Broken world. Steady hands. Keep going.

⸻⸻⸻ he smiled, a small lifting of corner of mouth, reaching for clean glass to share drink with her. " don't worry, i always make sure my drinking partner is at the end safe in their own home, " he said, pouring the alcohol into glass. " we might be loud or something while getting there, but we will get there. " not that he planned on... well, that was a lie, miguel did planned to get hammered. it remind him of working at hospital, after some really bad case, when all he wanted to do was going home and get fucking numb. but it also taught him how to bottle everything inside till it was a time to let go ⸻ like now, when it the worst was all over. "... you good? " he asked gently, slowly moving the glass in her direction.

she took a sip, letting the burn settle in her chest like something familiar, almost comforting. “but yeah,” she murmured, softer now, “thanks for making sure I get home.” she raised her glass in a quiet toast, then leaned back against her chair. “even if we’re loud about it. at least harlan will know it's me.” she couldn't bring herself to talk about what happened, what they all had recently gone through.

⸻⸻⸻ he should have know that something will fuck up. it was going too damn good, the walls giving false feeling of safety. but then again, will never really felt safe so fuck this shit anyway. he moved his head a little to look at — fuck, names are hard, um, jemma! — and noded once, sharp movement quickly smoothed by low and soft voice. " yeah, " he looked up at the sky, trying to soften his own posture ; he knew how he looked back in the days and now it wasn't better ⸻ the wildness was always here, and danger wrapped in sharp edges and cold eyes. it didn't work here too good, but helped outside. " i hope it will not rein, that would suck, " will shake his head lightly, before looking at her again. " so. left or right, which way you want us go now? "

She shifted her weight, flexing fingers around her weapon before glancing down each path, mind already running the calculus of cover, exposure, and likely threats. Then she looked at him again, eyes tired but steady.

“Right,” she said finally. “Left feels cursed.”

harlan knew jemma’s devotion ran deeper than duty, she would never abandon her post while lives still flickered in the balance. the man didn’t announce himself right away, just lingered at the doorway to watch her work. under that sterile unforgiving lights, her once white coat bore rust brown blotches, and the soft curves of her angelic face were drawn thin by sleepless hours. the sight raked at something primal in him - the yearning to conjure walls, a safe place where she could breathe free of that high pressure and dying men

he moved at last, footsteps soft as he folded her into his arms with the unconscious certainty of muscle memory. for a brief moment he melted against her, shoulders sagging as though she could take away the weight of that awful day "brought ya somethin’ to eat" he murmured, handing the lunchbox into her hands as he reluctantly pulled back. her favorite dish, remembered because forgetting was unthinkable

she looked down at the lunchbox in her hands, lids flickering with something too tender to name. “thank you,” she said softly, the barest curve of a smile ghosting across her lips.

his fingers brushed her cheek, and she didn’t flinch—just blinked, tired and grateful, her voice low and roughened by fatigue. “if I stop, i don’t know if i’ll start again.”

her eyes lifted to his, shadowed and unguarded. “but you showing up like this? makes me think maybe i don’t have to do it all alone.”

she glanced toward the hallway where voices still called her name, then back to him. “sit with me?” she asked, not pleading—just needing. “just for a minute. just until i remember what peace feels like.”

⸻⸻⸻ miguel drank his first drink like a shot, putting the glass down and immediately filling it again. what a day, week, year. he would love to just go home, cuddle to his husband and well, forget the whole mess. darell's unmoving body, lying on the bed, chest barely moving with each breath flashed in his mind again, and miguel scowled lightly before taking another sip, slower this time. he looked to the side, making eye-contact with the other and lifted his glass. " wanna join me? " he asked, smiling just a little. distraction, that what it all was. " c'mon, don't let me become a sad drunk here. "

she was so deep in that thought, lost in a storm of emotion, that she hadn’t even noticed her boss standing beside her. “i won’t say no,” she said quietly, a faint smile tugging at her lips. “but you’ll have to make sure i get home.”