AN:This is a short one-shot, written after 3x02. I attempted to capture Jemma's thoughts during this scene.
Jemma woke, gasping, brandishing a weapon in her right hand to ward away whatever horrors had come to attack her. She looked around frantically before she realized that there were no horrors. She wasn't on those desolate, dust-covered, Godforsaken plains that she had been trapped on for - she didn't even know how long. It felt like forever.
Instead there was white-a lot of white: padded walls, bed sheets, an actual pillow...
And Fitz. Her Leopold Fitz was right next to her. He'd fallen asleep in a chair by her bed; head resting against the wall. She looked at the object in her hands:it appeared to be a small piece of sharpened wood. She slowly set it down and let out a shuddering breath as she fully realized that it hadn't been a dream; the flare, Fitz's voice, his hand, and suddenly being surrounded by everyone: Coulson, Skye, Bobbi and Mack. It was all real.
She was still shaken by her nightmare: the one that had woken her and the one she had been living for the past months. She lifted the bed covers off and lowered herself to the floor beside Fitz. She gingerly lay her head on his lap, trying not to wake him. She was almost afraid that if she touched him he would shatter, and she'd reawaken in that dreadful place.
But nothing happened. Fitz just continued to snore softly and Simmons closed her eyes, relieved. She placed a hand on Fitz's knee, just to reassure herself that he was there, that she was back.
That she was home.