Aurora hated it when she agreed with Grant Ward. The man was impulsive, emotional, arrogant, and it seemed he was constantly trying to prove he was better than people like Skye, Fitz, and Simmons simply because he could competently shoot a gun. More than anything, something about the man rubbed her the wrong way. And yet, for what felt like the umpteenth time, she agreed with him.
"It's an ounce too heavy," Ward spoke, looking down at the newest version of Fitz's Night-Night pistol. Skye looked up from where she was sitting at the computer while Aurora perched on the table next to her.
"An ounce," she said incredulously.
"It's the difference between success and failure," Ward said, and Aurora had to stop herself from nodding. "When you're on a rooftop with a 15-mile-an-hour wind, your target is 500 yards away--"
"Yeah, but we do have a rifle," Fitz interrupted.
Ward gave him a look. "Lose the ounce."
"Yeah, okay. On it."
Aurora's eyes followed after the combat agent as he left the room, the door sliding closed behind him.
"'Lose the ounce.' I'm Agent Grant Ward," Fitz mocked, "and I can shoot the legs off a flea from 500 yards, as long as it's not windy." Skye let out a loud laugh, and Aurora had to prevent a small chuckle from tumbling out of her mouth, her hand coming up to cover the smile. Fitz's head twisted to look at her, and she dipped her head. In her peripheral, she saw Fitz turn back to the hacker. "Hey, that's a sound I haven't heard in a bit," he said.
"Yeah, well, you wouldn't be laughing a whole lot if you were living in Ward's doghouse," Skye said.
"You made the rounds," Fitz said, "apologized to us all. What more can he ask?"
"I don't know. I have been busting my ass, memorizing every S.H.I.E.L.D. protocol manual, following every order. 'Yes, sir.' 'No, sir.' I even let them tag me like a stray dog. I mean, I know I lied to you guys, but I was trying to protect my boyfriend."
"You know, we all make mistakes." Aurora raised her eyebrows at the new tone in Fitz's voice. "And who cares-- I don't care-- who cares about your ex-boyfriend?" Oh, Fitz, I don't think you're Skye's type.
"It's not like I'm comparing Ward to Miles," Skye continued, "but at least with Miles, I didn't have to worry about passive-aggressive stuff. There were no mind games. We spoke the same language, you know."
"Yeah, a bit like we do." Aurora felt like she was watching a train wreck that she couldn't look away from.
"Totally," Skye said, oblivious to Fitz's attempt at flirting. "You and Simmons are so tight. It's like you're psychically linked."
Fitz's eyes shifted over to Aurora, who, for the first time, wasn't trying to hide her amusement at the situation. "No," he said, "you-- no. Actually, no. I don't think so."
"What about you, Auditore?" Skye asked, turning to face Aurora. The girl raised a single eyebrow, her pink lips curved upward into a smirk. "You speaking the same language with anyone?"
"Sorry," Fitz broke in, raising one of his hands as if he was in class, "I would just like to make it clear that Simmons and I aren't-- there's nothing--" He cut himself off gesturing slightly with his raised hand, his face was growing to be a light pink color as the two beautiful women looked at him.
Suddenly the glass door slid open and Simmons walked in, inadvertently saving Fitz. Aurora shifted her weight slightly as an uncomfortable feeling settled in her stomach. Simmons hadn't been avoiding her exactly, but Aurora had felt a new distance between the two of them after she had found out about Aurora's association with the Brotherhood. "So, Ward was here?" she asked, avoiding Aurora's gaze. "Let me guess-- the Night-Night pistol again?"
"He said it was off by an ounce," Fitz said, seizing the opportunity and turning away from Skye and Aurora to look at Simmons.
"Of course he did," Simmons scoffed, then, just as Fitz had, the woman preceded to mock the combat agent. "I'm Agent Grant Ward, and I could rupture your spleen with my left pinky-- blindfolded."
"That is dead-on," Skye laughed, and Aurora sent a pointed look to Fitz. The look he responded with clearly said Shut Up, and she stifled a smile.
"Hey, hustle up and grab your gear," Ward said, striding back into the lab. "We're on a mission." Unlike Aurora, Fitz and Skye were unable to prevent amused smiles from forming on their lips. "Something funny?"
