"Out of suffering have emerged the strongest souls; the most massive characters are seared with scars."― Kahlil Gibran

Part VII

Jemma stares at the barely eaten sandwich on the plate in her hands. Fitz had only gotten through a fourth of it before he couldn't do anymore, claiming he was nauseous, although Jemma has a sinking feeling that he just doesn't feel as if he deserves it. He asked her to save it in the fridge for him, not wanting to waste a― in his words― work of art. She sighs in defeat, hoping he would start to eat more, but she knows they're going to have to take it slowly. It's quite obvious that he's depressed, she's known that since the Framework. The effects on his appetite are proof enough, but the doctor in her goes into overdrive and runs through all of the signs and symptoms that he exhibits.

Fatigue or loss of energy, feelings of worthlessness or guilt, isolation, impaired concentration or indecisiveness, insomnia, recurring thoughts of death or suicide, significant weight loss...

All the symptoms of major depression? Check. Symptoms of extreme self-loathing? Double check.

As for his concussion, the symptoms for that have been quite trying as well. The nausea chief among them. She peruses the cabinets and grabs some cling wrap to cover his sandwich as she thinks.

His responses are somewhat delayed, bright lights hurt his eyes, and she can tell his head is killing him even though he won't outright admit it. But despite all that, he's already getting restless not doing anything. He practically begged to have his tablet so he could do some work, and Jemma knows it's because he's worried about keeping his brain active. She strongly urged against it, but he was so insistent she didn't want him to pull into himself even more, so she relented, only under the condition that he takes a break every twenty minutes or so.

Daisy had left a little bit ago after spending some much needed down time with him, now that their relationship has been mended. Coulson is going to come and visit after he does rounds checking on how everyone is doing with the plan and dealing with Talbot who is still locked up.

Simmons places the covered plate in the fridge and sits on one of the bar stools stationed at the long section of counters.

She had swiped a tablet for herself, having her own personal motives. She needed to see what went on in that storage room, and as it so happens, pretty much every room in the base is required to have cameras installed for security purposes. She logs into the network with her SHIELD ID, mentally preparing for what she might see. Scrolling through the list of security streams, she come across the feed labeled 'F12 P-ST'.

"Twelfth floor primary storage." She translates aloud. "There you are."

She double taps it, and the live footage reveals one of the lower-level agents mopping up the red streaks on the stone floor. Coulson had assigned to clean the room from the attack, no doubt using his status as director to get out of revealing any details. She opens the command prompt for the cameras and types in the commands for the right date and time to jump the feed to. The stream of the agents clean cuts quickly and buffers a second before it loads the video from the other day. There are only two cameras to cover the entirety of the room so there are a few areas that aren't covered.

She can she Fitz though. He's sitting at a desk along one of the more bare walls. The camera she's watching from is in the upper corner of the same wall, so she has a perfect side view of his place at the desk. This was when he was supposed to be taking a nap.

He's hunched over what looks like a stack of blueprints, taking a sip of his black coffee every minute or two. It's obvious he's fight how tired he really is. He's resting his head on his hand, his other still wrapped around his nondescript paper coffee cup.

She can even see the steam coming from the dark liquid since Daisy had replaced the old camera tech with HD versions.

His chin slips from his hand and he jerks up splashing coffee all over the papers and his hand.

She sucks air through her teeth. That had to burn, although she knows that what's coming is far worse. A pit of dread grows in her stomach in anticipation of the moment the encounter starts.

He shakes his hand to dislodge the offending liquid. He says something under his breath that the camera doesn't pick up, but she can tell by his exasperation that he probably said a few choice words. He tries to wipe what he can off of the papers before throwing them back on the desk with frustration. He presses the heels of his hands into his eyes. The looming figure of Alistair wearing one of his stupid expensive suits comes skulking into the frame antagonistically.

"You're a mess."

Fitz flinches violently and spins around, hopping out of his chair and standing abruptly.

"You're not real... You're just a hallucination. A delusion caused by exhaustion, and head injury..." Fitz says, seeming more to himself than Alistair.

"Is that what you've been telling yourself? You always did have an overactive imagination."

