Author's Note: Aw man, it's just another set of best friends for me to love and pine over. FitzSimmons is one of the greatest couplings to happen to Marvel in such a long time! I, of course, do not own them in anyway, but wish to God that there was an episode of "Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D." on every night! Enjoy!

Mourn, Mourn, Mourn

The only piece of furniture that hadn't been decimated was the bedframe. Not even the mattress had made it through the devastation of Hydra's onslaught; apparently the Hydra/S.H.I.E.L.D. operatives thought that Fitz was dumb enough to hide superior weapons under his ass when he slept. He sighed as he searched the room for any place he could lay down to rest, but everything he owned was currently smashed into pieces and decorating his floor. The whole day had been so exhausting, and confusing, and so damn heartbreaking, but the stress hadn't quite kicked in yet. He was numb to the pain; he would deal with it tomorrow.

Grabbing the sliced mattress, he threw it back on the bedframe. There was no light to turn out anymore; just emergency bulbs, lining the edges of the room in strips. Kicking what were once his belongings to the sides, he made a straight path to the questionable mattress and attempted to make himself comfortable. No position was quite right, of course, but he finally managed to lay still enough that he couldn't feel the springs digging into his sides anymore. Closing his eyes, he expected to fall asleep right away, but that's never what happens after trauma. The memories are too great, too powerful, haunting you when you finally rest...

Tears falling, expecting to die

Fear worsening when he hears plans of torture instead

Trying to stay strong,

Horrified by betrayal

Attempting to decipher how deep it goes;

is anyone really trustworthy?

He is only sure about one person,

the person that he came here to save.

The person that he would give himself to torture for,

as long as she remained safe.

In the back of his mind, an evil voice lingers,

blocking out even the words of the Judas in front of him.

What if she was already gone?

What was the point of surviving if Jemma was not alive?

But then suddenly, interrupting his thoughts, the explosion.

Quick action, something he had not thought himself capable of.

Two shots to save May.

One perfect toss to rescue Coulson.

And running towards him, a vision he had almost convinced himself he would never see again.

He hadn't even been sure she was real until he felt her tears on his neck. That was the moment that he kept holding onto as he sorted through the debris of the plane for the last thirty hours. The shock of the whole experience lay on him like a heavy, suffocating blanket, and he only felt like he could breathe again when he pictured her holding him. Just let me fall asleep, he begged the powers that be, silently. Just let this nightmare be over for awhile. He turned again on the dilapidated mattress, and facing the wall, attempted to block out the images that rampaged across his consciousness.

"Fitz?" A small voice whispered, startling him.

Surprised, he sat up in bed. He knew whose voice it was, but he'd thought she'd fallen asleep hours ago. "Hey. What are you doing up?"

"Oh, the same as you, I suspect." She inched closer. He was comforted to see that she was wearing one of his old sweatshirts. "Quite a day we've had, yes?"

Fitz sighed. "Don't make light of all this, Jemma. I just can't take it right now."

"Are you kidding? Sleep-deprived on you is a fantastic look." She smiled. "And I see that they've treated your belongings with the same modicum of human decency that they've dealt with mine." She perched on the edge of the mattress and shifted some items to the side with her foot.

Fitz reached for her hand and caressed the top of it with his thumb. Her eyes seemed to pierce him so deeply each time that he touched her, but even he wasn't prepared for them to suddenly be bright with tears.

"Oh Fitz..." she trailed off.

"What, what is it?" He inquired soothingly.

"Fitz, I was so afraid that you would die today." She shifted her body down beside him, face-to-face, a sob shuddering the mattress.

He put his hands behind her ears, touching her soft hair and brushing away a tear with his thumb. "I dinnae know what to say. My whole plan was to get to the Hub and get to you. You're the only one I can trust implicitly."

"I know." She moved a little closer to him, touching their legs together. "Look what happened with May; who knows if Coulson will ever trust her again? And if Garrett is Hydra, realistically anyone could be. It makes you think twice about making new friends."

"Yes, I think for the time being, I'll just be hanging out with you." His face darkened for a minute. "Jemma, do we even know if anyone survived at the Academy?"

Simmons mournfully shook her head. "I know this is going to sound so callous, but I can't even think of that right now. All those children; all our friends. Even Agent Weaver." She stifled a sob. "It's not fair. They wouldn't even have been armed."

"I know, I know."

"And honestly, I'm trying to keep myself from thinking about Ward, too."

Fitz looked confused. "Ward? Why Ward?"

"He's been on a real revenge kick lately. I still cannot believe that he shot that man in the wheelchair. I know he says that it was to save Skye, and I guess I can understand that, but I feel like he did it to save himself from any pain involving her. He was a wreck when she was quarantined in the medical area. I know it's hard to tell with him, but he was. And I know he blamed himself for her getting shot." Sighing, she continued. "And now, to offer himself up to see that his former superior officer gets put away for life? That is not a good sign. Can you imagine if we were in his position, and it was Coulson that was going away? Would you ever even consider wanting to see him locked away for the rest of time, let alone being the one to do it?"

Fitz shook his head. "I guess with everything else going on, none of us have really been paying attention to what Ward is doing. I guess we all just assumed that he could take care of himself."

Simmons closed her eyes. "Well, who knows what will happen in the future? At least for right now, I'm finally tired." She snuggled up closer to him. "This mattress is God-awful, you know," she chortled.

"Like I didn't already know that." He shifted his body more to edge of the bed. "At least come over here with me. You'll be more comfortable." He rolled her over and fit her body into the shape of his.

"What, no blanket?" She murmured sleepily.

"I'm here if you need to keep warm." He kissed the back of her head and wrapped his arm around her waist, encasing her fingers in his.

"Fitz?"

"Yes, Jemma?"

"Don't ever leave me, okay?"

Leo's heavy heart suddenly felt just slightly better off.

"We'll be together until the end of time; I promise." Those words cut through all the images of the last few days, pushing them to the side of his subconscious, not fully gone, but enough at bay that he could finally drift off to sleep.