When she finally wakes, Jemma has more demons to face than even she realized, but the team isn't going to let her do it alone.

A/N: I can't even put into words how sorry I am for making all of you wait so long for this chapter. I've been trying to write it for months, and each time it just wouldn't come together. This ended up going a lot of places I didn't expect it to, and it's changed a little of what I had planned for the rest of the story, but I still think it gets at the heart of the issues I wanted to explore. I hope you enjoy it.

Chapter 7: Restrain

Two more days pass before Jemma awakens. During that time, Fitz rarely leaves her side, and he certainly doesn't leave her alone during the few moments he steps or is called away. At Coulson's insistence and with Dr. Cho's approval, his injuries, though minor compared to Jemma's, have been treated as well. Unfortunately, since Cho's machines and serums can't address mental and emotional trauma, Fitz only feels half healed as a result of the care.

Skye is Jemma's most frequent visitor, though May is surprisingly always on hand as well. Fitz can understand Skye's insistence to sit with Jemma. The two of them had bonded quickly in those initial months following the formation of their team, and, despite the brief period after Skye's powers emerged when Jemma had been more than a bit irrational about nearly everything, Skye seems willing and eager to rekindle their flagging friendship now. Desperate to ensure that Jemma has a safety net of friends to help her come to terms with everything, Fitz encourages Skye's attempt, even going so far as to share his time with Jemma with her. He might be angry with his team and himself, but he isn't about to allow that anger to impact Jemma's recovery.

As for May, Fitz has no idea why she is apparently willing to sit with Jemma at a moment's notice. They have all long since stopped believing May is the stony sentinel she so often projects, but even now she still shows little emotion and has never to his knowledge sat at any of their bedsides when they've been injured. As Coulson's right hand, she usually has much more important assignments to complete. If that is still the case this time, she has apparently made Jemma her priority instead, but Fitz can't understand why. At times, he thinks he catches something akin to understanding in May's eyes as she looks at Jemma, but it's gone in a flash. Unable to tease out the riddle that is Melinda May, Fitz simply accepts her help and tries not to dwell too much on it. There are other matters far more in need of his attention.

Though he spends nearly every hour of those two days with Jemma, Fitz only speaks on a few occasions. Initially, he is at a loss for words. What could he possibly have to say to her? How could he ever apologize enough for what he had put her through? Eventually he decides that apologies will only go so far anyway. Actions do speak louder than words, and he's determined to show her just how much she means to him and that he is willing to do whatever she needs. She'll never have to wonder if she can depend on or confide in him again. He'll make sure of that.

In those moments when he does speak, he mostly recounts stories of their happier days at the Academy and Sci-Ops. He wants her to remember that there was something good before the horrors of the past year. He wants her to see despite their recently strained relationship and her protestations to the contrary that he still sees how good and kind she is at her core and that he still believes in her wholeheartedly. On the few occasions that his grief and guilt threaten to overwhelm him, he simply whispers his love for her as he cradles one of her hands between his own.

He finds it almost impossible not to have some kind of contact with her. In recent months their interactions have been fleeting and impersonal when they have happened at all. In the years prior, they had often been in close contact since neither appeared to have any sense of personal space, but they had still maintained some boundaries. Now, he feels like he might collapse when deprived of the feeling of her skin under his fingers. He has no idea how he'll manage when she wakes up if she finds that kind of intimacy unbearable. He hopes that his need will lessen when he can finally hear her voice again, but he has serious doubts.

By the end of the second day, he's exhausted both emotionally and physically. He is desperate to see her eyes, to hear her voice, to feel her fingers grip his, anything, but she remains still and silent. Though Dr. Cho has seen to his injuries, his entire body is sore from folding his lanky limbs into awkward positions to sleep in the chair at her bedside. Despite his discomfort, he's determined to be with her when she awakens. It will be his first act to prove that he trusts her and won't abandon her again.

First pressing a gentle kiss to her now unblemished forehead and tucking an unruly lock of her hair behind her ear, he settles in for another long night. He expects to struggle to fall asleep, but he's out like a light nearly as soon as he settles into stillness, his hand still clutching hers like a lifeline. Unfortunately, though he needs to rest, his sleep is not peaceful.

Hours later, Jemma finally gives up attempting to remain in her blissful state of unconscious respite when she hears Fitz whining her name as though he's in pain. Nothing up to this point has been enough of an incentive for her to even consider leaving her peaceful mental sanctuary, but his distress pulls her back into reality as rapidly as she had left it.

Peering blearily around the room, she has to wait for a few minutes for her eyes to adjust to the lack of light, but she can still hear Fitz's whimpers all the while as he battles through what she realizes must be a nightmare.

"No, Jemma. Please, no. Please," he pleads in desperation and fear.

Assuming from his words and tone that he's frightened of what he witnessed her do, she pulls her hand from his embrace. The movement, however, only seems to distress him more.

"No, please!" he moans brokenly. "Please don't go, Jemma. Please come back to me. Please."

Stunned into stillness, Jemma watches as what little light is in the room reflects off the single tear that escapes from the corner of Fitz's eye. When he seems to choke back a sob, she immediately shifts to a seated position so that she can easily thread the fingers of one her hands back through his while using the others to card through his cropped curls in an attempt to soothe him. Shushing gently, she he gives herself over to the moment, not bothering to think about her actions or any meaning that might be behind them. Her only concern is easing his distress.

The return of her touch seems to break Fitz out of the worst of the terror. "Jemma?" he questions first, hope somehow effusing from the few scant syllables. Then he says her name again, as though confirming her presence and finding nothing but peace in it. She continues to run her fingers through his hair and to squeeze his hand gently. After a few moments he settles, a small smile just quirking the corners of his mouth as he presses his head against her thigh and grasps her shin with his other hand.

In response, she simply breathes quietly for a few minutes, trying desperately to understand how she has ended up back on the base with Fitz attached to her like a limpet. Having barely regained consciousness, her memories of the last several weeks are hazy at best at the moment, but she feels confident that she remembers enough to know that she should be covered in injuries. One look at her arms and brief wriggling of her major muscle groups reveal that she is somehow miraculously healed. A closer inspection of Fitz reveals nothing more than deep smudges of purple under his eyes as though he simply needs more rest. She could have sworn she remembered a cast on his arm and a bruise at his temple.

Deprived of physical evidence and reluctant to wake Fitz from the rest he so clearly needs to ask him for an explanation, Jemma has no way to verify what she thinks she remembers. For a brief moment, she begins to hope that her hazy memories are nothing more than an elaborate, extended nightmare. Maybe they weren't captured. Maybe she never revealed her training or joined the rescue party. Maybe she never obliterated Hydra labs and so many of it scientists and guards. Maybe she never took refuge at the Retreat or bared all her secrets and skeletons to Fitz. Better yet, maybe she hadn't even given into Bakshi's madness. Maybe she'd never woken up after the pod. Maybe Fitz has just been waiting for her to wake up all this time instead of the other way around. Maybe.

She wants desperately to believe that any or all of those maybes are true. She wants this quiet, peaceful moment with Fitz to last forever. Matching his small smile, she continues to run her fingers through his hair, pausing the action only a few times to gently brush her thumb across his brows or to trace the shell of his ear with her index finger. She pours every bit of love she has never admitted to herself much less to him into those movements.

Still, after a few moments, she can't help but remove her fingers from his springy curls to reach for the tablet that he's left tucked by her legs. In this dark and quiet room, she could live on a lifetime of maybes and the sight of Fitz sleeping peacefully, but eventually someone will turn on the lights and she'll have to face whatever reality is true. She doesn't want to be blindsided when that time comes.

Since he never bothers changing his passwords, she gains access easily. Almost immediately, the smile vanishes from her face and her stomach drops. Since her medical records were the last files he had accessed, the first item she confronts is a pair of dated images of her face and shoulders. The first, with a timestamp five days prior, shows her with her lurid bruises and mangled skin glittering with what looks like glass shards. The second, apparently taken two days later, shows her as she is now; free of any indication that she had ever been injured.

At a speed that would impress anyone given that she can only use one hand since Fitz seems to need some physical tether to her, Jemma rifles through countless records until she can piece the entire story back together. While he sleeps unaware of her growing despair and distress, she pours over the documents, and all of her maybes shatter when the files confirm that her worst nightmares are true. She had followed Bakshi into insanity. She had revealed her darkest secret to her team in an effort to save them. She had descended into madness when Hydra had threatened Fitz. She had killed people as she freed him and their teammates. She had hidden herself away, hoping to protect them from what she had become, and she had laid her soul bare to Fitz when he'd found her a few days later.

