━━ 𝐓𝐇𝐘 𝐑𝐈𝐕𝐀𝐋 🥽
❝ and i'm pretty sure,
that every minute of
every day, you've
been stuck in the lab
right beside me! ❞
𝒊𝒏 𝒘𝒉𝒊𝒄𝒉 clara roy
and leopold fitz are
more than just best friends
𝐎�...
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✧·ﾟ:CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE*:·ﾟ✧
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✧·ﾟ: *✧·ﾟ:* things we bury *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ date: January 26th, 2014 location: The Playground, Classified
━━There was something peaceful about the medical pod at the Playground. For one, it was quite open unlike the one on the Bus, and yet secluded. Far away from all the ruckus that was happening━situating Ward in a place where he couldn't escape, trying to make sense of what they were now, what they still had and what they didn't have. All the noise made Roy's head hurt. And so, instead of being out there, amongst the chaos, she sat in here right by the bed where everyone could see her if they wanted, but she didn't give them any time of the day. Where she could stare at her best friend, unable to breathe by himself. Nine days. It's been nine days; Clara has been counting. Every hour, minute, second ... this was her fault. She should have never let him sacrifice himself like that. It should have been her. She let Ward live, it should have been her.
It should be her on the bed with the temporal lobe of her brain severely damaged. It should be her that will suffer memory loss, having to learn how to speak all over again.
It hurt to see him linked up to so many machines. He couldn't breathe on his own, and his heart was monitored with high risk━if there was any irregularity, they would know and they would be down here to help Clara keep her best friend alive. She knew that talking would help him while he was in the coma, but she didn't know how to, though. Every time she tried, it was a burst of apologies and tears. What was she supposed to say? After everything. So, instead, she kept quiet. But she never left his side. She slept by him in her chair━even when people tried to kick her out, she wouldn't leave. And so, they ended up just letting her stay. Roy sometimes would read to him; books about space, but by a few words in, she felt rather self-conscious. She knew Coulson was watching them, keeping an eye, and so she didn't want to say anything. Everything Clara wanted to say to Fitz was too personal━she didn't want anyone to hear it.
So━if she did speak━she whispered. Roy would shuffle her seat right beside his bed and set her arms on the bed and her chin on her wrists. She couldn't lie there with him, and so this was the best she could do. She could watch the shudder of his chest━barely even anything. He used to look so peaceful while he slept, but now, he looked troubled, as if reliving a constant nightmare. And he was so pale. So pale.
"Fitz," she would whisper. "You can't give up. I can't lose you. So just ... just fight it. Come back to me. Please ... you're, you're almost there ..."
And she'd then reach out to grab his hand under the covers and squeeze it. Hoping that ... that maybe that would wake him up, but it never did. Roy would sheld a few tears, and then lie her head on the bed and fall asleep, her hand still clasping his. Every time, she'd wake up to a blanket around her shoulders, and every time, there would be some hot caffeine-free tea waiting for her on the side table.
