Leo Fitz took out his phone to send a quick text to his partner Jemma Simmons.
Tough but successful mission. The dwarves' new mod did us proud. Wheels down in 5. Missed you x
He hovered over the send button before erasing the last two words. Not that they weren't true, but he didn't want to sound sappy.
His phone pinged quietly, indicating a response.
Well done Fitz. See you soon. I missed you. J xx
His face broke into an involuntary grin which he was quick to rearrange before Daisy could start teasing him.
Ten minutes later, Fitz was walking into his bedroom after a stern word to the lab technician about making sure the dwarves were left to charge overnight. He smiled again as he saw his bedside table. A mug of tea steamed invitingly beside a slice of fruit cake. Propped against the mug was a note with his name written in Jemma's precise script.
Welcome home Fitz. Everything's fine in the lab so take as much time as you need to get cleaned up and rest. I've been working on a way to knock out inhumans without permanently harming them and I think I've got a breakthrough, using a mix of the usual dendrotoxin and a modification of the compound I created after we analysed Daisy and Lincoln's blood samples. The problem is that the two can't be mixed more than a few seconds ahead of delivery as it requires the chemical reaction to take place in the inhuman. So I thought you might be able to modify an ICER to have two chambers and fire from both simultaneously. When you're ready maybe we can look at it together. J xx
His mind already working on the new problem, Fitz started to consume the tea and cake. He lay down on his bed to better concentrate, but felt the tiredness wash over him. "Maybe just a short nap before I head to the lab," he thought.
It was late and Simmons was clearing away the last of her equipment. Her head felt too hot and her eyes were heavy, but she refused to leave a messy workspace. It was three hours since Fitz had returned to base and he clearly wasn't coming down to the lab tonight; they could discuss modifying the ICER in the morning. Right now, Jemma needed her bed.
"All done Jemma? I thought we might look over plans for delivering the inhuman stun." Fitz had woken from his nap refreshed and ready to go.
Simmons allowed herself a long blink before turning around with a welcoming smile, "Fitz! Good to have you back. Yes, thank you, let's work on the ICER."
She dragged her weary body over to his workstation; the work was important and it would be nice to spend time in Fitz's company, however tired she was. She pulled up a stool and sat down, leaning on the desk and looking over his shoulder as he started pulling up design files on the screen and talking about how they might overcome this new challenge.
Half an hour later, Fitz realised that their dialogue had become a monologue, Jemma hadn't spoken in the last ten minutes. He turned around to see his partner slumped on the desk, head resting on her arms and eyes closed. Sleep had got the better of her. She looked peaceful, but he knew he would have to wake her and help her get to her bed.
"Jemma?"
He gently pushed the hair from her face and touched his hand to her cheek. It was warm, too warm. Was she ill? Moving his hand to her forehead confirmed that she was indeed running a temperature and, now that he was really looking she was definitely too pale.
"Jemma," he repeated, "come on, we need to get you to bed."
Her eyelids fluttered and she half opened them, moaning quietly. Fitz started to lift her arm, ready to help her up, but she groaned again, pulling her arm back and putting her hand to her head. "No, Fitz, just a minute."
She lifted her head, holding it with both hands and took some deep steadying breaths. They didn't help and she reluctantly stood and walked hurriedly and unsteadily to the nearest bathroom before kneeling and retching over the toilet.
Fitz's heart flipped in empathy at poor Jemma's pain. He pulled a hair elastic from her drawer in the lab, then followed her into the bathroom. Torn between giving her space and wanting to comfort her, he settled for pulling her hair into an awkward ponytail then retreating to find a cloth he could use to help her clean up when she was done.
Feeling that the vomiting was finally over, Jemma slumped her head down onto her arms, not having the energy to stand. She felt a little better for having been sick, but the tears still streamed down her face and she wished she didn't have to move. Fitz knelt behind her, putting his hand on her shoulders and gently pulling her back to lean against him, her head tilted slightly back against his collarbone. He wiped around her mouth, then the rest of her face, then her blouse which she hadn't even realised she'd messed. Finally, he offered her a glass of cool water which she sipped gingerly, wanting to wash away the foul taste but uncertain anything would stay down when it hit her stomach.
"Oh Fitz," she breathed, "I'm sorry."
"Nonsense, this isn't your fault, you're ill Jemma. You've got a temperature and you're clearly feeling nauseous, what are your other symptoms?"
"Honestly? My head is pounding, my tummy hurts and I'm so tired I'm not sure I can even move. I'm sorry, I've interrupted your work."
"Jemma, stop apologising. You could have just told me you felt too rubbish to work, we didn't have to look at the ICER tonight if you weren't well." He brought a comforting hand up to her cheek and she instinctively leaned slightly further into him.
"Are you ready to move to your bed now?" Fitz asked, wondering whether she would be steady enough to walk there.
"I don't know, maybe I should stay near the bathroom. I really think I might be sick again."
"You'll be more comfortable in your room, let's get there and I'll find you a bowl in case you're sick." Fitz stood carefully, lifting Simmons to an upright position with him. Pulling her arm around his neck, he moved them both out into the corridor and to her room. Jemma was barely able to stand and they were both grateful when they reached their destination and Fitz was able to lower her down onto her bed.