She lingers over the files that document what happened after she fled from Hydra Laboratories. These are the pieces of her recent past she doesn't know, and she is now desperate to understand both how they found her and how they have managed to return her body to such a pristine state. The longer she reads, the more stunned she is by the sheer amount of time and resources they've expended on finding and caring for her. She can't imagine what kind of favors or funds Coulson had to use to convince Helen Cho to bring the cradle to the base.

She, perhaps better than anyone in SHIELD, knows how costly such treatment is, and she feels wholly unworthy of it. In fact, she is appalled that anyone would waste the cradle's potential on her when it could be used for someone much more deserving. Even after reading the lengthy list of her injuries that Bobbi had spent hours meticulously recording, she is frustrated that they didn't treat Fitz's injuries first. That they could think she is more deserving than him exasperates her. That they could believe she merits of any kind of consideration after what she has done baffles her. She wonders in this moment, with the evidence of her depravity clearly laid out for all to see, how they can even stand the sight of her. She has fallen so far from grace that she will never be able to atone for her actions. Surely they must realize that.

She is startled out of her mental self-flagellation when Fitz suddenly squeezes her fingers. Almost fearfully, she glances to the side to stare down at his slumbering form. She swears she sees the purple smudges under his eyes darken with each passing second, as if through the contact between their hands she is somehow corrupting him with whatever poison or malaise clearly runs through her veins. Again she tries to remove her fingers, fearful of how she might taint him, but he immediately tightens his grip, his brows furrowing in distress. At the sight of his suffering, she immediately allows her hand to go lax in his and he once again settles. She continues to stare at their intertwined hands in fear, as if at any moment her mere presence will cause him some irreversible harm.

When he wakes a few hours later, she hasn't moved. Her gaze is still locked on their hands. His return to consciousness is a bit slower than hers, but once he opens his eyes, he is almost immediately aware that her body is no longer in the prone position it has been for nearly the last week.

Unable to help himself, he bolts upright so swiftly that it should startle her. She doesn't so much as twitch, though she does momentarily break her steadfast gaze on their hands to peer at his face through her lashes. He is too busy drinking in the sight of her desperately, as if he might never have another chance to look at her, to notice the momentary shift of her eyes.

Seeing the utter relief and adoration on his face only makes her fear deepen. Even after everything she has put him through, everything he has witnessed, he still doesn't seem to understand that she isn't something to be adored or even tolerated. She is something to be caged and feared. She corrupts and poisons everything she touches.

When he finally ducks down enough to catch her gaze, the fear on her face has him immediately reaching out and pulling her into what he hopes is a comforting embrace. As she trembles in his hold, he tries to soothe her with words and long strokes down her back.

"Shh, Jemma. It's alright. Everything's going to be fine now. I promise."

Soon, his words begin to wobble and waiver as he gives into the tears he has wanted to shed for days. He'd been so sure that he'd lost her that having her back in his arms, physically whole, is more than he can manage. He squeezes her tighter as he finally voices his fears and begins making promises about the future. He'd intended to admit his feelings in a more romantic fashion, but in this moment he needs her to know how he feels, trappings and plans be damned. He can't dance around it anymore. Even if she never shares his feelings, if the past year has taught him anything it is that he has to take advantage of every moment he has with her because it might very well be their last together.

"I'd thought I'd lost you, and I couldn't bear it, Jemma. I couldn't live if you didn't. I don't know how to exist in a world that doesn't have you in it. I don't want to,
he admits shakily, his tears soaking the collar of her shirt. "I'm so sorry for how I've treated you. I love you. I swear I do, and I'll spend every day of the rest of my life showing you how much if you'll let me. Please, let me try to show you how much you mean to me."

A few months ago, his declaration of love would have had her heart pounding and tears pooling in her eyes out of sheer disbelief and happiness. In this moment, those reactions are the result of almost unbearable grief. Before her descent into madness and depravity, she might have one day deserved his love. Now, she is sure that she never will, but what tears at her heart more than her inability to ever be worthy of his love is the fact that she knows with absolute certainty that he won't allow himself to even consider loving someone else. If he can still profess his love for her so sincerely and ardently after everything she has done, she knows that his feelings for her won't waiver, no matter what she does or doesn't do. She grieves for the life he could have had without her corrupting presence, for the pure, untainted love he might have found if not for her.

She realizes in this moment that she is truly the worst thing to have ever happened to him. By loving her, he is condemning himself to a life of misery because she is apparently fated to hurt him at every turn, even when she is trying to protect him, even though she loves him too. She'll continue to poison him and he'll gladly consent to the damage she causes, no matter how deep or painful. When she accepts that truth, she breaks under the weight of the knowledge. Sinking her head down into the crook of his neck, she continues to shudder as tears of misery and pain leak from her eyes.

Feeling the dampness on his neck, Fitz gathers her closer still, beginning to rock her gently in an effort to calm her. He misinterprets her tears and continued silence as evidence of her lingering anxiety over what has happened and what she revealed in the Retreat. He has no idea that she is crying over the future she believes she has stolen from him.

Eventually, she cries herself back to sleep. Her body may be healed, but her mind is still shattered and bruised, and it can only cope with so much input before it can take no more. When he moves to rest her back against the pillows, he realizes that she still hasn't uttered a single word, and it worries him. Silence isn't an unusual way for her to deal with trauma, but this quiet hadn't seemed like she couldn't find the words. Rather to him it felt like she was dying to say something but forcibly held herself back.

Given the torrent of words she had released when she realized he was willing to listen in the Retreat, he wonders why she feels the need to remain mute even now. Bottling up her feelings and fears clearly hadn't worked for her in the past. He hopes that when she wakes again she'll tell him any and everything running through her head. It's an unrealistic hope since Jemma, even during their best days, never told him everything, but he's determined to show her that he'll listen even and especially when what she has to say is painful or difficult. He soon discovers that his hopes are in vain. He has to wait several more days before he hears her voice again, and he struggles not to break when he finally does.

When she wakes again several hours later, she is back in her room, though she isn't alone. Fitz is perched next to her on the bed and Skye is sitting backwards in the chair by her desk. She spends a few minutes listening to their conversation before opening her eyes. She wants to bask in their chatter just a little bit longer before she inevitably silences it with her presence.

"Do you think she'll like it?" she hears Skye ask anxiously.

Fitz laughs lightly before responding: "You've somehow managed to track down each and every one of her favorite foods, you have her favorite movies in a queue on your computer ready for a binge fest, you've found a supplier of her favorite shampoo that I swear was discontinued two years ago, and you are willing to give up your spot on the couch in the common room for her even though you've sworn repeatedly that nothing and no one could ever make you move. I think she'll be thrilled."

His tone is so light and carefree. He sounds happier than she's heard him in over a year. She wants to freeze this moment so he can stay that way, but she can't. She can't do anything other than crush his hopes it seems, and rather than shy away from the inevitable hurt, she opens her eyes to confront it head on. There is nothing else to do. She deserves to be miserable because of what she has done, but she wishes more than anything that she didn't have to drag him along with her. He's forever paying for her mistakes, and she finds it patently unfair that he should suffer when she is the one who is to blame. Then again, maybe the universe has the right idea in the end. After all, nothing torments her more than the thought of him hurting, so how better to punish her than to make her both the woman he loves and the source of all his pain and suffering. He'll never let her go, and she'll do nothing but bring him agony.

Without ceremony or any prior indication that she is awake, Jemma moves quickly from her prone position to sit, her back pressed solidly against the wall. Her sudden movements startle both Fitz and Skye, but both are too overjoyed to see her awake to remain stunned for long.

"Jemma," Skye greets warmly, relieved to see her teammate awake and coherent for the first time since the incident at the Retreat. She still struggles at times to forget how Jemma had looked convulsing on the glass-covered floor.

"Hi, Jems," Fitz murmurs softly, hoping not to overwhelm her like he probably had the first time she woke.

When Jemma doesn't respond to either greeting, Fitz and Skye share a concerned look.

"Jemma?" Fitz tries again, reaching out to ghost his finger over the top of her hand.

When he gets close, Jemma pulls her hand away. She can't bear the thought of his gentle touch. She doesn't deserve his comfort or understanding. She refuses to accept it even though she wants it.

Fitz tries to ignore the sting of her rejection. He has to remind himself that he promised to be whatever she needed. In this moment, what she needs apparently isn't his touch, so he won't subject her to it even though he feels a bit lost without it.

