She wasn't asking for much, but jumping off a bloody plane deserved some recognition.
Skye had grasped her in a hug, and Jemma had even felt a few tears on her shoulder that had fallen off of Skye's cheeks. Coulson had given her a lecture, and even though he had raised his voice, she knew that he meant the best. For God's sake, even Ward had looked her straight in the eye, and hissed, "I won't go jumping out a plane for just anyone. Be careful, Simmons."
But when she saw Fitz, dear, sweet, Fitz, come out of a doorway she broke into a grin. Expecting a hug, she straightened and uncrossed her arms. But nothing happened. Fitz took one look at her and stalked out of the room. Jemma furrowed her brows as Skye touched her arm. "I'm sure he's just a little upset right now," Skye explained.
"Right," Jemma agreed, and swallowed the lump of rejection that had built in her throat. "Of course." She dismissed herself to go to bed (today had been a terribly long day), and fell asleep right after she had hit the pillow. She didn't even bother to change.
In the middle of the night, she had awoken to a state of half-consciousness, her eyes were half opened, and she didn't even bother to lift her head from her pillow to check the time. But in her direct line of vision was the doorway, and she sweared that there was a figure in her doorway. (There was, wasn't there? Or was she starting to imagine things? Near death situations could do that to a person, couldn't they? Post traumatic stress and all that?) Jemma had taken another split second to decide that she was indeed hallucinating and nodded back off to sleep.
Jemma had wasted no time getting back into her morning routine. After she ate her morning bagel and drank a few cups of tea, she trotted down to the lab, ready for everything to just go back to normal. She had thought of a few improvements to the current experiment that Fitz and her had been working on over breakfast, and she was eager to share them with him. As she looked into the glass doors, however, there was no Fitz to be found. She frowned. Usually Fitz was here long before she was, and he usually waited for her to finish up a few experiments.
After she typed in the pass code (0627. Her birth month and his birth date) she peered around in the lab, to see if he had dropped something and was reaching for it. "Fitz?" she called out, "Are you here?" There was no answer. She brushed it off, he was most likely refilling supplies or digging out a few files of the database in the lower level.
She busied herself with undone paperwork, signing her name over and over until her right hand became sore. After she had finished, she fiddled with a box of paperclips, making a chain. She chewed her ring finger on her left hand, a habit she hadn't done since God knows when. (Oh right. It was last November, when Fitz and her had made a bet that she couldn't go without biting off her fingernails for twenty five days. She won.) It was past four, and Fitz still hadn't shown up. She stood slowly, and after she ran a hand through her hair, she strolled to the door, prepared to find Fitz. She was interrupted by Coulson, who opened up the door just as she had prepared to go out.
"Oh, hello, sir!" she greeted with a cheeky grin.
"Hello, Agent Simmons. I'm surprised to see you down here," Coulson said, while he leaned against a lab table that looked seemingly clean (but Coulson checked first. After the infection, everyone was beyond careful). Jemma raised a brow.
"Why would that be, sir?" she asked.
"I thought you would be in the third level lab." Jemma snorted.
"The third level lab? Are you crazy? That place is nowhere near as nice as this place," she scoffed, as she gestured to the space around her. This time it was Coulson who raised a brow.
"You aren't working with Fitz, then?" he questioned. This was unusual to him, usually they were unseparable.
"I'm sorry?" Jemma stuttered, touching the necklace that laid on her chest, another nervous habit.
"Fitz is upstairs in the third level lab." After Coulson stopped, Jemma stared, confused at the ground. Fitz, the third level lab? The last time they had gone up there was to snatch a vial, and afterward they had vowed never to go up there again. The place was a hellhole.
"O-oh. I guess he didn't tell me that," she whispered. Coulson stared at her; this wasn't the usual Simmons. She cleared her throat and straightened. "Well, anyway, I finished all the paperwork you asked us to do." She grabbed it off her desk and handed it to him with a small smile.