"You died— No— you left." Fitz corrects.

"Now, why would I do that? If I would've left you with that pathetic excuse for a mother, you would be just as soft as her. She was a coward who couldn't discipline her own son properly. I had to teach her almost as much as I did you, a child."

Jemma knows what Alistair's definition of teaching was. She's gathered bits about his abusive behavior through small things Fitz has let slip, not to mention a few unexplained scars that he's had since she met him.

"What you did was cruel."

"Oh, so you've grown soft now too? I thought I taught you how to be strong! I thought you understood that!"

Fitz flinches again at the shout, his whole body shaking with terror.

"You taught me to be a murderer." Fitz states.

"I didn't make you kill anyone. You were second in command at Hydra, not me." He responds, becoming calm again. "Everything else we did was for the good of the people. The Inhumans needed to be studied so we could learn how to apprehend them if they decided to come against us."

"They were people too. It's— it's not right..."

Alistair takes a step forward and Fitz backs away in tandem.

"Am I going to have to teach you how to be a man again?"

God this is so messed up...

"This isn't real..." He whispers so softly the cameras don't pick it up, but she can read his lips.

"Oh... I'm very real, boy." Alistair sneers. The tones of his voice showing the true essence of every twisted part of him.

"This... this has to be a dream... This isn't real..." He stammers shakily, "I don't— Please..." He begs heartbreakingly. Alistair steps forward again causing Fitz' arms to automatically shoot up in order to block any oncoming attacks. The fact that it was his automatic response cuts deep.

"Look at you... quivering like a child." The older man sneers. "Do you know how much work I did to get you a good life?!" He surges forward grabbing Fitz' thin shoulders with a bone-crushing grip. Jemma wishes she could rip this man apart.

"Without me, you would be nothing! An idiot and a coward!" He punctuates each hurtful word with a violent shake to Fitz' frame. He then proceeds to smash Fitz' head into the concrete wall.

The same spot she had noticed upon first entering that room. Already having a concussion from Ruby, that makes number two. Jemma puts a hand over her mouth and tries to keep her emotions in control. He's okay now. Although 'okay' is a strong word.

"There's no hope for you. I should just end it before you do anything else you'll regret." Alistair punches his son full-force before grabbing the front of his shirt and shoves Fitz to the ground making him slide a little bit on the smooth floor until he's closer to the center of the room.

Fitz tries to drag himself up, but Alistair stomps over and a delivers a hard kick to his stomach, hitting the area near his wound. Two more kicks to his torso makes him curl in on himself. In her mind she pleads for Alistair to stop, even though she knows he won't. She just prays Daisy arrives soon. Fitz' monster of a father stares down at him with disgust before pulling his leg back for another kick. His hard shoe slams into his head making it snap to the side with a spattering of blood on the floor.

Number three. That bastard.

Fitz drags himself across the floor and hacks up blood. Alistair's shadow looms overhead, causing Fitz to cower once again.

"I should've known that you would defect. You're no better than the rest of these SHIELD scum. You disgust me." Alistair veers out, stepping over Fitz' body to get to the side he's facing. Fitz uncurls a little and his hand moves slightly away from his body. Alistair takes advantage of this. Fitz lets out a blood-curdling scream as Alistair viciously steps on his hand, breaking the bones underneath, she knows since she had to put those same fingers back in place.

That monster goes down and straddles Fitz' hips, pinning him down, he raises his right arm and strikes her husband again. Fitz' head whips to the side with a grunt and a splatter of blood. He wraps both of his hands on his son's throat and slams his head on the hard cement. Number 4. Fitz struggles, choking and sputtering, desperately to pry his fathers' hands off, but at this point she knows he's too weak to fight back. His face starts to turn blue, eyes rolling back as the lids flutter, and his arms go limp before falling to the floor.

Jemma has tears welling in her eyes uncontrollably.

Daisy runs, better late than never, and releases a strong sonic blast at Alistair sending him disintegrating against the wall. As soon as his father is off of him he scrambles around some shelves and huddles in the corner shivering, holding his crushed hand against his chest. Daisy doesn't notice this though, she just stares at the wall where Alistair disappeared in shock.

