NOTES: This is a follow up to the episode "T.A.H.I.T.I.", so spoilers for that episode apply.
Thanks to the_wordbutler for the beta and approval.
The knock on Anna's door comes just after ten in the morning. It's a Sunday, and she has to be at the concert hall in two hours. Since she isn't expecting anyone, she reluctantly takes her gun with her when she answers the door, because that's what Phil said to do, and she trusts him on issues of security. What she isn't expecting is to see Phil himself through the peephole.
She jerks the door open with her free hand and, for a split second, catches a look of utter loss on Phil's face before it's immediately covered by what she refers to as his work mask. His eyes flicker down to the gun half-hidden by the door, and his eyebrows go up. "I hope that's not for me."
Anna's stomach clenches at the tightness in his voice and the emotion he can't quite cover up in his eyes. Immediately, since he said he wouldn't be in touch for a week to figure get help for Skye and to figure things out and that was only thirty hours ago, she assumes the worst. Opening her mouth to apologize, she catches a flash of brown hair just over Phil's shoulder.
Skye is pale, but upright thanks to the help of Simmons. Behind them Fitz silently tuts and fidgets while Ward's gaze shifts all around, including at Anna's gun.
She clicks the safety into place and raises her hands in the traditional I surrender pose before half-tossing the firearm onto the table in the entryway. "Get her in here," she orders, and the group quickly makes their entrance into her home.
"I can walk by myself," Skye mutters as she passes.
Phil grabs Anna's arm and gently pulls her into the kitchen. "Mind giving up your guest bedroom for a little while?"
"Define 'a little while,' and more importantly, what's the girl who you weren't sure was going to live doing walking around?"
He sighs and then rolls his lips while hunting for words. "I found a way to help her, like I was helped." That doesn't sit well with Anna, and it must be evident on her face because he does that sharp exhale thing when he's annoyed. "I've heard nothing in the last day-and-a-half but how I shouldn't push limits and whether or not it's the right thing to do, but it's done."
"How?" Anna asks. "Should she even be here? Shouldn't she be in a hospital?"
"Jemma's run enough tests on her in the last eight hours to confirm she's healthy enough to not be in a hospital bed. She's not nearly up to full speed, but she'll be fine here," he replies.
Anna crosses her arms. "You still didn't answer the how."
His gaze falls to his always-polished shoes. "I can't," he tells her quietly.
"Can't or won't?"
His eyes rise to meet hers and again she sees fear in them. A deeper version than when he sought her out to let her know he was alive. "Please just trust me on this."
She wants to argue that the only reason she agreed to try this again is because he said he was done with secrets, but the look in his eyes scares her into swallowing her complaint. "How long?"
"That's Jemma's call."
"Is this safe?" Anna asks. "The last time we talked, you said they were making things personal. Are they tracking me? Will they track her? Will they track her here?"
"I don't think so," he answers, causing her to snort. He closes the distance between them to rest a hand on her hip. "In my mind, this is the safest place for her. If you want I can task a couple of agents—"
"No," she says as she shakes her head. "I'm paranoid enough as it is; I don't need to be constantly looking over my shoulder to see if someone is tailing me, even if it's for my own protection."
There's a knock at the door and she automatically tenses. Phil's thumb sweeps along her stomach, and he gives a small smile. "May. She had to stay behind and lock down the plane."
By the time they make it out to the living room, Ward's already let May into the apartment. She and Anna exchange nods before they both turn their attention to the young woman sitting on the end of the couch. Said young woman doesn't miss all the eyes on her gives them all a disapproving look. "I'm not dying anymore. Enough with the pity looks."
The corner of Phil's mouth pulls up in the barest of smiles. "Jemma, make a list of what she can eat. Ward, get foodstuffs that will fit the bill. Fitz, check in on Anna's security system and make sure it's up to date. May—"
"Kitchen," Anna mutters as it's her turn to drag someone off for a private conversation. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"
Phil shrugs. "Taking care of a member of—"
"Am I your girlfriend or your safehouse manager?"
"Actually, it's called—"
"Phil," she grinds out. His chin rises at the interruption and she watches his jaw tighten just a bit. "What's eating you?"
