White walls, tiled floors, the unmistakable smell of floor cleaner, and the constant beeping of machines followed by the sound of nurses sneakers. For over a week these things had been Simmons' life. She took a deep breath and stared at Fitz's unresponsive body.
Most people upon knowing he had lived would have been celebrating. Simmons, however, knew better than to jump so quickly. She knew that he had lost a significant amount of oxygen. That being said, going that long without oxygen would not leave his body unscathed. He had been unconscious for ten days, there was no way he didn't have some brain damage and memory loss.
Jemma wiped her eyes, as she sat back in her chair and drank cold, bitter coffee. Hospitals used to fill her with wonder, amazement and curiosity. Now as her body begged for sleep and her mind screamed with anxiety, she wondered how she could ever have been so ignorant. Even running on three cups of coffee over a five hour period she was still wrestling to keep her eyes open. Surely, closing them for one minute would do no harm. She let the darkness cover her like a blanket, and it wasn't long until her caffeine driven body finally gave into sleep.
"Simmons, Simmons," Skye's soothing voice said calling Jemma back to reality. She jumped in her chair.
"How- how long was I asleep?" Simmons asked,rubbing her stiff neck. She looked to Fitz's body, the tubes keeping him alive were still there. She could still hear the steady rhythm of his heart. "Was there any change? Even the slightest elevation or drop in BP is critical." She felt her heart racing. How could she have been so daft? He wouldn't have fallen asleep on her.
Skye noticed how Simmons' face turned pale and her hands began shaking. She watched as she put a hand over her mouth and took unsteady breath. "It's okay," Skye said, laying a hand on Jemma's free arm. "It's okay," she repeated as her companions eyes filled with tears, and she took deep, shaking breaths. Skye was rarely one to be compassionate towards others, come to think of it there was only one shoulder that Jemma Simmons would want to cry on, and that belonged to Leo Fitz. "Hey, hey, hey,"Skye said, leaning down to be at the same level as Jemma. "He's stable,and you weren't out for any more than two hours." She realized that her words brought little help to the situation. Skye put her arms around her friend, embracing her in a hug. "None of this was your fault." She could feel hot tears hitting her shoulder, and she pondered whether any words could help.
"But it is…" Jemma began,blinking as the tears rolled down her face, and her voice faltered. "It's all my-" she swallowed, as she felt a lump in her throat. "It's all my fault," she said again. "If I had sw-swam faster, if I had given him that breath, if I hadn't tried to get us on the bus-" She couldn't continue. She knew that this was a matter of psychology, that admitting something out loud makes it seem more real. Yet, she also felt as though her every word was bringing Fitz one step closer to death.
Skye wished that there was something she could do to fix this. She wanted desperately to be able to find the words that would make Simmons whole again,but she could sit there all day and they wouldn't come. Fitz was Simmons' other half. Without him it was impossible for her to be her old self. It wasn't like they were two people who worked together,it was like they were both part of the same person. Even when Leo's parents had found sitting next to him in S.H.I.E.L.D.'s ICU Jemma had sat beside him. She'd been beside him the whole damn time.
Both women heard someone clear their throat, and they abruptly broke apart. Skye turned around, as Simmons wiped her eyes. Standing just outside the door was Agent Tripplet. "Sorry, I can come back," he said, about to walk away.
"No, no, it's fine," said Jemma.
"What are you doing here?" Skye asked, as she got to her feet. She saw how he refused to look either Simmons, or herself in the eyes, an noticed that he was keeping his hands in his sweater pockets. His face now wore the beginnings of a beard, and he had bags under his eyes.
"Coulson wanted both of you in his office." Tripp saw that neither agent was about to move. "He says it's urgent."
That was all that it took. Both agents quickly got to their feet and started for the door. Simmons stopped in the doorway and looked at Fitz's still body. She silently promised him that she would be back. Though, she knew that this meeting Coulson called them for could be to discuss what they would do with him.
When the girls arrived in Coulson's office May was standing next to the door, her arms crossed behind her back. She stood tall, ready. Upon seeing Simmons and Skye enter the meeting room her facial expression softened for only a moment. Leaving the agents wondering if maybe it was just their imagination and sleep deprivation.
"I read the latest report on Fitz," she said, clearing her throat. "Still no change?"
Jemma sighed. That's what everyone was wondering. So so desperately wanted to tell them that he was improving, yet she knew that was one thing she may never be able to say. She knew that the real reason Coulson called them in here may be to discuss what was best to do with Fitz.
Skye pulled Melinda May aside, and started talking to her. Though Simmons couldn't make out their words she knew Skye was giving her an update. "I should have just finished him off when I had the chance," May said. She didn't have to say who. Both agents knew that she meant Ward. "No, I should have just left him in a storage unite at the bottom of the sea." Her tone was sharp and her words cut like knives. Thankfully for Simmons, Coulson entered.
"You guys can sit," he said. Maybe it was just the insomnia talking, but he looked so much older. He had dark rings under his eyes, and even in just a few weeks his hair looked lighter. The coat that was fitted to him just a few months ago, was now large.
