Her vision blurred 'till all she saw was light, and Maggie knew she was slipping away. She couldn't feel OA's touch anymore, and she couldn't taste the blood in her mouth. All those small fires within her were burning out, her heart eventually falling still. Even her own mind grew silent, and in the absence of her heartbeats, all she could hear was the faint begs of her partner.

As she toed the lines of purgatory, OA's voice stayed with her. You're family. I love you. He was there, pulling at her. C'mon, stay.

His pleas stayed even when she couldn't sense his presence anymore. She moved at incomprehensible speeds through New York City as jolts of electricity forced her back to life. We got a pulse. Keep her steady. None of the voices belonged to OA, but she trusted them nevertheless: He wouldn't let her go if she couldn't. Hang in there, agent.

Her surroundings slowed down, but the symphony of pain and noise intensified, pulling her apart and stitching her back together again. Everything to keep her alive.

She needs another bag of O-neg.

There is an Agent Castille who wants a word, dr. Reynolds.

Time of death, 11:13.

Her stitches are healing nicely.

We are moving her as soon as she is stable enough to be airlifted, ma'am.

Change her name to Margaret Bishop in your documents.

Then, in what felt like an eternity and a nanosecond all at once, Maggie's eyes shot open.

She laid veiled in golden rays of sunlight, feeling a lot warmer than she had just a moment ago. This was no forgotten alley or overrun hospital. Instead, she laid in a bed shoved up against a window, allowing a view of an undisturbed forest. There wasn't a single building in sight.

Odd view for a hospital , she thought. It reminded her of a fancy care facility she had visited as a rookie. Her insurance was good, but not that good.

That was the first strike signaling that something was off.

Strike two was the silence. No sirens, no old ventilators shifting air through the building, no screaming toddlers. Had it not been for the beats of her own heart, confirmed by the beeps of the monitor next to her, she would've feared for her hearing. But no, her ears were fine, even picking up on faint bird songs outside.

She shifted her head, immediately regretting it. Throb, throb, throb. The beat of her heart drilled into her nose, pain radiating to her temples. She let out a silenced moan as she turned into her pillow and sought refuge in the softness.

At least there was pain, which meant she was actually alive and not in some afterlife. If nothing else, she was grateful for that. She was also happy with the lack of fluorescent lights penetrating her eyelids and digging itself into her skull.

Come to think of it, it was weird that there weren't any of those god-awful lights. Hospitals usually had them. So, why were there no lights? That qualified for strike three.

Curiosity persevered, and she opened her eyes again, blinking slowly as she surveyed the room. Rosy wallpapers that hadn't been trendy in a century decorated the walls, contrasting starkly to the monitor she was hooked up to. Aside from that machine, the drawer next to it, and the bed she laid in, the room was barren. No clock, no calendar. Not even a chair or a trash can, or anything else that would indicate she'd had visitors.

Maggie propped herself up into a sitting position, double-checking her surroundings to make sure she hadn't missed anything. The only thing new was the accelerated beeping of the monitor, matching her growing unease.

She was alone in this strange place, wherever she was. That should scare her, but instead, she felt sad. Where were her friends? OA? What was keeping them away?

As if this place was run by psychics, the door opened just then, revealing a beaming, doe-faced redhead.

"You're awake!" Her voice was as sweet as she looked. "That's wonderful."

The stranger stepped close enough for Maggie to make out the "Dr. Reynolds, Emergency Medicine" on her coat. She also noticed the watch on her wrist, which had an alert telling her "M. Bishop's heart rate spiked at 14:27". Assuming that Bishop was Maggie, the mystery of her doctor's psychic abilities had been solved.

"Wh-" Maggie's breath caught in her throat and she coughed violently, sending a flame down her chest. Damn.

She felt a soft touch on her good shoulder, and lifted her gaze to see that Reynolds was offering her a bottle of water. "Only small sips, okay?"

Even if she had tried to down the whole thing, Reynolds kept a firm grip on the bottle, keeping her from overexerting herself.

"I know you have a lot of questions, so let's start with an easy one." She was still smiling. "I'm Doctor Reynolds, but you can call me Jemma," she pulled away the bottle. "Do you remember what happened?"

Maggie replied with a nod, much to her nose's dismay.

"That's good." Jemma placed the bottle back on the drawer, near enough for Maggie to reach it if she so desired. "Before anything else, is it okay if I check your eyes?"

"Mhm," she croaked. No cough.

"Good," she fished a flashlight out of her pocket. "Follow the light, okay?"

That didn't help her headache, but Jemma seemed content.

"Your pupils are equally reactive. That's a good thing," she said. "You're doing remarkably well for everything you've been through."

She didn't feel remarkably well, but she just gave a short nod, unsure how else to answer.

"You've been out a little over 50 hours," she continued, answering another unasked query. "How's the pain?"

"Manageable," she lied, and stifled a cough. "Where am I?"

"You're at a safe house outside of New York." She nodded toward the trees outside, as if she needed to provide evidence. "Your boss decided to move you here as soon as you were stable enough."

That explained the three strikes. "I, uhm…" she touched the bridge of her nose, trying to soothe the throbbing . "I need my partner."

The doctor shifted her stance. "He's not here right now. He-" She cleared her throat. "I will call Agent Valentine and let him know you're awake. He just left ten minutes ago."

Maggie dropped her hand. Jemma was hiding something. "Is he alright?" Had Dupont acted upon her threat? Had he been hurt?