She closed her eyes, wishing the room would stop spinning around her, and Fitz slipped out to find a bowl, water and paracetamol. He was only gone ten minutes but was dismayed on his return to find poor Jemma on her hands and knees in the corridor outside her room, vomiting uncontrollably on the floor and herself. If it was possible, she looked even sicker and more miserable than before, and Fitz felt a wave of guilt at not having got the bowl to her in time.
He knelt beside her, unable to do much more than offer her the bowl. Glancing up, he saw May approaching them. "Fitzsimmons?" she asked gently.
"We're OK Agent May." Fitz replied, "Jemma's not feeling too well." By now, Jemma had stopped retching and was leaning into Fitz's side, her eyes closed.
"Leave this to me," May indicated the floor, "you just get her into bed and I'll bring something to clean her up with."
Although he knew Jemma would be mortified to be seen in this state, Fitz was glad of May's help. Again pulling them both up, this time he didn't bother letting Jemma try to walk, he lifted her fully off the ground and carried her back to bed. As he was laying her down, May appeared with warm water, cloths and towels and a clean sick bowl, then silently slipped out, closing the door behind her.
Jemma barely responded as Fitz tentatively undid the buttons of her blouse. Despite all they had been through together, he still felt a little awkward undressing her, but she clearly couldn't stay in the dirty clothes. Once her outer clothes were removed, he quickly washed her and prepared to put her pyjamas over her underwear.
Sitting up suddenly, Simmons began to moan and heave. This time, Fitz was there with the bowl, holding her up as she was sick again. "Poor Jemma," he murmured soothingly, "I'm sorry this is so horrible for you. It will be over soon."
She collapsed against him and he held her for a moment, pulling a blanket around her to keep her warm. He offered her a bottle of water. "I've got paracetamol here, but should you be taking something else? This seems like a nasty 'flu, but I don't know how you've caught it, we all had our jabs back in... no, we had our jabs while you were on Maveth, oh Jemma love."
"Leo," she whispered, "don't be sorry. An antiemetic, metoclopramide."
"OK, let me text May."
"No, only after 12 hours, if no better. And rehydration."
"So there's nothing else you should take now."
"Just fluids."
Fitz handed her two paracetamol tablets and she put the first in her mouth, reaching for the water. She took a sip but gagged on the tablet, causing more protestation from her body and she vomited into the bowl again.
"No pills," she gasped, "just water." She managed a few sips before they mutually decided that would have to do for now.
Her eyes closed and Fitz helped her to lie down again as she drifted into an uncomfortable sleep. He was reluctant to leave her side but, knowing the bowl needed to be cleaned and returned in short order, he stood and opened her door. May was standing in the corridor, waiting for him to emerge.
"How is she?"
"It's awful May, she couldn't even take the paracetamol - it made her sick again. I'm worried I won't have cleaned the bowl before she needs it again, and if she hasn't taken anything, how will I get her temperature down. And she's been sick four times already but only taken in a few sips of water, so what if she gets dangerously dehydrated. I don't know if I'm doing the right thing, and she said she shouldn't take an antiemetic for 12 hours, but I don't think she can take 12 hours of vomiting. We all had our 'flu jabs while she was missing and..."
"Fitz, breathe." May interrupted, "You don't have to do this on your own. Give me the bowl and go back in there; she shouldn't be alone. I'll get Lincoln, ask him what we can do for her."
Nodding gratefully, Fitz returned to his partner, noticing again how pale she was, how dark the rings under her eyes and how pained her expression. He knelt on the floor beside her and began to stroke her hair, hoping to soothe her a little.
Just moments later, the door opened and Lincoln entered juggling a clean bowl and a medical kit.
"I hear you have a patient for me?"
He put down his kit and reached out to feel the pulse in Simmons' wrist. He talked in a soothing tone, explaining to Jemma what he was doing as he examined her, even though she showed no sign of having heard him. He frowned as he read the thermometer. "Fitz, go and get rid of this water you've used to wash her. Bring back cool water and a fresh cloth so we can bring her fever down a bit."
By the time Fitz returned, May was back and Lincoln was holding Jemma up as she was sick again. Her eyes were still half closed, but he could see that she was crying.
"We should move her to the medical lab." Lincoln said gently, and May moved forward, ready to lift Jemma.
"No, please," Fitz interjected, "can't we treat her here? She'll already be so embarrassed that we've seen her so vulnerable, if the whole base can see she'll be mortified."
"If she stays here, someone will have to stay with her. I'll set up some IV fluids and give her something to get the vomiting under control, but she's got a rough night ahead and I want her vitals taken every two hours."
"I can do that." Fitz was adamant. "I'll stay here with her for as long as she needs."
Once the IV was in, Fitz set about using the cool wash cloths on her face and neck and then under her pyjamas when Lincoln instructed him. Satisfied that her temperature wasn't quite so high, Lincoln told Fitz what he needed to do and the thresholds for calling for help. "And if you're not sure, about anything, just wake me; I'll have my phone on."
