It was happening again and she was outside holding her fingers tightly pressed to her ears. Though she knew it was impossible for the time frame, it almost seemed the worn wooden bench was moulding to her bottom from how often she sat and tried to block out the pain. It happened a few times a day now, which was better than constantly, she acknowledged. He was trying so hard, but it was too painful to see him like this, he even shouted at her to get out sometimes.

"It's over, Agent Simmons." The nurses had taken to informing her whenever Leo had himself under control again; it had been the fork this time.

"Thank you." Jemma stood up and smoothed out her sweater. The door was left open from the last nurse to exit and she was unable to hesitate, just like every other time.

Fitz turned his head away, blush flooding his pale cheeks, "S-sorry about that..again."

Jemma sat in the hard plastic chair next to the bed and plastered on a smile, "It's alright, Fitz, you've come a long way."

His eyes rolled. "Imma bloody idiot who can't even..hold a fork."

She took his hand and shook her head, "Don't say that about yourself."

Fitz glanced down at her hand in his, it was always so hard to get her attention, especially now that he couldn't take back what he said in that room. She blushed and removed her hand to place it in her lap when she caught him staring. The knuckle of her first finger on her left hand was red and irritated as she resumed scratching at it with the middle finger of her right hand; a habit she had performed often during exams at the Academy, it'd been a while since she'd picked it up again.

"You just..you don't understand."

"No, no I guess I don't," he could tell he'd hurt her feelings, "but I wish you'd help me to do that. Maybe I could help."

"What? You're goin to help me get to the..lavatory? Or help me eat? You can't even stand to be in the same room with me when I get frustrated." The tips of his ears were turning red, she would usually find it endearing if it weren't for the circumstances.

"Fitz.."

He shook his head, she could see his jaw twitching, "No, maybe you should..just leave."

Her eyes shinning with unshed tears, Jemma stood and removed herself from the situation, it was no good to argue with Leo when he was feeling so upset.

The cafeteria with its lukewarm coffee and half stale muffins had become a sort of sanctuary for whenever she was feeling upset. No one talked to her and the work she usually brought occupied her time and mind quite nicely. There was no use upsetting herself with how Fitz wasn't getting much better anymore, or how he could barely cross a room without help, or about every single time he yelled at her and tore a piece of herself off. Splat. Furiously, she tried to wipe away the revealing drop that was now smudging up her ink notes on the sides of the page.

"Rough morning?"

Director Phil Coulson situated himself in a seat next to Jemma and helped her straighten out her stack of files she had scrambled with the her wiping. She nodded.

"Just be patient with him, it'll come."

Simmons sniffled, "And if it doesn't?" Coulson didn't respond. "Sir, is there an assignment you could put me on?"

He leaned back in his chair and crossed his legs, "Agent Simmons, I'm going to ask you one question and if you still want a mission, I'll give the go ahead, if not, we can pretend this conversation never happened."

"Sir?"

"What if Agent Fitz had taken that last breath of air and it was you in that bed?"

He was right; of course he was right. If it was her in that bed, Leo would never leave her side. He'd make her get up out of bed, eat more, talk her down, and all she was doing was running away from him. A single tear slipped down her cheek, but she didn't brush it away.

Coulson stood up, "Alright then, hang in the Simmons."

She nodded. "Thank you, Sir." He left and she set to putting her papers back into her purse. She needed to be strong for Fitz, he'd always been her rock and now it was her turn to do the same for him.

Her knuckles rapped on the wooden door, but she didn't wait for an invitation.

"Oh, so ya just..barge in now?" A smirk fell upon his chapped lips.

"Shut up." The power behind her words caused the smirk to drop. "And listen to me." Fitz nodded. "I was afraid, so afraid, that I'd lost you in that water, you were without oxygen for so long, and now you're hurt and I can't do anything. I feel so helpless, Fitz, all I can do is sit here in this chair and watch you struggle just to hold a fork. I'm so very sorry about all of this, it should've be-"

"Don't," he cut her off and shook his head. "Don't s-say that, I knew what I was..doing." Jemma looked anywhere but at him. "Can you please just look at me," when she said nothing, his voice become soft and pleading, "Jems, please." The familiar nickname was reserved for times when they needed each other or when Fitz wanted something, but was too lazy to go get it. It had the desired effect and she looked him dead center on his pupils. "I'd do it all over again the same way." His words contained no stutter or pause and she could tell even he was surprised. The waterworks started for Jemma. "Oi, I-I didn't mean to make you cry," his right hand fluttered uselessly while his right stayed inactive like usual. She took his left in her own and brought it to her lips; his fingers were cold and caused her to shiver.

"Fitz..I.." She couldn't get the words right, her mind was a complete mess. "Oh, bloody hell," she cried out in frustration and pressed her lips against his. Fitz startled, but soon met her force with whatever he could of his own.

Despite his cold fingers, his lips were warm and inviting. Unsure of what to do with her hands, she placed them on his chest and his left came up to cradle the back of her head.

"Jems," he whispered against her lips, "are you sure?" It was everything he'd ever wanted, but if she was just doing it out of pity or sorrow he didn't want it.

To his relief she nodded, but pulled back and kissed his forehead. "Now scoot a drop, I've too long been sitting in that horrid chair.