A/N: In this chapter, Jemma regains consciousness, but they're all in for a rude awakening.
Chapter 3
As she regains consciousness, the first thing she notices is an incessant, steady beeping, which her overwhelmed mind eventually identifies as a heart monitor. Too tired and muzzy-headed to even consider opening her eyes, she lets the rhythmic sound ease her back into reality very slowly.
When she finally manages to lift her heavy lids, she is relieved as familiar faces come into view. It takes a few moments for her eyes to really focus, but there is no mistaking the cadre of sentinels at her bedside. May, Coulson, and Skye look at her prone form with undisguised relief. She wonders how long they've been waiting for her to wake up.
She isn't surprised when her muscles protest as she gingerly eases herself into an upright position. There was no way she would make it out of the situation unscathed. Frankly, she's shocked that she made it out at all.
"Welcome back, Agent Simmons," Coulson greets eagerly as he helps her to find a comfortable position.
"It's very nice to be back, sir," she replies quietly, though with the same enthusiasm, returning his heartfelt smile. She had been worried that she would never see her team again, and she is relieved to see them here now.
As soon as the brief conversation ends, a medic scurries into the room, checking monitoring equipment and noting pertinent details on the tablet she carries.
"We've been monitoring you closely, Agent Simmons, and you seem right as rain," she explains as she removes the IV from Simmons's arm, "but we'd like to continue checking your vitals for another day or so just to be sure."
"Of course," Simmons agrees easily. She feels rather like she's floating or drifting, as if her vast swathes of her brain aren't functioning or are but only just barely. Everything seems both muted and exaggerated at the same time, and the conflicting sensations are distracting and daunting. As she half-heartedly engages in the small talk they've initiated, an inexplicable tendril of fear starts to make itself known. She feels as if she has forgotten something rather significant, but she doesn't have time to dwell on it.
She's chagrined to have completely failed to notice the two other people in the room until now, especially since the woman is also confined to a hospital bed. Based on a quick observation of the stitches and fading bruises, Simmons is pleased to note that she is well on her way to recovery as well.
Though still feeling quite addled, she remembers her manners and speaks softly to the pair.
"I'm sorry. How terribly rude of me. I'm Agent Jemma Simmons, biochemist for Coulson's team," she introduces herself and waits for them to respond in kind.
Bobbi and Hunter find her statement completely baffling. Simmons is acting as if she's never seen them before.
"Jemma?" Bobbi begins to question slowly, fearing that her friend and colleague may not be 'right as rain' after all, but her voice is completely lost to Simmons, who has caught sight of something miraculous on the other side of the glass wall.
Fitz had been reluctant to leave her side since her return from the stone, but Skye and May had finally forcibly removed him from her room earlier that day, promising that he could return as soon as he'd slept at least 6 hours in a bed, taken a shower, and eaten a real meal. Simmons hadn't made any progress since her return, and there had been no sign to indicate that she would in his absence. He'd been fitfully dozing when he received Skye's call. Not bothering to let her finish, he had rushed through the corridors of the base to return to their cobbled together medical bay as soon as he heard the words "she's awake."
As soon as he has crossed the threshold, Jemma launches herself at him, heedless of the pulse oximeter that jerks from her finger and her own unsteady limbs.
"Fitz," she cries in obvious relief and joy as she plows into him and wraps her trembling arms around his lanky torso.
Though stunned by her quick movements, he folds his arms about her and presses a soft kiss to the crown of her head before resting his cheek against it. He had all but given up hope of being able to embrace her like this ever again. Since freeing her from the stone, each day had diminished the chance that she would ever regain consciousness. Words can't adequately describe his elation that she has and that she seems no worse for the wear.
He feels the moment the trembles change from exhaustion to release as the rest of her emotions catch up with her. Not long after, her tears begin to dampen his shirt. He is about to disentangle their limbs to brush the moisture from her cheeks when she catches him off guard again.
Pulling back, she gives him a huge grin before surging up to catch his lips in a hearty and meaningful kiss. He's nearly too stunned to respond, but he does remember to kiss back after a few seconds, completely content to follow her lead.
She releases him a moment later, neither of them at all concerned with their audience. Then he does reach up to cup her cheek in his hand, running his thumb across her face to clear at least some of her tears. She places her hand over his, smiling widely even as her breath hitches.
"You're more than that, too, and I thought I'd lost you forever," she croaks.
"I'm here, Jem, and you're going to be fine. I promise," he soothes. The bubble of happiness in his chest from her words feels like it might break him in two, but he can't imagine a more perfect moment.
"Fury seemed so uncertain," she begins to babble, completely unaware that every word that spills out of her mouth cuts him as if it were a knife. "He said that your heart was barely beating, but that he had a full medical team with you. I wanted so much to be at your side, but he'd put me in a decompression chamber, and all I could do was worry about brain death at worse and hypoxia at best. But, you're okay. I haven't a clue how, but you are okay!"
