So please firstly be warned about the sexual content that takes place below, and secondly be warned that this is my first attempting at writing said type of content, so please be slightly forgiving!

As always, feedback is much appreciated, and let me take this opportunity to say a huge thank you for all the marvellous, wonderful feedback on my last two fics - it absolutely blew me away.


In the end, they're found in the middle of the ocean, still coughing salt water out of their lungs, clinging to each other with numb fingers, buffeted about by the strong ocean current, their feet kicking out goodness knows how many miles above the seabed in an attempt to stay afloat.

She was exhausted from the whole ordeal, from the fear of facing HYDRA head-on, from trying to bandage up Fitz's injured arm, and from the seemingly endless plummet and earth-shattering crash with which they hit the water, sinking down, down, down until the medical pod fell apart at the seams. They'd battled to make it up to the surface, the gasp of fresh air as they broke the water a painful, burning relief filling her aching lungs, but their joy was short lived as they'd turned a full three-sixty degrees looking for land, or for help, only to come up short. It was impossible to tell how long they'd kicked at the water as she tried to support Fitz (already a weak swimmer) with his injured arm, even as he tried to resist her help, tried to support her instead.

There were three words still echoing in her ears as they floated together, words he'd choked out as their prison had started falling apart, and she had barely had time to process each syllable before water began rushing in from the cracks forming around them, deafeningly loud, so loud that it swallowed up her reply. There was no way she could say all she wanted as they struggled to float; even breathing had become a great effort by the time the team caught up with them.

In fact, she had no idea how the team found them, or even how Triplett and Coulson managed to pull them from the water while May deftly held the plane steady above them. It was not their plane, and she stopped for all of one second to wonder, and to care, where they picked up this replacement.

She was still coughing as Skye ran to her, wrapping a blanket around her trembling shoulders and taking her weight as Jemma found her right ankle sore, swollen perhaps from their impact when they hit the ocean, and weak from treading water. Triplett and Coulson each had a hand on Fitz's shoulders, keeping him steady, and her heart lurched to see how pale and exhausted he looked.

Soon, Skye had dragged her off to a secluded space, helping her to dry off as May appeared with some fresh clothes. She was too tired, too numb, to do anything but undress unabashedly, and the other women kept silent, allowing her this moment to reflect. They flanked her closely, however, on their way back to the communal area of the plane, as though scared she might fall down at any moment, but she found she had strength enough to keep upright until she could sit beside Fitz, already in fresh jeans and shirt and recounting their story to Coulson and Triplett. Together, they explained everything, voices wavering slightly as they told how Ward forced them into the medical pod even as they begged him to let them go, only to eventually drop them straight into the ocean below.

"Bastard," Trip gritted out, eyes coming to rest on her as she shifted beside Fitz, keen to stick close to him until she could be sure that they were both truly alive, that their survival wasn't all some kind of cruel dream. "How about you, you okay too?" he asked her.

She went to speak, but was overcome by a sudden burst of emotion - pure relief, she decided later - and her eyes were suddenly two dams close to bursting, so she pressed her lips shut and nodded, not trusting herself not to cry.

"Trip sorted my arm out," Fitz told her, nudging her gently with his good arm, as he held out the injured one, flashing a grateful look at Triplett.

"There wasn't much to do," Trip replied casually. "You'd already done a pretty good job."

Again she smiled and nodded, keen to avoid the looks of concern on everyone's faces, but especially the burning look of anger and guilt in Coulson's eyes that made her want to barricade herself into a room and phone home to her parents.

"You shouldn't have had to do anything, this shouldn't have happened," Coulson muttered, fury and apology evident in equal measure in his voice.

"It's okay sir, we knew the risks," Fitz assured him quietly, and she could see from the corner of her vision that his was gaze fixed on the side of her face.

"We caught up with Ward and Garrett," Skye told them a moment later, her voice strained, and Fitz's gaze darted to her instead.

"And?"

