A/N: This is my first Agents of Shield fanfic so I hope that I did the characters justice. Also I have had a wicked case of writer's block and this is my attempt to get my writing mojo back so any reviews to let me know if anything felt forced or awkward would be appreciated.
Spoiler Alert: First part takes place right after 1x7 "F.Z.Z.T." the last part takes place after the season 1 finale "Beginning of the End".
Fitz sat up quickly in bed, feeling his heart beating too fast and looking down to see his hands trembling. "Just a bad dream." He muttered to himself. It had all seemed too real: watching Simmons fall out of the plane again, only this time he couldn't make himself move to grab a parachute and follow her out. He stood frozen in horror. Ward didn't come running to leap to Jemma's rescue. She was gone and he could feel his heart breaking. But, no, she was still here. Ward had gone after her. Jemma was sleeping in her room safe and sound. Yet he needed to confirm it. He needed to make sure she was really there, living and breathing.
When he got to her door he couldn't seem to make himself knock. If he woke her up what would she say? Would she laugh at him? No, Simmons wasn't cruel, but what if he embarrassed himself. Did peace of mind outweigh embarrassment? As he pondered this the door suddenly opened causing Fitz to jump.
Jemma took a step back in surprise. "Fitz, what are you doing here?"
"I- I just-" What was he supposed to say? That he needed to see her? That he had a nightmare about her dying? "I couldn't sleep."
"Me neither. I was going to get some warm milk. I can make you some too."
Fitz nodded in reply. He could feel the knot in his stomach loosen just seeing her, talking to her.
Simmons suspected that the milk had spoiled so they settled on tea instead. As they sat in silence sipping their tea Fitz could feel that Simmons had something to say. He waited, knowing she would speak when she was ready. He wasn't sure if he wanted to hear it anyways, he had some idea of what she wanted to ask.
"So, why were you standing outside my door?" she finally asked.
"I told you. I couldn't sleep."
"That explains why you were up, not why you were at my door."
Fitz rubbed the back of his neck uncomfortably. This was the question he was afraid of. "I think I'm going to go back to bed." He said with a forced yawn.
"Come on. You can tell me. Was there something you wanted to talk about?"
Fitz shook his head. "No."
"Did you need something?"
"No." he replied again, this time a little shortly.
"Did you-"
"I don't want to talk about it." Fitz said irritably as he got to his feet. This wasn't how he wanted this to go. He hadn't wanted an interrogation; all he had wanted was tea and a pleasant chat. He just needed reassurance that Jemma was okay so that he could go back to sleep.
Simmons stood too, her hands on her hips. "Just tell me what's going on?"
"Nothing's going on!" At the look on her face he could see that she wasn't going to let this go. He sighed, knowing that he would have to relent. "I had a bad dream." Fitz could feel his cheeks color slightly as the words left his mouth.
"Oh, Fitz, you could have just told me in the first place. That's nothing to be embarrassed about. Do you want to talk about it?"
"Not really." Fitz said honestly. He could see that she looked a little hurt that he would hold something back from her but he couldn't tell her about the nightmare. "I don't even remember most of it." He lied.
He knew she knew it was a lie. Jemma could always she through him, but they went back to their tea, chatting about nothing in particular. They stayed up for the next couple of hours before Fitz suggested they go back to their beds when he saw Simmons starting to drift off several times in the middle of their conversation. He put their mugs in the sink then walked her back to her room. They said their goodnights and Simmons gave him a quick hug. It was a little awkward but nice.
When Fitz got back to bed he fell asleep quickly, no longer plagued by nightmares. The reassurance that Simmons was alive and well kept them at bay.
A few months later Simmons sat up quickly in bed, she was breathing hard and could feel tears on her face. It was the same nightmare every night: water engulfing her, crushing her, as she tried to find Fitz. She needed to drag him to surface with her, but he wasn't there, she couldn't find him. She was running out of air and she couldn't find Fitz! Then she would wake up, out of breath with tears on her face.
Simmons got out of bed and pulled on her dressing gown. She followed the same ritual she always did after having the nightmare: she went to see Fitz.
She sat in the chair next to his hospital bed, watching as the ventilator pushed air into his lungs. Sometimes she spoke to him or read to him but some nights, like tonight, she just sat silently. She needed the reassurance that he was alive. That reassurance was what kept her going.
Maybe tonight would be the night he would wake up and tell her to go back to bed. It wasn't likely at all, but she just kept remembering that night months ago when they stayed up for hours drinking tea and talking. He walked her back to her room and they said goodnight. What she wouldn't give for him to do that right now.
Yet this was all that Simmons would have: reassurance that Fitz was barely alive, nothing more, nothing less.