Disclaimer: I don't own Agents of Shield and I know nothing about medicine.
All she could do was stare at the oxygen mask in her hands. She couldn't leave Fitz behind. Fitz dead was incomprehensible, unimaginable. The part of her that was logical was trying to tell her that Fitz had a point, his arm was broken and he had never been very fond of swimming.
The other part of her that was emotional, that was human knew that this was no excuse. This was the part of her that was taking control. That felt urgent, immediate and real. This was Fitz, she couldn't leave him behind. Simmons knew that Fitz was trying to prove something, trying to tell her something she had suspected for a while now. She didn't want to think about it. She didn't want to think about anything.
Although they must only have a few seconds left, they seemed to be stretching out forever and she wanted to lie down and sleep for a month. And when she woke up everything would be okay. Fitz wouldn't be hurt they would both be fine.
She was becoming hysterical and her heart beat was speeding up. She was going to burst into tears, throw a tantrum, shout and scream until Fitz took the oxygen mask instead of her.
He kept looking at her; Fitz was probably scared out of his skin right now but didn't want her to know it. He had always been so much braver than he believed.
There had been one time; they had been at the Boiler Room and he had punched someone for calling her stuck up. Simmons suspected he had called her other things too, but Fitz had never told her. Fitz had looked so shocked and sort of half apologised to the guy before Simmons had dragged him away. She didn't want a full on fight on her hands. Later, she had jokingly asked him if he had been defending her honour. Of course, is all Fitz said.
Simmons didn't know why she was thinking about these memories. It just made her chest ache so much more painfully. She started running over hundreds of theory's she had read, trying to remember anything about floating or swimming or masks. She was trying to formulate a plan, to not be paralysed with terror. She could do this.
Fitz hit the button and she screamed. Simmons just watched as he sank beneath her, his body floppy and lifeless. Further and further away until the dark water swallowed him up. Fitz. She wasn't sure she could do this without Fitz. She wasn't sure she could do anything without Fitz. But she couldn't move; she just watched him die.
Simmons woke up screaming. The dream was more vivid, more detailed than anything she had dreamt before she was stuck in that box. She had saved him. Fitz was alive. But the nightmare kept on coming.
Simmons was sitting in the hospital waiting room. Skye was pacing in front of her and Coulson had his phone out but Simmons just sat. She didn't speak and she didn't move. She felt so weary, so tired. Despite Coulson's protests they weren't allowed to go and see him. Fitz's doctors hadn't been very specific about what was going on but just muttered something about 'unforeseen complications'. Simmons hated complications.
Eventually, finally, someone appeared and told them that Fitz could have a visitor. She stressed one, and only one. Skye and Coulson didn't protest when Simmons stood up without a word.
The doctor led her down a winding corridor, listing instructions as they went. No sudden movements, or raised voices. No mentioning what had happened, no displays of dramatic emotion. Simmons nodded along, not really taking any of it in. She was going to see Fitz again.
The doctor opened the door shooing her in. Fitz had several tubs snaking out from beneath his blanket. If Simmons had felt so inclined she could have read the notes by the foot of the bed, watched the monitors and given him a diagnosis. But she only had eyes for him.
She grabbed the chair by the head of his bed and shifted closer.
Fitz was awake at least; it felt odd to see his eyes again, having spent so much time observing him asleep. He smiled nervously at her and shifted so he could see her.
'Hello,' He said in his Scottish accent. Simmons had almost forgotten he was Scottish.
'Hey,' Simmons said softly, 'How are you doing?' Her eyes didn't leave his face and Fitz looked away. This was new. The old Fitz would have turned it into a staring contest. Simmons tried to get rid of this thought. There was no new and old Fitz. Just Fitz.
'All right, I guess. My head hurts a bit still.'
They sat in silence for a few minutes; usually this was common for them. It was enough to just be around each other, they didn't need to talk. But this time it felt slightly cold, awkward. Simmons heard a doctor come into the room but didn't turn around.
'Good. I mean it, Fitz. I-I'm glad you're on the mend.' She had wanted to say something more, but she couldn't. Not with the doctor here. Not with Fitz only just recovering.
The doctor motioned for her to leave and Simmons scowled. So soon?
'I'll come visit you when I can Fitz, and I'll bring Coulson or Skye next time.' Simmons said standing up.
'Um, Coulson? Skye? Are they- are they a doctor?' Fitz sounded uncertain.
Simmons looked helplessly at the doctor, who started to move forward, frowning.
'What do you mean, Leopold?'
Leopold. It sounded so wrong; she had never heard anyone refer to him as Leopold except in formal situations. This, however, probably qualified. This and all those graduations that Fitz had been to. She was rambling in her own thoughts, trying to avoid the situation at hand.
Simmons swallowed.
'You know, Coulson. Skye.' Simmons said desperately. Please. Please don't let this be what she thinks it is.
'Tell me, Leopold.' Interrupted the doctor, obviously Simmons wasn't helping. 'We've been through your name, birthday, family, all the standards. Now. Can you tell me who this is?' The doctor gestured towards Simmons.
Please.
'I, err,' Fitz looked uncomfortable, avoiding Simmons' gaze. 'Sorry. No. I don't know who you are. Should I?'
Simmons could have screamed but her throat was closing. She had to remind herself to breathe.
'Who are you?' Fitz asked her. This was wrong. This whole situation was so wrong Simmons felt sick to the stomach. What should she say? What could she say? Friends was too flippant, too casual, co-workers even more so.
'I'm Jemma Simmons.' She told him.
Simmons woke up shaking uncontrollably. She tried to calm down, breathing heavily and gulping. Just a dream. Just a dream.
Just a nightmare.