Jemma was sick just once more before seeming to settle into a slightly deeper sleep. Fitz noticed that May had been to his room and collected pillows and blankets and was creating a makeshift bed so he could lie on the floor. For now, he chose to sit on the pillows, with his back to Simmons' bed, holding fast to her hand.
He felt more grateful to his friends than he could express, especially when May squeezed his shoulder and told him to wake her if he needed to rest.
For the next two hours, Fitz kept vigil at Jemma's bedside, watching her sleep, then he moved to take her vitals. They hadn't changed much, although her temperature was creeping up again. He cooled her forehead and she whimpered slightly in her sleep.
"Shh, Jemma darling, you're alright, just a little under the weather. I'm not going to leave you, we'll get through this together."
Turning onto her side, Jemma seemed to writhe in pain, curling in on herself. She opened her eyes and met his, seeming confused to see him there. "Fitz, I, it's, I need to..." She was trying to sit up.
"I've got you baby, don't try to move."
"No, I, oh! No, no! I'm so sorry. Fitz, leave me alone."
"Don't be silly, I can't leave you, you're too sick."
"No, you don't understand. I'm sorry. I need to... need to change, clean, the bathroom." Her face was a picture of agony and she couldn't control her emotions, fear and distress flashing in her eyes as the tears again began to fall.
Suddenly Fitz understood. "Oh sweetheart, I'm sorry. You'll need a shower, shall I get May, or Daisy?"
"No!" Jemma sobbed, "I can do it." She was already preparing to pull out her IV, suddenly seeming stronger than she had been earlier.
"OK, we'll try it your way."
Simmons stood shakily, clutching at Fitz's arm and together they staggered to the bathroom. The shower was an experience Fitz hoped she would forget in a haze of illness, as he ended up doing the bulk of the work, practically climbing in there with her despite being fully clothed.
When they were done, he scooped her up in his arms and carried her back to her room, settling her among the pillows on the floor. He changed the sheets on her bed then, deciding not to move her again, lay down beside her and gently wrapped himself around her small body. He thought she was asleep until he heard an almost inaudible mumble: "Thank you Leo."
He kissed her shoulder conveying what words could not. He loved her and whether that meant working side by side in the lab, diving through a hole in the universe or mopping her fevered brow, there was nothing he wouldn't do for her. She was his world.
At 0530, May tapped gently on Simmons' door. Hearing no response, she quietly entered, finding a tangle of Fitzsimmons sleeping on the floor. She reached down to feel Jemma's forehead, disappointed to find her still feverish.
Jemma's eyes fluttered open, "May," she whispered before inhaling and coughing.
"How are you feeling? Are you still nauseus?"
"No, better. But my chest." Talking made her cough harder, waking Fitz.
"Jemma!"
"It sounds like the 'flu has moved to her chest, and she still has a fever. I'll stay here with her for a while Fitz, you go and get Lincoln then take a shower and get yourself some breakfast." May instructed.
Not wanting to leave her but knowing he needed to keep himself healthy for Jemma, Fitz reluctantly left the room.
May lifted Simmons easily, as if she weighed no more than a child, and tucked her into the bed. Sitting beside her, she stroked the young girl's cheek, humming softly. Jemma moved her head slightly, soothed by May's presence, despite feeling like an elephant was sitting on her chest. She coughed again, her breathing shallow. "I should get ready, Fitz'll be waiting."
"Fitz will be back soon, you don't need to move."
"Working on the new ICER. He needs me. Can't stay home today."
"Simmons, you're not working today, you're sick."
"No Mum, can't miss class, there's a test. Have to study."
May put both her hands on Simmons' face. "Jemma, open your eyes. Look at me."
It was rare for May to use her first name, and Jemma forced her eyes open and sat up, realising where she was.
"You have the 'flu, you're not getting out of bed. Let us take care of you."
Tears began to roll down Jemma's cheeks. "I'm sorry May, I don't mean to be difficult. I don't even know why I'm crying."
"You're crying because you're ill and your body is exhausted. You're crying because it feels weak to give in to that. But it's OK, we understand. We care about you. Fitz has been with you all night. Now come here." May opened her arms and Jemma collapsed into them, sobbing.
As May rubbed her back, Jemma's sobs turned to coughs, her breathing getting shallower. In minutes she was gasping for breath as well as leaving tears and snot on May's jacket. May pulled her upright, leaning the girl back against the bed's head but not breaking physical contact. "Hey, breathe with me, nice and steady, in and out."
Another knock on the door and Lincoln entered. May looked at him in relief, "She can't catch her breath Lincoln, and her heart is racing."
"Keep talking to her May," he instructed, getting out his phone and dialling Fitz's number. "Fitz, we need a salbutamol inhaler and a spacer. Do you know where to find them? OK, bring them to Jemma's room, quick as you can."
He knelt on the floor in front of the women, checking Simmons' pulse, while May continued to reassure her. "It's OK Jemma, we've got you, Fitz will be here soon with medicine to help you breathe. Just keep focussing on my voice and breathe in and out."