"Why did you call us in here?" May asked, getting straight to the point, as she sat opposite to Jemma, on Coulson's left.
Coulson drew a long breath, and ran his fingers through his thin hair. "It's about Fitz."
Simmons had known what he would say before the words left his mouth. Yet hearing them gave her the same feeling as when she jumped from the bus. It was as though her whole word was collapsing. As if she knew that at any moment her life would end, but yet she couldn't do anything about it.
After an uncomfortable moment of silence Skye spoke up. "What do you mean… 'About Fitz'?"
"Look he's been on life support for almost two weeks now. So far, he's responsive, but-"
"With the force that the door hit his head, and the amount of oxygen loss to the brain, he may not be his old self," Jemma finished.
Simmons was shaking in her seat. She had always imagined that when she was called into the counsel room it would be when she was a level seven, or when Fury had approved of one of her serums. She never in a million years thought it would be to discuss the fate of her best friend. Even now, in that very moment she was unable to fathom it.
"Phil…" Melinda said in a warning tone.
"We all know that Fitz wouldn't want to continue on if he-" there was a crack in Director Coulsons voice. "If he couldn't do and process all of the things that he used to." Skye's eyes were brimming with tears, but she could tell that Simmons was stuggling to stay so composed. She put her hand in Simmons',comforting her, letting her know she was there for support. "We have our best doctors working on him, but even they think the probability of him waking up is small."
"You can't-" Jemma croaked, her voice weak. She wanted to say more, yet that was all that she could manage.
"His Mom isn't even here," Skye said, covering her mouth with her hand.
"I was looking through his medical file," Coulson, paused as he retrieved a fie from the briefcase next to him. He put it on the table and slid it towards Jemma. "He listed you under medical emergency."
"What? Th-that's impossible," Simmons countered.
"I've read the file over ten times. 'In the event that I shall need medical care, and am not lucid and/or awake, I hereby give legal custody to Jemma Simmons.'" Coulson recited the words as his face twisted, and the pain he felt was visible.
"Is that even legal?" Skye asked.
"It's filed in S.H.I.E.L.D.'s database," Coulson said in a small voice.
"If what you're asking me is to stop treating him, I-I can't."
"There is one alternative," Coulson said, his voice gentle. "Over the past two decades, Doctor Charles Hunt, has been working on a procedure." May sat straight in her seat, yet something looked different. It wasn't her regular stiffness that came from being on alert. She sat as thought she was concerned. "It would involve cutting into Fitz's brain."
Simmons exhaled deeply. "Neurosurgery is risky enough as it is. I'm assuming that if he's still testing it there will be some complications?"
Phil reclined back in his chair. He rubbed the stubble on his chin. "The obvious ones are death, a coma, paralysis." He opened his mouth, only to shut it again, before leaning forward and saying, "The others are memory loss, and patients who- patients who lost the memories... well it wasn't so good once they regained them."
"So, what you're saying is he would have a form of dissociative amnesia?" Jemma asked, as her voice cracked.
Coulson took a deep breath as his adam's apple bobbed. "Yes, but when they gained the memories back, they didn't- they-" Coulson tried to focus on something, anything else but Jemma's haunting eyes. "They didn't always make it."
An uncomfortable silence washed over the room and they could hear the steady beating of the clock. All of these thoughts caused Simmons' head to throb. How could she decide something like this? Normally she always knew what to do and say. Yet here she was, at a loss for words when she needed them the most. She wanted to believe he would wake up on his own, yet she knew that with each day that likely hood decreased a little more. This was her fault, and she couldn't live with herself if she didn't do everything she could to get him back. She knew better than anyone that Fitz wouldn't want to be in a coma, or vegetated for the rest of his life. She knew what he would do for her.
"Look if you need some time-"
"No," Jemma said. "We-we need to do everything we can. Like you said, he may never wake up. We have to try the surgery."
Shock and a small amount of grief spread across Coulson's face. Before anyone said a word, May abruptly walked out of the room. With his left hand Coulson rubbed his face. The face of a man who was long ago gone. "I'll call you in for a briefing later," he said.
Jemma walked down the dark S.H.I.E.l.D. hallways again. As Simmons was about to entered Director Coulson's office she overheard arguing.
"…you do something like that?" spat the familiar voice that belonged to May.
"I had no other choice, what did you expect me to do? Let him die?" The frustration in Coulson's voice was so clear.
"You haven't been yourself lately, and I'm starting to worry."
Jemma knew she shouldn't eavesdrop. Yet, as was usually the case with her, the curiosity was too great to resist.
"Fury left me in charge. Everyone thought we were over. Excuse me if I don't have time to play chess and read Captain America comic books!"
"That's not what I meant and you know it," May's words cut like a dagger. "And some of your decisions have been a little bit more questionable." Simmons heard May's footsteps getting closer to the door.
"This isn't Tahiti!" Jemma backed away from the door, she wished beyond anything that this was all just some messed up dream of hers.
"Then what is it?" May said as she stormed out of Coulson's office. She avoided making eye contact with Jemma as she briskly walked away. If anyone knew what was to come it would be Melinda May, and any opinion she made would be completely helpless.