"Poor, silly Fitz," Simmons said, redirecting Ward's attention to her. "He mistakenly left a dummy round in the pistol. Should be proper now." The man took the pistol from her, quickly raising it to his eyes and aiming it at nothing. He glanced at Simmons then at Aurora. Again she found herself in tune with Ward as the two locked eyes. They both knew he could still feel the extra ounce in the gun.
"Great. Thanks," he said, surprising her. Then he turned, walking back through the door he came through.
Aurora watched the three non-combat agents laugh with each other, and she shook her head. Sliding off the table, she walked off with the intent of doing as Ward said: gearing up for the mission. Right before she made her way up the stairs, she heard Fitz call her name. She turned to face him, her eyebrows rising once again at the man.
"Just, yeah know, for the sake of curiosity, Skye's curiosity obviously," he paused, rubbing the back of his neck, "are you, uh, 'speaking the same language with someone'?"
Something about how he asked it made an unfamiliar warmth fill Aurora's chest. "No, Fitz, you can tell Skye that I am not 'speaking the same language' with anyone.'"
"Good," Fitz said, then embarrassment flooded his face, and he immediately started backtracking. "Well, not good, good, I just mean--"
"Fitz," she said, her lips curled upward. "Gear up."
"Right. Will do," he said, then he shot her two thumbs up and darted back into the lab. Aurora shook her head.
⊗⊗⊗
"Troop leader's name was Adam Cross," Coulson explained to the team made their way up to the campsite in the woods of Pennsylvania. "Apparently, he said he heard something in the woods, went to check it out. That's where the electrostatic anomaly occurred."
"What I don't understand is, usually, they're caused by a massive electrical storm," Fitz said.
"But there wasn't a storm within a thousand miles of here last night," Simmons added.
"This anomaly's different," Coulson said. "It has a side effect we've never seen before."
Aurora walked behind the two scientists as they made their way up a small hill, following a path of scorch marks embedded into the trees. When they reached the top, Aurora blinked. A man was floating horizontally in the air-- a dead man. Aurora watched as Fitz and Simmons pulled out their tech, analyzing the floating body.
"So sad a man died this way," Simmons said, as the rest of the team joined them, "and yet, so amazing."
"Fitz-Simmons," Coulson said, "any idea what could cause an effect like this?" Then both scientists were off, talking a mile a minute and using words far above the rest of their understanding. Aurora shared a look with Ward. "Time. Let's try that again. Any idea what could cause an effect like this?"
"Hell if I know."
"Uh, no, no, clue."
"Seems to me like we're either dealing with some freak natural event or a new high-tech weapon," Ward said.
"Or could it be someone from your uber-secret Index?" Skye asked.
"There's no one on the Index with this type of power," May said.
"That we know of," Coulson added. "I'll contact Agent Blake at S.H.I.E.L.D. HQ, have him check it out. Whoever or whatever's responsible; we can't let this happen again."
Simmons took a step towards the body. "Fitz, see his forehead? Look at that endothelial discoloration."
"Yeah, same dispersal pattern as the strike on the truck," Fitz said. An uneasy feeling filled Aurora as she watched Simmons take another step. Something inside her wanted to reach out and pull the girl back by the scruff of her neck.
"Simmons," Aurora called out. Jemma turned to look over her shoulder for a second.
"It could be an entry wound cauterized immediately," Simmons said, leaning her head forward. Then the body made a sizzling sound and dropped. Aurora's eye's darted around the scene. Not good.
"Freaky," Fitz said.
While May migrated to the interrogation room, with the hopes of getting information from one of the boy scouts, and Ward, Skye, and Coulson headed upstairs, Aurora returned to the lab with the scientists and the body of Cross. Although, one look at the body on his precious Holotable had Fitz practically running back to the ramp. Aurora watched as Simmons scanned the body, making notes every few minutes on the tablet in her hand.
"Excellent timing, sir," the scientist said when Coulson returned to the lab. "I've been analyzing sagittal and coronal images of the victim's brain."
"What's Fitz doing out there?" Coulson asked.
"He detected a strange energy coming off the body."
"He's afraid of it, isn't he?"
"It's the smell!" Fitz yelled from the ramp. Aurora didn't blame him, the smell of death was disturbing; it had a habit of clinging to clothes and lingering in the air too long. It had taken Aurora years to get used to it.
"There's no shame in it, Fitz," Simmons called out. Aurora nodded her head in agreement. "It's perfectly natural to be afraid."