Pulling her knees into her chest and locking her arms around them, Jemma stares at the coverlet on her bed intently, even as Fitz and Skye continue to try to prompt a response. She swallows down the words attempting to claw themselves out of her throat. She pushes them back, gritting her teeth against them and locking them tight before they can escape. Trapped, they skitter around her mind, battering against her already damaged psyche and sending her into a spiral of self-blame and guilt.

Fitz watches as she seems to crumple in on herself. He'd been afraid of this reaction. Afraid that she would once again seal her hurts inside to fester instead of letting them out so she could heal. He knows he won't be able to break them out of her in the same way as before. Tea and an unexpected willing ear had been enough at the Retreat. This time he fears that it will take something more to set off her release, and he worried that whatever more is will be destructive and painful. After all, no one is apparently better than Jemma at pretending she's fine long past the point when she is really breaking inside.

Skye may not be as well versed in understanding the body language of one Jemma Simmons as Fitz is, but she is aware enough to know that her friend needs something to take her out of her head at least for a little while.

"Jemma?" she begins a bit forlornly, expecting more stony silence, "Are you sure you don't want to watch a movie with me? I'll bring my laptop in here if you don't feel like being out in the common room. You don't have to say anything, if you don't want to. We can just watch the movie and eat shortbread Tumbles. I know how much you love them, so I ordered a mountain of them for us."

When Jemma doesn't so much as even blink at the sound of her favorite treat, Skye is sure that she won't respond at all. If she hadn't been watching her friend intently, she would have missed the tiny shake of Jemma's head indicating that she didn't want to take Skye up on the offer.

Deflated but determined to be supportive, Skye responds, "Okay. You come get me if you change your mind though. I don't care what time it is or what I'm doing. We haven't had a movie night in like forever, so it's about damn time we did."

She shoots Fitz a look as if to say, "you better know how to fix this because I sure don't," before she quietly leaves the room.

Fitz tries unsuccessfully to draw even the smallest sound from Jemma for the next quarter hour, but she seems to just sink further and further into herself. He's completely at a loss as to what to do for her, and finally decides to cut his losses for the moment. His effort only seems to be making her more withdrawn and reluctant to speak, and he doesn't want to make her anymore uncomfortable than she already is.

Before he leaves, he quickly shucks off his soft grey cardigan and drapes it across her shoulders. It's clear from her continued trembling that she's cold, but she hasn't made even the tiniest move to grab anything that might ward off the chill since waking. He has a sinking feeling that she will just sit there shivering for the rest of the day if he doesn't do something. If he can't do anything for her by physically being with her, he can at least leave her with a reminder that he cares.

"I'll come check on you in a little while, Jemma, but if you want to see me before then, I'll be in the lab." He's trying not to smother her with concern, but he also wants her to know where he'll be if she suddenly decides that she doesn't want to be alone.

He isn't surprised as the day wears on that she never takes him up on the offer. Jemma has always been one to lick her wounds in private. It had taken him years to convince her to open up to him, and he's afraid that he's undone all that work with his actions since her return from being undercover. If that is the case, he'll work as hard as he needs to regain her trust. No matter how determined she is to face the future alone, he won't let her. They're FitzSimmons, and it's about damn time they started acting like it again. Even if she never loves him the way he loves her, he has still been her best friend for more than a decade, and he'll gladly resume that position for the rest of their lives if that is what she wants. No matter what obstacles she throws at him, no matter how much she fights against letting him in, he'll push back until she believes in him again.

Jemma feels immediately warmer when Fitz drapes the soft fabric over her shoulders, but she doesn't react until several minutes after he leaves the room, his promise and offer hanging heavily in the air. She remains stiff as a statue as the words in her mind continue to feed her non-stop loop of self-loathing and blame. Only when she sinks her head a bit lower into her knees as the weight of her emotions pulls her down does the scent of Fitz finally overshadow the cacophony in her head. His cardigan smells a bit like bergamot, tea, and solder with the barest hint of Persil buried under the rest. It the same combination of scents that has always permeated Fitz's clothing and rooms since Jemma met him, and the moment she breathes in deeply and the scent envelops her, she loses her hold on the control she has so carefully maintained.

Resting her head against the wall, she shoves her arms through the sleeves to pull the cardigan tighter around her before crying into the cuffs. She wants to flee her room and run straight into Fitz's arms. She wants to bury herself into his embrace and pretend that she hasn't ruined both of their lives. She wants to hear him whisper promises and soothing nonsense in her ears as she brokenly relates how sorry she is for every bit of pain she has inflicted on him. She wants so much, but all she allows herself is this brief moment of weakness as her tears dampen the soft fabric.

She has only just finished drying her face with haphazard swipes when she hears a knock at her door. She doesn't respond, but she does keep her gaze fixed on the entrance in preparation for whoever has decided to visit her now. She is surprised when Coulson enters, but the emotion doesn't show on her face. She looks like a marble statue to him with her face frozen and body eerily still. If not for the steady rise and fall of her back as she breathes, he might think she were really somehow frozen in time.

"Agent Simmons," he begins, falling on formality as he confronts her deadened, red-rimmed eyes and struggles to bear the weight of her gaze. He reduced her to this with his negligence and blind determination to hit Hydra as hard as possible. Bakshi was right. He had thrown her to the wolves, overly confident in his decision and completely ignorant of the true significance of the danger he'd put her in.

Unable to endure her vacant stare, he averts his eyes only to catch sight of a picture of her and Fitz from one of their earliest missions as a team. Looking at their bright eyes and sunny smiles as they pose in front of the ruin and mentally comparing that to the expression she currently wears, he sucks in a deep breath in an attempt to quell the profound sorrow that takes hold in his heart.

He knows a director shouldn't have favorites. A director should be able to separate his personal feelings from his duties to SHIELD. A director should always be able to maintain his composure in even the direst of situations. But Coulson wasn't the director when he became head of his ragtag team. He wasn't the director when Skye's near brush with death had cemented for him how much their team had become a family. He wasn't the director when they banded together after the Hydra takeover. He was just a man. But he was Director when he ignored the files about Agent 87 in his first few days of having the Toolbox. He was Director when he agreed to let Agent Simmons go undercover. He was Director when he implicitly asked her to use her training despite her impassioned warnings against it. He had failed her in every way and in every capacity possible. He had failed her as her Director. He had failed her as the leader of her team. He had failed her as a friend who had come to regard her in many ways as he did Skye: as the closest thing he might ever have to a daughter.

Turning to look back at her again, he catches her stare and admits with clear regret and anguish: "I am so sorry, Jemma. I'm sorry I failed you. You deserved better from me."

His confession startles her, and her eyes clear a little as the confusion overshadows everything else in her mind. She brought all of this on herself. She can't understand why he feels like he is to blame for any of it. Only when he continues speaking, does she believe she understands why he is offering this apology.

"I should have known," he continues, almost frantic in his need to lay his mistakes out before her. "The minute the Toolbox was in my hands, I should have put the pieces together, but I didn't. I had no idea until recently. You're Agent 87."

Unaware of his conversation with Maria Hill, Jemma interprets his last statement as a veiled question and nods in confirmation. She isn't in any position to deny the truth of that statement to the current Director. One of the stipulations of her continued service to SHEILD after her intake was to confirm her identity to the Director and Deputy Director should she be asked. She'd only had to do so one other time: when Agent Hill had visited her at Sci-Ops several years ago. Director Fury of course already knew when he became Director since he was the one to conduct her initial intake.

Even though he already knows it to be the truth, seeing Jemma confirm her identity takes Coulson's guilt to new depths.

"Oh, god. Jemma, no amount of I'm sorrys is going to make this right. I never would have sent you undercover if I had known. I never should have put you into that situation anyway with what you and Fitz had just been through. I was reckless and irresponsible and now you are paying the price."

She can see that he will drown in his guilt if she doesn't do something. She weighs the words carefully in her mind before she says them. If she doesn't do this cautiously, she may let them all loose, and she can't allow that to happen again.

"I knew better, and I volunteered anyway," she offers, as if her statement will absolve him of his guilt.

It is the truth after all. She did know better, so ultimately the responsibility is hers rather than his. He'd only been Director for a few weeks before she volunteered anyway. He had more important files to review than whatever records Fury had kept about her in the Toolbox. Beyond that, she can't imagine what she would have done had she remained at the base. She was clearly no use to Fitz, and she did mange to gather significant intelligence during her undercover stint. No matter the personal cost, her work had been valuable to SHIELD, and that was what mattered most to her in the end.

"Be that as it may, it's my job as your director to keep assets like you safe, Jemma. You never should have been in a position to have to make that decision."

