Philinda One-shots

The Stages of a Failing Love

Hey! So i had something else written out but then i lost it (rip) so you get this peggysous based fic for today :). Spoilers for Agents of SHIELD 7x04

It was one of those things that you knew wouldn't last. You hoped to God it did, hoped that somehow the ever-lasting strain wouldn't take a toll on you.

It always started good. Right out of the station and you're flying high, never been better. Her hands slipping below his shirt, lips making him wish that breathing wasn't necessary. That made him know that this was never built to last. He was entirely lost in her presence; and he was never coming back. And truthfully, he never wanted too. Looking from a distance he was used to, but now he was free.

Then the ride stops at the top of the hill. You've made your way to the sold-my-soul to this woman stage. The ring was on her finger, papers had been signed and the next thing he knew he was living with her. It hadn't been much of a change, they saw each other all the time with work, but now it was the moments outside of those crammed offices that made her presence all the more wanting. Her red painted nails skimming over the paper, those same nails firmly wrapped around the handle of not just a gun, but the oven as well. All seemed good; and he knew that when things started to get good, it meant things were going to go bad quick.

Next thing you know, you're being lurched over the other side of the hill. You're going down fast. The nights he was away had started to take a toll not just on him, but his marriage. He had spent more nights flung on his dingy couch in his office than their apartment, and she was no where to be seen. She had flown back to New York four, five weeks was it (?) before. He couldn't tell. Case after case was building up, and the time spent apart was becoming too much.

Then you get the turn. The jarring throw to the side, something unexpected but you're still hanging on; if only by a thread. A case she was working on had brought her back out to LA, reintroducing her to him. They didn't speak about the ever growing crack in the ice, but instead decided to add some coldness to it. Or rather heat. The first time he had gone home in weeks, and he barely even slept in his own bed. His fists were tangled up in her hair, lips pressed flush up against hers, trailing down to her throat. Barely making it through the door was his own small accomplishment and annoyance, but gave him a reward nonetheless. Anything he'd give to turn the clock, even his other leg, back to when they did this every night. It had been so long it took his brain a minute to realize that he was home, naked, and pushed flesh up against his wife who was cuddled into his side tracing patterns subconsciously against his hip. But, though what they had was a good thing, he knew good things never last.

And lastly the slight fall again before rolling into the station. She was soon gone again, although with the promise to call, which she never did. Work has consumed them both and he knew it. When he got the news that Howard was planning on making a bigger, better SSR with her by his side; that was just the nail in the coffin. Soon more papers were signed and a reserved farewell was said; but still something was there, a ticket left in his pocket. A second chance to take that train again if he were ever to come upon that station again. And he held onto that ticket, always there, sitting in his right pocket. Sometimes pulling it out to remember the old feelings that still sat in his office; in him. But the ticket would never be used again.

She stepped on the platform of that old train station. The ticket booth had been boarded over, the glass box shattered with dust and bugs crawling over it. No one else stood on it, and she knew it. The train tracks had been partially pulled up, the nails rusted and the boards damaged. No train had pulled into this station for years. And yet she stood there, with her worn ticket, looking at the hazy sunrise. She looked upon this station for years, only stopping to stare briefly and wonder what would have happened if she kept on riding that train. But now it what too late. She couldn't figure out what hurt her the most; the fact that he died, or that she didn't stop long enough to actually try to make it work.