"No," Fitz yelled back, "the only thing I'm afraid of is putrid, decaying flesh corrupting my pristine workspace. Do you remember the last time you brought a dead thing into the lab?"
"Oh, not the stupid cat again."
"The cat--"
"It's our lab, Fitz--"
"Tell him about the cat!"
"--Not your lab."
"You left his liver next to my lunch!"
Aurora smiled, her head bouncing back and forth between the two bickering scientists, until, finally, Coulson interrupted them, gesturing to the body on the table.
"Guys! Can we please..."
"Yes, sir," Simmons said, taking a breath. "As I was saying, this is the victim's brain." Tapping on her tablet, a detailed image of the body displayed onto the monitor. Cross's brain was a dark brown, contrasting greatly with the brilliant greens and blues of the rest of the image.
"Looks like a burnt baked potato," Coulson observed.
"That's what happens when it's hit with 2,000 megajoules of electrostatic energy." Aurora let out a low whistle. "That's almost double the power of a lightning bolt."
"Kid's clean," May announced, joining them. "You figure out why the body was floating?"
"Not yet. The molecular density of the victim was temporarily altered by an unknown energy source. I'm hoping to shed some light on its effects once I extract a brain-tissue sample."
"It's happening again!" Fitz called out from behind the glass door.
"It's science, Fitz! I have to dissect something."
"No, the satellite's picking up another electrostatic event, not twenty kilometers from here." The three combat agents looked at each other in concern. Then, without hesitating, Coulson sent an order to Ward through the comms, as they raced passed Fitz and jumped into the S.U.V. Aurora climbing into the backseat as Coulson took shotgun. Seconds later, Ward was running through the lab, slamming down the button to release the ramp and sliding in next to her. As soon as the ramp made contact with the ground, May was putting her foot to the gas, and they were off.
⊗⊗⊗
May had only been driving for a few kilometers, breaking many speed laws in the process, when Coulson requested an update on the level of energy radiating from the event.
"We're at 324 megajoules and growing stronger," Fitz said through their comms. "Dangerous territory, sir."
"There's a farmhouse a mile north of you," Skye added, "right at the center of the signal. That's got to be it."
"Skye, dig up everything you can on whoever lives at that farm," Coulson said. "We need to know who we're dealing with."
"What-what just happened? Um, it's gone," Fitz said.
"What's gone?"
"The electrostatic signal-- it seemed to pulse then disappear."
"We need a short cut," Coulson said, looking at May. A second later, May made a sharp turn off the road and into a field of crops. The force of it cause Aurora to take hold of the door and her grip didn't loosen until they pulled up to the farmhouse. As she exited the car, she pulled her handgun out from where it was resting at the curve of her waist and positioned it in front of her, ready to engage. Coulson pushed lightly on the barn door, peaking between the boards of wood.
"Door's barred from the inside," he noted.
"Haylofts open," Ward said.
"We could ram it with the truck," Coulson suggested, and Aurora and May looked at each other and rolled their eyes. Taking a step out of the way, May gestured to her. Nodding, Aurora took a step back and kicked the door wide open. It made a high-pitched whining sound as it swung on its hinges. The two men turned to look at her, and she raised her eyebrows. "Or..."
One by one, they entered the barn, stopping short when they caught sight of another floating body. Not good. May darted up the ladder and into the hayloft to be eye level with the newest victim.
"Scan the perimeter," Coulson ordered, not even bothering to turn and face them. "Whoever did this couldn't have gotten far." Nodding, Aurora and Ward split up.
Without speaking, Aurora moved around the left side of the barn, her back turned towards the wood paneling. She grasped the gun tightly in her hands and directed her eyes into the woods just behind the barren field. Scanning the trees, she saw nothing. When she connected with Ward behind the barn, he shook his head too. Damn. For safety, Aurora circled the farmhouse for recent signs of life while Ward checked for any tracks or vehicles.
"No tracks," he said, updating the rest of the team, "no vehicles down the road."
"Nothing around the house either," Aurora said.
"Skye. We need real-time SAT surveillance on this area right now," Coulson said.
"Hang on. I think I found something you might want to see first. Sending it over now." Sure enough, Aurora's phone vibrated in her front pocket. In the group chat was an image of both the first victim and the second victim, both of whom were wearing their firefighter uniforms and posing with two others in front of a fire truck. "The guy who owns the farm's name is Frank Whalen. He's a volunteer firefighter at the same station house as our first victim."