The look she gives him clearly indicates that she doesn't accept that statement in the least, but he actually finds a little bit of hope returning at her response. If Fitz's report is accurate, this is the most engaged she has been in an interaction since waking and the first time she's spoken. He's desperate to keep the conversation going.

Turning the desk chair around to face her, he sits heavily, resting his elbows on his knees before speaking in a tone so unguarded she can't help but listen attentively.

"I've been through something life altering as well. I know what it feels like to come back from something like that and feel like you are a completely different person than who you used to be. To question if you can even be yourself after it all. I had to nearly die again before I asked for the help I needed. Please don't make that same mistake. We're all here for you Jemma. Let us help. Please."

When she doesn't respond, he sighs and continues: "I've asked Dr. Garner to return to the base. He'll schedule sessions with you each day until he feels confident that you can be cleared for duty again. I should have asked him to come when Fitz woke up from his coma, but I was too distracted to see that you got the support you needed. That ends now."

Hearing this latest ultimatum, Jemma struggles to rein in the frustration and anger that seem to come from nowhere. She doesn't need to spend hours babbling away at Andrew Garner. Psychologists can work wonders for most people, but she isn't most people. The only thing sessions with Dr. Garner will do for her is frustrate her as she spends hours wasting time constantly analyzing the intent of his questions and sidestepping the supposed truths he hopes to prompt her to reveal. Her time would be much better spent in the lab developing new protective measures for their field agents. Hydra won't take kindly to what she has done to their main research facility, and she can't stand the thought of anyone else getting hurt because of her.

In any other situation, the indignation evident on her face would amuse him. Now it just makes him wary: "Please don't fight this, Jemma. We can't afford to lose you. You mean too much to everyone on our team for us to let you gloss over this or try to get through it alone. You're off duty until Andrew clears you. Please give us a chance to help you."

Seeing that his pleas are falling on deaf ears, he sighs again. This wasn't how he hoped this conversation would go, but he is at least making sure she has access to the care and support she obviously needs. He'll lead her kicking and screaming to the proverbial water if he has to, but he reluctantly admits that he can't force her to drink it no matter how much he tries or wants to for her sake. At some point, she has to reach out the rest of the way. He hopes that she does before she's too far gone to come back. Even now, he can see her continuing to break into smaller and smaller fragments of who she used to be as she strains under the weight of what has happened.

"I am sorry for everything, Jemma," he confesses one last time as he leaves. "If you find that you want to talk about anything, my door is always open."

When she hears the latch of her door catch, she lets out a quiet snort of derision at the thought that talking through any of this will do her any good. Each time she's spoken about it, it has backfired spectacularly. She is well aware of the depths of her depravity, and now so is Fitz and possibly the rest of her team depending on how much they had heard. She doesn't need anyone else to know just how far she has fallen. She doesn't need to rehash verbally the memories that seem to play on a never-ending cycle in her mind. She doesn't need yet another person to confirm what she already knows: she deserves to live with the knowledge that she is and always will be a monster. She deserves to suffer for what she has done. She made her bed; now she is determined to lie in it no matter their protestations or insistence that she doesn't have to.

Her first several sessions with Dr. Garner turn out even more poorly than everyone expected. Other than the few words she spoke to Coulson, Jemma has yet to actually speak since waking even though it becomes harder and harder each day to choke back the words. They're threatening to overwhelm her, especially now that Andrew is dredging up memories she would rather leave buried.

She expects him to launch immediately into questions about her undercover work at Hydra, but he surprises her by beginning with questions about her childhood. Though she doesn't respond verbally, his questions do force her to relive memories she had hoped she'd forgotten as answers clatter through her mind despite her best attempt to remain aloof and disconnected from the session.

"When did you realize that you weren't like other children your age?"

That was easy, she was four and she marveled at how much trouble her slightly older cousin had reading when she was devouring several novels a day.

"How did you feel in that moment?"

Like an outsider. Her parents had been proud, but her extended family had been wary of her intelligence and aptitude. She remembers their barely concealed looks of suspicion as if it were yesterday. That wariness had only continued to grow over the years until she rarely interacted with them at all. They kept their distance, and she was too busy learning all she could about the next subject to pay much mind to their actions or lack thereof, though she did notice it.

"How would you describe your childhood?"

Short. She never felt much like a child even when she technically was one. By the time she was eight, it became apparent to her that she would never connect with her peers on any level, either social or intellectual, and she was quickly outpacing her parents, who while not geniuses were very gifted in their fields. She remembers truly playing on only a few unremarkable occasions, and she doesn't recall experiencing the same childish highs and lows that her peers seemed to.

"What is your favorite memory?"

Being paired with Fitz in Chem. lab. Her mental response is immediate, but even without sharing her answer she knows that it's wrong. Dr. Garner meant her favorite childhood memory, but none of them compare to that day in Chem. lab with Fitz. Nothing does. That day was a turning point in her life. She'd finally met someone just as socially awkward as she was and as close to her level of intelligence as possible. Fitz had been everything she needed and never knew she wanted in a friend. He was her perfect compliment in every way. Still, here in the aftermath of her recent choices, she wishes they hadn't been paired for his sake. She wishes they had remained bitter rivals instead of partners. She might have spared him had that been the case. She would gladly go back and face the rest of her life without him if it meant he could have a happier one without her.

As she continues stubbornly shutting everyone and everything out, Fitz tries everything he can to show her how willing he is to support her. During the day, he makes time to visit the kitchen to prepare her favorite meals and snacks, and he tries not to feel disheartened when he finds that she's rarely managed to do more than nibble on them if she's touched them at all. He makes sure to stop by her room once he knows she has finished her session with Dr. Garner to see if she is willing and ready to talk. She never is, but some days she seems to tolerate and even need his presence, though she never allows him to do more than briefly hold her hand or sit by her on the bed. Sensing that a one-sided conversation will only make her uncomfortable, he sits with her in silence, hoping that just his presence brings her some feeling of comfort or sense of stability.

In the evenings, when his mind, overwhelmed with work and worry, can handle only the most basic and repetitive of tasks, he painstakingly stitches Jemma's favorite shirt back together. Since she seems to avoid his touch during most of the fleeting moments they are together, he takes comfort in holding the garment. It's one of his few physical tethers to her at the moment.

As soon as they'd reached the base, Bobbi had cut the shirt up one of Jemma's sides to allow her and the medical technicians full access to Jemma's battered form. Even before she rent the fabric with her scissors, Bobbi had noticed the bloodstains and small tears from the glass Jemma had fallen into and her resulting injuries. With her mind firmly on caring for her teammate and with no knowledge of just what this shirt meant to Jemma, Bobbi had discarded it in a bin alongside the bandages Fitz had been so careful to apply. She couldn't imagine Jemma wanting to keep it given the damage.

With little else to do, Fitz had swiped the torn and bloodied garment from the bin, hopeful that he might be able to salvage what remained. He knew Jemma would be devastated to discover this shirt had been one more casualty of the day, so with the utmost care he devoted his evenings first to removing the bloodstains and then to stitching the torn fabric back together. Thankfully, Jemma had long ago developed a solvent capable of removing bloodstains from even the most delicate of fabrics. Unfortunately, the glass tears and split seam prove to be more difficult to mend.

Though his manual dexterity has improved remarkably over the months, Fitz still doesn't have the kind of control over his hands that he had in the past or that he really needs for such delicate work. By the end of the second night, the tips of his fingers are sore and throbbing from the many times he has pricked them with the needle and his eyes are tired from focusing so long on the tiny, even stitches he is determined to use. In spite of his physical discomfort, he keeps working, viewing each stitch as an apology for his offenses against her or as a promise for a better future together. Even after several nights of working on the garment, he is still several more away from mending all the tears, which seems fitting since he appears to be no closer to helping Jemma mend either.

Despite his efforts, she grows more and more distant each day. Her eyes are dull, almost glassy. It's as if the past few weeks have finally reduced her to little more than a shell. She seems less deadened with him, but only slightly and not nearly enough for it to be any kind of comfort. She is merely going through the motions: alive but not living. It's painful to watch, and he wonders how long she can keep going in this way.

Despite everyone else's growing concern, Andrew doesn't take Jemma's continued silence as a sign of failure on his part. Jemma Simmons isn't the first or last person to believe herself beyond the reach of psychological intervention. He can see that his questions are forcing her to think even if she isn't sharing the answers with him. The brief flickers of emotion in her eyes never last more than a split second, but they are there and their presence is the first step toward progress. Each day Jemma has to work harder and harder to maintain her stony indifference, so he continues asking questions, knowing with certainty that one day he will find the right combination to unlock the mental deadbolt she is strangling herself with. That moment comes sooner than he expects.