"They're in custody, a joint effort between Talbot and Hill. The latter seems to have roped in Stark to help. Garrett's refused to say anything but Ward's been slightly more helpful." May's voice was as level as ever as she filled in the details, but there was clearly a great deal at play beneath the surface.

"We know about a few HYDRA bases and science facilities, there are CIA teams securing them as we speak, but we're still working on anything more substantial," Skye filled in for May, and the two shared a look.

"Do you need us to go with them, then?" Fitz asked, addressing Coulson directly, and she struggled to tell if he was exasperated at having to continue working, or determined to deal with the organisation that had left the two of them huddled together deep beneath the Pacific.

"No." Coulson's voice was surprisingly hard.

"Sir?"

"No, you two have been through enough today. There's no need to touch any of the things HYDRA have been working on immediately. It can wait until tomorrow; you both need to take some time. We all do." He turned to May. "What's our ETA?"

"Less than an hour. In fact, I need to get back." She rose and disappeared, presumably returning to the cockpit.

"We're touching back down at the Hub," Coulson informed them. "You'll need to speak to a few people about what happened, but as soon as that's done I want you to take some time. Level out. The bases are all empty so they've readied some rooms there. I want the four of you to get some rest."

He left quickly after, presumably to join May, and there was little for the rest of them to say, so they sat in silence, sipping the drinks Triplett and Skye prepared together.


She and Fitz were whisked away as soon as they landed, questioned separately, then together and she felt herself needing to brush away her irritation on more than one occasion as Talbot himself asked increasingly repetitive questions. At long last, when they appeared to have passed whatever test had been set, they were sent off, escorted by a nameless CIA agent to the base that had been readied for them. It was almost identical to one they lived out of during their first year at Sci-Ops, and the corridors were familiar to them.

It was only once the CIA agent left and they hovered awkwardly, shaky and tired, outside their doors that she realised how late it was, and assumed that the rest of the team must have been sleeping.

"Maybe we should take some time to shower and change back into our own clothes?" she suggested eventually, and he nodded, his eyes on their feet. He had been resolutely avoiding looking straight at her since they were rescued, and she knew this had everything to do with the conversation they had never finished as they crouched at the bottom of the sinking pod, both convinced they were about to drown.

Even though she had known precisely what he meant when he had told her he loved her, he had seen fit to correct himself, to make it abundantly clear that he was in love with her. She had seen from the look on his face that he had not really been ready to admit it, but understood keenly the fear of leaving things unsaid. She had wanted to let him know she felt the same, but as she faltered, trying to express everything in one momentary confession. The pod had burst open moments later and it was too late.

She knew how her hesitation must have seemed, and she wanted nothing more than to rectify it all there and then, but her muscles were crying out and her hair was stiff with salt and she couldn't do it like this, not with her stomach painfully empty and her mind agonisingly full. She just needed a few minutes alone, hoped he'd understand after, even as he slunk off towards his door at her suggestion they part for a moment.

"I'll...I'll come over when I'm done though, yeah?" she asked and he looked up (though still not right at her), face hopeful, half a smile playing at his lips.

"Yeah? Yeah, okay."


She took her time as she moved about her room, plotting out just what she wanted to say as she rifled through the few belongings of hers that had been salvaged from the Bus. She lingered under the warm spray of the shower and savoured the feeling of changing into a familiar old t-shirt (one of his) and some gloriously soft pyjama pants, before eating the sandwich and fruit they'd left for her. It was hardly a satisfactory meal but she would make do as she exited her room, hoping he would answer the door quickly so no one else would catch her in her nightwear.

"Fitz?" she called as she knocked, and heard him shout from within.

"Jemma? It's open."

The room was dim as she entered; he'd closed the curtains and the room was lit only by the thin beams of light from the bedside lamp. He was sprawled out on his bed, spinning the little TARDIS figurine from his room on the Bus between his fingers.

"Hey, they saved it!" she said, wincing at how falsely cheery she sounded.

"Yeah."

He set the model down on the bedside cabinet, shifting so that he was sat on the edge of the bed, toes tapping out an unconscious rhythm on the floor. There was a pause in which he visibly steeled himself and she noticed the little helpless look in his eyes but, before she even had time to sit down beside him, he launched into an obviously pre-planned speech of his own.