"Our two victims knew each other," Ward said.
"They were both responders when the aliens crashed in New York."
"Two victims from the same firehouse, found in the same weird way."
"We're looking for a killer."
"We need to get to that fire station, talk to the other firefighters," Coulson said. "Fitz-Simmons, Skye, see if you can get anything from our new victim." Aurora heard the scientists mutter affirmatives in the comm, and the combat agents piled back into the car. They waited for a few minutes after the others had arrived at the second location before making contact again.
"Skye, what did you find out about the firehouse?"
"It turns out they sent an engine to New York with a dozen volunteers after the Chitauri invasion, including Cross and Whalen. Maybe it has something to do with why they were targeted?"
"Or how they were killed," Ward added.
"You mean like... an alien weapon?" Aurora shook her head to herself, wouldn't be the first time.
"We don't know about that," Coulson dismissed. "Let's just make sure we get to those firefighters before anyone else does." May pressed down harder on the gas.
The sun had already set on the horizon when they parked at the entrance to the station, drawing the attention of the men sitting around playing cards.
"Evening, gentlemen," Coulson greeted. "Agent Phil Coulson with S.H.I.E.L.D. We were on the ground with you in New York."
"S.H.I.E.L.D., right," one of the men replied. Aurora assumed that he was the fire chief, based on the badge on his chest. "What's this all about?"
"We'd like to ask you a few questions, take a look around."
Coulson gestured with his head, and Aurora, May, and Ward departed the scene. Ward trekked back outside to check the perimeter, while she and May separated upstairs. She rested one hand behind her, ready to take hold of her handgun again if she needed too. Slowly she pushed each door open, flipping on the lights and looking around the room for any signs of a man or object that was out of place. Again and again, she found nothing: only normal breakrooms and supply rooms. Aurora had finally met in the middle with May when Coulson's voice came through their comms.
"Ward, cover the back door. Nobody comes in or out." Aurora's hand inched closer to her gun as she shared a look with the other agent. Not good. May pushed open the last door, flicking on the light switch. Metal bunk beds were pushed against the wall, and two heavy wooden closets stood tall next to them. Over May's shoulder, Aurora saw some sort of metal object sitting in a clear glass container.
"A Chitauri helmet," Aurora whispered, as she took a step closer to it.
May nodded, informing Coulson and the team over the comm. Then she pulled out her camera, broadcasting the image. "Fitz-Simmons, are you seeing this?"
"May, Aurora, don't touch it!" Simmons ordered, and the two backed out of the room. "Sir, he's not using a weapon-- he's infected. I think the helmet was the source of an alien virus." As the two agents turned the corner to the room Coulson was in, Ward joined them, his hands holding his gun tightly. A group of concerned firefighters followed behind them.
"Mr. Diaz," Coulson said, "I'm putting the gun away now, okay?" Aurora looked at the poor man covered in sweat, clearly panicking as the realization of his fate set in. He was going to die.
"Sir, he's at 600 megajoules and climbing. Sir?"
Coulson turned abruptly to face them. "Clear everybody out. Clear everybody out now."
Nodding firmly, the agents ushered the firefighters out of the station, answering as little questions as they could.
"Why don't you have a seat?" Aurora heard Coulson ask. "You have any family-- wife, kids? Is there anyone you want to talk to?"
As they reached the edge of the station, May turned back, looking distractedly at the large building.
"Sir," Fitz said, and Aurora watched May's eyes twitch slightly at the man's next words. "You have to get out of there right now!" The agent shifted on her feet. Aurora was doing better at masking her concern for Coulson, still in the building with the rising infection.
"Your job," Coulson said, "gets pretty dangerous, doesn't it? Mine, too. I got hurt once-- pretty bad and I... I died." This time Aurora was the one shifting her weight. "Some say it was only for 8 seconds, but I know it was more than that. I know I wasn't here anymore. I was there." Aurora couldn't hear Diaz's response and, without thinking about it, she dug her fingernails into her arm. "It's beautiful."
Moments later, Coulson emerged from the station. Aurora squinted at the man. There was no way of knowing if he was telling the truth or lying for the sake of the dying man. Slowly a bright blue light grew in the windows. It pulsed for a second, the air crackling with electricity, then nothing. Aurora supposed it didn't really matter if he was telling the truth or not; he had been kind.