"Thanks. You're a gem, Jem." He winked after and she gave a half hearted laugh.
"Very funny!" she called out behind him, and he raised his hand in recognition. After she was left alone in the lab once more, she felt guilty. The only person she had ever felt comfortable with calling her Jemma was Fitz, since he was her closest friend on the plane. She shuddered when she remembered the last time he had called her Jemma. Flashbacks to her looking back at Fitz's face, as she fell all she could see was his distressed face. (Jemma! Please don't! Jemma, no!)
She shook her head and slowly made her way upstairs to her room. Every night Fitz and her had a routine; shower first, after a long day at the lab, Jemma would pick up food from the cafeteria for both of them, and Fitz would bring two beers, one for him and one for her and they would sit on her floor cross legged and tell stories of their past and what had happened that day. She would always make sure that there was two glasses of water on her night stand, since neither of them could hold their alcohol very well, she would afters make sure that he had enough water in his system so he could make it back to his room safely.
She showered quickly and made her way down to the cafeteria, loading up on each of their favorites, and headed back up to her room. She sat cross legged as she took the two cups of water off of each of their trays and set them on her nightstand next to the photo of her and Fitz in their graduation cap and gown. She smiled and sat back down, waiting for the door to open.
Time went on, and on, and on. Soon, it was eight thirty and he still hadn't come. Jemma wasn't worried though, perhaps he forgot. He was a rather forgetful person, and she had forgotten about it early in their routine, and was mortified when she came out of her bathroom in just a towel to see Fitz sitting on the ground taking a sip of beer. Or perhaps he had already fallen asleep. He did get rather tired when the team had too many field assignments, there was so much for the two scientists to get done.
Jemma sighed and dumped the uneaten food in the trash, she wasn't too hungry anyway. After she climbed into bed and flicked off the light, she stretch out with her head facing the nightstand, the moonlight illuminating the picture of her and Fitz. With one last sigh, she turned her body toward the wall and fell into a bland sleep.
That night she awoke again. It must have only been a few hours, the small crack under the door showed that the outer lights were still on on the plane (they went off at one). She yawned and opened her eyes a little more, but not before she heard a small intake of breath. She shook her head into the pillow. She must be hallucinating again, she had a pass code on her door, and the only other person that knew it was Fitz, who would have been asleep by now. She listened for another few seconds, and waited for another breath. Nothing. Jemma sighed and rolled over toward the wall once more. She should probably talk to a doctor soon if this kept continuing.
The next day was dreadfully the same. No Fitz. Her heart hurt, even going two days without seeing Fitz was foreign, it was strange. Definitely not something she would have even wanted to think would happen. She sat in the lab once more, organized supplies, even cleaned up a bit, which was saying something, when you considered the lab was usually spotless. That night she waited for him again, but this time she ate, the food tasting blander again. The two cups of water lay forgotten on the nightstand. She reminded herself that she shouldn't over think this. He probably just forgot. Maybe he had gone to sleep early again. But there was that one thought in the back of her head saying that maybe he didn't care.
For the next five days Jemma continued to merely just exist. She didn't feel like she lived at all without Fitz by her side, she felt burned out, forgotten, lost. She had not been wearing makeup either, which she always wore to the lab. After college, Fitz and her swore that they would always dress to impress after seeing so many other students wear track pants and a grubby tee shirt to the lab sessions. Jemma knew she didn't need makeup, Fitz had even told her she looked much better without it, but considering this was a professional place, she always wore just a few touches. But she had stopped because she physically felt sick without him by her side, and it hurt to do anything. Her muscles ached.
The lab became a place of sorrow; Jemma was constantly reminded of Fitz. By now she had fully accepted that he didn't care about her anymore, which made her hurt even more. Her nightly showers now became nightly crying session, which she would usually feel ashamed for admitting, but she didn't have any dignity if she didn't have Fitz. She would eat alone on the floor, smaller portions; she didn't feel as if she could stomach anymore food. Every night she would fall asleep staring at the door, and she hoped that he would come in and lay down next to her and everything would just become normal once again.
