The morning had been a rough one, compared to recent weeks. It had been hours before he could force himself out of bed, and longer still before any of them could convince him to eat - Will had been the one to coax a slice of pizza into him, in the end, and nothing more. His screaming for the dog had been the first words out of his mouth all day.

          It was miserable, being stuck in his head for so long with no way to get out.

          Leo’s next cry held no coherent words, the sound escaping when he was lifted off the ground. He squirmed to try to free himself from the strong arms around his torso, but all he accomplished, then, was flipping himself and hanging upside down with his head inches off the floor. The dizzy feeling set in immediately, making his stomach churn while his damaged brain struggled to catch up with the newest position.

          “Grant, don’t let him do that, it’s not healthy for anyone.” The English accent made him blink, not fully registering anything at all until he was laying on the floor again.

          He must have been laying there for a while, he supposed, minutes or maybe hours passing by without letting on to him what filled them. The next thing he fully understood, there was a folded leather jacket under his head, and a blanket tucked around him, and Mishka was curled up into his side. It was disorienting, waking up without ever actually sleeping in the first place, and it happened more than he would admit to anyone else with him in the apartment.

          Almost as soon as he blinked and focused his gaze, there was movement over him, and it took only a moment to process that the hand on his cheek belonged to none other than Grant Ward. It wasn’t unfamiliar, the other man’s touch, not when the months home from the hospital had included quite a few instances where he was carried around, but his brain was trying to process everything too quickly, and instinct told him to try to pull away.

          The moment the Scot sat up and scrambled back to press himself against the couch, the touch disappeared only to be replaced by a gentle voice. “Hey, it’s okay. It’s just me, Leo, I didn’t mean to scare you. You did worry us all pretty bad, though - even Mishka licking your face didn’t get a reaction. How are you feeling?” Instead of trying to speak, he reached out and let himself be picked up again, not putting up any kind of fight even when he heard the quiet sigh in his ear. “Yeah, I think we’re all having one of our off days.”

          That was the nice way of putting it. For most people, an off day didn’t include completely blacking out and being catatonic for an undetermined amount of time. Off days happened for the rest of them, of course - Grant hid himself away in his apartment and played those ridiculous spy movies loud enough to be heard down the hall; Jemma threw herself into cleaning or coming up with new experiments for their channel; Will skipped work and came over to play with Mishka - but Leo’s off days were, by far, the worst of all of them. At least, when everyone else got quiet and hid away, they were all still there. They still existed, while his fits sent him off into some other realm that was too far away for him to even try to reach back toward his physical self until it was done with him.

          Still, even with the inactivity that came with his off days, they left him completely exhausted. The only thing he was capable of doing was resting his head on Grant’s shoulder and leaving it there while he was carried over into the kitchen. He could smell what he assumed was supposed to be dinner, and he wanted to eat it, to keep his strength up until he could justify crawling into bed.

          ( in the end, it had taken almost two hours just to eat a small helping of lasagna, and he’d immediately requested to be carried to bed so that he could sleep early )

          The days following his episode turned into December, and he was able to keep himself occupied by helping Skye and Lincoln and Trip pack up for the holiday at home. For the most part, the entire building would be empty for Christmas and New Years, besides maybe five people. Bobbi and Lance were taking a trip to Tahiti to avoid the snow. Phil was going to a retreat with some old work friends. Even Melinda, downstairs, was spending the holidays with her parents and her ex-husband.

          For Leo and Jemma, flying home every holiday season could get expensive, and the doctors didn’t really recommend any flights with where he was in his recovery. Grant didn’t like his family, and the bits and pieces of his past that he actually talked about in his videos gave everyone more than enough reason to understand why he wouldn’t want to go home to visit. Between the three of them and Will, who had to stay in the area for work, the building was just barely not considered entirely empty.

          Then again, that just meant that he could turn his favorite monkey documentary on without worrying that it was too loud. It meant that he was allowed to leave the door open and let Mishka run down the hall to Grant’s apartment whenever he pleased. Not that it happened often; the dog only really like to make a run for it when Leo wasn’t giving him attention. The vast majority of the time, he was more than happy to stay curled up on the Scot’s chest, even while the documentary played through for the second time that day.