"How did you feel when Fitz pressed the button to detonate the explosion in the medical pod?"

She sucks in a shaky breath and then holds it in as words strain against her pursed lips. Devastated. Angry. Determined. Abandoned. Frightened. Powerless. Confused. Overwhelmed. Lost.

It's the closest she's come to speaking since he started her sessions, and he knows despite the brief flash of anger evident in her eyes that he would dare ask such a question that he is getting closer to the moment when she gives in to the words she clearly needs to say.

His questions over that session and the next push her nearly to the breaking point, but she still keeps herself just on the other side of it. He's never seen someone so committed to remaining in a self-created purgatory. Her body may be healed, but her mind is anything but. She's still losing weight, and if the circles under her eyes are any indication she still isn't sleeping. For all her determination to maintain her stony silence, she looks fragile, but that certainly isn't how she feels.

After four days of enduring Dr. Garner's apparently never-ending questions, Jemma feels like she is at the end of her rope. She doesn't know how much more prodding she can take. She's frustrated that he won't give up. She's angry that he's forcing her to relive the most painful moments of her life with him as a witness to the reactions she can't smother quickly enough. She exhausted and overwrought and desperately in need of doing something other than listening to his questions, avoiding the concerned stares of her teammates, and staring mindlessly at her wall as she tries to quell the desire to bury herself in Fitz's arms and let him try to piece her back together.

Since Coulson has restricted her access to anything work related, her options for attempting to work though her anger and frustration are very limited. She can either try to distract herself in her room, which has been only marginally effective, or she can venture forth and try to distract herself outside of it, but that means that she'll have to try to maintain her composure around other people. Taking one look around her room solidifies her decision. She can't be here, surrounded with pictures of her and Fitz smiling and blissfully unaware of the dangers and heartache that awaited them.

She throws on workout wear and rushes off to the same gym she had visited nearly two weeks ago to try to work through the fear overwhelming her from her nightmare and impending breakdown. She no longer feels afraid, having somehow survived the breakdown, but she is still just as agitated and in need of the mental break running might grant her if she pours enough of her concentration into the activity.

Though she appears completely unruffled as she navigates through the base's maze of corridors, she feels like her skin is crawling. She's almost speed walking by the time she reaches the gym, but she nearly turns around when she sees Mack and Bobbi sparring. She doesn't want an audience, but she also isn't willing to trek back across the base to the gyms on the other side. She chose this one specifically because it was secluded and usually unoccupied. The anxious energy thrumming under her skin makes the decision for her, so she barely spares the sparring pair a glance as she hops on the same treadmill and begins working her way up to a steady pace.

The room remains silent for roughly the next ten minutes other than the sound of Jemma's feet rhythmically hitting the belt and the strikes of Bobbi's and Mack's punches as they land a few blows on each other. Then, just as she had done in that early morning hour, Jemma ratchets up the speed to try to outrun the demons that seems to creep closer every day. Hearing the whir of the machine accelerate, Mack can't help but glance over at Simmons every so often as he tries and usually succeeds to dodge Bobbi's blows. Despite Simmons's best efforts to look unaffected and completely disinterested, he catches her looking at them in longing more than once. At that point he understands that she needs something a bit more forceful than running to settle whatever battle she is waging internally, so he invites her to join them.

If she's startled by what would normally be an unexpected offer, she doesn't show it. She simply steps off the treadmill, her breathing winded from trying to maintain her pace, and makes her way over to them on the mat. She's managed to bring it back to normal by the time Bobbi helps her into the sparring gloves and guards. Despite Bobbi's protestations, Jemma refuses to don the head guard. She never had one at Hydra. In fact, she never trained with any protective gear when she was there. Hydra didn't believe in softening blows.

She should be wary of putting herself in this situation. Sparring like this is likely to trigger her training even if she's mindful to keep it under control, but in this moment Jemma can't bring herself to care. She needs some way of releasing all the emotions that are threatening to crush what remains of her. Running had done nearly nothing her help her manage the weight. She hopes sparring will require enough of her attention that she can at least forget the emotions even if she can't pummel them into oblivion.

Even decked out in most of the protective garb she should be wearing, Jemma is so tiny in Mack's presence that he holds back, unwilling to land anything more than the softest blow though he knows she needs the release. Despite the energy radiating from her form and the fact that he invited her over, he just can't let go to give her what she truly needs in this moment.

Bobbi notices Jemma's mounting frustration as she tries to provoke Mack into legitimately sparring with her instead of maintaining the half-hearted showing he's giving her now. Bobbi, maybe more than anyone else, understands the need to work through emotions with prolonged physical activity. Tapping Mack out and stepping in to take his place, she faces Jemma head on and shudders at the memories this position evokes. For a split second, she sees Jemma back in the cat suit with that cruel, unnerving smirk on her face as they battled in the abandoned warehouse. Were it anyone else, Bobbi might use this opportunity to exact a little revenge for being knocked out like a rookie during that match. Since it's Jemma, her only goal is to help her obviously traumatized friend and colleague work through some of what she is feeling before she collapses again.

Despite Bobbi's best efforts to draw her out, Jemma refuses to give up the last bit of her control and fight with everything she has. Though desperate for release, she won't let go completely because she doesn't trust herself. She knows once she lets go she'll once again be a slave to her emotions. Despite her earlier conviction that she was no longer afraid, Jemma fears diving back into that world of chaos and anger. She fears of who she'll be if she even comes out the other side again. She fears hurting yet another of her teammates and friends.

Bobbi refuses to let Jemma hide behind that fear. She knows that Jemma needs to be honest with herself for the first time since waking up after her collapse. She needs to own this part of her past instead of fearing it. She needs to embrace her training while surrounded only by people who love and care about her so that they can help her overcome all the negative emotions and memories she has associated with it. Knowing how to defend herself effectively and efficiently is a significant advantage for a scientist like Jemma who somehow constantly finds herself in the field, but Bobbi knows that Jemma can only see the skills she has gained in this area as evidence of how much damage she is capable of producing. Where Simmons sees only the potential for destruction Bobbi sees the potential for self-confidence and protection for both Jemma and the people under her supervision. The only issue, Bobbi regretfully admits to herself as she and Jemma circle each other again, is that she's going to have to convince Jemma to let go first, and that is going to be easier said than done.

The first ten minutes of their match appear vicious to the people who have stopped to watch it, but both Jemma and Bobbi know that they've only just scratched the surface of where it could end up going. Skye, Hunter, and May have joined Mack as he watches from the sidelines, wincing each time Bobbi lands a blow on Simmons and silently cheering when Simmons lands on one Bobbi. For such a tiny slip of a woman, she certainly packs an impressive punch. Only when Bobbi manages to pin Simmons down on the mat does the true sparring actually begin.

When she pins Jemma, Bobbi doesn't consider how sexual the pose might be under different circumstances, but Jemma does. The moment Bobbi traps her arms above her head and presses her pelvis firmly against her own to restrain the movement of her legs, Jemma is thrown into a vivid flashback of one of the Hydra guards rutting against her as he held her in this same pose, whispering filthy comments in her ear about what he would do to her if she didn't manage to break his hold. The moment she comes to and violently shoves Bobbi off of her, Jemma finally begins to fall over the edge to her breaking point.

Her eyes, deadened for days, now flash with uncontrolled fury. Given how silent and withdrawn as she has been since waking, the grating scream that rips from her throat startles them all, including Bobbi, who barely manages to dodge Jemma's next punch. In fact, she is hard pressed to keep up with Jemma's speed and agility. The match escalates quickly as Jemma pours every piece of herself, all her anger and fear, all her frustration and shame, into the fight. She lands several truly painful blows on Bobbi, who gives as good as she gets.

Within minutes, they are both bloody and bruised, but Bobbi refuses to give in until Jemma does. Jemma needs to know that even when she feels like she is at her worst her team is still going to stand behind her and help her through whatever she is facing. She needs to know that Bobbi won't fail her again. So Bobbi presses on, even long after she would have normally called the end of a match with anyone else. This has moved beyond reckless into dangerous territory and she knows it, especially when she lands a quick but powerful jab that sends Jemma crashing into the wall.

"Jesus, Bob," Hunter barks as Jemma shakes her head to clear her vision, "Cho just put her back together. Don't beat her to a bloody pulp."

He moves as if to pull her off the mat and away from Jemma, but May stops him, understanding Bobbi's motives for this knock down, grudge-match of a fight.

"Shut it, Hunter," Bobbi growls in reply, her eyes never moving off Jemma's circling form. "She needs this."

