Fitz slammed his hands onto the edge of the counter.
"Simmons, I can't remember!" he growled through gritted teeth. "It's not in there, some thing's wrong, it's-" He let his voice break of into a sigh. Jemma glanced around the lab momentarily, then moved to place her hands on his shoulder blades, fingers curling around the top.
"Shhh," she whispered in her calming, soft tones. "It's okay. Don't try and force it."
"No, it's not!" He almost swept his arm along the counter, wanting for everything to smash to the ground. He needed the noise, needed the harsh tones of destruction in his ears, needed some kind of control over the world around him. But he didn't. His partner's thumbs gently ran circles on his back.
"It's okay, Fitz. You don't have to know it. You remember most of your past, and we're patching the holes. One name isn't that big."
"But it's your name." Simmons could feel the tears starting to prick at her eyes, sinuses beginning to swell with the need to sob. "Simmons, I've lived with you for almost half my life. You're- you're always beside me, and I should be able to remember your name-" he snapped, fists grabbing at the edge of the table so hard the knuckles turned white.
"Leo." He turned around, his partner's hands falling away. Her eyes were cast down, head tilted so she didn't have to look at him. "You remember my name." There was a pause as she sniffed.
"You scream it every night."
She was standing on a ledge, cloudy sky rushing past behind her and hair whipped in a frenzy around her face. His name was on her lips as she tumbled back into the blue. A flash, and she was throwing herself to cover a bomb, only this one went off with a splattering of blood and a splintering of bone. He heard screaming and it vaguely occurred to him that it might be himself. Her screaming, battered face glowing in watery light as he was struck, then choked into blackness.
He wakes up sputtering, coughing imaginary water from his lungs.
Simmons is rushing in the door, clothing rumpled and askew and hair bent at odd angles. She's grabbing his shoulders as he pushes himself into the corner of his bunk, knuckles turning white around sheets. Sitting down in front of him with gentle eyes and running her hands down his arms. He sees her lips moving, but can't hear over the ringing in his ears, the echoes of the screams. She's grabbing at his hands and pulling them to her chest, just at her collarbone so she can rest her chin on the bundle as his labored breathing slows. The ringing begins to fade with the panic.
"You okay?" she whispers, lips barely moving with the words. He can only dip his head a little, and she brings their bundle of hands down from where she was holding them. As she's detangling her fingers, he wonders if he should have said no just to get her to stay. Just for a little longer.
All of his worry vanishes as she scoots forward and wraps her arms around his midsection. She's holding him tight, and he folds his lanky limbs around her in return. They stay like that a moment, and he can't help himself.
"Stay?" It was no more than a breath, but he could still feel her stiffen under his fingers. But then she softened again, and nodded against his chest. Slowly, he leaned back onto the bed so that she was half on his chest, still wrapped around him. Gravity shifted her more to his side so he was spooning her, arm tucked around her form and bodies pressed together. "Goodnight, Jemma," he sighed.
She suddenly stiffened against him. It took him a moment, but realization struck him like a blow to the head. "Oh, Jemma," he murmured, burrowing his head into her shoulder, "when will you stop being right?" He could practically feel her smile radiating through the room.
"I told you that you didn't have to force it," she murmured in a voice as warm as tea. "Leopold Fitz, you silly, silly man…" With that, she turned over and tucked her head into his shoulder, breathing slowing to a steady rhythm. His soon followed and they fell asleep together in a messy, comforting tangle.