Hello! Hope everyone had a nice holiday! As you can see, I've decided to continue this story after receiving a flood of comments telling me to keep going. I'm sorry this chapter took even longer than usual, but I've been super busy with work, school, and the whole holiday season. Also, unfortunately, my dog had to be put down recently. Rest in peace soft boi.
Anyways, this is probably the most angsty chapter of the whole story, and the longest, but also one of the the best I think personally. So please keep your arms and legs inside the vehicle and get ready for more angst, emotions, and lots of whump, because this ride isn't over yet!
Happy 2019 everyone!
Hope you guys enjoy!
"There is no perfection, only beautiful versions of brokenness."
— Shannon L. Adler
Part V
It's amazing how silence in and of itself can be deafening.
Daisy has a thousand questions that she knows can't be answered until a later date and time. He sits with his back to the side of a shelf, his right shoulder adjacent to the wall, and his feet bracing against the corner that is a few feet in front of him. Daisy sits to his left in the middle of the aisle, cross-legged.
She knows she should go get help for Fitz in his current state, but can't bring herself to disturb the silence. After a minute with her eyes closed, she hears something.
Drip
At first, she figures he's still crying and keeps her eyes shut out of courtesy.
Drip
Drip
She looks up. Fitz' head is completely limp against his chest, unconscious. Blood drips from his nose onto the floor. He passed out.
Okay, now would be the time to get help for sure.
She scoots closer to him and wraps her right arm around his shoulders. She's about to tilt his head back to get a better look at his face but remembers you're supposed to keep it forward with a nosebleed. She berates herself for not checking him over earlier, as she had not witnessed the full extent of the fight. She unbuttons the bottom of his shirt to inspect the damage, just as Mack did a few days before.
Deep shoe shaped bruises mottle his stomach, layered over the yellow bruises from before.
He just can't catch a break, can he?
First he gets shot, then gets banged up in the beacon explosion, then Ruby.
His stapled incision looks irritated but not bleeding, so that's something. She wonders how she could get help without leaving him, then remembers her earpiece is still in.
Oh, thank God...
She taps the button on the small plastic device.
"This is Daisy Johnson, does anybody read me?"
"This is Davis. Copy." Daisy is filled with relief at the quick response, and that it's someone she moderately knows.
"Davis, hey. I need you to find Simmons and tell her to go to the main storage room on the 12th floor, with a med-kit ASAP."
"Got it. On my way now."
She turns her attention back to Fitz. She notices how cold he actually is, and thin. He feels so fragile and inanimate. She brings her left arm across his chest to join with the other in a sideways hug, to try and heat him up a little. Has he really not been eating? or sleeping for that matter?
She recalls when she had asked him on the day he... snapped.
"We have zero records of his actual research?" Fitz asked her with dread.
"Nothing." She replied.
Fitz took a breath before slamming his fist onto the computer desk.
"Fitz! Oh my—
"How is that possible?" He asked astonished, hands fisted in his hair.
"Okay, you don't need to beat yourself, or the computer up over this." She can see how stricken and worn out he is. "Are you okay? Have you even slept?" His face turns frustrated.
"During what possible period of time, Daisy?"
"Okay, Fitz, you don't need to carry the weight of the world." He leaned over, hands on his hips, before rubbing his face with his hand. "We are all here. I mean, even Yo-Yo wants me to set up a security feed in the med bay so she can watch out for anomalies." She consoled.
"What am I missing..." He asked heavily.
Daisy brings herself from reminiscing as a suppressed memory makes itself known. One from the diner.
She plowed through her scrambled eggs and a triple stack of pancakes at breakneck speeds, relishing the hot meal after not eating for a day and a half. She looked down to each end of the counter to see that everyone else's plates seemed to be bustling in much the same way... except a lonely plate full of spaghetti to her far left. The pasta was being pushed around lazily. The fork picked up a strand of noodles, it's holder staring at the food with obvious disinterest.
"You're not eating." Jemma's voice denoted beside her. Fitz snapped up and dropped his fork. Having been lost in thought, he hadn't realized she was paying any attention to him. Daisy saw him instantly put up a mask of normalcy.
"Yeah, no— not really hungry." He rubbed Jemma's back endearingly before turning back to his food with a haunted look on his face.
Coulson started to speak, diverting everyone's attention, but Daisy glanced at Fitz once more from the corner of her eyes, mind still lingering on the altercation that just occurred.
"This is my fault." She heard him say to Jemma softly before everything cut out.