Turn around! She shouts in her mind at the on screen Daisy. As if the virtual version of her friend could hear her, coincidentally, Daisy chose that time remember Fitz and turn around. She switches camera feeds to get a better view.

"Fitz?" She calls out, and follows the red streaks that he left on the floor back to the corner.

Jemma watches as Daisy freezes at the sight of him.

"Hey... You're okay..." She extends her hand to lightly touch his shoulder. He tenses and tries to curl up tighter— which doesn't seem possible at the moment.

"I'm s-sorry, Father. I'll be good now I prom-promise—" He whimpers heartbreakingly. Daisy cringes and is silent for a little bit, seemingly trying to figure out the best approach.

"Fitz..." Her voice cracks slightly with emotion. "Fitz, it's me..."

"I'm sorry—" He stutters.

"Hey, hey, it's okay..."

Fitz slowly lifts his head to look at her.

She scoots closer to him and pulls him into her embrace. He stiffens for a moment before deflating and he wraps his arms around her tightly, hiding his head in her shoulder with silent sobs wracking his frame.

"Shh, it's okay... I forgive you."

Jemma closes the feed since she knows she was summoned not too long after. She's shocked and touched at the same time. She knew it would take something extreme to get her to forgive him, but she never expected this. She's glad Daisy finally came around, but saddened that it took this for it to happen. Swirls of different conflicting emotions threaten to overwhelm her. How is she going to help Fitz through this? The whole situation was so damaging, physically and mentally.

She decides to just take it one step at a time. For now, she'll just stay by his side and help him with anything he needs. She takes several moments to compose herself, not wanting to worry Fitz because he can always tell if she's been crying. She splashes her face with cold water at the stainless steel kitchen sink to abate the redness around her eyes and nose. A roll of paper towels is stationed next to the sink, so she tears one of to dry her face. The cold water felt wonder and she already feels a little better. She fixes any stray hairs that might be sticking out and heads back to the med bay. It's been a while since she and Fitz have had some alone time, so she's going to enjoy it while it lasts.

oOo

She makes the turn through the doorway to find him deeply immersed in whatever he's working on on the tablet. It's feels odd seeing him again after watching the video, almost like he's not real. She shoves the feelings away. Getting out a new package of gauze with the intent of replacing his old bandages, she peeks over his shoulder. It seems he's working on different algorithms for the Gravitonium and detailed information on...

"Project Deathlok? Why are you looking at that?" She questions curiously. He turns his head quickly, apparently not having noticed her before, and grimaces at the sharp movement.

"Oh, uh... apparently during that stretch of time Daisy was gone, she was tracking down the last bits of the Centipede serum. She thinks it might help heal Coulson if it's mixed with Jiaying's DNA." He goes right back to tapping away on the tablet like this is the most common knowledge in the world.

Jemma stares at him, shocked. She can't believe she hadn't thought about that before, it's brilliant! Then she realizes why he was so fixed on getting that tablet. He wants to try and fix his 'mistake'. He's going to do everything in his power to save Coulson, think it's his fault the man is dying in the first place.

Oh, Fitz...

She decides not to bring it up, knowing nothing she says will convince him otherwise. Maybe Coulson can when he visits. She gestures to his body with the bandages, signaling to him that she's going to replace them. With him, she doesn't always need words because he can basically read her mind. He places the tablet down on the side table and sits up with a groan before removing his shirt with Jemma's assistance. She winces at the sight of the bruises. They've turned to dark blacks and purples as the raised blood under the skin of each mark has lost all oxygen. The white gauze is tainted with a small section of dark red over his newest cut from the surgery.

She tends to the smaller injuries first, re-bandaging the incision on his hand under the brace, checking the bumps on his head, then goes to remove the gauze.

He lifts his elbows up as she unwraps the long bandage from around his ribs. Each section unfurled reveals more of the macabre rainbow on his torso. His old wound looks slightly better― emphasis on slightly― and the new incision is ripped a little at the top, most likely from his outburst earlier. She doesn't think she needs to re-stitch it; it will most likely close back up on its own if he takes it easy.

