bravejemma | IC Inbox

That's exactly the sort of lie you'd tell me to keep me calm.

[But the needle is huge and he's had a long, exhausting day as it is. He covers his eyes and clenches his face in preparation for what he's sure is going to be horrific pain beyond the incident that caused his injury in the first place.]

It's true, you know. When you go through medic training, there's a whole session called Comforting Lies to Tell Your Patient. Things like "this won't hurt at all" and "you're being very quiet" and "I think the economy's on the uptick..."

[All while she teases him with this, she's injecting the anesthetic. In a couple of minutes he won't be feeling anything.]

[There's a pinch, and he remains clenched throughout it, until the muscles around the affected area relax on their own.]

That one about the economy shouldn't be there. The comforting lies ought to at least be believable, don't you think?

[She laughs quietly.]

Maybe. It's not really so much what you say, it's more the tone you say it in. Sweet nothings, I believe the saying is.

[She knows he knows what those are. She takes the suture needle and forceps and begins to close the wound.]

[He notes the motion around him, but doesn't feel much of anything. There's a bit of pressure here and there. He keeps his eyes shut tight just in case.]

Well then that's not fair at all. Everything you say is sweet.

[That is a highgrade fib. But she's also in the middle of driving sharp objects very close to his eyelids and now is not the time for adversarial banter.]

[Her smile becomes wry. It doesn't escape her notice that people tend to be somewhat gentler when you have sharp objects pointed at them.]

You've said some pretty sweet somethings in your day.

I've had my moments. [The corner of his mouth quirks.]

But I never would have had them without you.

[He's relaxed some, and that's good. She wishes she could keep it so, but she's not prepared to let the rest drop so easily.]

All right, enough flirting with the doctor, or you'll end up with stitches on your nose.

But making me feel better is part of the doctor's job. I'm wildly injured.

[THE MOST INJURED. He practically lost an arm.]

The patient knows that the wilting flower routine doesn't work on this one. Now hold still.

[She finishes with the sutures -- three, all told, just to be safe -- and after putting a bandage on the spot. She degloves and kisses him on the head, her fingers tangling in his hair.]

There. It'll hardly make a scar.

[When she announces that it's over, he finally dares to open his eyes. She's quite close, but now is probably not the time to comment on that. He's seen a mirror. He knows what a mess he is right now.]

It should. I wouldn't want it to just go away.

[She sighs, and clears away the kit and rubbish. She sits next to him then, the easy part of this over with.]

Fitz, what happened?

[He doesn't lean in her direction then, averting his eyes.]

The article was right about why the mirrors came here.

[It's just become very clear that his mirror was extremely involved. Just something else to feel responsible about.]

I don't give a damn about the article.

[Yes she does. But it's not her primary concern at this very second.]

Is that it? Did a mirror find you?

[He nods halfway, though his head never dips back up to rise out of the gesture.]

They thought they'd find my mirror on this side. She was upset that I'm not the one they're looking for.

[In a way, it's a relief. This is behavior you'd expect from the average mirror, and it means that the residents from this side haven't completely devolved into violence. But she doesn't feel any of the relief.]

If it's any comfort, I'm sure your mirror deserves it.

[It's not, and she knows that it's not.]

[Of course it isn't. But it's kind of her to try.]

It's my fault he exists. He was at the root of all of this.

We all have mirrors, you can't take responsibility for that.

[If he's not going to straighten up and talk to her, she'll come down to where she is. She loops an arm through his and settles in close.]

[He doesn't move closer to her, though he'll reach across to give her arm a gentle pat.]

It's just that mine is so evil that even the other mirrors want to kill him. That must mean something.

That you, as the opposite, are as good as he is terrible.

[She pauses, remembering the hand tight around her throat, both familiar and foreign.]

And he is terrible.

[He pauses and looks up at her.]

Why do you sound like you know that for sure? Have you met him?

[When? Wouldn't he have been sent to the other side if an exchange was made?]

[Jemma, for her part, has the grace to look abashed.]

When the mirrors came across, ages ago, after I first got here. I mistook him for you, and... well, there's no mistaking it now.

I should have said something, it just -- you died, and there were so many other important things. I wasn't purposely keeping it secret or anything.

[He goes a shade paler then.]

Jemma. What happened?? Are you all right? What did he do to you??

[The last time the mirrors were out, Jane was hurt. Was she not the only one??]

Fitz, look at me, I'm fine. It scared me, that's all.

[Whatever injury the encounter may have caused her was nothing in comparison to his death that had devastated them both so completely, and was gone in due time anyway.]

I met him in the stairwell. I didn't know about the mirrors at the time, but I knew it wasn't you.

[He reaches for her, clutching her against his body and stroking her hair.]

Did he touch you, Jemma?

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

idr if they had this talk yet but couldn't find it in a log. Let me know if I forgot something?

noooo they have not

OH well then

no subject

no subject