They spent the next few hours in quarantine. No one knew, not even Simmons, how long it would take for the illness to present symptoms or how it was spread. Every muscle in Aurora's body had tensed upon seeing the crowd of S.H.I.E.L.D. agents sent to manage their quarantine and examine the station. The only positive was, with the arrival of the crowd of suits, Fitz, Simmons, and Skye had shown up too. The three had spoken in quiet sentences for a few seconds before Fitz ordered them to stand in a line. Keeping his distance, he moved down the line, pointing his gadget in their directions, and a series of small red dots appeared on their chests. After taking a hesitant step away from Ward, who stood at the end of the line, he spoke.
"All clean-- no traces of electrostatic energy."
"What about the other firefighters?" Aurora heard Skye ask.
"They'll be quarantined and observed at a S.H.I.E.L.D. biohazard facility," Simmons said. Aurora watched as two men in white hazmat suits leave one of the sealed-off rooms, carrying a crate with an orange 'hazardous' sticker on it, and walk right up to their car.
"Anyone else notice they're putting the infected alien thing on our truck?" Skye said as the team moved to stand next to her.
"We're flying it to the Sandbox," Coulson said.
"The Sandbox?"
"It's a S.H.I.E.L.D. research facility across the Atlantic," Simmons explained. "They specialize in hazardous materials."
"If what you suspect is true, that this is a virus," Coulson said, looking at the scientist, "then those firefighters could be infected, and they're gonna need a cure. Find one."
"Yes, sir."
⊗⊗⊗
Aurora Auditore had been eating a sandwich and sitting on a lounge chair when she realized how much she had grown to care about scientist Jemma Simmons. May had been in the cockpit. Ward and Skye had been bickering about something regarding his training methods. Fitz had had a look on his face, a look which Aurora had come to associate with him running through data points in his head, and absentmindedly shoving popcorn into his mouth.
An alarm had blared through the plane, followed quickly by the presence of Coulson. Unlike Fitz, his expression had been unknown to her. He spoke, and all the air in the plane was sucked out like a vacuum.
Jemma Simmons had caught the illness.
The deadly illness that caused people to be electrocuted from the inside out with a current twice as strong as a lightning bolt. A deadly illness no one had a cure for.
Leo Fitz left the room moving faster than Aurora had ever seen him, the bowl of popcorn forgotten. Skye looked like she was on the verge of tears, and a hand came up to cover her gaping mouth; Ward didn't bother to cover his. Coulson never lost his expression.
Aurora's face didn't change. Her eyes didn't widen. Her mouth didn't open. The only outward sign that anything had gone wrong was that her hands had curled into fists, and her nails were digging crescent-shaped indents into the palm of her hand. Her tongue was firmly between her teeth, the taste of copper filling her mouth. Inside, however, Aurora felt her throat constrict, and her heart and stomach rearranged themselves. She ground her back molars harder. Fear began to tingle at her fingertips, and she felt it move through her skin. It had been years since she felt this type of fear.
The fear for someone else.
It was a fear she could do nothing about. There was nothing, no one to fight. No mission to accomplish.
Worthless. Worthless. Worthless.
The only person who could do anything about the illness had the illness.
"Sir, does this mean she could bring down the plane?" Aurora's head snapped in Ward's direction. She hadn't even thought of that. She blinked once. Twice. That's what he was thinking about? Anger quickly replaced fear. Anger was easier. She could work with anger. Hey, thanks Ward, you insensitive asshole.
Coulson pursed his lips but didn't answer the question. Slowly, he looked at each of their faces. Skye still seemed shocked, and Aurora couldn't seem to make her mouth move. Something unrecognizable passed through his eyes. "I need to inform May of the situation." Then he walked away, leaving the agents to their thoughts.
Nobody spoke, until, eventually, Coulson returned with May, ushering them all down to the ramp. Leo was already there, sitting with his back against Jemma; the only thing separating them was the glass door to the lab. He was fiddling with something in his hands, and Aurora could see that his eyes had glazed over. She could only assume Jemma had a similar expression.
"Simmons believes she contracted the virus approximately 36 hours ago when she received an electrostatic shock from the first victim," Coulson said, his voice low, as the agents formed a circle.
"How much time does she have?" Skye asked, her arms crossed tightly around her chest, hands pulled into the sleeves of her sweater.
"Based on when the firemen were infected, how quickly their symptoms manifested... two hours at most." Aurora swallowed down gravel, and let out a breath from her nose as fear crept back in.