"I know we need to talk about what happened before. You - you know I hate change so, maybe it's for the best this way. I mean, it's totally fine I don't mind you not feeling the same. I just...can we please just try and stay as we are?"

It took her a moment to understand what he was saying, to realise that he was willing to live with his feelings if it meant they could stay friends, and all the things she'd thought she wanted to tell him flew from her mind. They'd nearly died today, what the hell did it matter right at this moment?

She crossed the room and crouched in front of him, one hand on each of his knees, and it took no thought at all for her to stretch up and close the last few inches that remained between them, lips crashing to his with an unintended force that drew a surprised cry from him. It was a moment before he responded but when he did it was in tandem with her, kissing her hard as he tried to pull her closer, and perhaps it wasn't the greatest first kiss in the world, all teeth and tongue and underlying force that said 'we almost died and this is the only way I can tell you I'm glad we didn't', but it didn't really matter to either of them.

They were forced to break apart too quickly for either of their liking, and, gasping slightly, he looked at her sheepishly.

"You mean you…"

"Of course Fitz!" she laughed and his face split into the first real grin she'd seen in ages as he pulled her to him, holding her close for a long time before she drew back to press a kiss to his forehead and coax him to lie back with her on the bed. It had been a long day and she had no desire to stand for longer than necessary.

They both knew, at the back of their minds, that there was a lot they needed to talk about now, but as he wrapped his arms tightly around her back, fingers caressing her waist, they both knew that those discussions could wait until later.

With her hands at his neck she guided them back together, and their kisses became slower, lighter as they breathed each other in. They faltered occasionally as their hands seemed to move over each other of their own volition, as though determined to make sure the other was solid and real. There was a moment when he winced as he knocked his bad arm and was forced to kiss her repeated apologies away, and once, his lips stilled awkwardly against her as her hands unintentionally skimmed too close to the hem of his sweatpants and she couldn't help the uncharacteristic high laugh (that was really a giggle she would later deny) that burst out of her. He pulled away from her after that, burying his head into her neck.

"Stay?" he whispered against her, lips scattering kisses at the column of her throat.

She laughed against him, hands in his hair, pointing out as she stretched out under the covers that it was a bit late for that now. He pulled back in an instant.

"Oh, God. I..uh, I didn't mean...that...I mean I'd love to but...No, I just meant," she knew she should have helped him out but, instead, found herself smiling fondly up at him as he lamely finished, "...to...sleep."

Her hand found its way back to the band of his trousers, he was hard against her leg, and she raised an eyebrow at him.

He didn't need to say anything for her to read the look on his face; a strange but perfect mix of flushed embarrassment and a single, sarcastic question; 'can you really blame me?'

She laughed again, a strong surge of joy chasing the heat that was settling in certain parts of her, and he frowned for a moment, questioning and slightly unsure until he realised her amusement was not at his expense. He smiled at her, a look of happiness that was full and uninhibited, and perhaps it was the delight of this new, exciting thing between them; perhaps it was the raw desperation of being alive; or perhaps it was a mix of both, but before she knew it she was rubbing her hand against him, enjoying the sound of his surprised, choked cry, and the feel of him writhing against her, matching her movements.

Quickly, his lips found hers again and, feeling increasingly bold, she slipped his pants down his hips as she slid her tongue against his, enjoying the moan that rumbled in his chest in response. Another followed a second later as her hand closed around him, and she began stroking him firmly, changing pace slightly until she found a rhythm he seemed to like as her free hand ran up and down his back underneath his t-shirt, dragging her nails softly over his skin, trying to tamp down a strange sense of urgency running within her.

His hand crept under her pyjama pants, caressing her through her underwear with two unerring fingers, until she drifted her hand up across his shoulders and realised how tense he was, and she quickly understood that he was trying to keep himself under control, was trying to hold back.

"Jemma," he told her, a warning in his voice as his own fingers slipped from her centre when she ran her thumb over the head of his cock.