          That only changed when footsteps sounded in the doorway, causing the mound of red fur to launch himself off the couch and run directly to Jemma’s feet, admittedly a bit wobbly on his way there. Mishka would never recover more than he already had, they all knew that, but there were days when he seemed a little steadier on his feet than others.

          Leo liked to think about that a lot. He liked to think about how even a dog could have good days and bad days, but they were still okay, in the end. It helped. When his head wanted to take over and keep him in bed all day, the little wobbly dog who lived by his side made everything a little better.

          “Turn the television down, Leo. Most people haven’t left for vacation yet. I don’t want anyone complaining to Phil because of the monkeys, again.”

          With a frown, he reached over to turn the documentary off entirely and looked over the back of the couch toward his roommate. He knew she meant well, but when the only thing he could focus on was one particular movie, it was a little bit disheartening that he couldn’t completely immerse himself in it.

          He could see someone else behind her, but even his mostly clear head didn’t fully process it until Will actually spoke up. “Hey, kid. Come on, you can help me with the lights - I even brought over some of my own decorations.” The quiet clinking of what he assumed were ornaments drew his gaze to the plastic bin in the other man’s hands, and the idea of doing something made him sit up straighter. “The tree’s in Grant’s apartment, so I’d suggest putting on some pants - or don’t, he probably wouldn’t care either way.”

          Already on his feet, Leo grabbed the blanket from the couch and wrapped it around himself, not quite covering the fact that he was otherwise clad in only a t-shirt and boxers. He didn’t really care who saw him like that, not when decorating a Christmas tree was the only thing that motivated him to actually leave the couch since Lincoln and Skye had started their drive south that morning. It had been almost a week since he’d actually had the energy to do something fun, and he didn’t want to waste that energy on something like getting dressed.

          “Mishka - Grant.”

          At the words, he let himself smile while furry legs wobbled into the hallway and he did his best to follow. Leo’s own less than steady steps made him hover close to the wall, stumbling into Grant’s living room and frowning when his friend wasn’t anywhere to be found. Before he could think to look around, his eyesight was compromised by something being tied around his head.

          A gentle voice was the only reason he didn’t scream in fear, the familiar feeling of Grant’s hand on his back helping him relax. “It’s just me, okay? This is a good surprise, I promise. Mishka’s going to sit with you while I go get something. I will be right back.” Leo let himself be lowered onto the couch without complaint, still somewhat tense while he sought out Mishka’s fur with unsteady fingers. It was instinct, reaching for him when it came to comfort.

          When Grant returned, he didn’t remove the blindfold but he was gentle while helping him out of his shirt. Neither of them said a word while he was moved around and dressed, the fabric over his eyes staying firmly in place so that he couldn’t see a thing. It was unnerving, but not any worse than needing to be carried around everywhere.

          Finally, once things were in place, he was allowed to see again. The first thing he did was look down - the black sweater he’d been put in was comfortable, he knew that already, but his eyes widened when he realized what was on it. In the center, a stitched white rocket was surrounded by molecules, and snowflakes, and planets, and trees, and DNA strands. He hadn’t been able to work in a few months, but it didn’t stop him from trying to keep up with the news, or babbling in partial gibberish on the rare occasion when an article got him excited. Science wasn’t as big of a part of his life as it used to be, but he still tried to cling to it as much as possible. Leo didn’t even make it to processing the nice pants and shoes that he’d been put into, tears making his vision blur while he hugged the sweater and himself tightly.

          “Hey, hey, hey, no, don’t cry...” Grant was quick to help wipe away his tears, shaking his head with a sheepish expression. “I didn’t mean to make you upset, I’m sorry. I got one with a chemistry joke for Jemma, and just a space themed one for Will, I just thought you’d like it-”

          He was rambling. Even during his time in the hospital and after, he’d never heard Grant Ward ramble. It wasn’t something he did even to fill the quiet when Leo couldn’t speak. It was almost scary, and his instincts told him to make it stop. Pushing himself to his feet, the Scot grabbed onto his friend’s arms to get his attention before throwing his own around him. It was an awkward hug, with their difference in height, and he had to stand on the tips of his toes to rest his chin on Grant’s shoulder just so, but he managed. After a slow breath, he held on that much tighter and found the energy to conjure up the words he needed to say.