She buries her head back in his shoulder, overcome with relief once again and needing to feel him close without the threat of imminent death lingering over them. Her relief is short-lived, however, when he tenses and freezes noticeably in her arms.
She pulls back again, worried by the confusion and emerging horror on his face. She fails to notice that the other people in the room have matching expressions.
"Fitz?" she questions quietly, now reaching her hand up to touch his cheek. He grabs it before she can make contact.
"Jemma," he manages to rasp before he has to swallow. Her latest confession has left him with a mouth that seems to be made of sawdust and a tongue that feels heavy as led. "What year is it?"
"2014, of course," she answers automatically, completely bewildered by his question.
"Oh, god," he wheezes as his grip on her tightens. "What's the last thing you remember?" he then asks frantically.
The urgency and fear in his tone make her anxious and scared, as do the memories his question draws up.
"The pod, we were," she stutters, her explanation unintelligible to everyone but him. "You said, and then the button, and I swam, and Fury rescued us because of the beacon. We were on the plane." She is shaking by the end of it, her face having morphed from utter joy to complete uncertainty in the span of a minute.
"Fitz?" she says only his name, but in that word he can hear the thousands of questions that she wants to ask but for which she can't find the words.
"Jem," he begins slowly, his face full of heartbreak. "That was more than a year ago."
"No," she refutes immediately. She refuses to believe that she doesn't remember the last year of her life.
"You're lying," she accuses desperately, her fingers clenching and unclenching in the fabric of his shirt and she stares into his too wide eyes. "If this is payback from the whipped cream incident, I'll remind you that it wasn't me. This is a cruel prank, Fitz."
She glances over her shoulder at May, Coulson, and Skye, hoping that one of them will let her in on the joke. It has to be a joke. But one glance at them makes her wildly beating heart feel as if it has dropped from her chest. They look as heartbroken as he does, and in that moment she forces herself to consider the possibility.
She turns back to Fitz, but her mind, now much clearer than before, begins to catalog the minute changes and signs that she had dismissed since waking. Fitz's hair is shorter, he has stubble on his cheeks, and he not wearing a tie with the button down he's only fastened partially, a look completely contrary to the well-kempt style he has had since she taught him how to dress at the Academy. Skye doesn't look at all like what she had the last time Jemma had seen her either. Her hair is different, and she carries herself with a sense of confidence she never has before. Part of Coulson's arm is missing, and May is dressed in casual clothing. Perhaps most telling, the two other agents still seem shocked by her introduction, as if she should know them.
As every detail flashes across her mind, she starts to repeat the word 'no', as if verbalizing it will somehow change the truth with which she is now confronted. In an effort to self-sooth, she runs her fingers through her own hair, only to freeze when the strands slip free much sooner than they should.
Her breath beginning to come in sharp pants, she breaks from Fitz's hold to wobble over to the only mirror in the room. It's small and badly in need of cleaning to remove the smudges on its surface, but her reflection is clear enough to confirm the nightmare that has become her life.
At the sight of her nearly foreign visage, she begins to hyperventilate. She struggles for every breath and feels as if she is choking on broken glass. Completely unable to cope, she turns back to Fitz and weakly calls his name as she reaches for him.
She only manages two steps before fainting dead away. Thankfully, May is close enough to catch her and lay her gently on the ground. Fitz is at her side immediately, snatching up her limp form and holding her close as he struggles to come to terms with this latest blow.
He nearly snarls at the medics who return to replace her on her bed, but eventually he relinquishes his hold on her. Once they finish their tasks, he resumes his place at her side, clutching her hand in his. For several moments, the room is deadly silent other than the sound of his ragged breaths and her heart monitor.
"Fitz," Coulson murmurs as he places a hand on the younger agent's shoulder. When Fitz fails to react at all to the contact, Coulson lets out a soft sigh. "We'll do what we can when she wakes up again. Whatever she needs, she'll have it. At least we have her back."
The words sound hollow to everyone in the room, but at the moment there is nothing else to be said, nothing else to be done.
A/N: When (because I can't take the thought of if) they get Simmons out of the stone or back from wherever it has sent her, I can't imagine that she'll return completely unscathed. Rather than having it grant her powers or add something else, I thought it would be interesting to see what would happen if it took something away instead. Imagine how different last season would have been if Fitz hadn't been in a coma for nine days and if Simmons hadn't gone to Hydra. In this fic, that is the reality for Simmons; at this point, she doesn't remember any of that happening, so the changes we saw in her personality as a result won't exist either. It made sense to me to take her back to when she wakes up in the decompression chamber since it was probably the most traumatic and defining moment of her life. She lived and she isn't sure he will.
The rest of this fic will be an exploration of how she and Fitz navigate their relationship now that she's lost a year's worth of memories and how they overcome the challenges that arise when some of her memories return. She'll also resume or redevelop her friendships with the other characters as well. I hope you'll join me on the journey.