"That's enough time, right?" Skye said, looking at the established agents. "I mean, S.H.I.E.L.D. has dozens of labs and scientists working on this thing, don't they?"
"They do. How soon can you get us on the ground?"
"Three hours," May answered. "Our path to the sandbox has us right in the middle of the Atlantic."
"Sir, correct me if I'm wrong, but if we can't land in time..." Ward said, pushing harder for the answer to a question he'd already asked. Aurora ground her teeth again.
"Simmons will release a pulse that will blow this plane right out of the sky," Coulson said, letting out a defeated sigh.
"We can't just sit here and watch her die," Skye said. "We have to do something."
"There's nothing we can do," Aurora said, forcing an even tone and pushing all of it down, pushing everything down.
Coulson nodded, looking at her. "There's only one person on this plane capable of finding a solution for this, and I'm willing to bet my life that she will." They all turned to look at the two scientists.
"She's just a kid," May whispered.
Aurora ran her tongue along her teeth, letting out a quiet breath. May was right, Jemma, Leo, Skye, they were kids. They were innocent and kind, inexperienced in the world of pain, torture, abuse. Then she shook her head, not bothering to bite down her disgust at herself (disgust was better than fear) and her hatred of the fact she sounded like Ward (hate was easier than fear). Simmons, Fitz, and Skye were all of those things. But that didn't mean they weren't strong. It didn't mean they weren't capable. It didn't mean that they should be underestimated. They had earned their place as S.H.E.I.L.D. agents.
Aurora stood by what she thought before. Jemma Simmons was one of the most intelligent people she had ever met; if anyone could find this cure, it would be her. Especially if the brilliant Leo Fitz was helping her.
The woman in question turned around to face them at May's statement, fear evident in her eyes.
"She's strong," Aurora asserted, and her tone left no room for discussion. She was stating a fact. In her peripheral, Aurora watched as they all turned to look at her, but her focus remained on Simmons. I'm not saying it to make you feel better. I'm saying it because it's true.
Again, Coulson nodded, putting his attention back on the two scientists. He looked at both of them and said seriously. "Get to work." They both mumbled out affirmatives, maneuvering themselves into a standing position.
⊗⊗⊗
Ward had pulled up the live feed of the lab, broadcasting it onto the screen in the debriefing room. Aurora had watched, before crossing her arms and leaning up against the table on the other side of him. Despite her confidence in Simmons and Fitz, her mouth was still dry, and her fingernails were digging into the flesh of her forearm. She knew there would be welts there tomorrow, and yet she couldn't pull her hand away. Neither of them spoke, neither of them moved. Eventually, Ward broke first.
"I hate this," he muttered, bitterness clear in his voice. His crossed arms tightened even more against his chest. Aurora hummed quietly, then she shifted her weight, watching as Fitz passed Simmons something through the door. He looked over his shoulder at her, and his chest heaved. They locked eyes, and he knew she understood. They had been trained to fight and to kill. Neither of which could help. They watched the screen for another few minutes, then Aurora shook her head, speaking honestly.
"I can't watch anymore." She needed to leave, to distract herself. There was nothing she could do right now. There was no point in antagonizing herself, any more than she already had, about an inevitable she had no control over. He didn't respond, and she didn't need him too.
Walking away, she entered her bunk, closing the door behind her. Mechanically she lied down on the bed, looking up at the ceiling but not registering anything. She didn't bother to close her eyes. She wouldn't be able to sleep right now even if she wanted too. She almost pulled out Frankenstein, but she knew there was no point in that either. Truly all she wanted to do was train, but there was no chance in Hell she was going to go downstairs and risk disturbing the scientists. One of her hands reached out, and she started absentmindedly running her thumb back and forth on the leaves of her Devil's Ivy.
Every thought she had brought her back to the scientists, and it scared her. Not just because their lives were at risk, but because of how much she cared about them. She already knew she felt something for Skye, Fitz, and Simmons, but the others? She cared about all of them. Even Agent May and Agent Coulson and their suits and blind loyalty, and Agent Ward and his arrogance and impulsiveness. The team.
Weak. Weak. Weak.
She was getting attached to them. In a few short months, they had wormed their way under her skin. She ran her tongue along her teeth. She was scared that this was only the beginning. She was scared that she was only skimming the surface of how much she actually cared about them. She was scared she would break them. That they would break her.
