to be vigilant in reminding himself of that fact.

Feeling sufficiently guilty for attacking Ward for being nice of all things, she tried to move on to another topic.

"How far till we get to the meeting spot?"

He checked the GPS which had the coordinates Fitz had sent.

"About an hour. But it could be longer with the winding roads."

Something just occurred to her then "I don't have clothes for the Arctic," she told him looking down at her clothes, alarmed.

He took a glance at her clothes. Not because he had forgotten what she was wearing but it was a good excuse to look at her again.

Creep, he admonished himself.

"It'll be fine, the team will probably be bringing some, if not we'll get some on the way." He wasn't sure if she had some already at the base she had been staying at or not but figured there likely would be some cold weather gear somewhere.

"Ok. Cause I'm not getting frost bite for anyone."

————

They pulled into the agreed meeting place an hour and fifteen minutes later.

Skye opened the door and hopped down out of the car, looking around the open field area.

"This is it right?" She asked over her shoulder, squinting in the sunlight.

Ward checked the coordinates on the phone again and nodded "Yeah. They should be here."

A loud noise sounded out from across the field and Wards instincts kicked in, pushing Skye behind him, grabbing the icer from his holster and aiming it in the direction of the noise.

One second he was staring at nothing, waiting for the source of the noise to reveal itself, then the next he was looking at the bus, finally de-cloaked.

The cargo hold doors came down and Skye could see May and Coulson standing on the edge.

Ward slowly lowered the icer but didn't miss the loaded look that the older agents shared with each other after seeing him standing in front of Skye.

Skye walked out from behind Ward and patted his shoulder twice "I'm so taking a shower first," she ran in front of him to greet May and Coulson with an account of their time in the motel.

"Hey guys," she smiled "Not to be rude or anything but I'll catch up after the shower cause honestly I feel like I caught a disease from that place."

"I understand," Coulson smiled back "But be quick. Mission briefing in twenty minutes."

"I'll be done in ten." She promised, running quickly up the stairs of the bus.

"Any problems?" Coulson asked Ward.

"None. We haven't ran into any hostiles."

"I meant more of the memory kind of problems."

"Still no problems there," thank God, he added to himself "But," he hesitated not knowing whether to share this piece of information or not.

"But?" Coulson prompted.

"She had a dream that I was an octopus." He felt so stupid saying the words out loud.

He felt even more stupid at the looks the agents gave him.

"Right. An octopus. That's..." he could see Coulson struggling to make sense of the statement "Why is that relevant?" Coulson asked, confusion emanating from him.

"Because I think her subconscious is trying to tell her that I was Hydra. And if that is happening then it means she'll probably remember everything soon."

"Good. The sooner she remembers, the sooner you're gone." May snapped, allowing him a rare glimpse into her anger. The usually stoic Agent tried to keep a lid on her emotions at all times and the fact that she had just let loose in front of him let him know that she felt just as betrayed as the rest of the team at his actions.

She gave him one last glare then disappeared onto the plane.

Coulson gave him a look that seemed as though he was battling between pity or reiterating Mays comment. Instead he just turned around and jerked his head to gesture for Ward to come with him.

He steeled himself for what was to come and followed them through the bus.

An: Ok, so bit of a filler chapter to set things up for what's next but we're getting there! And I just wanted to thank Mtabby2260 for helping me out with Fitz' head injuries and how to write about how much it affected him in the show. And for being so patient with me being terrible with technology :)