His heart is pounding in his chest as he watches the scene unfold in front of him. Ward holding the gun with the remaining tranquilizer bullets, Coulson standing next to Skye, May walking forward with the paramedics as Jemma tosses him a smile full of relief having found a pulse from Mike's neck. It takes a moment before he truly takes full stock of the situation, feeling the sweat drying on his skin from the run to Ward with the gun, his hands shaking slightly from adrenalin even as he gives Jemma thumbs up. He watches her take a breath, relief pulsing off her in waves as she assists the medics as they get to the ground, taking vitals and getting rapid fire information regarding what brought Mike to the floor.
He stays by the door, allowing the police and additional SHIELD staff to keep the public away from the scene and debriefing those who saw the event to the full extent. Coulson places a hand on Skye's elbow before guiding her over to Ward, allowing the other man to escort her out of the building so that he can talk her through what she just witnessed. May follows the paramedics as they leave, her phone pressed to her ear as she barks out instructions regarding what is to be done with the man on the stretcher, still unconscious from the dendrotoxin. Jemma stays kneeling on the ground, her hands trembling slightly where they rest on her knees. As the scene clears he slips closer to her, crouching down next to her when he's only a few scant inches away, one hand coming to rest on her shoulder.
"Alright?" he asks, noting how one of her hands snaps up to cover his, her fingers squeezing against his where they're clutching the fabric of her blazer.
"It worked Fitz," she says as a reply, voice soft and trembling. He can't remember the last time he's heard her so shocked or meek, her personality, one of tenacity and decisive order interspersed with confidence and overwhelming optimism, having taken the forefront of most of their working relationship and friendship for nearly a decade. He can't help but smirk slightly, a chuckle rumbling out of his throat and causing her dark eyes to snap up to his face, a smile flooding her features. "It worked!" The second exclamation is one that encompasses her much better he thinks, her hand leaving his only so that she can throw her arms around his neck, pulling him into a hug as watery laughter bubbles out of her, a few tears clinging to her lashes.
"Course it did," he replies, trying to keep her laughing, knowing she'll roll her eyes affectionately at his cocky response. He feels her shaking with relieved mirth against him before she pulls back, pushing her hair behind her ears as she moves to stand. He's on his feet faster due to his crouched position, offering her a hand as she gets up. She shoots him a soft smile before heading towards the doors and out into the early evening sunlight.
By the time they get back to the bus nearly an hour later, he can see the adrenalin crash starting in her, the way her hands quake when she's not speaking, the way her eyes start to fall half lidded as they walk up the cargo ramp. She's rambling about wanting to go back into the lab to decrease the size of the gun needed for the bullets, but her speech is slower than normal, although he doubts she realises it. She's a few steps away from entering the lab when her knees buckle, his hands catching her arms a second before she falls as he pulls her into his chest.
"Oh," she mutters, squeezing her eyes closed.
"Jemma," Fitz starts, holding her against him as he waits for her to regain her footing, a feat quickly becoming one he isn't certain she can achieve.
"I'm a bit dizzy," she confesses, managing to turn slightly so that she can bury her face in his neck, her breath coming in short pants as sweat breaks out across her brow. He realises quickly that her adrenalin drop is sending her into shock. Neither of them had ever been in the field before, and as much bravado as the magnificent woman in his arms is capable of, he knows seeing the effects of the weaponry they designed on a living person is still as new to her as it is to him. To see a situation unfold in such a precarious way, one where lives were on the line, was so different than everything they had seen and done at the Academy and SciOps. She's the strongest woman he knows, but even she is human in her nature. He isn't as physically strong as Grant Ward but he manages to gather her up into his arms, carrying her up the stairs and towards her bunk with only a split second of panic that he won't be able to manage it. But despite his fear she's slight in his arms, breath puffing against his neck. He's just managed to nudge her door open and lower her to the bed when he realises she's crying.
"Jemma?" He feels like her name is the only word in his vocabulary, his world narrowing down to the dark haired woman in his arms.
"He could have died... all those people in the station could have died... if we had been wrong... if our calculations had been off... oh God," she scrambles, a sob ripping out of her throat as she hides her face in his shirt.
"Shh, it's alright," he whispers, pressing a kiss to the crown of her head as he strokes a hand up and down her back, keeping her close. She shakes her head against his chest, cold hands somehow making their way up under his shirt until they're pressed to the skin of his back, a shudder running through him as the cold digits grasp at his skin, her nails scratching into him slightly as she clings tightly to the small of his back. "You did really well Jem, we both did," he assures her after a few moments, feeling her slowly relax until the sobs become hiccups and heavy breathing, her body sagging completely in his arms.
"Tell me it's going to get easier. That we can do this," she pleads, trying to pull herself up higher against him until her face is in the crook of his neck again, his own body finally succumbing to the drop in a adrenalin as he lays back on the bunk with her, her frame molding into his.
"It will get easier. We can do this. We can do anything when we're together, yeah?" he breathes, suddenly mesmerised by the feeling of her body aligned with his, her head resting on his shoulder as his arm curls around her. She still has one hand buried in his shirt, her fingers now brushing against the skin of his hip, just above the line of his belt and warming to the same temperature of his body. He's quickly slipping towards slumber, knowing he should get up and move to his own bunk but unable to convince his legs to do so, suddenly more content than he has been in ages, despite the events of the day. Her breathing evens out until he feels her finally relax completely, her lips pressing a soft kiss to the fabric of his shirt before she dissolves into an exhausted sleep. "I promise Jem, as long as we're together, we can do anything," he murmurs, fading into slumber a heartbeat later.