A/N: This note contains minor spoilers for season two. Probably nothing that you don't already know, but if you're worried, skip this bit and go straight to the start of the story. This is based on a few quotes I read recently. I can't remember them word for word, but the first was Elizabeth Henstridge saying that the relationship between Fitz and Simmons would be strained, because Simmons feels guilty about taking the oxygen, and the second is from the AOS: Declassified book, where one of the casting directors said that Fitz and Simmons love each other, but that they'd never admit to it (clearly, Fitz now has, but the quote was from way before then. I also took it to mean romantic love, because people don't usually have a problem with saying that they platonically love their best friend). The third is from Iain De Caestecker saying that Fitz is fine, before cutting himself off after realising that he shouldn't have said anything!
Disclaimer: I don't own Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. and none of these characters belong to me.
Jemma Simmons is not the same person that she used to be. She's no longer eternally optimistic, following the rules doesn't always makes her feel as nice as it once did (and breaking them is a little easier), and she doesn't trust the way she used to - in the months following S.H.I.E.L.D's downfall, Coulson has recruited a small number of people, including a veteran agent who's a bit too attached to her knife, and a mercenary from England, and she knows that if the director trusts them, then she should, too, but she can't help but be wary of them.
She's also holding onto guilt instead of dealing with it.
Her relationship with her best friend is strained, the awkward moments between them never ceasing, and despite how her heart breaks whenever she catches a glimpse of the brokenness in his eyes, she can't bring herself to be truly immersed in his presence. Fitz has done nothing wrong, but it's better this way. She thinks, perhaps, that if she keeps her distance, it will hurt less for the both of them if anything life-threatening, or worse, happens again, that it'll be easier to deal with if they're used to standing on their own two feet instead of constantly being in each other's pockets; it wouldn't be as much of a shock to the system if they're already used to it, she assures herself. But, what she doesn't let herself think about, is how bound they've already been for years, their roots already ancient and buried deep beneath the ground, twisted together, growing into each other, impossible to separate without leaving them both scarred for life. She's not thinking about it, and, because of that, because of her blindness to what's already true, the reality locked away in the deepest, darkest depths of her mind, she doesn't realise that what she's actually doing is making things much, much worse.
To her immense relief, Fitz has recovered extremely well. He needs to rest more often, he slurs his speech a little when he's tired, and sometimes he has to take a little more time to think, but he's fine, and those things will correct themselves in time. At least, she's convinced herself that he's fine. The actuality is far different, and she's frighteningly oblivious to it. Fitz is sad and lonely and hurting, thinks that the reason Jemma is behaving so oddly is because of him, because he told her, more or less, that he's in love with her. He thinks he's ruined them, and it's killing him. However, as far as Jemma is concerned, she's doing him a favour.
She's not.
She's up and down during the day, chipper one minute, almost lapsing into a normal, FitzSimmons routine, and then she'll remember and suddenly distance herself. She took oxygen from him, he was in a coma, close to death for a while, because of her. She's doing what is best for him - she doesn't realise that for Fitz, it's the worst kind of torture, one that frequently leaves him sobbing into his pillow at night, his chest tight with pain, and he's beginning to lapse into thinking that he hates her, despite still loving her, because it seems like she gives him hope only to suddenly snatch it away again, and he never thought she was capable of cruelty. He's beginning to wonder, in his grief-stricken mind, if he ever really knew her at all. But Jemma doesn't know this, doesn't know how he's feeling or what he's thinking, and she cries, too, because she thinks she's been successful in making him realise that he doesn't need her anymore, and she misses him more than anything. But she's resolute - it was her fault.
She'd let him down.
She thought that they'd gotten into a good routine, so when it happens, just shy of three months since Fitz had come back to work, it's completely unexpected.
They've been civil to each other, haven't they? That's been the whole point, to be civil and professional and continue to collaborate in the name of science. There would just be no more movie nights in their bunks, no more finishing each other's sentences, none of the co-dependency that had existed between them in the past. No making each other cups of tea first thing in the morning, no pranks, no more invading each other's personal space.
Something's gone wrong, and she doesn't understand.