"I'm fine."
"No, you're not," Anna tells him. "You're treating me like one of your agents—you're not fine." She reaches out to take his hand, but he steps past her and back out to the living room.
She spends the next ninety minutes watching them all buzz around like they own the place. She tries to swallow her anxiety about it all, but instead ends up leaving thirty minutes early for work. After half-assing her way through an afternoon concert, Anna walks back home and fights the temptation to take the super scenic path.
When she returns, May and Ward are gone to prepare for departure. Phil stands with his back against a wall to watch Fitz, Skye, and Simmons chat on the couch. He tries to smile at her when she walks in, but it doesn't reach his eyes. "We're going to head out," he announces as he pushes himself away from the wall.
"You could stay," she offers, but he shakes his head.
"My boss is probably going to want to chat with me about the last couple of days."
"Probably? You don't know for sure?" His head tilts to the side as he purses his lips, and she can't suppress the urge to roll her eyes. "Go," she sighs.
"I'll call," he promises as he leans in to kiss the corner of her mouth. He steps around her and gives the order to his two scientists that it's time to go.
"Actually, sir," Jemma stammers, "I think it would be best if I stayed here." Both men's eyebrows rise at the declaration. "Just in case something happens, I believe it would be better if I were nearby instead of leaving Anna responsible for Skye's medical care. I mean, we wouldn't want her to end up in the hospital, and then have to try and explain why she has an unknown drug in her system—"
"Because you're so good at lying, it wouldn't be an issue if you had to do it," Fitz murmurs.
Phil waves them both quiet before looking at Anna. "You okay with this?"
She bites back a sarcastic comment about not having a choice and nods. "As long as Jemma doesn't mind sleeping on the couch; I don't have a third bed."
"Jemma doesn't need a bed," Fitz tells them. "She barely sleeps. Pretty sure she rejuvenates herself by reading journal articles."
"That's mostly true," the biochemist agrees.
Phil gives a small shrug. "Okay, then. Let me know when you're ready to be picked up." And with that, he and Fitz are gone.
Anna locks the door behind them and turns back to the two on the couch. "So what's the plan?"
"I think I need to go back to bed," Skye admits. She shakes her head as Jemma opens her mouth to inevitable start a series of question. "I'm exhausted."
"You need help getting settled?" Anna asks.
Skye shakes her head, but Jemma stands and offers a hand to help her up anyway. The scientist helps her friend up from the couch with a touch so gentle that Anna feels like it's an invasion of privacy just watching. The pair slowly makes their way to the guest bedroom, and once the door is shut behind them, Anna takes a deep breath.
When she looks down at her hands, she realizes they've finally given into shaking. She's shocked they held out this long. Contemplating the prescription bottle of anti-anxiety medication in her kitchen cupboard, she instead grabs for a bottle of pinot noir and one of her obscenely large wine glasses. By the time Jemma quietly emerges from the bedroom, Anna's on her second glass. "Want some?" she asks.
The young woman sighs as she sits on the stool in front of the kitchen counter. "I suppose a nightcap wouldn't hurt. Not that I'll need much help falling asleep tonight."
Anna wants to argue that the worry in Jemma's eyes suggests her last statement is a lie, but lets it go. "You okay?"
"It's been a rough few days," she answers without making eye contact.
Anna gnaws on her bottom lip for a second before changing the focus of her question. "What's up with Phil?"
"I'm not sure," Jemma answers before taking another drink. "He shouted at me not to administer the drug that saved Skye, but it was too late. The look on his face…" Her eyes grow big for a second, and her shoulders rise as she pushes away her half-empty glass. "I don't think I should be discussing these things with you. I mean, I know you have a relationship and all, but he's my boss—"
"I understand," Anna says. The air is quiet between them for a few minutes while Anna finishes her glass. "I should find you a blanket and pillow, I guess. Do you need anything else?"
"I may have acted rashly when deciding to stay here, since I don't have anything with me."
Anna crooks her head towards her bedroom. "Come raid my closet. And tomorrow, you can go shopping."