"Agent Zidan is unharmed," she reassured her, "having visitors here is just complicated."

"Complicated?" Did he not want to see her, was that it? Did he blame her for not telling him?

"I think Agent Valentine will be able to explain it better than me," she said, "I will go call him, okay? He will be happy to hear you're awake."

She nodded, feeling a glimpse of relief. Jubal cared. It shouldn't surprise her, he had been in her life for longer than anyone on her team, and had looked out for her after Jason. She hadn't been completely abandoned. That was something.

Jubal arrived shortly after. God, it felt great seeing someone familiar. At least now she knew this wasn't some elaborate abduction orchestrated by powerful enemies. She could trust Jubal. He was safe.

"Hi," he said, smiling from the doorway. "It's really good to see you awake."

"Hi, Jubal," she would smile back if it didn't hurt. Good to see you too, she thought.

He stepped into the room. "How are you feeling?"

"Alright," she lied. However, she did feel better now that he was here. "A little confused," about a lot of things.

"Yeah, that's understandable." He nodded, gesturing his hands in Jubal fashion as he spoke. Seeing him act normally was oddly comforting, yet another reminder that she was in safe hands with Jemma. "You have been through a lot. It'll take your brain some time to catch up." He gulped. "It was pretty touch-and-go there for a while, but I knew you'd pull through."

Pain me damned, she smiled. "Jemma said this is a safe house," she said, trying to redirect the conversation onto getting answers.

"Yes," he scratched the back of his head. "It seemed safer than keeping you at a hospital."

So, they hadn't gotten Dupont yet. "Why?"

He stayed silent for a beat too long. "Until the FBI have closed their investigation, you need to stay hidden."

Maggie frowned. "Because… ?"

His gaze dropped to his hands, focused on the tie he was twiddling with. "As far as the world knows, you were declared dead two days ago."

"What?" Her galloping heart begged to differ.

So, he told her everything. He told her about how Isobel had used her authority to have Maggie Bell pronounced dead shortly after arriving at the hospital, before anyone even knew whether she would survive emergency surgery.

He told her about her intentions. "She thinks you'll be safer in hiding until the investigation is closed," he explained.

That she didn't believe, because Dupont had no reason to target her again. She was out to silence her, not to seek vengeance.

In reality, Isobel was blinded by her pursuit of justice. Uncovering the full extent of the corruption within the bureau took priority over most of everything else. If Maggie was alive, Dupont had every reason to disappear before anyone found out who she worked with.

Though he didn't say as much, Maggie suspected Jubal was of the same opinion.

"Obviously, your family knows." That was some good news, at least. Explaining this to them was the last thing she wanted. "As do Isobel and I, plus some of the higher-ups."

He didn't say any more names after that.

"And OA?" And Scola, and Tiff?

Jubal dropped his gaze, confirming her fears.

Something shattered in her chest then, causing her to clench a fistful of the duvet. "He doesn't know," she whispered, more to herself than to him. How could they not tell him? "No, no, no. Jubal, you have to tell him."

"It is not my call, Maggie."

To hell with that. "He deserves to know."

"I can't interfere with the investigation," he said. "If OA acts differently, Dupont will know something is up."

"He can pretend."

"She is trained in observing emotions, Maggie." He sighed. "OA won't be able to fake it."

She scoffed. He'd had a successful undercover career. This shouldn't be different. "He's a great agent, Jubal."

"I agree." He finally looked up to meet her eyes. "But he can't pretend when it comes to you," he added, voice quieter.

It was his way of saying: 'He's too reactionary, too caring'. OA wore his heart on his sleeves, which was something she loved about him. Despite everything he had been through — everyone he had lost — OA kept his heart open, never letting hope and love burn out entirely. It radiated off of him, and she wouldn't argue Jubal on that.

His warmth had been one of the first things she'd noticed about him. It was such a stark contrast to how she'd felt after Jason, completely barricaded. In those first months, she'd kept her distance, silently wondering how OA managed to be so open and caring. Learning about his past had made her admire him even more. It was a contrast to her: She would rather spend a lifetime in the cold than risk losing warmth again.

Yet, OA had found his way into her innermost wall. A guiding light that kept her from straying into frigidness. And she had become the same to him.

She wondered if he regretted that now, and if he would once he found out the truth. Would he become the same person she had been after Jason? Had she ruined his eagerness to connect? Would he ever trust her again? Would he even want to be her partner?

"Not knowing is for both his and your safety," Jubal said, pulling her back to the present.

And the investigation, she added mentally, filling in the words he didn't want to say.

"If he knew, Dupont would've realized something was off when she visited him." He was rambling now, trying to exonerate himself.

Maggie inhaled sharply. "She visited him?"

"She, uhm, visited him under the guise of "checking in" on her patient."

"Her patient?"

"She's been assigned as his therapist."

This whole scenario felt like some twisted game. "What?" She said, voice raised. "He's not some...pawn." Her chest was burning. "You can't do this to him." Finding out the truth would destroy him.

"I know it's unfair, Maggie. It's not my decision," that was the closest he'd come to criticising Isobel's way. "I'm sorry."

He's not budging, she realized. She was completely powerless. What kind of partner was she, when she couldn't protect OA? She closed her eyes, taking a controlled breath. Jubal didn't get to see her cry.

"Get out," venom dripped from her voice, camouflaging her sadness. " Get out ."

Without saying a word, she heard his footsteps. Seconds later, the door closed. When she opened her eyes again, she was alone.

Finally, she cried.