Horrified by the state of their teammates, Hunter, Skye, and Mack watch in fear as they continue to fight each other. May, though just as troubled that they had to bring Simmons back to this point to set her on the path to recovery, doesn't allow her emotions to get in the way of her job in this moment. She's here to make sure neither Jemma nor Bobbi inadvertently does irreparable harm to the other. The minute she thinks one will, she'll intervene and take them both down if necessary. When Fitz rounds the corner and takes in the frightful site, she realizes that she may need to add restraining the onlookers to her job description as well. Thankfully, Mack intervenes before Fitz can even step a toe onto the mat.

"Cool it, Turbo. I know it looks bad, but Bobbi's getting through to her in the only way Simmons can understand right now."

Fitz takes little comfort in Mack's statement. All he can see is Jemma bloodied and bruised again as she had been when he'd found her at the Retreat. He'd hoped to be spared the sight of her blood for quite a while after her treatment in the cradle, but that was apparently not to be. He'd also hoped to find her either asleep or quietly resting in her room when he'd gone to check on her after her appointment with Garner, so it seems that all his hopes are destined to be dashed today.

Chest heaving as she lands blow after blow and nearly pummels Bobbi to the mat, Jemma finally begins to speak, and what she reveals nearly breaks them all. It only takes Bobbi seconds to realize that Jemma isn't actually talking to her. She's talking to what Bobbi will always represent in one corner of her mind: Hydra. At some point during the last few minutes, Jemma has stopped seeing her as one of her teammates. Instead, Bobbi has become a sort of corporeal avatar of the organization and people Jemma fears and hates most.

Dr. Garner's insistent and incessant questions have led her to this point even though she never realized it, and she finally gives into one of the truths she has been fighting against for months: despite thinking she always maintained the upper hand, despite believing that only her choices are to blame for her current state, she is as much of a victim in this situation as anyone else. The emotions she has kept tightly locked away because she was too afraid of them upsetting her mission finally burst forth. The words she has swallowed down since waking erupt out of her with a ferocity and conviction that stuns them all. She confronts and has to accept the fact that Bakshi and Hydra hurt her too, in ways that even she, with her twisted sense of self-worth and blame, knows were undeserved and brutal. Admitting this, owning her anger and fear, and acknowledging her continued vulnerability is a critical step for her, but she's too far gone in the moment to appreciate its significance.

"You hurt me," she seethes as her fist connects with Bobbi's solar plexus. "You pushed until I bled. You pressed until I broke. Everyday, you forced me to give up part of myself to play a stupid game that nobody won."

"I became exactly what you wanted, and still you brutalized me," she screams as Bobbi successfully blocks a punch to her face. "I did everything you asked, and it was never enough. You enjoyed my pain. You got off watching me suffer and struggle. You forced me to be cruel and merciless. You hollowed me out, turned me into an empty, soulless shell, and poured in your malice and depravity, and I let you. I let you do that to me, but no matter the warnings I ignored, no matter the mistakes I made, no matter how much I willingly played your game, I didn't deserve what you did to me. I didn't deserve that pain and torment. I didn't deserve what your hands did to my body or your words did to my mind. I didn't deserve any of it."

Eventually, Jemma loses steam, her assault growing weaker by the minute. She isn't trained for prolonged combat like Bobbi. When her body starts to tire and fail, she finally breaks and admits what Fitz had realized days ago at the Retreat: "I hate you. Everything you've done. Everything you believe. Everything you created. I hate you, but I hate myself more."

"I hate myself more," she whispers as her tears fall and her legs give out.

Helpless to do anything more as she tries and fails to think of something to say, Bobbi catches Jemma and pulls her into a tight embrace. The only sound for the next few minutes is Jemma's desperate sobs. Only now that they hear the conviction of her self-loathing do they understand how deep her trauma runs. Only know do they realize the intensity of pain she has suffered alone.

"Oh Jemma, no," Bobbi laments as she pulls the shaking woman closer. "No. Don't say that." Ever since that day in the warehouse all those weeks ago, Bobbi has felt responsible for so much of what Jemma has suffered. In this moment, with Jemma falling to pieces in her arms, she can no longer ignore those feelings.

"I should have been more observant," she confesses. "I should have gotten you out of there sooner. My job was the keep you safe, and I failed. I'm sorry, Jemma. I'm so sorry I failed you."

The only rejoinder Jemma can manage through her tears is the shaking of her head back and forth. When she can control her breath long enough to form comprehensible words, she'll do her best to make Bobbi see that she never blamed her for any of it. Even if she had intervened sooner, Jemma never would have trusted her. Up until those final, terrifying moments, she believed Bobbi was Hydra. Had she confronted her before her cover had been blow, Jemma would have just assumed that Bakshi was trying to either trick her or test the effectiveness of his methods. In fact, until they landed on the quinjet and she heard Tripp's voice, Jemma had believed just that.

When Fitz moves as if to gather Jemma from Bobbi's arms, Skye pulls him back and shakes her head. She knows that the only thing he wants to do is comfort and soothe, but she pleads with him wordlessly to let her be the one to do it instead. In this moment, Skye sees herself all those months ago, shaking and frightened in the quarantine room. She remembers how much she hated herself in those initial hours after realizing that she had powers and what she had done with them. She feels closer to Jemma than she has since that moment, and she thinks that she might be the only one who can help her take the first step out of the prison she's built for herself.

At first Fitz wants to refuse her. He wants to be the one to hold Jemma tight and dry her tears. He wants to be the one who calms her trembling limbs and convinces her that she doesn't have to try to deal with her traumas alone. He's been waiting for this moment for days, and he wants to be her knight in shining armor. But seeing the determination and understanding in Skye's eyes takes all the fight from him. Fitz may want to be the one to pick up Jemma's pieces, but he can't be her only ally in this fight. He has to help her see that not only can she lean on him, she can lean on everyone else as well. He has to give the others a chance to make their amends as well, even if all he really wants to do is be selfish and keep Jemma all to himself. She deserves more than that from him. She deserves someone who sees her as an equal, not some damsel in distress. She deserves someone who will place her needs over his selfish desires. So, he steps aside and watches as Skye kneels at her side.

Sensing that the rest of them will be an unwelcome audience when Simmons is once again aware of her surroundings, May ushers Fitz, Hunter, and Mack away. Before he leaves, Fitz shoots one more concerned glance in Jemma's direction. He'll trust Skye to help her through the next little while, but he won't let the day end before seeing her again. He isn't sure if she was even aware of his presence at the end of the match, but on the off chance that she was, he won't allow her to think that anything she's said has made him distance himself from her. And, if he's honest with himself, he won't be able to sleep until he knows that her wounds have been treated and she isn't in want of anything else.

Careful not to startle the two women, Skye reaches out and grasps Jemma's hand to begin removing her gloves. Despite the padding, her knuckles are already starting to bruise. Skye's grateful that Helen Cho and her team have already left the base because she's sure she would be horrified that they've effectively undone so much of her hard work in little more than twenty minutes.

Working quickly but cautiously, Skye loosens and removes the rest of Jemma's protective gear as the battered scientist rest weakly in Bobbi's arms. A few of Bobbi's blows have left shallow wounds that need to be treated, and Skye wants to clean them up as soon as possible. Normally, she would ask for Bobbi's help, but it is clear that the tall blonde needs some looking after of her own, so Skye gently pulls Jemma away and helps her to stand.

"I've got her," Skye assures Bobbi as she helps Jemma steady herself. "Go get yourself cleaned up." Bobbi nods, placing her hand on Jemma's shoulder and giving it an encouraging squeeze before she leaves the room. Each of them is going to have to help Jemma make peace with her actions and find something to look forward to again. Skye might as well be the one to get the ball rolling.

As Skye pulls her from the gym and leads her back toward the residential wing of the base, Jemma tries valiantly to quiet the lingering hitches in her breath. She wants to hide behind her armor of indifference again, but her armor, like her, has been shattered beyond repair, and she's too exhausted to try to cobble together anything out of the shards.

She's surprised when Skye leads her back to her room, but it doesn't show it. It's been months since she has been in this space and very little has changed. Skye's hula dancer is still perched on her rather bare bookshelf. Her clothes are still strewn about, as if she tried on dozens of more colorful outfits this morning before settling on the conglomeration of black pieces she's wearing now. Her laptop is open and the screensaver is still a slideshow of all the pictures she has taken with members of their team. Jemma recognizes most of them as she stands motionless while Skye picks her way over to the closet, but there are a few that she's never seen that must have been taken sometime over the last few months.

