Chapter Nine

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Asia woke with a groan, the cool cement pulsing against her head, Trip leaning over her, extending a hand, a glower on his face. "You too?" she asked him, grabbing his hand and allowing him to pull her up.

"Yea, that motherfucker-" Trip began, but Asia cut him off, interrupting with her own sentence.

"He'll get what's coming for him. There's no point. He was avenging his people," Asia said in a hurry, looking at her feet. She got it, she understood it. She sure as hell didn't agree with it. The bump on her head from smacking against the concrete of the building roof would smart for a bit. If they did any combat training later this week, she was going to make sure she returned the favour. "How are the others?"

"Hmm," Trip for a moment. "Let's put it this way, you wouldn't want to be on the other end of May's gaze right about now." He cracked a wide grin.

Asia brushed herself off and looked up at him. "He shot Agent May?" She almost couldn't believe it. "What a complete idiot." That poor man was going to have his balls in a vice before he knew it. Or with his head on a plate. Either way, it wasn't going to be pretty on Hunter's end of things.

"Let's go, I'm sure they're waiting for us back at the van," she continued, leaning down to pick up her discarded rifle and carefully disassembling it. She didn't want to make May any more irate than she already was. And she wanted to get back home. Take a shower. Relax. Try not to beat up Lance Hunter. Try not to think about what had happened in the Lab last night. She needed to curl up in her nest and just unwind.

The ride in the van back to their disguised Quinn Jet was uncomfortably quiet. Everyone stuffed in the tiny, windowless van was feeling some sort of anger or resentment, whether it was at themselves or another member of their team. There was a lot of blame to be placed, but as always, Asia somehow wound up placing it upon herself. It was going to be a long ride home with nothing but her thoughts to keep her company.

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Later that evening, once they were back at the base, Asia was strolling through the halls when she stopped in front of a window to the Lab, watching a scene unfold before her. May and Skye had stopped beside her, thinking perhaps for a moment they could coax her to go in, to talk to him, but decided against it once they saw what she saw. Fitz and Mack were in the Lab together, laughing, joking, getting work done. Though he was still stammering with his sentences and occasionally having to think about words, he was making progress, without her. He didn't need her around, something Asia had known all along.

"Well, at least he's talking to someone," Skye said quietly, following her sentence with a low sigh. "Talking doesn't seem to be a thing a lot of us do anymore," she prompted at Asia, hoping her teammate would speak up.

Asia glanced over her, then back at the Lab. "I don't need to talk, I need to work. I'm just fine, Skye," she said in a flat voice, her words coming out hollow. It was a lie, an easily spotted one. She did need to talk, she just didn't know how. She needed another evening spent with Jemma, sharing poor beers and eating something gluten free. There, far away in Jemma's undercover apartment, she felt safe. Because she protected Jemma's job and position regularly. She took out a threatening target almost every other day. Here, she couldn't talk. Not in the halls of the Playground. That's where her weakness lay, her team, the people she had gotten hurt. She couldn't let them be in that position again.

"If you ever are, you know we're here for you, Agent Monroe," May said, surprisingly showing a hint of emotion. Even the Cavalry had been affected by Asia's sudden withdrawal.

Asia stared into the Lab, thinking about things, letting May's words rest upon her shoulder and take away a tiny bit of the stress and restraint she held in them, letting the tension out just slightly. She couldn't help but wish she was the one in there, in the Lab with Fitz. She wanted to hear him say her name again, hear him laugh. But things had only gotten worse with his words when she had tried to help with his recovery. He would get mad at her, yell, knock things off the tables. She didn't know how to help him besides staying away. And it had apparently worked. "I know," she said, turning back to look at her two teammates. "I promise, if I need help, I'll ask for it. I'm perfectly fine." She turned and walked down the hall without another glance over her shoulder. She needed her music and a punching bag.

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