to boldly go...

[bravejemma]

Comments

[bravejemma]

Yes.

[She remembers her friend, dark eyes shining, daring, always at the ready to help. She remembers Daisy now.

But Fitz was the one she had clung to, refused to forget.]

[hypoxic]

Do you feel that you're missing very much time, Jemma?

[bravejemma]

I don't know...

[It wasn't hours, or even days, likely. Probably not several years, even Fitz would have to have given up after that long. Months? A year?]

How long have I missed?

[hypoxic]

You've been gone about six months.

[He frowns. He's gotten very good at making frowning work.]

[bravejemma]

[Six months. Six months. It feels unbearably long, but it also felt like no time at all. She opens her mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. In her shock, it barely registers when she starts to cry. This is too real. It hurts. She wants the ones and zeroes back.]

[hypoxic]

Are... is there something you'd like to talk about?

[Does she want to talk at all? Should he let her rest? She's still not even sitting up... this is terrible. ]

[bravejemma]

[She can't answer, she's sobbing too hard and soon enough, finds that she can't breathe, hyperventilating.]

[hypoxic]

Jemma...

[He settles down beside her in bed and slowly, carefully, pulls her abdomen against him.]

I'm here.

[He wraps his arms around her, saddened by the thought that he can't provide her with supportive warmth.]

[bravejemma]

[By instinct -- she's not sure that she could have managed it otherwise -- she curls up around him. Her breath comes quick and shallow, then more slowly, before eventually evening out. She still feels sick and dizzy, so it's honestly nice to just be held by him before it evens out. She's almost afraid to lift her head or let him retreat. What if it's a program run by the virus again?]

[hypoxic]

[The movement is encouraging for him. She's proving that the muscles work. He strokes her hair softly, cradling her as she cuddles close.]

I'm not going anywhere. You're safe now.

[bravejemma]

[She holds on, the crying jag had exhausted her.]

I'll tell you more, but... I don't know if... If...

[If he'll believe it? If she can bring herself to believe it was unreality and she wasn't there any longer? She doesn't know. But he's there now, and it's a comforting presence.]

[hypoxic]

Whatever you're comfortable with telling me. Whenever you're comfortable saying it.

[bravejemma]

[For now, it's too much. She closes her eyes and lets him hold her, smoothing her hair down while she goes into sleep mode.

Or falls asleep.

She dreams about cascading numbers, and being drawn to her death in the tentacle sea. Will bleeding in front of her -- except it turns into Fitz, and his heart beats more and more slowly, until it stops completely. She wakes suddenly, and he's still there, worried, but none the worse for it.]

I became part of the ship's computer, Fitz.

[hypoxic]

[She announces it, but Fitz doesn't reply. He's still there with her, but he's still and solid. Ironically enough, he's slipped into his actual sleep mode. He hasn't been charging himself properly these days.]

[bravejemma]

[But she doesn't lift her head to notice.]

I thought I was dead, I thought...

And some of those scenarios are really just awful. We should have a tighter policies around what can be --

We could feel pain.

[But he doesn't answer. He's not even moving.]

Fitz?

[He hasn't taken care of himself. She gently strokes his cheek.]

You haven't taken care, have you?

[She frowns, hating being the cause of such a thing.]

[hypoxic]

[There's a corresponding noise when she strokes his cheek. Fans kick in, and a soft buzz announces his electrical mechanisms coming to life again.]

.... Sorry?

[bravejemma]

Nothing.

[For a moment she has mild alarm, but remembers: he's mostly machine now, based on her designs and some of his own work that she applied to the process.]

Are you charged, Fitz?

[hypoxic]

Oh -- I don't need to yet. I've still got ten percent. [It's been weeks since the last time he settled down to charge about twenty. It's an annoying, time-gouging process.]

Are you all right? Can I get you anything?

[bravejemma]

That's still low.

[She's glad he's here anyway. It's far less frightening.]

I feel a little better.

[Than earlier anyway. But she still feels someh fragile, like its something that could change at any minute.]

[hypoxic]

I'm happy for that. You gave us quite a scare, you know.

[He ignores the remark about his power level. Self-maintenance doesn't matter. Only Jemma does.]

[bravejemma]

I don't doubt it.

[She feels like she may, yet. She focuses on the light blanket spread over her legs.]

I was part of the ship's computer. Or the holosuite's, anyway.

[hypoxic]

I'm... not sure I follow you.

[That's not quite the way he understood things.]

[bravejemma]

[She doesn't know how to explain it, at least not any clearer.]

Something happened when I went in, to run the diagnostic. The computer... I was kind of running as an independent program.

[hypoxic]

Well -- yes, um. There was an anomaly triggered by a misfiring holographic imaging system. It normally projects images into something the brain can interpret, but there was an error that never released you from the projection.

I imagine that you were made to dream a series of odd things.

[bravejemma]

Some of them were.

[If it was an error, then what about Will? Did she make him up? How could she have? If she told him there was someone else in there, would he believe her?]