She prods around his ribs gently to make sure they're healing properly, although she could probably tell just by looking at them since they're so visible. It's very unsettling seeing all of it again after know the exact thing his father did to create each mark. Jemma doesn't understand how he can act so normal after something like that. She already struggling and she only watched it. Then again, he's gotten extremely good at hiding how he really feels.

The different scars she comes across also catch her attention. She mentally catalogs of the ones she comes across that she doesn't recognize.

There are some that she did already know about, such as the tiny ones that pepper his left side from the shrapnel of the bomb that killed Malick. Some small jagged ones on his back from being thrown through the glass door by AIDA. There are a few other faded ones on his back that he's had since before she met him, but doesn't talk about. She realizes how little she does know, compared to what she doesn't. There are a bunch of scars that she definitely doesn't remember being there. Her fingers gently brush across a particularly nasty one on his shoulder. Fitz is a little slow to her actions, but notices her change in demeanor. He's too tired to make up an excuse.

"That was from an A'askavariian mercenary. Nasty creatures they are. They've got needles for teeth."

She looks up at him, shocked and more than a little confused. When did he encounter something like that?

Once again he practically reads her mind.

"Oh— after I woke up from stasis, the only way I would be able to get into Kasius' auction was if I had an impressive reputation and deep pockets. Enoch brought me to a few different places throughout parts of the galaxy to take down other criminals and mercenaries and such, so I could work my way up the food chain." He explains. Jemma is aghast. Why didn't he tell her about this? This is a pretty huge development. And how was he able to actually stand off against such fearsome people, let alone win?

"What? I know you held up well against Kasius, but... I mean, when did you learn to—"

"Fight that well? That might be the only good thing that came out of the Framework." He admits, and huffs a small mirthless laugh.

Jemma frowns. How much training had he received in the Framework? He could handle himself before, but now, thinking of him as being near the same level as Agent May or Daisy, is slightly disorienting. Seeing all these scars are proof of his growth. But they're also proof of how reckless he was! She lightly whacks him on the arm and he looks at her with confusion, but still obviously physically unfazed by her soft attack.

"I understand that you did all that to get to us, but— You could've gotten yourself killed!" She berates. "I know you're all skilled and 'James Bond' and such, but that doesn't mean it's okay for you to be so reckless! This time I do understand, but one of these times you're going to go off and fight, and you won't be able to win! I couldn't stand it if you—" She cuts off, refusing to say it. "Just, please stop trying to sacrifice yourself to make up for whatever you still feel guilty about."

Now it's his turn to frown. She can see his internal struggle with not blaming himself. It's almost like he feels that if he doesn't, everyone else will.

"Fitz, we've talked about this. I get that it will take some time, but just... think about it. Alright?" She pleads.

He looks up at her through his lashes and sighs in resignation before nodding hesitantly.

"Alright." He concedes.

"Good." She responds and grabs the fresh bandages. She gestures for him to raise his arms again. He does, but winces sharply as it pulls on his injuries. Just as she starts unraveling the soft roll, Coulson knocks lightly on the door frame and steps into the room making Fitz jump slightly. As soon as he registers whose presence it is, he straightens. Jemma sighs at his constant need to be perfect and please everyone. She might not have gotten through to him on some things, but Coulson might.

oOo

Coulson has been analyzing the situation with Fitz nonstop since he first tried to shoot himself earlier that week. It's only gotten stronger since Daisy had told him what happened in the storage room.

Even as he directs other agents as to their role in the upcoming mission, he's thinking about the dead look in Fitz' eyes as he slid his finger over the trigger. As he checks on Talbot's condition, he imagines how scared the poor kid was when confronted by his abuser. He can't eat without thinking about how many meals Fitz had skipped while trying so desperately to solve their ever-growing list of problems. He can't stop the image of Fitz in that hospital bed from forming in his mind. Scarred and bruised and tired, looking pale in the fluorescent lights, and so small in that hospital bed. Coulson couldn't imagine a father doing this to his own child.