She would never truly admit it, but there were always feelings harbored for Fitz. Whenever their arms brushed, or he would smile at her, she would always scream inwardly. But she never acted on them. She wasn't sure of how Fitz felt, and she wouldn't want to ruin their such close friendship. It meant so much to her that she wouldn't know how it would feel like to not have him.
Actually, probably a lot like this. She felt so sick, so defeated, that she didn't have the energy to even perform her routine experiments. Thoughts constantly ran through her head, taunting her. He doesn't care for you, Jemma. He never has and he never will. You're so stupid for even thinking he would. That night she flicked off the light and rubbed a few stray tears off her face, before turning to the door and having one little flicker of hope that he would come tonight.
That night she was barely awake; blissfully caught in her dream world, one where her and Fitz would do experiments without any bothers. But she felt someone kneel beside her bed and brush the hair off her face, and kiss her forehead with a shaky breath. She stirred slightly, groaning a bit as she shifted her head. Suddenly she heard the person leave and close the door behind them. She didn't even think before she drifted back off to sleep.
The next morning when she awoke, she spent another five minutes in bed staring at the ceiling. After a long thought, she shot out of bed. She was fed up. She was tired of feeling beaten down. She was going to confront Fitz now. She got ready quickly, and ran down the stairs to the third floor lab. She was relieved to see that there was no one else in the third floor lab, just Fitz staring at a petri dish. Oh, Fitz. It felt so good just to even see him again.
She knew Fitz inside and out, so she wasn't surprised when he set the pass code to the same one as their lab; or was it her lab now? She walked in slowly, expecting Fitz to look up; when all he actually did was clench his jaw and look a little more into the petri dish.
"Fitz," she called quietly. He didn't look up. "Fitz!" No answer. "Will you not even talk to me?" she asked, heartbroken. There was more silence in the lab. "This is what our friendship has been degraded to?! You not even looking at me when I speak?" He didn't answer. She shook her head and her eyes teared up. "God, Fitz, do you even care?! Do you even care that I fell off that damned plane?!" she yelled, as she became more frustrated when he didn't answer. "To think I even care! The only thing that was running through my mind during that moment was that I was doing this to help you! Not Skye, not Ward, not Coulson, you! Does that show you how much I care about you?!
"I would rather die than you get hurt Fitz. I care about you so much, and you don't even bother to look up at me. Why won't you look up at me, Fitz?" she whispered the last sentence, by now tears had escaped her eyes and were running down her cheeks. Fitz didn't look up or say anything. Jemma stalked off to her lab, wiping the tears off of her face.
She felt terrible. Every moment that she had had with Fitz had been a happy one until today. They had been together through thick and thin, and now they probably would never help each other again. More tears escaped Jemma's eyes at the thought of this. No more Simmons? She wouldn't even dream of it.
Jemma was all cried out by the time that Coulson called them down to the meeting room to review footage. Every week they would look at previous security views of everywhere on the ship.
Jemma sat next to Skye, who was next to Ward. Melinda sat across the table on Coulson's right while Fitz sat on his left. She didn't look at him, just at the screen above.
Most of the footage was boring; unless you considered watching people talk and eat exciting. There was one interesting footage of Ward and Skye caught in a hug, sharing an occasional kiss. The two agents faces grew red as Coulson rolled his eyes and skipped to the next video. Jemma could see that Skye and Ward were holding hands under the table, Ward's thumb grazing over Skye's knuckles. She sighed, wishing that she had someone that would care for her.
The next video made everyone freeze where they were. It was herself, standing on the lowered platform of the plane. Her back was to the lab, and in the corner of the screen was Fitz, screaming and trying to pry open the door. She took one took back at Fitz, and then flew into the air, fluttering like a piece of paper on a windy day. A split second after she jumped Fitz opened the lab door and snatched a parachute off the wall, struggling to get it on. Ward ran in a second later and grabbed the parachute and the anti serum and jumped off. After Fitz was left alone, he sank to the ground on his knees and buried his face in his hands.
