A/N: Written for Skyeward Month, Week 2, Day 1: hurt/comfort, angst
I Promise You
He should be asleep – it has been a long two days –, but his mind is not getting a moment's rest, running wild circles around the possibilities.
What if the serum doesn't work?
Why shouldn't it work?
But what if it was too late?
Coulson was dead, and yet, he is here today, alive and well. If Skye got the same serum, she should be okay.
But what if the thing she was injected with isn't even the same that was used on Coulson? What if it was mislabeled or Coulson's file was tampered with, or…
Grant lets out a low, pained grunt, leaning forward and pressing his forehead against the back of her hand, as if her touch could make his demons go away – only her skin is cold, and there are wires and tubes everywhere, and it's almost like it's not even her lying on the bed, because surely, something so full of life can't be so still.
It's been twelve hours since she's been administered the GH-325 and although Jemma says she's better, Grant just can't see it – her skin is still cold, her lips are still blue-tinted, her skin pale, there's still a machine breathing for her. She is still asleep.
And for all he knows, she might not ever wake up again (what guarantees that the serum will work?).
And if she won't, it'll be all his fault. (It's already all his fault.)
He is that moron who let it all happen.
Who didn't keep her in his sight.
Who didn't tell John that she was off limits.
Who was too weak to protect her.
Who was weak enough to love her.
Oh, God.
He has never though that he would ever feel like this, but… he loves her.
There's nothing to deny about it – he's fallen for her a long time ago, maybe the moment he opened her van's door.
And it's a goddamn tragedy.
His fingers curls around her cool ones, desperately wishing… he doesn't know. For something else.
It's a goddamn tragedy, because there can be no good coming from him loving her. It can only cause complications (John used to warn him about that…). And yet, he can't help it – he loves her, loves her more than life itself, and he'd do anything…
He tries to think rationally. He's caught between two fires: John and Coulson (and Skye). HYDRA and S.H.I.E.L.D. He is not an idiot – he knows there's no way he can get out of this undamaged. Without losing everything. And yet…
He takes a deep breath, determined; he rises from his seat a bit and leans over her, pressing a kiss against her forehead.
"I'm sorry," he whispers to her, low enough that the cameras won't pick it up. "But I promise I'll make it right – even if it's the last thing I do. I love you."
It might be just his imagination, but it almost feels like her fingers twitch beneath his.