Jemma's vision was blurry, both from the tears and the shortness of breath,but somehow she heard the words 'Fitz' and 'breathe' and knew she had to trust the people around her. They were doing all they could to help.
Fitz must have broken his own speed record as he burst into the room just a minute after Lincoln's call. He dumped everything on Lincoln and threw himself at the bed catching Jemma's hand and giving May a terrified look. "She can't breathe; please, help her!"
Lincoln had the inhaler and spacer ready. Ordinarily he would only use the spacer for a child, but he didn't know if Simmons had used an inhaler before and the spacer would help her to get the full dose. "Simmons, I'm going to put this in your mouth, seal your lips around it and try to take deep breaths, it should make breathing easier."
Gradually, her breathing slowed to a more reasonable rate and Lincoln was pleased they hadn't needed to use a nebuliser. Jemma collapsed against Fitz, her whole body trembling.
"Oh Jemma, darling," he soothed, "you're OK now, I was so scared."
He scooted them on the bed until they were both lying down, their heads on the stack of pillows Lincoln had manoeuvred into place, explaining that her breathing would be easier with her head lifted. Jemma was barely aware of what was happening, but she felt her fingers being softly unfurled from their grip on Fitz's shirt before there was a sharp sensation in her hand as Lincoln set up a new IV. Unable to hang on to consciousness any longer, she allowed sleep to take her, knowing she was safe in Fitz's arms.
The next thing Jemma was aware of was the churning of her stomach and the rising nausea. Fitz wasn't there. She sat up, gasping, hoping he had at least left the bowl nearby. There was a scrabble of movement from the floor and the bowl appeared before her. She clutched it gratefully, feeling someone pulling back her hair and supporting her body as she vomited.
"Well, I was planning to bring you some soup for lunch soon, but maybe that doesn't sound so appealing right now." She could hear the smile in the familiar voice as she recovered herself.
"Daisy," she panted, "did you cause... a quake in my tummy?"
"Joking? Well that's a good sign. I can take a positive report back to Fitz later." Daisy removed the bowl and handed a glass of water to Jemma.
"Fitz? Where is he?" She drank a little water, returned the glass to her bedside table, then leaned back against the pillows.
"Science called, he's in the lab. I wouldn't be surprised if he's bugged the room to keep tabs on you though, and probably put a tracker on me to make sure I don't leave you."
"Thank you Daisy."
"Hey relax, I'd be here to take care of my friend even if she didn't have a partner who threatened to booby trap my room."
"He said that?"
"No, but the look in his eyes when he asked if I could bring my work in here was enough." Daisy indicated the laptop now abandoned on the floor. "Now, are you ready to experience my incredible bedside manner? Lincoln came to take out your IV and said I had to check you over when you woke up.
"OK, pulse," she reached for Simmons' wrist, "90. Temperature, 102.3, not a perfect score, but we won't fail you yet. How do you feel? Be honest with Doctor Daisy now."
"Achy, tired, even though I just woke up. The nausea's passed for now. Throat is sore, head and sinuses full of cotton wool."
"How about your chest? Your breathing doesn't sound too hot."
"It hurts to breath any deeper." She admitted.
"Then you get to use the inhaler. Here."
This time Jemma was able to take the medicine without using the spacer, and she felt the effect almost immediately.
"Now, what say we get some room service in?" Daisy suggested, "order you some soup and get this bowl cleaned out."
"I don't think I can eat. I'm just so tired, and I don't want to be sick any more."
"Ah, but I just happen to know a certain Scottish scientist who has spent the morning looking up soup recipes when he thinks no one's looking. (Yes, I hacked his workstation, I was bored!) He'll be so disappointed if you reject his efforts."
Daisy grabbed the laptop and sent a message to Fitz's screen.
Your lady awaits. Bring soup.
By the time Fitz arrived, Jemma had fallen asleep, despite Daisy's best efforts to keep her talking.
He put his hand on her cheek. "Jemma, love, it's time for lunch." Somehow, in just a day, he had gone from nervous about sounding sappy to using every term of endearment that came to mind. "Sweetheart, can you sit up for me?"
She reluctantly dragged her mind to wakefulness, enjoying the feel of Fitz's cool hand. "Mhmm. Tired, Fitz."
"I know, but you should try to eat a little soup, you won't get better if you don't eat." He pulled her into a hug and shifted her into a more upright position. "It's only a small bowl anyway."
"OK, I'm awake."
He placed a tray supporting the steaming bowl of soup onto her lap, and she reached for the spoon. "Let me," he said softly, lifting the spoonful of soup to her mouth.
"Fitz, I can..." she began to protest, then remembered May's words: let us take care of you. Her hand fell back to the bed and she allowed her partner to feed her like a child. Just a few mouthfuls swallowed and she felt unable to continue. The soup wasn't sitting well on her stomach and she feared she'd be sick again if she ate any more. Fitz didn't force the issue, allowing her to snuggle back down into the bed and drift back to sleep.
The next time she woke, it was May who was sitting by her bedside. Not wanting to waste a moment this time around, she spoke up immediately.
"Can, can you help me to the bathroom?"