The memory had been shoved to the back of her mind after they were abducted. He had been arrested just after. What did he do while in prison? What was it like in there? The only reason she found out about his incarceration was through overhearing a conversation between Jemma and Coulson. She knows that prison changes people, she just wonders how much. She doesn't even know how long he was there for. What all had he done to become the marauder that he was?
Even being through all that, he was still kind and caring.
"Hey, how's your head?" He asked her, crouched down, touching the side of her head gently as he inspected the gash by her hairline.
"I'll tell you when the ringing stops." She responded wittily as he tied something around her hand. "By the way, 'fight to the death'? Really?"
"Yeah, well, I had to make a splashy entrance."
"Yeah, well, you could've jumped in the octagon yourself, then."
"Well, it wouldn't be fair, I do push-ups now. Double digits."
"That's impressive."
She smiles at his sarcasm. She knows there was an ounce of truth to it though. When they had him locked up— she now cringes at the fact he was imprisoned again— she would watch him on the security cameras.
He read for a while, the couple books that Simmons and May snuck in. Sometimes he would mutter to himself or pull at his hair. Other times he would just sit in a dull silence, banging his head against the wall every so often, but after long, he would grow stir-crazy and paced around his cell like a caged lion.
His pacing annoyed her. The incessant wandering in circles threatening her patience. She almost put the security feed away before she spied him look at the window into the hall to check if anyone was there, then apprehensively looked at the camera in the corner of the room. His lips moved imperceptibly and his brow furrowed, like he was debating something with himself. Standing up straighter, it seemed he had come to a conclusion. He arched his neck to look at the stack of books by his bare mattress.
The assemblage of hardcovers and paperbacks are gathered up into his arms, and taken to the other side of the metal table, before he placed them into two neat stacks adjacent to each other. He dropped down to the floor and, supporting his toes on the books, started doing push-ups... push-ups?
'What the actual... Since when did Fitz start working out?' Daisy wondered dismayed.
She had never seen him as physically strong before and figured he was joking about the push-ups before, but there's no way he could do that so quickly and intense without having trained prior. He went on for quite some time, and she eventually forced herself to stop watching his ministrations that bled frustration.
She wonders now if that's what he would do when he was locked up before. She unconsciously squeezes the engineer tighter as all the pieces of his puzzle come together in her head. She never understood him this much before. Tears threaten her eyes as she comes to the realization of how she's been treating him, and how her pointed words pierced the fickle walls of self worth that he's worked so hard to build.
How could I do that to someone and not even realize?
Footsteps sound near the doorway, and she instinctively hugged the unconscious agent tighter.
"Daisy?"
oOo
Jemma was confused to say the least, when she received Davis' message. What could've happened to Daisy that she needed medical, and wasn't able to come on her own? Unless... No. It can't be. Daisy's been avoiding him like the plague since both incidents occurred.
"Did she tell you what happened?" She inquires from Davis while bustling around the medical room to gather supplies in a large, cloth medical bag.
"No. She just gave me the location, and told me to send you and medical supplies." The blonde agent replies, his head turning back and forth watching her grab items hastily from around the room. "Do you want me to come with your? She sounded pretty serious."
She ponders his offer, before deciding that, whatever had happened, she would probably want some privacy.
"No, I've got it. You and the other agents seem busy with every going on."
"Alright, well, call me if you need anything. I mean it." Davis insists genuinely as she shoves a large stack of gauze into the bag.
"I will." Jemma acknowledges and lastly picks out a few bottles of liquid medications that she might need. She slings the strap of the duffel over her shoulder and sets off to the location Daisy mentioned. The halls are relatively empty since everyone is preparing for the Gravitonium launch, so the young doctor is easily able to traverse the corridors rather quickly.
Hundreds of possible scenarios make their way through her mind as she hurries to the storage room. She steps into the elevator and presses the button for the 12th level, before rapidly jamming the "close door" button impatiently.
Not that it ever really makes the doors close faster, but it makes her feel like she's doing something at least. The elevator seems to be taking forever to reach it's destination, making more time for irrational anxieties to pop in her head. She becomes jittery and starts bouncing her leg in an attempt to assuage her restlessness. Finally after an eternity the lift comes to a stop. She urges forward, squeezing through the barely parted doors. Thankfully a lot of the levels have the same layout, so she is able to navigate relatively easy.
