It had been a good four days since Fitz and Simmons were pulled up from the water. Fury's medical team had settled in at the secret base with the rest of the team, able to give Fitz constant care.
He had still not woken up, a fact that was unraveling Simmons fast. She kept playing the last moments between her and Fitz in the medical pod over and over again, as if looking for clues for his survival. So many emotions flooded through her head, and she had no idea how to sort through them.
Fitz had feelings for her—real, strong feelings that led him to put his life on the line. And what had Jemma said in response? Barely anything. When she played the scene over again in her head, she often theorized about what she should have said, but in order to do that, she had to know how she felt. And she didn't.
Fitz had always been her partner, by her side and dedicated. And then he became a friend, a person to make jokes with and watch movies with and eat large amounts of popcorn with. But then recently, he had become something else. He was a friend she couldn't live without. A best friend, a family member, a part of her.
And now, Jemma couldn't figure out if he had crossed into something else, or if maybe he had always been something else.
That day, she had a bright idea for figuring out if she had feelings for Fitz that were more romantic in nature. She would imagine herself kissing Fitz on the mouth, and decide whether it would be pleasant or not. That should clue her into her feelings for Fitz, she thought.
So she sat herself down in her bunk, closed her eyes, and tried to imagine what it would be like to kiss Fitz. At first, she couldn't get herself to actually do it. Something inside of her, the embarrassed part, perhaps, was keeping her from picturing the act being done. But eventually it happened. Eventually imaginary Fitz stepped close to imaginary Jemma and gently placed his lips on hers. And then the kissed deepened, and their arms wrapped around each other, which then led to legs wrapping around each other (and somehow becoming horizontal), and then Jemma started as someone knocked on her door.
Her eyes snapped open as she tried to push her thoughts to the present.
"Simmons, it's me," said Skye, "It's important, open up."
Jemma opened the door, as Skye began relaying a message from Coulson: the team was needed in the medical unit.
…
"He's awake," said Coulson, "but still very weak."
Everyone let out louds sighs of relief, but Jemma just stared back at Coulson, wordlessly asking to see him as soon as possible.
Coulson read her thoughts well, and said, "He needs to rest soon, but the doctor said we could go see him for a little bit. They still don't know exactly what the results of the brain damage will be, so be prepared for anything."
Jemma held her breath as they made their way to Fitz's room. Skye seemed to sense Jemma's uneasiness and placed a comforting arm around her back. "It's all going to be okay, Simmons."
All Jemma could do was smile weakly. She was so nervous and relieved and scared that she had to keep swallowing constantly so as to not throw up. Eventually the team made it to Fitz's room, and they each filed in, Jemma bringing up the rear.
Fitz was lying semi-upright, still connected to various machines and looking extremely weary, but upon the team entering his face broke into a smile.
And with that look, Jemma stopped overthinking what her feelings were and just latched onto Fitz as much as she could with him lying down in a bed. She was laughing and crying all over him, and he was doing about the same. Skye settled across from Jemma on the other side of the bed and added her tears to the mix.
"As you can see, Fitz," Coulson began, "We're very grateful you made it through." Coulson and May beamed at Fitz, while Triplett tried to give him another fist pump. "How are you feeling?" May asked.
Fitz seemed lost in thought for a moment, and then said, "I'm confused. The last thing I remember is being in that pod with you, Jemma, and talking about death. It's all blank from there."
Jemma's heart sank. He didn't remember how heroic he was, how brave he was, how he confessed his feelings for her… It made sense, though. He had a traumatic brain injury, so they were likely to be gaps in his memory, but Jemma was not prepared to tell him about such an intimate moment, especially with the whole team around.
So she answered him very ambiguously, with the hopes of telling him the details later. "You and I came up with a brilliant plan. Blew out the window and swam to the top."
This was also the same story she had told the rest of the team earlier. It had gone over well with them, as they didn't know all the science involved, but something in Fitz's expression told Jemma he didn't buy it.
He looked even more confused, as if he was trying to figure out a difficult math problem.
"Would that really work?" He asked. "I can't figure out the math in my head for some reason…"
Jemma's breath caught in her chest. Everyone else exchanged weary glances.
"What?" Fitz asked, noticing the team's body language.
Coulson stepped forward and said, "You didn't have oxygen for a long time, Fitz, and there could be some things you aren't able to do as quickly as before."
A look of realization crossed Fitz's face as he said, "Like thinking."
The room was completely silent, waiting for Fitz to elaborate. Finally he cleared his throat and continued, "I haven't been up for very long, but I've noticed a difference. I'm always doing some sort of math in my head, yet I can't seem to think clearly enough to do that."
The doctor walked in just then, explaining how visiting time was over now, as Fitz needed to sleep. Everyone but Jemma made their way out the door. Jemma didn't move. She locked eyes with Fitz and grabbed his hand, not wanting to leave him after being separated for four days.
"Agent Simmons," the doctor said, "I'm sorry, but he needs his rest."
Without breaking her gaze with Fitz, Jemma said, "What if I just stay here while he sleeps? I promise I won't keep him up. Would that be okay?" The last question was less to the doctor as it was to Fitz. He wordlessly nodded, his eyes beginning to tear again.