Fitz has requested his own lab, and Coulson has granted it. It hurts to the point where she genuinely thinks that someone has punched her in the stomach. But she doesn't say anything; she just gives him a wan smile, and tells herself that it's probably for the best. They can still communicate with each other on projects, it's not like he's leaving the base. Yes, she finally thinks - this is us standing on our own two feet. It's worked. Still, she's confused by the odd looks Trip keeps throwing her way as he helps Fitz to move his equipment.
"Well, then, Fitz, I guess this is it," she says, as he picks up the last of his boxes. She smiles again, a little more brightly, this time, hoping to show him how proud she is that they've reach this turning point of not needing to constantly rely on each other.
The look he gives her in return is one of utter contempt. "You don't need to be such a bitch about it."
He moves past her, not saying another word, and she stares at his back in slack-jawed shock, that sneaky ninja shoving a fist into her stomach again and disappearing before she even gets a chance to glimpse them.
xxxx
He doesn't call her 'Jemma' anymore. He barely calls her 'Simmons'. He called her 'Agent Simmons' once, his face impassive and his voice cool, and if, in that moment, she'd been asked what in the world had the mostly deadly sting, she'd have said him.
He never says any part of her name, unless he really has to, preferring to just launch into stoically asking her for whatever he needs.
At night, she sits on the edge of her bunk, and thinks. A picture book of moving images flickers through her mind, playing scenes from all of her favourite romantic films, all of them in chronological order. She doesn't understand why, but they're there, every night, and she ends up with tear-stained cheeks and a fistful of tissues pressed to her nose.
They make her think of Fitz, for some bizarre reason, and then she gets even more upset. Tonight, it's worse than ever. This wasn't what she'd wanted. She hadn't wanted to make him hate her, yet somehow she has, and she doesn't know how to fix it.
He's grown very close to Skye and Trip. She has, too - well, with Skye, anyway. Trip, when he's around, isn't as easy-going with her as he once was. He's pleasant, but that's about it. She doesn't remember doing anything to upset him, but she clearly has. Jemma's not used to not knowing things, and it makes her uncomfortable.
The next day, when she broaches Skye about the subject, the younger agent just looks at her sympathetically and shakes her head.
"How are you even surprised that he's behaving the way he is?"
"I..." What?
Fitz chooses that moment to enter the kitchen they're stood in, and he's clearly heard what they've been saying.
"Skye, don't waste your breath," he says, reaching into the fridge for a bottle of water. "I was clearly just a means to an end. Is that not right, Agent Simmons?"
His voice is ice, and it crawls dreadfully up her back. She can feel a familiar sting in her eyes. She's about to respond, when he gives her a smile that's so unpleasant that she loses the ability to speak. He leaves before she can get it back.
Skye squeezes her arm. "Simmons, you're my friend, and I care about you, but you can't keep doing this to him; you need to talk to him."
Jemma stares at her, confused. And clearly that was the wrong thing to do, because Skye sighs and looks away from her for a moment.
"Look, I know it would have been a shock, but all he did was tell you how he felt-"
"-What?"
"Yeah, he told me. You can't... Clearly, it was a lot to take in, but you can't throw away years of friendship over it. What you have is so deep, you mean so much to each other..."
She's speechless again - that's happening a lot, lately - and she doesn't even hear what Skye says after that. She barely even registers when she squeezes her arm again and then disappears from the room.
On autopilot, Jemma steps out of the kitchen and into the hall. Before she knows it, her route has taken her past the gym, and she pauses to look through the door. Fitz is in there, angrily battering the punchbag. He's trained with Trip a few times, learnt how to throw his punches properly, how to disarm someone. She's seen them, sparring with each other, and she remembers the pride she'd felt, and the strange warmth that had flooded through her as she'd watched his arms flex, the muscles a little more defined than they'd once been.
She steps away, suddenly giddy, and then the next thing she's knows is she's left the compound and is walking through the trees. This place isn't covered in snow like Providence was, and it's also much warmer. The sun is shining and the air is fresh, but it's not helping her to feel any better. She swallows down huge gulps of air in an attempt to smother the vibrations that are spreading out from her in waves.
