Jemma's eyes shot open. She felt herself take a deep breath that was not doing much to help her with the feeling of panic and desperation that had set into the very core of her brain. Images of the nightmare she had just had flashed through her mind like the openings of a Marvel movie. Blood, the sound of guns going off all around her, her own screaming over Ward's wounded body. Her voice, shaken, crooked and despondent, begging him not to die. His eyes, losing their light just as quickly as he was losing blood. Her whole body covered in his blood from when she was trying to save him. The black hole she had felt in her chest, swallowing her every feeling different from wild panic and anguish and pain. Just pure pain in both physical and emotional form.

She tried to calm herself down, telling herself that it was all just a bad dream, it was illogical to feel so shaken from a few images her mind created, that Ward was okay, safe and sound, sleeping in his own room that was just a few doors down hers. And yet there was this part of her, nagging at her, making her feel like she was panicking for a reason. After a few seconds she couldn't resist the urge to check on him so she got out of her bed, almost tripping over a large tome that she had left on the floor earlier. She left her room, still in her doughnut-patterned pajamas, and headed towards Grant's.

Over the months Jemma and Ward had started spending more and more time together. They'd become quite close and Simmons found herself enjoying her time with her more and more. She could tell he did too because she had noticed that there was a clearly discernible difference in how relaxed he was when they were together and when he was in the company of others. There came a time however, when she realized that her platonic feelings for him had given way to – or were rudely pushed away by- feelings of a more romantic type.

The signs were all there – when they were in the same room or even if she were only to think about him, her pulse would escalate, she felt a rush of oxytocin, dopamine, norepinephrine and other chemicals (or rather the effects of a rush of such substances) , her adrenaline secretion would increase, which caused the withdraw of blood in the walls of her stomach (butterflies, they called them).

When she reached his door, she knocked three times quietly as she decided that if she were to start pounding on the door it would wake everyone and that would be most inconvenient because 1) the team needed their sleep and 2) it would just look weird.

He opened the door, in just his pj sweat pants and incredibly well-fit white t-shirt. He started saying 'Simmons? What's happening, is everyone alri-' but was cut off by surprise when she threw herself on him in a rib-crushing hug.

'You're alive' she whispered, her face buried in his chest, feeling his warmth. After the inicial surprise, he had put on of his hands on her back, the other on her arm. Touching him, feeling that he's okay, she started coming back to her senses, already mildly embarrassed that she had overreacted so dramatically.

'Of course I'm alive, why wouldn't I be?' He asked, still confused. He broke the hug, leaving his both his hands on her shoulders. 'Wait, was there something weird in that drink Fitz made me today?' Ward asked, squinting suspiciously.

'No, no, don't worry about that.' He raised an eyebrow. 'It's nothing like that, actually, haha, it was quite stupid, really, so don't give my little episode any spare thoughts.' Simmons had no idea what to say, and she was sure that this was not going to pass as a plausible excuse but she couldn't just tell him that she had a nightmare that one of her worst fears happened.

'Come on, Simmons, 'fess up, as much as I'd like that, I doubt you just came here to celebrate my being alive just because, especially when we can do that at more appropriate times of the day'

'Well, it's just, uh, that uhm' Ward gave her an expectant look. She wanted to look anywhere but at him, which was hard since he hadn't let go of her shoulders. Feeling the blood rush to her cheeks, she stared at his Greek-statue-material chest. 'I had a, a bad dream. And I couldn't shake it away, and you were, you were, a bit dead, and I was very scared, and I just wanted to make sure that you are okay because it would be quite unpleasant to live without you, you know' She blurted out.

This time it was Ward who crushed her with a hug. They stayed like that for a few seconds and then he said ' I'm glad you think that life without me would be ''quite unpleasant'' ' She laughed quietly into his chest. ' Okay enough emotional stuff for today, you know I've got my limits' with that, Grant pulled away, smiling softly.

Jemma grinned and after bidding him good night, went to her own bed, where she found a nice and dreamless night of sleep.

The next morning, the team was in the kitchen, having breakfast. Simmons was drinking her cup of tea when Ward, who was sitting next to he, leaned into her ear and whispered 'Nice pajamas by the way. Didn't know you were such a fan of doughnuts, though' . She spat her tea on the table, four sets of eyes turning towards her…