The doctor sighed. "Okay. You can stay, but make sure he sleeps." And with that, he left the pair alone.
Fitz and Simmons locked eyes again. Emotion started to well up in Jemma again, and fresh tears started spilling out.
"Jemma," Fitz whispered, stroking his hand on top of Jemma's head. "Jemma, it's okay. We're alive."
She looked down at the hand of his that she was holding, kissed it, and said, "I know. But I thought I lost you, Fitz."
She wanted to say so many things to him. How he was the bravest man she knew, how sorry she was that she wasn't a faster swimmer and he may not be able to function like he used to. She wanted to tell him what he had revealed to her in that pod, what he had awoken inside her. Her thoughts momentarily drifted to the imaginary kiss from earlier, and a blush crept up her cheeks while a pleasant burn formed in her abdomen.
She loved him. She was sure of it now. And something else welled up within her chest. Some fierce, protective, oddly maternal force began pulsing through her, making her feel stronger than she ever had before. She had to protect Fitz. This must have been what he felt down in that pod, trying to give Jemma the best chance at surviving.
She wanted to tell him all of this, but didn't know how, and also knew he needed to rest.
Wiping the tears out of her eyes, she said, "We'll have a lot to talk about later, Fitz, but for now, you need to sleep."
He smiled weakly at her, saying, "You don't have to tell me twice." And after kissing one of her palms, he instantly fell asleep. Jemma followed suit, resting her head down on the bed, finally relaxed enough to sleep for the first time in four days.
…
Several days of sitting by Fitz while he slept passed, as Jemma worked up the courage to tell him what exactly happened before the pod window blew out. He needed to know exactly what happened, she just couldn't find the right moment.
He was still in the medical unit, but no longer needed to be hooked up to the machines. The problems Fitz had now didn't seem to be measurable. For the most part he was perfectly fine, but there were times when he lost something. He couldn't figure out a simple jigsaw puzzle. He mixed up words that were not similar at all. And occasionally his moods fluctuated quite drastically.
But underneath all that, he was the same Fitz. And there was hope of therapy to learn how to deal with the changes.
One day, when Fitz had the energy to stay awake for more than a couple hours, the two sat upright on Fitz's bed, talking about nothing in particular, just enjoying the presence of the other.
A quiet pause settled between them, as Fitz looked like he was trying to work something out.
"What's wrong, Fitz?" Jemma asked, noticing his discomfort.
"I've been trying to remember what happened in the pod," he replied, in a low voice.
Guilt filled Jemma's chest as she realized how hard it must be for him to not know what happened. Now was the time, Jemma told herself. She had to tell him now.
"Fitz, there's more to it than what I told you earlier."
He looked up at her with furrowed brows, "What do you mean?"
"I didn't want to tell you earlier when all the others were around…" she looked at him, hoping he might understand the nature of what happened down there, yet he only looked more confused. "You were so brave, Fitz. I owe you my life."
"What did I do?" he said.
Jemma took a deep breath. "Well, after we made the plan for blowing out the window, you gave me a bottle with pressurized air in it, enough for one breath. You wanted me to take it. To take it and swim to the top. And I told you that that was ridiculous, and we needed a new plan, but you insisted."
Looking down at her hands, Jemma shuddered. Revisiting that moment threatened to make her loose control of her emotions. She had to keep going. Fitz deserved the whole story.
"I asked why you were asking me to do such a thing," she continued, looking up to Fitz's face, "when you're my best friend. I didn't want to leave you. Then you said I was more than a friend, and that you hadn't had the courage to tell me. So you wanted to show me, and you did. Despite my protests you set the plan in motion and blew out the window. I took that pressurized breath and pulled you out. Fury was at the surface. He was listening to the signal you rigged up."
Jemma could tell that so many emotions were playing across Fitz's mind. Perhaps he hadn't been ready for the news.
He looked up at, and said in barely a whisper, "I told you that I have feelings for you?"
Jemma nodded her head, wondering what he meant by this question.
"And," he continued, "Do you have those types of feelings for me?" His eyes locked onto Jemma's, filled with so much vulnerability and fear.
Jemma didn't know how to react. Yes, she did. But she couldn't formulate the words. So she acted on impulse, and pressed her lips against his.
She was so shocked that she had actually initiated the kiss that she barely noticed Fitz's turn from being startled to reacting more than positively, and before she new it, the kiss had deepened beyond anything she had imagined. Fitz's tongue entered her mouth and she let out a moan of surprise and pleasure, while tingling sensations sprang up all over her body. Their hands were all over each other, trying to get as close as possible to the other person.
It was something that Jemma never wanted to end, but right when Jemma thought this, the door opened.
Fitz and Simmons sprang apart in an instant to find Coulson looking at them with an expression of shock across his face.
A long pause passed before Coulson walked towards them and began to speak. "I came here to tell you, Fitz, that the doctor says you can come on the Bus now, at least for a little while to see how well you do. But since I've found you two like this, I have to tell you: don't let it affect your work. And," he suddenly bent down and gathered them up in a group hug. "You two are adorable. Don't break each other's hearts."
And with that, he stood up and left the room, leaving Fitz and Simmons staring after him before bursting out in laughter, leaning in to steal another kiss.