She finally reaches what she believes is the storage room Daisy told her to go to. The doors were already opened which confirms her navigations once more. She peers inside and enters the large room carefully. Everything looks fine from the doorway. The large shelves are filled with an assortment of different SHIELD tech, weapons, and supplies. As she moves towards the center of the room she sees it. Crimson streaks and droplets on the concrete, and a alarming red smear on the wall where a head probably was.
What could've happened that Daisy couldn't handle with her powers back?
"Daisy?" She calls out apprehensively. A scuffling is heard and Daisy acknowledges her from behind a shelf.
"Oh— finally you're here! Great— that's great." She hears the younger agent mumble quickly, sounding greatly relieved. "We're over here."
...We?
She follows Daisy's voice around an aisle of shelves to a corner of the room. She is confused as to who the other person is... but then she see's him.
Daisy has her arms wrapped around Fitz comfortingly. The first glance garners shock from the doctor. Her shock turns to fear as she realizes that he's covered in blood once again.
"Fitz? What— Daisy: what happened?" Her tone left no room for delay.
"I was just passing by, when I heard someone talking about how SHIELD was scum or something. I didn't recognize the voice at first but then I heard— it sounded like someone was being beaten, then there was a scream."
Jemma's stomach clenches with equal amounts of horror, confusion, and anticipation. She busies herself by crouching down to look him over as Daisy continues explaining.
"When I moved in closer I uh... I saw..." The words have trouble forming on Daisy's tongue. Almost as if saying it aloud will make it real. "I saw his father. He was on top of Fitz choking him." She spills and Jemma freezes, focusing her attention back on Daisy.
"What... how?"
"That's what I'm getting to— When I quaked him off of Fitz, he poofed against the wall. It was one of those fear dimension things."
That makes a little bit more sense. They should've scanned the base for any lingering anomalies just in case. So they could've prevented this exact kind of thing from happening.
He was already injured to begin with, and now this? The whole scenario sounded horrific. She knows how cruel Alistair was— in this world and the other— but this sounds brutal... and he looks it. Whatever else happened after Daisy saved him must've been enough for her to forgive him at least a little, considering she had been embracing him so protectively.
The doctor turns back to the limp form of her husband. His pulse is thready but there. She cups her hands on his stubbled, blood-spattered cheeks, and lifts his head up. That alone is usually enough to wake him normally, so she knows something must be seriously wrong. She calls his name and taps his face a few times to no avail.
Her fingers trail around the back of his head and they're instantly met with the sticky warmth of blood. His skull seems to still be bleeding sluggishly, from multiple lesions.
God... She was right about the wall. And the floor it seems.
She feels around to count the lumps, but her ministrations seem to have caused enough agitation to rouse him. His lips un-stick from being glued together with dried blood, and he lets out a weak moan.
"Fitz?"
He must not have noticed her presence, because her voice startles him causing him to jump and bump his head on the shelf. He suppresses a low whine.
Not again.
He sees her outstretched hand and curls back into a ball covering himself, expecting another beating.
"Please—" He tries to speak, but it only comes out a whisper.
Jemma is trying very hard not to burst into tears at this exact moment.
"Fitz... you're safe. It's me and Daisy. We need to lay you down." He unfurls a bit and looks looks over to her with half-lidded eyes. His mouth opens and closes like a fish as if he's trying to say something, but no words come out. He nods, then eyes drift back to the wall in front of him.
"No no, Fitz. You need to lay down." Simmons gestures for Daisy to help her. Jemma reaches down to get a grip on Fitz's hand but sees the appendage is bruised and swollen, with two fingers sticking at odd angles. The bruise on the hand looking suspiciously like a shoe print. Her nose crinkles at the brutality thought.
That's probably what caused the scream.
She avoids the hand and gets a grip further down. They each grab an arm and pull him as gently as they can. He groans, not having the strength to suppress his cries of pain. When they finally get him laying on his back, he makes little sounds of pain with every breath, his body trembles with effort.
"J-jem... I can't... you're m-more than that t-to me... you— you need to take it... C-Can't— can't b-breathe." Jemma's heart breaks as she's taken back to the escape pod at the bottom of the Atlantic. He's starting to hyperventilate because of the pain in his ribs. The return of his stuttering concerns her.
"Fitz— breathe! I'm right here. We're not at the bottom of the ocean."
Daisy looks over to her for some kind of consolation, but she returns an equally stumped expression. He feebly fights off her hands as if they're a threat. Unfortunately Simmons doesn't think she can snap him out of it this time. As if it worked that well the first time anyways...
"Can you hold him down?" She asks Daisy, having run out of options.