Fitz was the closest thing he ever had to a son, and damn if he didn't love that kid. He's the brightest, kindest, bravest young man he's ever met, and to see him so broken down is heartbreaking.

He passes through the dismal halls and finds Fitz' room. He's sitting on the edge of the bed with Jemma by his side wrapping his bruised ribs. His hands are balled tightly in fists and his expression is pinched. Coulson winces in sympathy for him as well as for the sight of his ribs poking out even further as the skin is stretched. God, the kid had gotten even scrawnier than he already was. Although he really can't be considered a kid anymore. He looks too worn down and his eyes hold more wisdom, even if what it's learned isn't very positive. He learned how cruel and twisted the world could be. No, he stopped being a kid in that sense long ago.

How did I let it get this bad?

It takes more than a couple things to happen for someone to become suicidal.

He knocks on the door-frame to announce his presence before stepping in the room. Fitz flinches and looks up at him before stiffening. He looks off guard and nervous.

"Ah- Sir." He addresses awkwardly, avoiding eye contact. Jemma quickly finishes wrapping his torso before getting up to throw away the old ones. He tries to quickly grab his shirt and put it back on, but his uninjured fingers are fumbling and he can barely lift his arms without causing too much pain in his ribs. Coulson comes over and places a hand on Fitz unsteady ones to calm his efforts. Fitz glances up but quickly looks away. Coulson can see the frustrated desperation at not being able to make himself more presentable.

Coulson gives him a stern look and the younger man deflates with a heavy breath. Coulson sees how much this means to him, so he grabs the shirt, stretching the sleeves open so Fitz can easily slip his arms through, and pulls the collar of the t-shirt over his head. Fitz looks only slightly embarrassed, which is close enough to a win in Coulson's book. To him, Fitz seems extremely jittery and uncomfortable. He's sitting cross-legged and has his injured arm cradled across his ribs. His right hand absently comes up to scratch at his thick stubble nervously.

Fitz scooches closer to the headboard to give Coulson more space to sit, knowing the older man is going to want to talk to him. He knows that the director will probably scold him for attacking Daisy. He's been anticipating it since he hasn't really talked to Coulson at all since the incident occurred. Now he's attacked Daisy a second time. He needs to make sure Coulson knows he's sorry before the reprimanding begins.

"Listen—" Coulson starts but is immediately stopped by the younger agent.

"I'm sorry, Sir. I know what I did was wrong— I see that. I'll never attack Daisy again. I promise." His voice cracks on the last word. He still refuses to look Coulson in the eye. An automatic response of submission. Coulson's brow furrows, disconcerted. It's not like he was going to yell at him or reprimand him. He knows how shaken Fitz is about everything.

"I know that, and I know how sorry you are. You don't have to apologize anymore."

"I don't have to... Jemma talked to you didn't she? Did she tell you to go easy on me because I'm 'at risk' or some load of rubbish like that? Well you don't have to walk on eggshells around me. I can take it. I'm not going to explode again."

Well, this is not going as well as I'd hoped...

"I know you aren't, that's not what I'm saying. And no, Jemma hasn't told me to do anything. Daisy did give me a very quick explanation of what happened, but I wanted it hear it from you."

No one has asked to directly tell them what happened from his perspective. Fight or flight kicks in and he's really feeling the urge to flee. Why can't everyone just forget everything and go back to their lives?

"Nothing else important happened. Daisy probably gave you the whole story."

"You don't even know how much she said..."

"I know she tends to talk a lot. Besides, it's not like dwelling on the past will help anyone." He deflects, staring down at the blanket covering his legs and fiddling with the edge of the fabric.

"You can't bottle up everything. It'll just make things worse. I think you need to talk about it..."

"There's nothing to discuss."

"Nothing to discuss? You were just beaten half to death by a manifestation of your own father!" He says a little too firmly, trying to get Fitz to stop belittling his problems but only ends up making him flinch. Coulson's heart sinks with guilt.

Fight or flight switches gears.

"You think I don't know that?! You think I wasn't reliving every horrible moment of my childhood all over again?! That I don't hear his voice telling me how worthless I am every time it's quiet? Well you don't have to bother with me anymore, I can deal with it. It's not the first time."