Pathetic.
She was scared that it was too late. She was scared that there was no going back. She was scared that she would never be able to distance herself from them. She was scared that she didn't want to. She was scared of what that meant for her. She was scared of what that meant for them. She was scared Mother was right. She was scared Mother would always be right. She was scared. Scared, scared, scared, scared.
Her hands curled into tight fists, and she dug her knuckles into the skin of her forehead. Her breathing was out of control. She had no control. She had no control. She could feel herself circling, falling further and further.
Suddenly there was a rogue thought, a rogue realization. She caught hold of it and clung. It's been a while since I fell this far, this fast.
She used it as an anchor, trying to fight her way back to the surface of her mind. Digging herself back to reality. She wished she could ride it out. She used to just ride it out. Wait for her mind to Stop. Wait for exhaustion to take over.
But she couldn't. Not when a member of her team was fighting for their life. Fighting a battle she could do nothi--
Stop.
She couldn't ride it out. Not when the members of her team were right outside her door in the debriefing area. She would not be caught like this. She would not be found in a moment of weakness.
Weak. Weak. Weak. Weak.
They would not see her weak.
Slowly she sat up. She closed her eyes and focused on leveling out her breathing. In, out. In, out. In, out. Opening her eyes again, she unclenched her fists, letting her fingers curl out one by one. In the center of her left palm rested a leaf, ripped off her Devil's Ivy and crushed by her hand. A wave of guilt rushed over her. Leaning forward, she placed the broken leaf on the dirt, patting it gently.
"I'm sorry," she said. "I'm sorry."
Resting her feet on the ground, she pulled herself out of bed. She took her hair out of her braid only to put it back. She focused herself on the act, every twist of her hair, every movement of her hand. She took back control.
Taking a step forward, she slid her door open, just in time to see Leo Fitz, pale and sweaty, run by her carrying the crate with the bright orange 'hazardous' sticker.
Oh for the love of---
She heard Coulson yell out the scientist's name, and she looked up, sharing a panicked look with Skye. Then all three of them were darting after the man, running down the stairs to the ramp. As they reached the bottom, they heard the tell-tail sound of the lab door sliding open and, right in front of them, was Fitz in the lab.
"Fitz," Simmons said, her voice muffled by the door, "I don't know what you think you're doing, but--"
"I'm doing what we always do," Fitz answered. "We're gonna fix this-- together."
Ward and May joined them, and together, the team watched them work. Skye stood planted in front of the door, while Coulson paced back and forth. May stood behind Skye, and Aurora and Ward leaned against the front of the S.U.V. None of them could keep their eyes away from the glass. Time was running out. Aurora felt a hand touch her shoulder, and she flinched instinctually away from the touch. She turned her head and saw Ward, forcing a neutral expression and nodding at him.
"Third time's a charm," Fitz said, and all of the agents migrated closer to the glass. "May I do the honors?" Simmons gave a feeble nod. Fitz took the few short steps to the rats in the corner of the lab, picking one up and giving it the cure.
"I can't breathe," Skye whispered, and Aurora found she was also holding her breath.
"We did it," Simmons spoke. Then a blue light pulsed from the animal before the corpse rose into the air. Aurora closed her eyes. The fear in her body seeped out, and in its place came acceptance. There was nothing she could do.
"No," Fitz whimpered, and she heard Skye mimic the sound next to her.
Slowly Simmons walked up to the glass, standing directly in front of Coulson. "Sir, I know the protocol in these circumstances, but could you please tell my dad first?" Aurora felt her heart split in two, just as admiration and respect filled her. Simmons was accepting death gracefully. Behind her, Aurora watched as Fitz got back to work. "I just think my mum would take it better if it comes from him."
"We're not there yet. There's still time."
"Sir, please." Coulson nodded, short and firm. Then the woman turned to the rest of them, two tears slipping down her cheeks. "Would you mind if I had a brief moment alone with Fitz?" The combat agents gave her a look of understanding, while Skye cried quietly. Sluggishly and silently, the agents made their way back to the debriefing room.
"Agent Blake is on the line," May informed them. "He wants to know what's going on. If you won't answer, he asked for Ward."
"Sir, what are our orders?" Ward asked.
"They're unchanged."
Before Ward could respond, an alarm blared through the bus.
"What is that?" Skye asked, glancing around the room.