She smiled to herself, kissing him gently on the cheek.

"Fitz," she replied, voice hushed, his name uttered like the prayer she knew it to be. "Relax, it's okay."

It seemed to take a final moment of decision but eventually he dropped his face to the pillow, cheek against her own and she ran a hand through his hair. Resuming her attentions, she sensed him drawing closer and closer to his release as he allowed himself to relax, turning his face to her again, his breath coming in tiny, painful pants, hot against her neck, hands stroking almost reverently at her breasts through the cotton of her (his) t-shirt.

Finally, she felt him let go, a world of emotion and tension and relief falling away, and she held onto him as he came in her hand.

"Jemma."

His loud cry was strangled and drawn out, his chest heaving against her own. She could feel the emotion within him mirrored in the lump in her throat as her free hand raked softly through his curls, realising fully, for perhaps the first time, how close she had come to losing him. And, if his cheeks were a tiny bit damp when he kissed her again a moment later, then it hardly mattered because so were hers and they clutched at each other for a moment before she reached for the tissues on the bedside cabinet, cleaning them both off even as his hands moved over her now instead.

His palms were warm and gentle on her stomach, her hips, before his hand danced at her pyjama pants, slipping under them and her underwear this time and she wanted to tell him he didn't have to return the favour as she listened to his shaky breathing, felt his other hand tremble slightly where it gripped at the top of her thigh, encouraging her legs further apart.

She opened her mouth to speak, to tell him it was alright, but then he touched her, spreading her apart and, finding her slick and ready, dipped first one finger, then two into her and the words flew from her mind. She couldn't help the keening noise that she made a second later when he began moving his fingers in firm strokes in and out of her, and she thrust her hips down slightly to meet him, encouraging his free hand to her left breast, to worry at the sensitive skin there.

"Jemma," he whispered, tone strangely harsh and something dancing in his eyes that she couldn't identify. It was an odd feeling for her, struggling to read his expression, and she searched his face until his hands faltered and he looked awkwardly at her, and her heart lurched at the pleading expression on his face. "Sorry, I…"

She shook her head earnestly, tried to let him know it was okay with a chaste kiss as she reached her own hand down to meet his, guiding his fingers in and out of her in a particular rhythm, showing him where and how to rub his thumb, moving her body in time with his hand, sighing when he hit the perfect spot.

"Yes, there," she encouraged with a soft whisper and when she caught his gaze she was met with an unexpected expression on his face, intense and deep enough to make her breath hitch, to draw back the lump in her throat from before and she felt herself well up slightly.

He watched her face for signs that he was doing the right thing as he crooked his fingers inside of her, and she was careful to encourage him with smiles and gasps as he continued to massage her breast. He slowly pushed her shirt up and over her stomach, giving her a chance to stop him as he exposed more skin, staring at her as though she were something precious, and this only served to thicken the emotion in her throat. Slowly, he licked at the skin between her breasts, gradually nipping playfully at her collar before moving back down to draw his tongue around her right nipple, taking it fully into his mouth as he adjusted the rhythm of his fingers, moving them quickly up into her, and slowly, languorously out. He gauged her reaction, smiled bashfully against her as she cried out when he rubbed against her clit more firmly until she felt herself clenching around him. Her orgasm washed over her more suddenly than she'd expected and, hands on his cheeks, she dragged his face up to hers, foreheads touching as she reached her own, quieter completion.

It was his turn to reach for a tissue then, to clean them both off as she settled against the pillows, sated and more exhausted than ever.

He stretched out behind her, his chest warm and solid against her back and she smiled to herself when his arms came round her stomach, hugging her tight. He placed a kiss in her hair, and she felt him smile against her before he settled

They stayed like that for a while, letting the sound of the other's breathing comfort them, lulling them both to the edges of sleep. She has almost fallen off, drifted to slumber when he shifted against her.

"Hey Jemma?"

"Yeah?"

"I love you."

It hit her then that she hadn't told him back, not verbally at least, and she smiled against the pillow.

"I love you too, Fitz."