Without a word, May scooped her up and strode down the corridor. She carried the girl right into a cubicle, then retreated to give her some privacy, using a neighbouring facility, flushing, then making as much noise as possible washing her hands.
Jemma was pleased to have taken care of her own ablutions, but frustrated to be overcome by a coughing fit. Managing finally to get herself under control, she emerged and stumbled to the sink to wash her hands. Washing complete, her body must have sensed that the essentials were done: her knees gave way beneath her.
With lightening fast reactions, May caught her before she hit the ground. Jemma was vaguely aware of leaning her head into May's shoulder before the world faded to black.
Jemma Simmons sat in the lecture theatre at Shield Sci-Tech academy. She was 16 and had been at the academy for a little under two months. It was a great privilege to study here, but leaving home and her family to live hundreds of miles away had been hard. But she had met Leopold Fitz at orientation, the faculty introducing them to one another as they were both younger than the rest of the student body, and together they navigated the highs and lows of Freshman life.
Today's lecture on artificial quantum singularities had Leo enthralled, while Jemma struggled to concentrate. She was tired, her body felt heavy and sore and, most of all, she missed her Mum.
In need of comfort, she took a risk, reaching out and slipping her hand into his. Fitz's head whipped round in surprise, his face flustered and a little red. Simmons gave him a weak smile and he saw instantly that she was in need of a little friendship to get through a moment of homesickness. He had never been good at reading people, yet somehow he already shared a connection with Jemma and could almost tell what she was thinking.
He squeezed her hand and returned his attention to the lecture.
Content to feel his hand around hers, Jemma gave in to the tiredness, letting her heavy eyelids fall as the lecture continued.
Waking from her dream, Jemma noted that the soreness hadn't gone away, but neither had Fitz's hand. Most surprisingly, the lecture also continued.
Opening her eyes, she saw that Fitz was again sitting on the floor with his back against her bed. A copy of New Scientist was lying on the floor, so she guessed that the magazine resting on his knees must be Scientific American. He was reading aloud to her.
For the next few minutes she simply enjoyed his closeness and the sound of his voice, almost forgetting how poorly she felt.
When he reached the end of the article he turned to look at her. "Oh, hi, you're awake."
"Thank you Leo."
"Why? For what?"
"For knowing me."
Not really knowing what she meant, but accepting the sentiment, he smiled at her. "How about some tea and toast?"
"I'll try. What time is it?"
"Quarter past nine. May says you were last awake at about five. Want to sit up?"
She nodded and he stood to help her. He picked up the New Scientist and riffled through the pages, placing it, open, on her knees. "There's an article here I think you'd find interesting. I read it earlier but you probably didn't hear. Why don't you take a look while I go and fix that tea and toast?"
He was only gone a few minutes and she didn't really manage to take in much from the article but was touched that he had thought of her and had gone to the effort of reading to her while she slept.
"Now, is there anything else you need or want?" Fitz asked as she accepted the mug of tea, "or shall I pop an episode of Doctor Who on?"
"Doctor Who sounds perfect. Silence in the Library?"
"Your wish is my command - sweetie," he smirked.
As the episode began, Fitz joined Simmons on the bed. She sipped her tea and made an effort to eat the toast, then he lifted his arm so she could snuggle in to his side.
She made it nearly all the way through the episode before falling asleep, but Forest of the Dead was going to have to wait.
Fitz woke early the next morning, wrapped around a sleeping but slightly wheezy Jemma. He slipped out of her bed and went to get showered and ready for the day. About 20 minutes later Jemma also woke.
She assessed her condition before moving. She was alone, so the team must no longer have thought she needed round the clock supervision. Her stomach felt delicate but not explosive. Her chest was tight and she still felt congested. Her headache was back but wasn't too bad. And she had been asleep for the better part of the last 30 hours, so she couldn't possibly be tired any more.
Sitting up was the next order of business. She managed that, then reached for the glass of water on the bedside table. She noted appreciatively that various medicines had also been left there, then used the inhaler and swallowed two paracetamol. Taking things steadily, she finished the water over the next few minutes. Things were going really well.
Dropping her feet to the floor, she tentatively stood. She felt weak and a bit wobbly, but that was to be expected after a day in bed. She also felt in desperate need of a shower.
Stepping out into the empty corridor she stumbled against the wall as a wave of dizziness hit. Maybe she wasn't quite as strong as she had thought. Nevertheless she was determined. Using the wall for support now, she was making good progress when Director Phil Coulson rounded the corner.
"Jemma!"
"Sir!" She hastily straightened herself up, leaving only fingertips on the wall for security.
"I was on my way to your room. Are you sure you should be up?"
"Oh, I'm feeling much better now. Just heading for a shower. Don't worry about me, I'll be fine." She knew most of that was a lie, but hoped her skills at deception had improved. She was beginning to realise that a shower was a little ambitious and she really needed to lie down again. If Coulson believed her and left, she ought to be able to make it back to her room without embarrassment.
"Jemma, you're white as a sheet, shaking and just a little too attached to that wall." She hadn't even realised that she was leaning heavily once again.
She sighed and made a final effort, leaving the wall and taking a step forwards. On the second step, it all went wrong and she stumbled into Coulson, clutching at his arm.