May tapped on the screen in the table, pulling up the plane's blueprints. "Someone's lowering the cargo-hold ramp." There was a second of silence, then Ward and Aurora were looking at each other. Simmons.
Without consulting the others, the two bolted. Running through the lounge, they opened the door leading to the ramp just in time to see Fitz wrestling with a parachute. They both jumped down off the balcony, Fitz yelling at them that the antiserum had worked, as Ward took the parachute and the cure from him. It was only secured over one shoulder as the man followed behind Simmons, jumping out of the plane. Fitz was still muttering, panicky, under his breath as Aurora raced to close the ramp door.
⊗⊗⊗
Simmons was alive. Ward had gotten to her just in time, and the team had been forced to fish them out of the ocean. However, no one had complained, too thankful that they were safe and that everyone had made it out alive.
Aurora and Skye had sat in the lounge area, waiting for the two water-logged agents to return from their scolding from Coulson. As soon as Simmons voiced carried over to them, Skye was moving, barreling into Simmons and engulfing her into a hug. The two girls swayed side to side slightly as, walking far more calmly, Aurora stood next to Ward. When Skye released her, Aurora made eye contact with her. For a moment, there were a lot of things she wished she could say to Simmons, but there was a pound of lead resting on her tongue, and she couldn't make her mouth move. So, gritting her teeth, she settled on two words and a firm nod.
"See, strong." A pink color flushed the scientist's face and caused Skye to wrap her arm around Simmons' shoulder, giving her another squeeze.
Hours passed, and the team, for the most part, had settled down after their stress-filled day. Skye had practically glued herself to Simmons' side, and Ward was never out of eyeshot of them. Coulson and May had retired to Coulson's office, and Aurora hadn't seen them since. Fitz had all but disappeared, and the next time Aurora saw him, he had been sitting in his bunk with a pillow clutched tightly to his chest. As she leaned against his doorway, she noticed that his eyes were still red and his face blotchy. There seemed to be shame in his expression, and although he knew she was there, he didn't raise his eyes to meet her.
She ran her tongue along her teeth. Truthfully, Aurora didn't hate Mother, not really. She resented her, feared her, pitied her, and usually those emotions were easier to forget. Easy to ignore. But, as she leaned against Fitz's door, she felt all of those emotions flood her system. Just like Simmons, there were a lot of things she wanted to tell Fitz. She knew he thought he was weak, and she wanted to tell him that he was wrong. Tell him that he was strong, just like Simmons. And that he was brave just like Simmons. She wanted to tell him that he shouldn't be beating himself up about what had happened. She wanted to tell them she was proud. She wanted to comfort them.
But she couldn't. Not in the way she wanted to. Not in the way they needed it.
Not when there was a familiar ball of pressure resting on her ribs, crushing her breath. Or when the lead block remade an appearance atop her tongue. A wave of guilt came over her. They deserved to be comforted. He deserved to be comforted.
Weak. Weak. Weak.
(Okay, so maybe she did hate Mother.)
She let out a breath through her nose, and forced herself to move, sitting next to him on the bed. At her weight, she felt his eyes drill into the side of her head, but she remained facing forwards. She took another breath and swallowed the sandpaper collecting on the back of her throat.
"Anyone can learn to jump out of a plane." Her voice was low, firm, and she forced it to sound neutral. "Only you," and Simmons, "could make the cure. Without it, jumping out of the bus would have been pointless."
Trying not to think about it, she reached over and wrapped one of her hands around his left wrist. Her touch was light. One second. She squeezed gently. Two seconds. Three seconds. Letting go, she put both hands in her lap and laced her fingers together. Her breath was still constricted, and she had a current of anxiety pulsing through her body.
Forcing a long breath out of her nose, she stood quickly and made to escape, the punching bag on the ramp calling her name. But before she could take a second step, Fitz stopped her, wrapping his hand around her wrist. Just like hers had been, his grip was kind. She turned towards him but kept her gaze locked on a spot above his head, attempting to distract herself from the warmth of his skin and the uncomfortable feeling in her gut.
"Thank you," he mumbled quietly, letting go of her wrist. There was a small smile on his lips, and her chest felt tighter.
She nodded firmly, then turned and left his bunk. She knew it wasn't a lot, by conventional standards. What she had said, done; it was the bare minimum. But for her, it was a lot. It meant a lot. She hoped they understood that. She hoped he understood that.
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