Daisy is struck with a sick sense of irony. Not that long ago she was pinned down, at his mercy. And now... he's writhing underneath her grip, helpless and stuck in whatever memories are enveloping his senses. A drop of water hits his face. It takes her a moment to realize it came from her own eyes. She rolls her eyes at herself. Sniffing, she attempts to rein in her emotions. Now is not the time to be freaking out.
Jemma on the other hand has a scrutinizing glare, like she's piecing something together that wasn't quite right.
Every time her fingertips graze his skin he winces or sucks in a sharp breath of air. He shouldn't be in this much pain with the medication in his system. Unless...
It all makes perfect sense now. He hasn't been taking it.
No wonder he's been so exhausted. Why can't he stop punishing himself? Being in this much pain and not letting the brain rest could cause a number of problems, not to mention the head trauma...
To her horror, she was right.
Almost in slow motion, his body goes rigid, muscles tightening, and eyes rolling back. Then all at once he suddenly starts convulsing. His body jerking in Daisy's hold, back arching off the floor. Jemma swears.
"Put him on his side, quickly!" Jemma directs, and Daisy does as she's told. They roll him to his side and watch as red tinted foam slides out of his mouth. He curls into himself uncontrollably as the convulsions continue. Simmons mentally times the seizure.
00:12
Her heart pounds furiously.
00:17
Daisy glances with concern. "Shouldn't we put something in his mouth?"
"No, that could injure his his teeth or jaw." Jemma recites on autopilot.
00:24
He makes little involuntary grunts of exertion whenever there's a particularly violent jerk.
00:31
Every second feels like an eternity.
00:44
00:45
00:46
00:4—
The shaking slows, then stops. Jemma breathes a heavy sigh of relief. She needs to get him to the medical room once again. She considers Davis' offer but decides to enlist someone Fitz is more comfortable with.
"I need you to get Mack." She deadpans blankly. Daisy nods jerkily and scrambles up and out of the room, still reeling from everything that happened.
Simmons takes this moment of solace to try and process while she helps Fitz. She opens the medical bag and pulls out gauze, using it to wipe away the residual trail of blood and foam on his cheek. She presses the back of her hand to her mouth as a sob erupts.
She's so afraid. Afraid he won't ever be the same. Afraid this will happen again. Afraid something even worse will occur.
It's hard to believe that he used to be so innocent. Only four years ago, he was rambling about the perks of getting a pet monkey, and bickering with her about who the best Doctor was in Doctor Who.
Now it seems like the only times they talk its her questions of concern and his deflective answers.
He's been suffering this entire time and I hadn't pushed hard enough to figure it out the true extent.
oOo
"Mack!" Daisy yells across the room as she enters. Mack turns quickly, looking up from a tablet, alerted by the sudden raised voice.
"What's wrong?" He inquires, brow furrowed with confusion.
"It's Fitz again." She responds. Her eyes are puffy and red, telling him that she's been crying.
This can't be good.
"What happened?"
"I'll explain on the way, I just need you to come quickly!" He's startled by her urgency.
"Alright, alright, lets go."
She explains to him about the fear anomaly of Fitz' father, which makes Mack visibly pale. It seems Mack already had some inkling of Alistair's treatment of his son prior to this. Then tells him about everything that happened after. He frowns. Daisy enters the room once again with Mack in tow. She notices his unsettled expression at the sights he's presented with.
His eyes dart between the multiple spots of red coloring the predominantly gray and black room. They turn around the same shelf for what seems like the millionth time. His heart jerks at the sight in front of him. Fitz is even bloodier than the last time.
Shirt fully unbuttoned, inflamed stapled incision, and a new development: wicked shoe-shaped bruises.
Now that he's seeing Fitz' full torso, without the thick coating of blood, Mack notices sickeningly, how much weight he seems to have lost. He saw a small area before but this is on a whole other level.
No more is there the thin layer of softness that used to cover his body, his ribs poke out slightly under the layers of bruises. Sure he's gained more muscle than before, but it seems as if he's lost everything else that used to be in its place.
The left side of his face swollen and pale, but equally contrasted with the dark reds and purples of blood and bruises. A puddle of blood is gathered under his head and a second pool of crimsoned foam a few inches away. The cruel shadow of finger shaped bruises stand out viciously on his throat.
Mack can only imagine how scared the he must've been, facing his father— real or fake all the same— let alone what ensued soon after. With his head the way it was, the poor kid probably didn't even register that it wasn't his actual father. He most likely thought it was all in his head again.
