"You're going to be okay. I swear."
"I'm so far from okay that its astonishing I'm even still standing here."
He sighs, looking away from her for a few moments, before turning his eyes back to his friend.
"I'm not okay. I haven't been for a long time. I guess you were just too far away to see it."
"Fitz." Jemma's face breaks from its calm and concerned face, turning to of broken and hurt instead. "I had to go. You know that I did, Fitz. Coulson needed someone on the inside, and no one else was ready to go in. At least, no one he trusted."
"What about Skye? He trusts her more than himself...why didn't Coulson send her in?" His face contorts, the pain evident in the way he throws his hands up. "Or May? Triplett? God, even Ward. Anyone but you. I needed someone, Simmons! Its not just about you, and you know it."
She looks away, her voice catching in her closed off throat. They are silent for a few minutes, reminding her of what they used to be like. Reading each others movements, deciphering each others emotions while the silence rings between them.
"I needed you too, you know." She finally comes up with.
"We needed each other."
His hand finds hers in the dark of the room, and they sit in silence once more. Not the annoyed, angst filled silence, but the old kind, the good kind. The kind that needed work, but could become regular once again.