When she catches sight of a picture of the two of them grinning ear to ear that was taken just days before the showdown in San Juan, Jemma has to swallow the lump that immediately forms in her throat. "Skye," she calls miserably, her head hung in shame, "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

Having successfully rummaged around in her closet to find the basic first aid kit that seems to be in every room in this base, Skye turns her attention back to Jemma and is stunned to see how guilty and ashamed she looks as she continues speaking. Despite her earlier determination to keep her words trapped inside, Jemma's far too exhausted after her most recent breakdown to try to force them back, and she's owed Skye this apology for months anyway.

"I spent all that time at Hydra playing games with Bakshi when I should have been trying to uncover everything I could about the diviner. I might have discovered how to help you learn to use your powers safely. I might have been able to develop something that could have spared Tripp." Her voice gives out when she voices their teammate's name.

At first, Skye doesn't respond. She simply motions for Jemma to sit on the bed so that she can tend to her wounds and bruises. She knows that what she says in this moment may be the most important words Jemma ever hears her speak, and she wants to choose the right ones.

"You know, I know what it's like to come to terms with the reality you can be utterly, terrifyingly destructive," she admits quietly as she gingerly layers antiseptic cream over the small gash above Jemma's left eyebrow.

"All you see when you look at yourself in the mirror is everything you think you have destroyed, everything you might destroy if no one stops you. I get it, Jemma. I've been there. I understand what it's like to be so afraid of yourself that you shut everyone out, but it doesn't help. That isolation? It only makes it worse. No matter how scared you are that you might hurt them, you have to let other people in. You have to believe that we'll keep you safe, even from yourself, until you can figure out what to do. Fitz taught me that when I thought that I'd never been anything more than a monster."

Skye's words should comfort Jemma. She, perhaps better than anyone, apparently understands the venomous thoughts that have held Jemma prisoner for months. Skye has battled with them too and overcome them in the end. But the words don't soothe her. They only increase Jemma's feelings of guilt and shame because she knows that she was largely responsible for feeding Skye's fears in those initial weeks after her transformation because of how she responded.

As if she hasn't heard a word Skye has said, she apologizes again and tries to explain herself, desperate for Skye to understand her motivations and to know that she never believed she was a monster: "I'm sorry for how I treated you after San Juan. I didn't mean to make you feel like I was afraid of you. I was afraid for you. That's why I made you the gloves. I didn't want to inhibit your powers because I though you'd hurt us. I wanted to inhibit them so they wouldn't hurt you. Once you started to use your powers, I was terrified that you'd hurt yourself trying to keep us safe."

It's clear she wants to say more, but Skye interrupts her: "But Jemma, don't you see? That's what you've been doing yourself. You have this gift, and you're determined to use it to protect everyone else, but you're hurting yourself in the process. I know that you think you're somehow singlehandedly responsible for keeping everyone safe because you're gifted and they're not, but you aren't. You can't be. I can't be. No one can be. None of us are strong enough to do this on our own. No matter how freakishly awesome your brain is, you can't anticipate every curveball the universe throws our way. No matter how much control I gain over my powers, I can't take out every threat that faces this team. We're gifted, but we're part of a team for a reason, Jemma."

"Even if I'm not responsible for keeping everyone safe, I've killed people, Skye," Jemma counters. "I've made choices that will haunt me forever."

Exasperated that Jemma is still determined to see only her faults, Skye tries a different tactic: "Yes you have, but these last few months don't erase everything you've done or everything you were before. They don't erase everything you still can be. I know what it's like to believe that you'll never be anything but destructive, but I also know how important it is to give yourself the chance to be something else, something more. Punishing yourself forever for what you've done won't change anything. Deciding to take the chance to be something more just might. The choice you make now is what matters most, Jemma. Where will you go from here?"

Looking into Skye's eyes, Jemma wants to take comfort in her convictions. She wants to feel the sweet relief of having her burden lifted, but there are still so many issues that Skye's words, though heartfelt and probably true, don't touch, and until Jemma can work through the rest, even her teammate's best effort won't convince her that she can somehow find peace at the end of it all.

Despite Jemma's doubts, Skye is making headway. Her words are offering Jemma the life raft she has so desperately needed since pulling Fitz through ninety feet of water. Now, all Jemma just has do is reach out and take it. Of course, that is much easier said than done.

After leaving Skye's care, Jemma isn't sure what to do with herself. Her mind is at war. One side is still screaming abuse and feeding her guilty conscience, but there is a new voice fighting back. It's faint, but the longer she considers Skye's words the stronger it grows. Unfortunately for Jemma, it isn't strong enough yet to completely overpower the part of her that still believes she should suffer for what she has done. Nevertheless, it is just loud enough that she unconsciously makes a choice that will put her on a path to true recovery. She chooses to acknowledge her broken pieces and trust someone else to help her put them back together again.

Unable to find relief in the lab due to Coulson's orders and unwilling to return to her own room, she wanders aimlessly around the base until she finds herself standing at Fitz's door. It's ludicrous to think that he'll be in his room. It's the middle of the day. He's likely at the lab trying to make up for the work she isn't doing. Even knowing the odds are long and without the faintest idea what she might say if he is inside, she knocks.

Reclined on his bed, Fitz is startled to hear someone rapping at his door. After leaving the gym, he'd returned to the lab only to stare half-heartedly at his desk for a few minutes before turning around and retreating to his room. He can't shake Jemma's confession loose from his mind. He just keeps hearing her scream at Bobbi and then whisper the secret she's kept guarded for far too long. His concentration is shot and no amount of effort is going to help him produce anything worthwhile today. He plans to do nothing more involved than sitting here in silence for a few more hours before trying to find Jemma.

When he opens the door, he's shocked to see her standing there. It's the first time since they brought her back to the base that she has willingly sought out his company. She seems just as shocked to see him based on the way her eyes widen when they meet his.

For a moment, they just stare at each other. Within seconds, he's itching to reach out and pull her into a hug. She certainly looks like she could use one, and it's been days since he's had any significant contact with her. She wants nothing more than to bury herself into his chest and hold on tight. Every time he's embraced her recently she has been a passive participant, too scared of herself and what she might do to him to do more than rest limply in his arms. The last time she really held on to him with everything she had was at the bottom of the ocean. Remembering the heartbreak of that moment spurs her into motion. She doesn't want that to be her last memory of holding him. She wants new ones, dozens and dozens of memories to make that one fade away into nothingness.

She may be bad for him. She may be destined to hurt him no matter what she does, but she isn't strong enough to live without him. Not now. Not ever again. Maybe she's selfish for needing him. Maybe it's unfair to expect him to hold her broken pieces together after everything she's put him through, but selfish and unfair though it may be, she can't tolerate another minute of separation from him. She's awash in a swirling sea of chaotic emotions and harrowing memories, blinding fears and fragile hopes, and he's the only solace within her reach. He's the only solace she has ever wanted.

Taking a step forward, she closes the distance between them and wraps her arms around him as tight as she can heedless of how his sharp angles press into her newly formed bruises. She knows her fingers are probably digging painfully into his back, but she can't bring herself to loosen her hold. Tucking her head under his chin, she presses her right ear over his heart, losing herself momentarily in its strong, steady rhythm.

"I'm not okay," she eventually whispers into his chest as they continue to stand motionless in his doorway, neither of them willing to accept the momentary break in their hold that will be necessary if they move beyond the threshold.

"I know," he agrees, curling his hand around her neck to hold her steady.

Her admission should upset him, but it doesn't. It actually soothes some of his worry. If she is ready and able to admit something is wrong, she is one step closer to healing and moving forward. If she's willing to share this small but monumental truth with him now, maybe someday soon she'll finally trust him enough to share the rest.

"I haven't been okay for a very long time. Not since…" her voice trails off.

Even now, she still can't bring herself to talk about her experience in the med pod. Even months after the fact, she's still too raw and the emotions are still too sharp. The closest she's come is sharing some of what she had felt in the days after their rescue, but even that was only the barest of disclosures amidst the rest of the truths she had revealed to Fitz in the Retreat.

"I know. Me neither."

He doesn't need to hear the rest of that sentence to know where it would end if she could have finished it. Nothing has seemed right to him since the pod. Beyond the injuries he's had to overcome, they've been estranged since nearly the moment he woke from the coma, and that, more than the damage to his motor skills and speech, more than his slow recovery, has been the change that has affected him the most. Bereft of her, he has only felt like half of himself.

"I'm not sure that I'll ever really be okay again."

This is one of the hardest truths to admit. Knowing she is broken is painful enough. Admitting that she might never be whole again is nearly more than she can manage.