Mack realizes he should've been keeping an eye on him better. His father was the real monster. Not Fitz. Alistair was the one who needed fixing, and Mack would've happily obliged with a helping fist to the face.
He knew Alistair was verbally abusive to his son, but he berates himself for not even thinking of the possibility that it was physical too. No wonder he's so screwed up.
I would be too after all that. He thinks.
He slowly crouches next to Fitz' broken form.
It was just a fear manifestation. He might not have been that bad in real life. He tries to deny, but then he remembers hearing Deke talk about the anomaly of his mom. She was exactly like the real thing.
His fears are unfortunately proven true by that small detail.
He needs no instruction from Jemma, who is trying desperately to stave her tears. He slides his arms under the legs and back of Fitz' body, cringing when his hand slips across a sticky patch of blood soaked in the back for Fitz' shirt. He hoists the younger man up with ease, once again. His head tips back, dangling lifelessly as Mack lifts him, so he gathers him and rests his upper body closer to his chest. Fitz unconsciously rests his head in the crook of Mack's neck.
It feels like he's going to the infirmary all the time, whether it be for Coulson, Elena, or Fitz. Unlike the last time, Mack is so thrown from everything that when he takes a step forward, he steps right into the slick patch of blood, nearly dropping Fitz. He catches his balance almost immediately, but jars the young man in the process.
To the surprise of Jemma, and Mack, Fitz actually wakes up. Not fully though. He tenses and scrunches his eyes shut.
"No—" He croaks trying to push away. Mack sits him back down gently so he doesn't fall.
Fitz' face bleaches even paler and leans over to the side, blood spewing from his mouth. Daisy steps back in shock. He retches and coughs horribly, holding his stomach with his hand in an effort to stop the pain in his ribs the heaving is causing, to no avail.
"No..." Simmons breathes.
"What is it?" Mack inquires.
"I think he's bleeding internally. We need to get him to the med bay. Now." Jemma says sternly.
If it's not one thing, it's another.
"Alright, up we go." Mack grabs him and pulls him back into his arms.
"N-no... I-I d-don't... please I can t-take it—" Fitz pleads at something invisible. Mack tries to ignore the saddening pleas that are painfully suggestive as he quickly follows Jemma and Daisy back through the halls.
He beats himself up for not being perfect. What kind of father breaks their kid like that?
They walk in silence, each lost in their own thoughts and worries. The only sounds that are heard are footsteps on concrete and Fitz' labored breathing. It's not the breathing that bothers them though. Its the occasional choking sound heard when blood builds up in his throat, and the dripping that follows when it rolls out of his mouth and onto the hard floor.
This is so much worse than she originally thought.
They walk into the medical room at a brisk pace and Mack lays the shivering young man on to the operating table. Simmons immediately slipped on some latex gloves.
"Daisy, get me the ultrasound cart." Jemma orders.
Daisy quickly rolls the cart over to the table and plugs it in. Jemma looks over at Fitz, who is half-conscious tossing his head, groaning. Mack goes to grasp Fitz' left hand but sees how crushed it is, and pulls back his hand as if he's been burnt. He moves to hold Fitz' other hand instead, between his larger ones.
Simmons grabs a bottle from the cart and squeezes the green gel on to Fitz's stomach. She grabs the wand and presses it to Fitz' abdomen, but can't get a clear picture because he keeps moving around.
"I need you to hold him down— I can't see anything, he's squirming too much," Jemma asks.
Mack apprehensively grabs Fitz' arms and pins them down to the table. Fitz fights as hard as he can, still delirious. Mack actually struggles to keep the younger man down. He doesn't remember Fitz being this strong. What had all happened to him since they were taken from the diner?
"Fitz, I need you to tell me—"
"N-No! Stop! I've— I've a-already t-told you everything! I don't know where they went I swear!" Fitz yells, panic emanating from him in his feverishly confused state. "Please! I—I-i'm s-s-sorry—"
His time in prison.
Jemma's heart breaks for him once again. God... What did Hale do to him?
"Hey, Turbo calm down! It's still Mack!" Fitz slows a little but still jerks weakly, trying to get away. Daisy comes over and grabs Fitz' feebly kicking legs, putting all her weight into pinning them down. Jemma presses the device to his stomach once again and glances at the monitor.
Splotches appear on the screen as she moves the device over the ridges of his abdomen.
"There! I think it might be his stomach or his liver. I can't tell until I open him up. I need to operate immediately." She says, as she runs and puts scrubs on. "Mack, you operated on Deke. You're going to help me."