Fitz was leaving and Simmons wasn't sure she could cope.
Coulson managed to get the best wheelchair money could buy, and Fitz had already started tinkering with it. Improving it little by little. But it didn't change the fact that he was in a wheelchair, something to do with the impact the doctors had said. But Simmons had focused more on their first statement.
Fitz wouldn't walk again.
His mind was as brilliant as ever. It was just his body that was failing him; he kept knocking everything over in the lab, not used to them suddenly being lower than before. Simmons cleared up after him patiently, trying everything in her power to make Fitz more comfortable. She helped him reach things, helped him when he got stuck. It was frustrating, for the both of them, but she wasn't going to let him see that.
Coulson had explained the consequences to them both. Fitz couldn't stay on the BUS anymore. He was a danger to the team.
Coulson said it apologetically and sincerely but that just seemed to make it worse. Fitz would be going to the HUB to work on repairs. He would have his own lab with everything fitted for his needs. Simmons would not be going with him.
It wasn't her choice, or Coulson's. Fitz had pointed out that that she would be doing more good here, Simmons had tried to protest but Fitz wouldn't budge.
And now it was the day before he left and Simmons tried once again to get him to stay. They could work something out, she was sure of it.
Fitz looked her dead in the eye, 'I couldn't do it, Simmons. I don't want you clearing up after me the whole time like I'm child. Nothing is the same, and you act so different around me, and, and I just can't deal with that.'
Despite her efforts Simmons had failed him after all.
She woke up by herself. Painfully alone.
Simmons slammed the tea in front of Fitz, furious. She was so sick of this cold choking distance between them.
Fitz had woken up only a few days after the 'incident'. Simmons had flung her arms around him and gripped him tightly. Fitz had let his arms hang by his side and coughed awkwardly.
She had known better than to hope everything would just go back to normal. But she hadn't expected it to be this different. When Simmons entered a room, Fitz left it. Whenever Simmons eventually managed to corner him and suggested doing something; working, eating, talking, Fitz somehow managed to mutter an excuse and shove past her.
Anyone else in their right mind would have given up by now but Simmons was determined. She hadn't going through all that just to be defeated at the last hurdle. Medically it had been confirmed that Fitz was perfectly fine, but Simmons and everyone else on the BUS could see something was wrong. He just refused to tell her what.
He didn't look anyone in the eyes anymore. He flinched at the sound of running water. Fitz was constantly distracted, often trailing off in the middle of a sentence or leaving when someone was talking to him.
Simmons tried to get through to him, over and over. She tried to establish the relationship that they'd had before but nothing seemed to be working.
Simmons had simply had enough. There had been no to response to her slamming the tea cup. He hadn't spoken to her at all that day. Nothing. It was driving her crazy.
'What is it, Fitz?' She had asked him tensely. She was so so tired of catering towards his needs without anything in return. Maybe she could just force him to talk to her.
'Sorry?' He looked up at her completely calmly despite her outburst. It made her even angrier with Fitz making her feel like she was over reacting, like this wasn't their friendship that was falling apart.
'Please, please just talk to me Fitz.' She begged sitting down opposite to him. 'What's going on?'
'You really want to know?' Fitz asked her quietly.
'Yes.'
'Okay.' Fitz stood up suddenly papers falling off his knees. He took a deep breath. 'I don't want to talk to you. If I had it my way I wouldn't be in the same room as you. It shouldn't be like this. You should have saved me!'
Simmons just sat there. She felt numb. 'Didn't I?'
'No you didn't! If you had saved me, actually saved me, I wouldn't be scared every time I have to shower. Nobody would look at me like I might break down at any moment. I'm not 'fine' and it's your fault!'
Fitz met her gaze. 'You knew how I felt about you and you just ignored me. If you had just acknowledged it, maybe I wouldn't have been so eager to impress you. Maybe I wouldn't have been so stupid, and things wouldn't been like this now.'
Simmons felt tears begin to well up in her eyes.
'You don't need to worry about dealing with my feelings now. I hate you.' Fitz whispered almost to himself, and then he repeated, 'I hate you! And I'm sick of people forcing us together because that's how it was! This is how it is now.'
Simmons woke and the tears that had begun to form in her dream fell forming a pattern of drops on her blanket. She knew that it was a dream but she couldn't shake the feeling that she could've done better. She should have done better.
The last few months were blurry, all the days seemed to combine into one. There weren't so many missions any more, Coulson was more focussed on setting up SHIELD again, Simmons was grateful for all the extra time, and it meant she could stay in one place. Near Fitz. She visited every week, occasionally even twice in one day. Sometimes Skye came with her, or May or Triplett and even Coulson when he could spare the time. She knew she wasn't the best of company but they seemed to understand.
After a month of this, Simmons tried to get her life back in order. She took a week off to visit her family, and Fitz's mother. She spent her free time with Skye and Triplett instead of in her bunk. She tried to design new equipment or finish of projects she and Fitz had started. On the outside she probably looked like she was doing better, speaking more and tearing up less. But everything she did always felt so false.
When she visited Fitz in the hospital she talked to fill the silence. The nurse's told her that it was quite likely Fitz could still hear and she wanted him to know that she was here. She wasn't giving up on him. Maybe if he had been awake he would have picked up on what everyone else was missing. She was an empty shell. But it was easier, fooling him, when he didn't respond.
Sometimes Simmons would pinch herself trying to convince herself to wake up. Her nightmares were so vivid now days that this seemed to pale in comparison. Sometimes she thought that it was her nightmares that were real and that this was the dream.
This was the worst nightmare of them all.
Because she never woke up.
A:N/ In celebration of season 2 coming soon, here is what I like to consider what would be worst case scenario. Let me know what you think