"So, back to bed?" he asked kindly.
"Please," she whispered and they shuffled together until she could collapse into her bed.
Phil gave her a little time to recover herself, sitting down at her desk.
"So, Agent Simmons, how do you fancy being Shield's Assistant Director for the morning? I'll be working and taking all my calls here, so you might hear some top secret intel."
"Erm, I may not be quite field ready, or even lab ready. Well, you've already seen I'm not even standing ready..."
"Relax Jemma, I'm not expecting you to work, I'm here to keep you company and keep an eye on you. I'll even try to make your tea the proper way if you promise not to run away while I'm not in the room."
"Mmm, tea does sound good."
"Done. I'll be back in five."
The rest of the morning was uneventful. Jemma dozed for some of the time but was also able to answer some of Coulson's questions as he worked. She almost felt useful.
Lunchtime brought Fitz, soup and an update on the new ICER. He had a design and was ready to make a prototype for testing when she was well enough.
When she had eaten as much as she could manage (still only half the bowl of soup, but that was definite progress), Fitz asked if she thought she would be alright on her own for a few hours. "There's a briefing for everyone and then Coulson wants to see me, and there are things I need to finish in the lab. I'd rather not leave you alone, but, well May suggested that if you were well enough you might want some time alone..."
"Fitz, relax, I'll be fine. You're being such a sweetheart and taking such good care of me, but I'm definitely on the mend now. I'll take a nap and before either of us know it, it'll be dinner time. I bet you're trying to cover for me in the lab too, so you must have a stack of work to do. I really do appreciate all that you're doing."
"Alright then. You rest. But don't hesitate to call if you need anything. Anything at all. I can be here in less than a minute." He leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead and subtly moved her phone closer to the bedside.
As he left the room, Jemma felt a rush of gratitude that they seemed to have got past the awkwardness that had hung over their relationship after Jemma opened up about Will.
At 15:57 Jemma opened a lazy eye. She felt rested but disgusting. Imagining herself snuggled up with Fitz later watching a DVD she winced. She hadn't managed it this morning, but now she really was desperate for a shower. She pulled out her phone.
Hey, are you busy? J x
Hey yourself, not especially, I'm sure Shield's finest can spare me to hang out with you. Actually, you are one of Shield's finest, so it's all good. xx
Thanks Daisy, actually, I'm asking a favour. I need a shower and recent experience suggests having a friend nearby might be wise... x
I'll meet you at the bathroom. xx
This time Simmons' journey to the bathroom was a lot less eventful.
Daisy greeted her with a grin. "So, you get on with your stuff and I'll be just out here filling you in on all the gossip."
"Thank you Daisy, add this to the list of favours I owe you."
"Hey, you saved my life, you'll always be in credit on the favour front."
As Jemma washed off two days of illness, Daisy babbled on about Coulson's briefing, Mack's sandwich making skills, Lincoln's romantic gestures and how cute she thought Fitz looked when he pouted at Coulson over his plans to send him on a mission tomorrow.
"Wait," Jemma exclaimed, "Fitz is leaving the base tomorrow? What's the mission? What kit are they taking?"
"I don't know much," Daisy replied, "Coulson's leading, Fitz and Mack are going to be sciencey and engineeringy and Lincoln's going for the experience. It can't be that dangerous, they're not taking a hardcore specialist; May will fly them out but is going on to a solo mission while they're away. She's expected back before them and will probably lead the extraction in a few days."
Jemma felt a twinge of concern, she didn't want Fitz to go away when he'd been her rock for the last few days. Well, for more than the last few days really, but he'd really taken care of her while she'd been feeling lousy. But she was nearly better now and as soon as the thought entered her mind she stamped it down. How could she be so selfish? She couldn't expect him not to do his job just because she enjoyed snuggling up to him. Truth be told, he was probably having to cover for her; if they needed scientists on the mission, maybe she was supposed to have gone too.
Pulling herself together, Jemma finished showering and wrapped towels around her hair and body. She stepped out and Daisy grinned at her. "Feel better?"
"Much. A bit of warm water and shampoo and I feel almost human again. Oh! I mean, I don't mean that I wasn't human because there's nothing wrong with being not quite human, just that I..."
"Relax Jem, I know what you mean and I'm pleased you're feeling more like yourself. Let's head back to your room and fix you up with some clean sheets and pyjamas."
The mission, she learned from Fitz later, was to retrieve possible 084s. The team would need to spend some time in surveillance of a previously abandoned factory which had suddenly started operating again, then move in to disable and collect whatever they found.
Fitz spent much of the afternoon and evening preparing the equipment he would need, not realising how much time had passed. At 9pm, Simmons joined him in the lab.
"Jemma! What are you doing here? You should be resting! Oh gosh, look at the time, I'm sorry, I should have been by with some dinner."
"It's OK Fitz, I'm much better than I was. And I come bearing gifts." She put down the large tray she was carrying and unloaded its contents. There were two mugs of tea, two plates of lasagne, one much smaller than the other, and a wrapped sandwich.
"I've brought our dinner, though I can't claim the credit; Lincoln cooked. And here's your sandwich for tomorrow."