They rush Daisy out of the room and leave her standing alone in the hallway.
oOo
Daisy's stomach has been roiling the whole time Fitz has been in surgery. She was perpetually nauseous, and anxious, and really just needed a hug. Although the person she really wanted to hug now, was the one currently under the knife.
She feels heavy and bogged down, like a server that's executing too many processes at once. Her processing systems are shutting down and they desperately need a reboot.
One thought does that exact thing.
Coulson and May don't even know what's happened in the last few hours. How had she not thought about that? She jumps to her feet, glad for the task now at hand to focus on.
The young Inhuman scours the halls for the two SHIELD veterans. Coulson will most likely be in the control center; May could be anywhere really. She decides to go for the safest bet first.
She keeps her eyes forward as she goes straight for the grated platform of the control area, that now has less than pleasant memories to accompany it. She can see the back of Coulson's jacket and is relieved to see that May is the other person here. Two birds with one stone.
May sees her first, and based off the fact that her expression goes from one of acknowledgement to worry, Daisy figures she probably looks as bad as she feels.
"Daisy... what wrong?" May asks sternly, prompting Coulson to turn around with concern.
Daisy's eyes instantly pool with unwanted tears.
"...Daisy?" Coulson adds when she doesn't respond.
"It's Fitz." Is all she has the strength belt out. Coulson's brow furrows.
"Daisy— we'll get him some help. His mind is very fragile after everything he's been through. I'm just sorry I wasn't here when he did... what he did." Coulson tries to console, not understanding her meaning.
"No— that's not— I... ugh!" She groans in frustration. Coulson and May look at each other with confusion.
"I'm over that now. I just... he's hurt again." Coulson's look turns back into concern.
"What do you mean?"
"There was one more fear dimension anomaly that we missed... it... it was his father, and he hurt Fitz. Bad."
Coulson's shock is palpable. He didn't know a whole lot about Alistair, other than what was in Fitz' SHIELD file. The only thing it mentioned was that he left when Fitz was a young child, although his psych evaluation had said there was most likely a history of some type of abuse. Fitz is such a bright young man and the fact that his father would do such a vile thing to his own child... it makes his blood boil.
May on the other hand, knew exactly how cruel Alistair Fitz could be. When Fitz was the Doctor, her superior, she noticed how he acted when around his father and when not. There was a noticeable difference to the trained eye of an agent. SHIELD or Hydra. His dominance usually subdued, becoming almost imperceptibly submissive. Avoidance of eye contact, the twitching of fingers, the flinches whenever his father reprimanded him when they thought no one was watching.
Around other colleagues he kept it to a minimum, knowing it wouldn't be appropriate as his son is of a higher rank than him, but once the man thought they were alone he didn't hold back. Scolding his son for such trivial things, like his posture or over-zealousness, causing the young man stiffen and sometimes take an involuntary step back.
May didn't have the same compassion for him then. She even told herself he deserved it on a few occasions. Now though, her own actions haunt her.
The elder agents both held hard looks.
"How bad?" Coulson inquires, dreading the answer.
"He's in surgery with Simmons and Mack. When I got there his dad was choking him. I think he uh— his head got hit a lot and he... he had a seizure. It all happened so fast. He was so confused and delirious, it was awful! It was like he couldn't see us, only the images in his head. He was hallucinating about his dad, and then the military facility he was held in, and the bottom of the ocean. Then he threw up blood and Simmons said he had internal bleeding, so they started operating right after." She finally finishes.
Coulson doesn't know how to respond. Why is it always Fitz?
Other than the internal bleeding, the head injuries worries him the most. If he was hit so much he couldn't comprehend anything going on around him, will there be lasting damage? His brain can't handle much more trauma at this point.
"I don't know what to do... I don't know what I'll do if... if he dies believing I still think of him as a monster." She sobs.
"You don't?" May asks, more than a little shocked. She didn't think Daisy would ever forgive him.
"No. Not anymore. Not ever again." She replies, voice hardening.
"I'm glad to hear you say that." Coulson states, before closing the distance and wrapping his arms around her as she lets the waterfall of emotions rush out in a raging torrent that crashes and bursts the dam.
"I was so horrible to him." She weeps into Coulson's shoulder, and May puts a comforting hand on her arm.
She will never turn her back on him or the team again.
Coulson and May decide to come with her to the medical corridor and they all wait and pray that Fitz will be okay.
To be continued...
Thanks for reading this chapter and please, tell me what you think! Your reviews make my week and they really help give me motivation for the next chapter.