For someone with two PhDs and a genius level IQ, she's been ridiculously stupid. They're both miserable, he's full of anger and seething betrayal, and it's all her fault.
She wasn't upset with him for what he'd said, and she'd stupidly presumed that he knew that, because why would she be? But now it all made sense. He doesn't know that she blames herself, that she feels guilty over the oxygen, of taking that breath for herself. It makes no logical sense, of course, because he'd pushed the canister into her hands and then pressed the button before she could do a damn thing. She hadn't been expecting it, not just like that. If she'd known she'd only had seconds, if she'd known what that smile had meant, she would have spent less time staring at him in confusion and shoved it back at him. But even so, he could have died, he almost did die, and she's not sure if that guilt will ever go away, because she's pretty sure that she should have somehow just known what he was about to do before he did it - they're FitzSimmons, for Christ's sake.
Were FitzSimmons.
All this time she's been making him feel awful about something she wasn't even upset about. No wonder he was so mad at her, no wonder he was behaving so unlike himself, especially when they had to be near each other. She thought about it from his point of view, how he'd seen her treating him, and the more she did, the more her heart sank into her stomach like a lead weight. All he'd seen was his best friend pushing him away, building him up when she forgot herself and then letting him down, over and over again, treating him as if all that history between them hadn't existed, speaking to him always as a colleague and never as a friend, keeping off-duty contact to a minimum, even when they were all together as a group, and smiling when... No wonder he'd lashed out at her when he'd left their lab for one of his own.
Jemma realises that since she'd decided to go down this path, she hadn't once asked him how he was. She'd given him a physical, about a month before he'd moved labs, but she'd kept it professional, telling him that the readouts said he was doing well. He'd never mentioned that he wasn't, and she hadn't asked. A doctor should ask their patients how they're feeling, yet she couldn't even ask the man who knew her inside out, who'd previously been able to read her better than a well-loved book, if he was okay.
She can't deal with it, so she just keeps on walking.
She has no idea of the panic she's caused until hours later.
"Simmons!"
Jemma jumps so hard that the muscles at the top her back wrench in protest. She stumbles as she gets up a little too fast from her perch on an old, fallen tree, and turns round to find Fitz staring at her with a face like thunder, although there's something else there, too, something familiar... Concern? But it's gone in a flash, and she wonders if maybe it was just her imagination.
"Fitz-"
"-You're okay, then?"
She frowns at him a little as she contemplates his question. "I'm fine."
He huffs out a laugh, but it's not pleasant, not in the slightest.
"Fitz..." Jemma takes a deep breath, "I'm-"
He doesn't give her a chance. "-You know, it's bad enough that you've been treating me like... But you don't just wander off base for hours without explanation, with no regard to how it affects everyone else - the whole team is out looking for you."
Hours? But... She'd only gone for a short walk. Although, now she thinks about it, it has gotten slightly darker, and her feet are aching a little more than they should be. "I'm sorry, I didn't realise... Fitz. I never meant to make you think... I mean, why you think it was isn't the actual reason..." She shakes her head. She's not making any sense.
"Yeah, well, it's not me you should be apologising to. Let's go." He turns round and starts to walk away, but she can't let him, not now that she knows. She has to fix this.
"Wait, stop!"
He spins back round, stomps several, angry paces towards her, and then stops a few feet away. His eyes are burning with rage, and she blinks back tears at the thought that it's all because of her.
"You know, at first, I thought telling you how I felt was the biggest mistake I'd ever made, but what it's really done, is made me see you for who you really are. Well, I'm sorry if the thought of me loving you disgusts you so much. But you don't have to worry about that, now, because those feelings are long gone. I can't believe I ever did."
No.
"Leo-"
"-Don't you dare," he snarls, at the mention of his first name, and he almost sounds like a different person. Jemma had known it was a long-shot, but she'd needed to try and calm him, somehow, needed to get him to listen to her. It's like he's been body-snatched - he still looks like Fitz, walks like Fitz, but when he speaks, he's completely alien to her. She can't even fathom just how hurt he is.
Fitz's head suddenly whips to the side, and Jemma follows suit, coming face-to-face with May, who, despite her usual stoic demeanour, looks less than impressed.
When she turns back to him, he's gone.