Drabble 39: Crutch

A/N: Requested by parisindy. I'll try to update for Valentine's Day, as a present for you guys. Thanks for all your support, and keep it up! You have no idea how much your reviews and comments mean to me. Thanks again, and enjoy the drabble!

Fitz held up the box with difficulty. It was heavier than he'd expected, but he couldn't put it back on the shelf; it was too heavy to lift that high. "A little help?" he called.

"I'm coming!" Jemma said. "I just need to find a place to set this box down first."

"Anywhere!" he groaned. Common sense told him to just set the box down, but his hold on it was precarious; he felt that if he started to set it down, he would go down with it.

Then she was there, holding the other half of the box and allowing him to readjust his hold. "Thanks." He said as he took it from her. He walked over to the mostly filled table and laid the box down. "I don't know why we have to do this." He complained.

"Yes you do." She said as she went back to the box she had been moving. "The older agents were called to a meeting, and we're the only ones left."

"I bet they would have made us do it anyway, the buggers." He muttered as he helped her move her box.

She laughed. "You're probably right, but either way we need to organize this room." They placed her box on the table and stopped to inspect the room. It was used for storage mainly, with boxes upon boxes of old reports and books. Their friends had told them that today was a cleaning day, and then immediately been called to an urgent meeting Fitz and Simmons didn't have the clearance to hear about. Fitz was pretty sure they had set the whole thing up, but Jemma insisted on working hard anyway.

"We'll never earn their respect if it looks like we don't do hard work." She had said.

So they moved all the boxes to the center of the room, cleaning off both them and the shelves. It was a long morning, but not too tedious. They talked the whole time. Then came the time to put the boxes back in their places.

Fitz grabbed a ladder and walked up to the top shelf, inspecting it. "Why didn't they use this shelf before?" he asked.

Jemma looked up at him. "Maybe they wanted everything where they could easily reach it?"

"Yeah, but it would look so much nicer." He said. Then he started climbing down. "I'm putting some boxes up there."

"Just be careful, alright?" she said. "Don't try to take any of the heavy ones up there."

He smiled. "It's really not that high, Jemma, but fine."

He took the first box up and placed it, and then stood at the top of the ladder and looked down at her, grinning. "See? Perfectly safe."

"I suppose." She said.

"Bring me another light box."

She retrieved one and handed it to him, and they worked their way down the top shelf. Of course it was the last box that gave them trouble. Jemma handed it to him and he started walking up with it, and then suddenly the door opened; loudly.

It startled both of them, but Fitz, holding the box while balancing on the ladder, jumped. He lost his footing and fell, landing hard on his ankle, the box beside him.

"Fitz!" Jemma cried.

He shook his head and sat up, grimacing, and then gasped as he tried to stand. "Not good." He said, teeth clenched in pain.

The older agents walked in and saw what was going on, and immediately helped Fitz stand, supporting him to keep his weight off of his foot. "It's nothing too serious." He said to them. "It just hurts, that's all."

"Fitz, I think you've broken your ankle." Simmons said as she inspected his elevated foot.

"We'll get you bandaged up." One of their friends said. "You'll probably have crutches for a few days."

It turned out that he had broken his ankle; it was wrapped up by the nurse and he was ordered to use crutches for at least four weeks.

"It's really not a bad break." The nurse told him. "It's just slightly more than a sprain, but enough that I want you on crutches for longer than the standard period."

"Thanks." He said, staring at the metal crutches that had been set out for him.

"This should teach you not to fall on your ankle." She said. "It doesn't take much for an ankle injury; not even that great a height."

"It won't happen again." He said. Then he hopped the two steps to the crutches and set them under his arms. Jemma was the only one who had stayed with him while the nurse fixed him up, and he was glad of it. It was embarrassing enough to have been hurt in front of the older agents; if they had heard him admonished by the nurse he could have never lived it down.

Jemma must have known what he was thinking as they walked down the hallway, because she said, "It was partly their fault, you know. If they hadn't been so loud we wouldn't have been startled."

"It's amazing how well you know me." He said, propelling himself forward with the crutches. It was kind of fun, for a little while. "And yes, I know it was partly my fault too, for insisting on using the top shelf."

She smiled at him kindly. "It does look nicer."

So they went back to his room, and Jemma made sure he could handle himself well enough to be left alone. The routine was basically the same for the next week: since they had most of their training together, Simmons walked with Fitz to their designated places, and helped encourage him when he needed it. He was much slower with crutches than he was just walking.

About a week after he broke his ankle they were walking outside the Academy, to the greenhouse, when Fitz stumbled with his crutches on the rocky path.

"Careful." Jemma said, watching him.

He nodded but didn't answer, both embarrassed and annoyed. He'd thought crutches were cool at first, but they hurt after constant use. So he tried to move quickly with them, so he could set them aside as soon as possible.

Unfortunately, moving faster on the rocky path wasn't the smartest choice. He had barely touched the crutches to the ground before he started pushing himself forward, and one crutch twisted on a rock and fell out of his grip. He started to fall forward, his momentum keeping him going, and then Jemma moved in and saved him.

He took a second just to breathe. He would have fallen in the dirt if she hadn't interceded. She placed his arm over her shoulder and stood up fully, supporting him to stand.

"I warned you to be careful." She said with a light laugh.

A strand of hair had come un-tucked from behind her ear, and he noticed it before he spoke. "I didn't think I really needed the stupid crutches, and tried to go too fast."

"You don't need the crutches all the time, Fitz. I'm here."

Her words rang with truth, resounding in him to his core. She was his crutch. Even when he wasn't sick or hurt, she was by his side almost every minute of the day, almost every day of the year. She helped him even when she didn't know it, even when she didn't mean to. She helped him with science, and relating to people.

She helped him to live.

Not merely survive, but really enjoy himself. He was sure he would have had a fine time at the Academy either way, but she had shown him how great it was to have someone to be friends with. To be connected with.

She was as much a part of him as his hand, or ankle. He needed her.

He came back to himself from his thoughts and smiled at her. "I know you are." He was aware of how close their faces were, and could feel the faint reach of her breath as she looked at him.

They carefully leaned down and retrieved the fallen crutch, and Jemma helped him place it under his arm before slowly unwrapping it from around her shoulders. As he looked at her he could tell that she knew how connected they were. He supposed that he had known it too, but this little trip had really shown him.

He was her crutch, and she was his.