The screen turned black as Jemma swallowed the giant lump in her throat. Fitz shot up from his seat and ran out of the room, and Coulson turned to the rest of the team. "I guess that's it for the rest of the day," he said, dismissing everyone. Jemma bolted out of the room after Fitz, desperate to talk to him once more.
She reached his room within a minute, entered his pass code hastily and burst in through the door. There was Fitz, leaning again the wall, his hand against his chest, hyperventilating. She gasped and walked forward.
"Fitz! Are you alright?" she asked, reaching a hand toward him. He shook his head shot his arm out, grabbing hers and pulling her to him swiftly. He was shaking and crying, and there were tears falling on her head as he pulled her tighter and tighter.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he whispered, "I'm so sorry. I'm sorry, Jemma." He buried his face in her hair and continued to sob, which brought tears to her eyes. "I care about you. I care, I care, I care," he continued to say, taking a shaky breath after each word. "I love you. I love you, Jemma. I'm sorry, I'm sorry I abandoned you, I'm sorry I didn't come to dinner, I'm sorry I didn't look at you, I'm sorry."
"Fitz, listen, it's alright, really," she shushed him, and even though she was hurt she didn't want Fitz to be upset.
"No, no, it's not okay. It's not okay," he repeated. This was so unlike Fitz it almost scared her, he had never broken down in front of her like this. "I didn't want to accept that you almost died, I didn't want to get my hopes up in case I woke up and it was all a dream and you weren't here. I'm so sorry, Jemma. Every night I would come into your room to see you because I needed to know that you were actually here. I'm such a fucking idiot, Jem, I'm so sorry. I love you. I love you." He continued to cry, his fingers were knotted in her shirt making wrinkles in the fabric.
She shushed him and whispered, "I'm here. I'm here, I promise," over and over as he moved his head down to her shoulder so she could whisper in his ear. After another minute or so, Jemma moved them over to his bed, sitting next to him as he wrapped his arms around her again. She ran her hands through his hair and kissed his temple. As much as she loathed seeing Fitz upset, she was happy that he was here, hugging her, and not ignoring her like earlier today. She was happy that he cared and that he – oh, God – did he say he loved her? He loved her. Leo Fitz loved her, Jemma Simmons. She could only smile into his hair.
She finally wrenched him off of her and stood, grabbing a cup off of his nightstand. He grabbed her hand as to say, Stay, but she shook her head. "I'm only getting you some water. Your throat probably hurts." She strolled to his bathroom, biting his lip to keep from smiling. He loves me. After filling it three quarters full, she went back to Fitz, who had a pillow clutched to his chest. She handed him the cup and sat a few inches away from him. He furrowed his brows and rested the pillow on his lap, so he still had a free hand. He pulled her directly next to him, so every part of their sides were touching. He drained the cup of water quickly and went back to clutching the pillow. He began to mumble something about making the anti-serum, how Ward jumped off the plane, all things Jemma wasn't really listening to.
"Fitz," she smiled. "You're the hero. You're the hero." She kissed his cheek (just as soft as she had imagined), and stood, this time to walk out of the room. Fitz scratched his head and watched as Jemma reached the door.
"Oh, bloody hell," he hissed to himself, threw the pillow to the side, and grabbed Jemma by the waist, spinning her to him. He put one hand on her cheek and drew her lips toward his, finally kissing her after all of these years waiting to. Jemma kissed back with just as much force, and smiled into the kiss. Fitz. She was kissing Fitz. She had been waiting for this for years. When they finally pulled away, Jemma grinned up at Fitz.
"I have to tell you something," she whispered, as he kissed the top of her head.
"Hmm?"
"I love you too," she grinned into his chest as he looked down at her.
"I have never wanted to hear those words come from anyone else," he said, as he leaned down once more to kiss the woman he loved.