Before You Go

I Know That You're Hurting

I think this is the quickest I've ever updated . . . Seems being stressed leads to better writing :P

This chapter was heavily inspired by "Rain" by Raffertie. It makes a really good soundtrack! It's also a really awesome FitzSimmons edit on You Tube by jojokersinaXF. I HIGHLY recommend it!

Kicks off kinda angsty, but I think it's necessary for the ending fluff :D

---

The beeping of machines came first, low and methodical. Next the patter of rain on the windows, setting a beat to the tune of a heart.

Her eyes fluttered open, taking in the dim lighting and pale blue walls. Sleep slowly drained its way from her bones.

Her mind was fogged, a horrid turbulent mess that just bubbled beneath her skull. It was beating its pattern into her very pulse, the message resoundingly clear.

You.

You did this.

You weren't strong enough.

You left him.

Them.

Both of them.

Everything you touch . . .

. . . It fails.

The pod.

Maveth.

And now this.

Your son.

His son.

You failed him.

A tear silently snaked its way down her cheek. This wasn't what she had envisioned. This wasn't what she had had in mind when she handed Fitz a wrapped box with a positive test inside.

A quiet sob escaped her; it wasn't strong enough to make a sound, just to rattle her chest and reawaken her rough throat.

The figure next to her stirred. She sucked in a breath, attempting to to turn over before thinking better of the pain emanating from inside of her. It had been so long since Lizzie's birth she had nearly forgot the after effects of labor.

A thumb carefully traced her cheeks, brushing away her tears. She leaned into the feeling, coming face to face with bright blue eyes.

She breathed softly, smelling his skin and the faint traces of cologne that were overall him.

"Hi," he breathed, watching her carefully.

Her eyes darted from one pool of emotion to the next. "Hello," she breathed in return, breathless and teary.

His hand trailed softly from her face down to the curve of her neck, over the ties of her hospital gown and and down to her waist. Gently, he pulled her just a fraction closer to him.

"I know it hurts," he whispered, watching her closely. "But you need to let him go, Jemma,"

Her heart broke again, and idly the dramatic part of her wondered if this time it was unrepairable.

This man, the one she loved, the one she chose to begin a family with, was now telling her to let a piece of her go. To let their son, who would never have a chance to grow old, to start a family, go.

She couldn't. There had to be some way.

But she looked at him, and she knew. This wasn't going to be easy. This wasn't going to be fun. It wasn't going to be a heartfelt road to recovery.