"Prosciutto and mozzarella?" He beamed
"With a hint of pesto aioli." she finished. "Now, how much more work do you have to do?"
"Actually, I'm just finished."
"Then let's eat and you can brief me on anything I need to know while you're away. When we're done we can go and watch some TV, but you mustn't be up too late if you've an early start tomorrow."
Fitz tucked into his meal enthusiastically while Jemma pushed hers around on the plate and forced herself to eat a little. He filled her in on the mission details, and on what had been happening in the lab, then paused, "But you probably won't be back at work for a few days, so maybe I shouldn't be telling you all this."
"Nonsense, I'll be back tomorrow. With you gone, I'll be needed here."
"Just promise me you'll take it easy Jem. You've really been quite poorly."
"I'll be just fine. And you'll be back in no time."
After eating and returning their dishes to the kitchen, they retired to Simmons' room and settled in. Leaning into Fitz, Jemma found she was tireder than she had realised and was soon sleeping with her head in his lap.
By 10.30pm, he decided it was time he slept too. He shifted her head onto the pillow and lay down beside her.
"You should go," mumbled a sleepy voice, "sleep better in your own bed. Early start."
He really didn't want to admit it, but she was probably right. Slipping his arms around her, he held her close for a moment. "Just be gentle with yourself Jem, let Daisy look after you if you're feeling tired, don't push yourself." He kissed her temple then buried his face in her hair. "I'll miss you," he finished with a whisper.
"Miss you too Leo."
With a final touch of her cheek, he reluctantly crept out of the room.
Agent Simmons' alarm went off at 6am and at 6.45am she was the first person in the lab, reviewing the work which had happened while she was bedridden, and the priorities for the day.
By 8am, when more lab staff started drifting in, she felt back in the swing of things. She also felt tired, achy and tight in the chest, but she dosed herself up and carried on, not wanting anyone to see she wasn't quite back to full strength.
At 9am, a message flashed up on her screen informing her that Fitz and the others had arrived safely at the mission location and that they had taken Daisy too as a last minute addition to the team.
At 3pm, a lab technician approached her with a cup of tea. "Agent Simmons, I thought you could use a drink. And maybe you should consider stopping for lunch...?"
"Oh gosh! Thank you. Time has run away from me. The tea is lovely, I'll just wait for a good moment to break off from this experiment, then I'll pop down to the kitchen."
At 6pm, she realised that she still hadn't stopped to eat. Then again, she really didn't feel hungry. In fact, when she considered it, she wasn't feeling too good. The headache was back, she had been coughing a lot and a low level of nausea was returning. Maybe she was pushing herself too hard, but there was just so much to be done.
She decided to call it a day and retired to her room with peppermint tea and a bundle of reports to read.
By 7.30pm, she was asleep.
The next day followed a similar pattern but was additionally punctuated by a text from Fitz:
Hi Jemma, looks like we'll be here another few days. Please look after yourself and don't work too hard. xxx
And by an unfortunate trip to the bathroom to vomit then lie on the floor for half an hour before she felt able to get up and return to work.
On balance, she knew things weren't great, but she was managing and she could relax when the others came home.
That night was not a good one. She was practically back to square one. After the second trip to the bathroom to throw up, she sought out the sick bowl and took it back to her room.
Entering in to a seeming endless cycle, she would doze for 20 minutes or so then wake with her stomach rolling, vomit, then collapse to doze again. She had lost count of how many times she had been sick already when she was caught off guard by a particularly violent expulsion which left her pillow half soaked in vomit.
This wasn't good. She was going to have to get to the bathroom to clean herself up, then change her bedding.
Beginning the daunting task ahead, she put her feet on the floor and dragged herself up. Clutching the wall, she made it to the bathroom, but could no longer stand. Lying on the cool floor for a while she felt like weeping.
She wanted to talk to Fitz, just to hear his voice. But she knew she shouldn't call him on a mission, especially in the middle of the night. Besides, if she did call, he would just worry and there was nothing he could practically do to help her; he'd just end up distracted while in the field. Sighing, Jemma realised that even if she did choose to give in and call him, she had left her phone by her bed.
Pushing the feelings of loneliness and helplessness aside, Simmons forced herself into action. Things had been far worse than this on Maveth and she had made it through. Then the hope that Fitz would find her had been just that, hope. Now there was certainty that he would be home in just a few days. She gripped the sink and pulled herself upright, doing her best to wash herself.
Knowing her bed still needed changing she followed the only sensible course of action: she staggered to Fitz's room, emptied the rubbish from his bin for the next time she was sick, changed into his pyjamas and fell into his bed.
This time, her body gave her a break and she slept for a few hours.
How she made it to the lab the next morning, Simmons couldn't really work out. Somehow, she had got up, gone to her own room to dress and walked to the lab.
Unfortunately, now she was here, she couldn't stand up any more. She hid it by sitting at her desk, catching up on her meticulous reporting and hoping nobody demanded anything too taxing from her.
It was clear to anyone who saw her that she was really quite unwell. Her pale face, the dark rings beneath her eyes and the fact that she had lost a lot of weight from her already slight frame in the last few days.