He can't talk about it. He won't. He can't let them know how weak he was, they'll just pity him. The whole thing just needs to blow over so they can get back to the mission.

"Fitz... you forget, I know you. I've known you for over five years and I know how you think. I know you're feeling that you can't show any weakness because everyone else seems so strong, but we're not. We all have our insecurities. The only way for you to work through this is with your family."

Fitz deflates, hanging his head with the exhaustion of keeping up his walls. Coulson can tell he's starting to break some of them down and the prospect fills him with relief. He decides to use one final move that he's been wanting to say for a while.

"You're the closest thing I've ever had to a son, and after everything you've been through… I'm proud of you."

That makes Fitz finally look up at him. The sheer amount of hopeful desperation warms and breaks his heart at the same time. It's obvious by his expression that no one has ever told him that before, and it's saddening. His face quickly stones over again as he tries to stop himself from accepting Coulson's praise.

"Sir… don't you realize— I'm the reason you're going to… You wouldn't've had to make that deal with Ghost Rider if I hadn't told AIDA to read the Darkhold. You told me it was too risky but I didn't listen." How did he not see that Fitz might blame himself for this? That man has an unparalleled ability to somehow blame himself for everything. "It should be me. Not you."

"Don't. Don't you dare talk like that. It was my decision, and I did it to save you. And AIDA might not have even heard you. We were stuck between dimensions, it could've been a coincidence." He pauses for a moment to gauge Fitz' expression. He doesn't seem to be budging. "You know, it's okay to talk about it. None of us will think any less of you."

Fitz cringes and looks back down, trying to hide his face as his emotions get the better of him.

"Hey, don't do that. Don't shut us out. You don't have to talk about it right now if you don't want to, and it doesn't even have to be me, but you have to talk to someone eventually and get some help."

Fitz continues to stare down at his lap and pick at the edge of the blanket. The conflicting emotions playing tennis in his head are almost audible enough from Coulson to hear them. Fitz struggles at forcing himself to open up and not deflect everything. To Coulson's surprise the young man actually starts to speak.

"I wasn't supposed to be in that storage room." He whispers darkly. "I told Jemma that I was going to get some rest, just to get her to stop worrying. I lied to her, and not just about that. I lied to her about taking my medication too. I told her that I wasn't going to keep anymore secrets, and I lied straight to her face." He huffs a sardonic laugh. "Look where that got me. I got what I deserved for breaking my promise."

Simmons had warned him about the self deprecation. She said that he would most likely try to downgrade his worth to Coulson, or try to make him angry so he would lash out and give Fitz the punishment he thinks he deserves. Coulson stands his ground.

"No. You don't deserve this. No one does."

"I deserve worse." Coulson closes his eyes and sighs. This was going nowhere fast, so he decides to switch tactics.

"Why weren't you taking your medication?" Fitz seems a little startled by the unexpected question. It seems he wasn't originally planning on elaborating that one. He turns his head and looks to the side, raking his teeth across his bottom lip.

"I needed to get back to the mission, and I couldn't do that if I was too fuzzy to think properly." He looks back down. The half-assed excuse doesn't fool Coulson for a second.

"That may be part of it, but I think there's more to it than that." He says with a knowing tone and ducks his head a little to try and see Fitz' face better. "...Is it because you didn't think you deserved that either?"

Fitz keeps his head down, and for a moment Coulson thinks he's not going to answer, but then Fitz gives a slow, heavyhearted nod. Coulson tilts his head in sympathy at the admission.

"It's okay to talk about your feelings. Contrary to popular belief, it doesn't make you weak. It makes you stronger." He adds with a sad smile. Fitz looks up slowly and warily, gauging Coulson's expression before making the move to say anything.

"It..." He throat contracts with emotion, cutting him off. He looks up, cringing. "It all just... hurts." He finally blurts out and his breath hitches. He hangs his head. Coulson shoots forward and roughly wraps his arms around Fitz, squeezing him in a firm embrace of raw emotion. Fitz reciprocates immediately as he tries and fails not to burst into tears for what feels like the millionth time in the past week.

