Pain. That's all I was aware of. Soaring pain in my throat, tearing me inside out. Confusion overtook me. Wasn't I supposed to be dead? Yes, I remember it vividly now… The gut-wrenching gut punch. I was being the hero, dying a heroic death to save the girl I loved. So what went wrong?
Damn, I couldn't even open my eyes. Were they glued together or something? It took far too much effort, especially considering that when I finally did force them open, the bright lights above me immediately closed them again. I was sore everywhere, my limbs were throbbing, my eyes were sensitive. What evidence was there to actually say I wasn't dead?
"Are you sure?" I heard Coulson's voice.
"Yes. I definitely saw him move." Simmons. That voice… I was definitely dead now. Heaven, that's where I was. I had flashes of her kissing me all over again, how I'd just folded into her arms one last time. The painful glare that was slipping through my eyelashes dimmed. Risking testing the waters once more, I opened one eye.
"Whoa!" I heard Skye call a warning as I examined the room. Pale walls, pale ceiling, pale floor, pale beds, pale medical examiners rushing about and getting in each other's way. Pale everything. Simmons was sitting by my bed. She looked like she hadn't moved in a while, all enfolded in blankets. She sat up with a start when she saw me looking at her.
"Fitz?" she asked, and I could see how worried she'd been for me. If only I could read her mind.
But then Skye collapsed on top of me, holding me close. I twitched my hand to pat her on the back. There was a time I would have swooned to have her so close to me, but that had been no more than a schoolboy crush. I knew that now. I was still amazed at how little it affected me, having Skye nuzzle against my neck.
The others stood around, smiling like idiots, when their attention was drawn by something—or someone—I couldn't see. "You go," Simmons insisted. And just like that, we were left alone.
She touched my hand with hers and laid her head on my chest. "Oh, Fitz… I really thought I'd lost you."
I raised a hand to stroke her hair. "You're not getting rid of me that easy, Jemma," I croaked. I was trying to make a joke, but it came out more seriously than I had planned.
She started kissing me again: my forehead, my cheeks… my lips. I was so shocked that it took a while for me actually process what was happening. Simmons was kissing me. Jemma was kissing me. Jemma Simmons. It ended all too quickly, and I was caught off-guard when she slapped me on the shoulder.
"Never do that to me again. You hear me? I was so scared, Fitz. The entire concept of losing you…" Tears were streaming down her face and I wiped them away with my sleeve.
"Jemma…" I murmured, hoping it would be enough. She resumed kissing me, but I just soaked her in. She wasn't the only one who'd been terrified; I'd thought I'd lost her, too. "Jemma. Jemma." I kept saying her name, but she wasn't paying attention. "Jemma, listen…" She froze at his neck, quivering and whimpering. She sat up and looked into my eyes obediently, but I doubted she could see much beyond her well of tears. "Tell me what happened?"
"Director Fury's alive. It's classified information that he went dark. He saved us, and you've been here unconscious ever since."
"No, I mean…" I looked at her, painfully reliving our goodbye in my head. "With us."
"Oh." The noise she made was small and puny, but it didn't take long for her to find her answer and stare at him with certainty, saying, "I love you too."
And she kissed me as I smiled.