It had all started out so simple. There had been so many recent attempts to replicate the super serum used on Captain America that there was a now a separate protocol for any missions relating to it; get in there, take the serum, attempt to destroy any files relating to its development if they could before getting out of there as quick as possible.

Fitzsimmons and Skye would go in accompanied by Ward and May, who would fight off anyone stopping them whilst the two scientists located the serum and Skye got the files. It was a mission that all of them – including Skye – had experience with and could usually execute with minimal guidance from Coulson. So what had gone so horrifically wrong this time?

Fitz was crouched down with his chin tucked up against his knees, his back flush against the tree as he tried to make himself as small as possible. He was clutching the briefcase that contained this mission's serum like a shield against himself, silently thanking whoever designed it for making it bulletproof as he heard bullets ricochet off the other side of it.

Everything had happened so fast. One minute he was watching Jemma carefully package the test tubes into the metal case, labelling each one neatly and the next he was diving for cover in the dense jungle as all hell broke loose around him.

Panting heavily, he looked around the clearing for Simmons. He could've sworn she'd taken cover right next to him, behind a tree with a particularly wide trunk but when he looked around, she was nowhere to be seen.

It was like she'd disappeared. "Simmons!" he yelled as he stood up quickly and brought the briefcase away from his face, momentarily forgetting where he was.

"Fitz, what are you doing?!" a voice cried from across the way, a male voice. Fitz looked up to see Ward staring at him incredulously, his arms stuck out either side, guns clamped in his hands. Bullets still endlessly flew out of them despite the fact he wasn't looking at his targets. "Get down!" he shouted at the scientist, looking crazed.

Obediently, Fitz dropped to the floor just as a bullet flew into the tree behind him, hitting it where he'd just been standing and sending splinters of bark flying everywhere.

Crawling around on his knees in the dirt, he began yelling. "Simmons!" He fumbled with the case - which he'd dropped upon impact with the ground - and hugged it against his chest. "Jemma!" Gunshots echoed around the clearing accompanied by shouts in both English and French. Suddenly, the screeching of tyres filled the air and Fitz leapt back in fright.

He peeked over the top of the metallic briefcase to see one of the grey S.H.I.E.L.D. vehicles pull up in front of him, Coulson in the driver's seat. "Get in," he demanded. Fitz didn't need to be told again as he scrambled up onto his feet and clambered into the back of the car, putting the briefcase safely on his lap.

It was only once he was safely inside the car that he remembered what he'd left out there. "Jemma!" he cried loudly out in instinct as Ward jumped into the backseat, closely followed by Skye. "Where's Simmons?" Coulson asked from the front.

"She's… she's…" He pressed his face up against the glass window, madly scanning the jungle for her small frame. The door handle caught his attention and his fist quickly closed around it, trying to yank it open. But it was locked. "We have to get out and find her…" he mumbled.

"Fitz, we have to go," Coulson replied, putting his foot on the gas as soon as May had joined him in the front.

"But she's still out there!"

"We'll come back for her, I promise," he said, pulling out of the clearing alarmingly fast, sending Fitz flying back into his seat with a painful jolt. "But I can't risk the safety of the rest of the team."

At this, Fitz whimpered, his hand sliding down the glass. With the amount of foreign soldiers running around out there with heavy weapons, he knew that they'd never be able to recover her in one piece. More than anything, he wanted to pound against the glass, smash the door open and run out to find his partner, but he knew he had neither the strength nor courage to do that. Instead, he sat back in his chair and watched the trees fly by in a blur of brown and green. He wasn't sure if it was because of the speed at which the vehicle seemed to be going or the tears that were forming in his eyes.

One Year Later…

Agent Fletcher hated the night shift, he really did. Nothing interesting ever happened and he was usually stuck behind his desk catching up on paperwork instead of doing anything exciting.

But that didn't seem to be the case tonight. "Sir, they want you downstairs," a voice came from around the door, one of the new agents whose name he hadn't learnt yet.

"What do they want me for?" he asked grumpily. He wasn't going to fall for another prank; they really weren't funny at three in the morning.

"There's someone outside," the agent replied vaguely. Knowing that they wouldn't have bothered him unless they thought it was important, he put down his pen, stood up and reluctantly followed the junior agent downstairs.

"I can take it from here, thanks," he said, leaving him at the bottom of the stairwell and marching down the corridor towards the office. He strode in without knocking.

"Okay, what's outside that's more important than my paperwork?" he asked.

"This," one of the security guards said, clicking something on his computer so that it came up on the bigger screen, clearer. The image was black and green, presumably a camera feed from outside in night vision mode. A ghostly figure could be seen hanging around by the door. Strangely, it wasn't the weirdest thing Agent Fletcher had seen on one of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s cameras; at least this one looked vaguely human.

"Can we turn a light on or something?" he asked, wanting to see more detail on the picture. The security guard responded by leaning across his desk and flicking a switch. A light flickered on and the picture was suddenly thrown into full colour. The figure appeared to jump and turn around in shock, revealing it's face.

It was a girl, about average height with long dark hair that looked like it hadn't been brushed in a very long time. She wore ripped jeans and a light blue plaid shirt that was torn in more places than one, revealing bloody skin beneath. It was covered in scorch marks and the fabric seemed to hang off her thin frame. On one foot, she had a sneaker but the other foot was bare, exposing her toes underneath the baggy hem of her jeans. Her entire body appeared to be shaking in fright.

"Is that…?"

"It can't be…"

"She's been missing for over a year…"

"That's her," Agent Fletcher concluded. "That's Agent Jemma Simmons."