"I know." Coulson consoles softly, his bionic hand rubbing Fitz' back and his other stroking the back of his head, careful to avoid the wounds that reside there. "I know." He repeats even quieter, as the younger man sobs violently into his chest. His cries are surprisingly silent other than the occasional sniff and sharp hitches in his breath. "It's okay. I'm here."

Coulson realizes how much Fitz has been neglected by everyone— himself included. In the craziness of everything no one noticed all of these warning signs and if they did, they didn't do anything about it. Fitz pulls away, wincing, and wipes his eyes. He's cried more in the past few days than he's probably done in his entire adult life up to this point.

Concussions suck, and so do the bloody drugs. That's another reason he didn't want to take them. They make it harder for him to keep his walls up, and Jemma made sure to give him a thorough dose this time. Everything was already a little hard to comprehend because of his head. He slowly leans back against the headboard, too tired to keep his aching body upright. He was already exhausted before his breakdown and now it's increased tenfold, but he finds he doesn't actually mind this time. He feels so relieved after learning that Coulson isn't just as disappointed in him as his father was, that the exhaustion is almost calming.

Maybe talking to Coulson was the final crack in his walls that sent it crumbling to the ground.

"The feeling of worthlessness, and the guilt... It's always there. The pressure from it is suffocating. I just wanted a release. Maybe that's the real reason I tried to end it. I told myself it was to protect Jemma from the other side of me, but maybe that's not true. Maybe I was just being weak." Fitz opens up, going to lean his head back but is reminded of the multiple painful bumps and turns it to the side instead.

"Wanting peace isn't weak. The human mind can only handle so much, and yours has passed that point time and time again. I'm astounded that you're still standing. I wouldn't be." Coulson states honestly. "And I meant what I said before: I am proud of you."

Fitz straightens his head to look at him again. It's detrimental that Fitz knows he's is being 100% honest, because his state of mind right now is like a skittish horse. One wrong move and he might take off for good.

His shoulders droop and he gives a small tired smile in acknowledgement.

"You don't know how much that means to me."

"I have some idea." Coulson replies warmly, moving to sit next to Fitz at the head of the bed before wrapping an arm around his shoulders in a side hug and squeezing lightly. Fitz leans his head on Coulson's shoulder tiredly and Coulson follows the suit, resting his head on Fitz'.

Something tells him everything will be alright.

To be continued...

Okay I actually cried a little writing his breakdown this time. Which is weird because I don't think I've ever cried on something I wrote before, and I rarely ever cry reading fanfics. Also sorry I've kind of made him cry a lot in this story but it just kind of flowed that way. I did kind of justify it in this chapter a little bit.

I was also thinking I could share a few of the songs I listen to that kind of inspired this story and help me get into the darker mood for writing this. Would you guys be into that or no?

Next chapter will probably be the last (if I can milk one more). Fitz and Mack will finally have a face to face, well... while Fitz is conscious this time anyway.

—Comment Replies!—

Foot Tapper:

I'm glad you're so relieved! I definitely was after writing it. and me too! I hope they do something similar between him and Daisy in the next season as well. As much as I don't want her to have any lingering feelings toward him, I think it would be the most logical story progression, and there could be a really touching moment if they do it right. Thanks again for commenting!

Maximus97:

It's no problem, I couldn't not reply since you made so many kind reviews! I love your take on things. I definitely wanted to add more realistist elements and you make a good point. It's very obvious looking at all of the symptoms that he is severely depressed! I was already starting to delve into that in this chapter when I got your comment. I hope I portray that properly here. I did a lot of research. Thanks again for all of your wondrous comments!

Piluhappy:

I'm elated by your review! It made my day. And thank you for all of your specifics! I hate when a character has these sort of issues in stories and then it gets solved all fluffily (Yes I know what you mean) with a few nice words and a hug. In my opinion it take just as long, if not longer, to heal those feelings then it does to develop them. As for what you're hoping for next, I'm not sure how much the scene in this chapter counts as Fitzsimmons bonding, but I'll try and throw some more in the next one. (Especially since she hasn't told him she's seen the video yet.) Thanks again!