"You will," he responds without hesitation and with such conviction that she almost feels like she can believe him, but she needs further reassurance.

"How do you know?"

"Because we've never failed at anything we've done together."

His response is emphatic and resolute, and she allows the truth of the statement to wash over her like a balm. She can't refute him. He's absolutely right. They have never failed at something they've worked on together, and given how long they been friends and partners, that is an impressive track record.

In response, she simply squeezes him tighter, taking as much comfort from the feel of his flesh and bone beneath her fingers as from his words. He clutches her back just as tightly, relieved that she is allowing herself this comfort. He knows the battle ahead of them will be long, and the Jemma who emerges will be different from the girl he met all those years ago and the woman he fell in love with, but he's different too and in so many ways stronger for the changes. Maybe she will be as well.

While he would love nothing more than to stand here and hold her for the rest of the day, they're bound to attract an audience before too much longer. Pulling his hand from her neck, he reaches behind his back to grab hold of one of hers and tangle their fingers together. He wants her to have a connection to him when he pulls away to reassure her. His caution is justified.

When he begins to pull her into his bedroom so they can either continue this conversation in private or simply just enjoy being in each other's presence without any added words, she stands frozen at the door. In crossing this physical threshold she'll be crossing a metaphorical one as well. If she follows Fitz into his room, she's accepting his implicit offer to help her battle her demons. She's accepting the knowledge that she needs that help even though she's very likely to hurt him in the process, and she's accepting the very real possibility that she might hurt him enough that he will finally push her away.

Given her thoughts only days ago, she should find some small measure of comfort in that final possibility. After all, hadn't she wished on more than one occasion that Fitz would let her go so that he wouldn't have to suffer? Hadn't she lamented that he would love her in spite of everything she had done and might do to him? Now that she faces the potential of a future where she does convince him that she isn't worth his time or love, she doesn't find comfort in the thought that she might drive him away after all. If anything, it disturbs her more than the thought of having him but hurting him all the while.

If meeting Fitz in Chem. lab was the first turning point of her life, nearly losing him in the pod was the second. In that terrible moment when he pressed the canister in her hand and gave her one final, brittle smile, she knew that she would never be whole without him. In that horrible moment when she struggled to keep his lifeless body afloat as she screamed for help, she felt her soul tear in two, and it's remained in tatters ever since. In this moment, standing frozen at the entrance to his room, she finally realizes that she is as incapable of giving him up forever as he seems to be regarding her, and that frightens her into stillness. Whatever she choses to do in this moment will either make or break them, and she isn't ready to handle such a responsibility. She's certain that she'll make the wrong choice.

When he feels resistance, Fitz turns back only to see Jemma on the verge of tears. He tries to pull her to him, but she remains rooted to the spot.

"Jemma? What's happened? What's wrong?" he's frantic with worry. She'd seemed almost calm and content just a few seconds ago. How had everything gone pear shaped again in such a short amount of time?

Earlier today she would have kept her fears hidden from him, but the consequences of this moment are too weighty for continued silence. She prays that by voicing her fears he can somehow help her circumnavigate them. After all, hadn't he just said that they'd never failed at anything they'd done together? She needs that statement to remain true now more than ever before.

"I'm scared, Fitz," she murmurs so quietly he has to strain to hear her.

"Of what?" he asks immediately. There are so many things that might frighten her now that he isn't sure how he'll help her manage them all, but he'll try no matter what. He won't let her face her fears alone. The longer she hesitates to answer him, the more worried he grows.

She isn't trying to make him suffer; she just isn't sure how best to verbalize her complicated and interwoven fears. She's afraid of hurting him. She's afraid of holding him too close and of pushing him away. She's afraid of breaking forever the relationship between them that she's already already left in pieces. She's afraid of remaining broken herself. She's afraid of her future, her past, and everything in between. As she mentally stumbles to distill her thoughts into something comprehensible, she suddenly finds the central, most encompassing fear and says it out loud before she can second-guess herself.

"Losing you," she states simply staring into his anxious eyes. She can face an uncertain future, she can work though remaining broken, she can even try to come to terms with hurting him even though she doesn't want to, but the one thing she can't face is her life without him in it.

Of all the fears she might have shared, he wasn't expecting this. He's saddened that she still believes that he'll pull away from her, but he's only just started to undo the damage he's inflicted on her since her return from Hydra. Still, this is the one fear that he absolutely has the power to end, and his confidence is evident when he responds.

"You won't."

Confident or not, she can't be swayed so easily. While he considers his mistakes and how best to correct them, she goes over all of hers and begins to imagine how else she might fail him in the future. The possibilities seem endless.

"I almost have so many times," she begins, but he interrupts her before she can go any further.

"Almost, but you haven't," he attempts to reassure her. "I'm right here, Jemma. I'm always going to be right here." He squeezes her fingers between his own as if to punctuate his pledge.

"What if I hurt you again?" She doesn't doubt his loyalty in this moment. He means what he says, but she doesn't believe he is really considering all the ways she could hurt him or drive him away, and she is desperate for him to at least acknowledge the possibilities. How else can he help her fight back against them if he doesn't?

"I'll still be here."

"What if…" she begins to voice another potential folly before he interrupts her once more.

"Jemma. I'm not going anywhere, no matter what. I'll be right beside you the whole damn time," He stares into her eyes as he makes this final vow, his certainty so powerful and moving that she lets her worries go at least for a moment.

Taking in a deep breath, she steps over the threshold and hopes that she is making the right decision. For now she'll trust Fitz to help her hold her broken pieces together, and she'll pray that the jagged edges don't leave them both scarred and bleeding. Despite his assurances, she worries that that her recovery will prove even too much for him either due to what she reveals or how she treats him as she tries to work through her issues and insecurities. She tries not to dwell on that worry as she settles comfortably in his arms where they recline against his headboard and eventually falls asleep to the sound of his heartbeat.

As he watches her slumber peacefully for perhaps the first time in months, he considers just how far she has come to get here. She's taken the first crucial step forward, but if her confession in the gym is any indication, she has thousands more to take before her journey ends and he plans to be there for each one now that she is apparently willing to trust him again. Still, he can't help but wonder just how many demons they will have to exorcise before she'll have that same trust in herself.

His worries aren't unfounded. As she sleeps, the pernicious voices in her head resume their verbal assault now that they face no opponent. They will continue to undermine her team's best efforts at every turn until someone uncovers and finally helps Jemma eliminate the source.

TBC

A/N:

So clearly Jemma's not out of the woods yet, but she's starting to move in that direction. I had originally intended for this chapter to end after her breakdown during the sparring match with Bobbi, but so many of the recent chapter (the whole story to this point really) has been to angst-ridden and painful that I did want to have at least a few hopeful moments toward the end here.

This was such a difficult chapter to write because Jemma is warring with herself. She doesn't think she deserves much of anything but at the same time she is craving the comfort and understanding she hasn't been getting for the longest time, partially because of Fitz's reactions to her post Hydra and partially because she's been hiding so much of her self. I hope that internal war comes through clearly and doesn't make the chapter seem disjointed. Her emotions are messy, and what she wants and what she needs are so often in conflict that any scenes focused on her seemed to come out messy as well.

I also wanted this chapter to show that Fitz is human. He's been remarkably selfless in the last few chapters, but I wanted to explore his selfish side as well. It's hard for him to let Skye have that initial moment with Jemma. He really does want to be the one to gather her close, but he's still Fitz, which means that he'll put Jemma first (now that he understands why she went undercover). Also, the two of them aren't even close to being done discussing their issues and some of Fitz's insecurities will show up during that conversation (two chapters from now). He has is own problems to sort out and I don't want to gloss over them even though this story is really about Jemma.

As for what's coming up next, I think there will be four more chapters, though I may combine two of them together if they seem a little paltry on their own. The first is focused on Jemma and how the rest of the team (including Garner who isn't Lash in this fic) helps her to heal. The next focuses on Jemma and Fitz, and it will explore all the things they still need to discuss to really find their way first back to each other and then on to what they could be. The one after that is about Jemma learning to reframe her abilities to see them in a positive light. The last chapter should be rather heartwarming if it goes according to plan. It'll be much more lighthearted and hopefully even a little funny at times. Like I said, most of this fic has been so angsty that I wanted the final chapter to bring us full circle back to a Jemma who can once again feel comfortable in her skin and enjoy her life.

I hope you'll stick with me to the end, and I hope my writing muse stays close so you don't have to wait quite so long for the next chapter. Thanks for all your encouragement and kind words. They mean the world to me!