This time it was water the lab technician brought her, not tea. "Erm, Agent Simmons, are you alright? You look like maybe you should be resting..."
"Erm, thank you, I'll be OK." She knew the technician was right, but she also knew she couldn't move anywhere by herself and really didn't want to have to ask for help.
Sipping the water gratefully, Jemma tried to consider her options before concluding that her brain had lost all ability for analytical thought and problem solving. To her great relief, that was the moment when Melinda May entered the lab.
"Agent May, you're back."
"Agent Simmons, I need your assistance, please come with me." Without waiting for a response, May slung an arm around Jemma's waist, hoisted her to her feet and marched them both out of the lab. The rest of the science staff pretended nothing was happening, saving their outward signs of relief until Simmons was out of sight.
Jemma's body was doing nothing to aid their progress and, as soon as they rounded the corner away from the lab, May lifted her fully off the ground and carried her to her bedroom.
Opening the door, the smell of vomit hit them. Jemma had been unable to clean up after the previous night. The odour made her stomach turn and she feared the sickness was about to start again. May turned on her heel and proceeded to Fitz's bedroom, gently depositing the ailing scientist back on her partner's bed.
Jemma's relief threatened to turn to tears. "Thank you May."
"Shhh, don't try to talk. Just rest. I've got you."
Closing her eyes, Jemma once again succumbed to sleep.
A few short hours later, the cycle of vomiting began again. That Simmons was barely conscious as May held her, forced her to sip water, washed her down and even placed her in a cool bath to reduce her fever may well have been a blessing. Melinda certainly hoped Jemma was somehow detached from the pain her body was putting her through. If anything, this was worse than the first night of illness, but maybe that was just because Fitz wasn't there to soothe her.
But May was endlessly efficient and kind, forgoing her own rest and contacting Lincoln for advice on medicating the girl. She even managed to set up a passable IV.
By midnight, the medication had kicked in and Jemma slept more peacefully, allowing May to grab some sleep on the floor of Fitz's room.
For the next two days, May was a full time nurse, not allowing Jemma out of bed unaided, and the girl's health gradually improved.
On the third day, May brought news. "It's time for the extraction, we're going to get our team."
"We? I don't really think I can help, I'm sorry."
"Well I'm glad you're admitting to your illness, but don't worry, I'm not expecting you to work. But I refuse to leave you on the base unsupervised."
Feeling a little like a small child, Jemma nodded. She allowed May to help her wash and dress before they headed to the hangar and Zephyr One.
Not knowing where they were headed, she was interested in the journey, but ended up spending much of the time dozing in the co-pilot's seat until May woke her. "Jemma, we've landed. The team are meeting us here, they'll be coming aboard any minute."
Unbuckling, Simmons tried to straighten herself up, smoothing her hair and clothes. She stood, a little wobbly, but holding herself up unaided to exit the cockpit.
The sight of Fitz approaching almost overwhelmed her in her fragile state and she was glad when he dropped what he was carrying to hurry towards her and catch her in his arms. Shaking, she couldn't hold back a sob of relief, feeling almost as glad as when he had pulled her back from Maveth. She knew it was an overreaction, but was unable to apply the rational thought to her addled brain.
As the rest of the team gave them space, Fitz led Jemma to a pair of seats and they strapped in before her head fell to his shoulder.
An hour after they took off, Jemma woke and groaned. How could she possibly be feeling nauseous again? At least they kept sick bags on the plane in case the turbulence was too much for anyone. She reached for a bag as the saliva pooled in her mouth. By the time the retching started, Fitz had pulled back her hair and was rubbing her back.
It was her ninth day of illness and she felt she had long ago lost any dignity in the condition, but Jemma really wished she wasn't surrounded by practically her whole team. What she wouldn't give to be somewhere quiet, just her and Leo, with nothing to worry about and no illness dragging them down.
May's voice came over the intercom as Jemma recovered. "Wheels down in five."
That confused her. It had taken them longer than this to reach the extraction location, so they couldn't be back at the base yet.
Fitz squeezed her hand reassuringly as Coulson explained. "Right, Fitzsimmons, this is your stop. Agent May has left your luggage in that locker. Fitz, you've got the details about your accommodation and the doctor we've registered Simmons with? Good. So I want you to make sure the doctor sees her every other day and sends a report back to me. And after I see a clean bill of health you'll have a week free to take as vacation and enjoy the island, then we'll send a plane to bring you home."
Still not quite grasping what was going on, Jemma stared at Coulson. "Sir?"
"Jemma, neither of you have had any vacation time since Maveth and I've never seen you this sick. I'm ordering you to take time out and really rest."
"We've got a gorgeous villa Jemma," Fitz added, "with a terrace and a little private pool for when you're up to it."
Wondering whether she was dreaming or Coulson and Fitz had just read her mind, she smiled and blinked back tears. "A holiday?"
"Once you're feeling better. We can explore, relax by the sea, visit the monkeys..."
"Visit the monkeys? Fitz, where are we?"
He grinned wider than she ever recalled seeing. "Gibraltar."