Please excuse me if the content of this drabble does not live up to your expectations, as I became very emotional while writing it. Over the past week or so, I have been hearing news story after story about not only the terrorist attacks in Brussels, but also terrorist attacks in other places such as Tunisia and Pakistan. As a result, I've been overwhelmed with sadness for the victims, fear for my own safety in Europe, and unrelenting anger towards the terrorists who even dare to take away lives of innocent people for their cruel intentions. And I decided to work out these feelings through the power of fanfiction. I'm not going to lie, this story is sad and the subject is sensitive to a lot of people, so I'm putting that warning out there now. Rated M for a graphic description of violence.
Prompt from Eliza (AO3): Simmons gets critically injured while they are cut off from the team, and Fitz must find a way to keep her stable until help arrives.
This is dedicated to the people who have lost their lives in the ISIS terrorist attacks. May your souls rest in peace.
This wasn't happening. This couldn't be happening. Of all the places and all the times to be under such duress...why here? In Perthshire, merely just twenty yards away from where their cottage was located?
It shouldn't have even been a possibility in the first place. SHIELD was fortified enough by now to give them the adequate materials they needed to secure their safety. Alarms were placed sparingly within the walls of the small, wooden cottage, and the thermal sensors were able to detect movement from intruders at least 50 yards away. An invisible, electric security fence lined the edges of the back and front yards, stopping at the outskirts of a dense forest, two fields, and a dusty road (it barely even qualified as a road at all) leading to their new home. And there were numerous places in the various rooms where they kept ICERs and guns and various other escape tools in the case that their location had been compromised.
But nothing could've prepared them for this.
Actually, that wasn't true, Fitz fumed to himself. There was no excuse for why this had even been allowed to happen. They could've extended the security fence and thermal scanner parameters, they could've been loaned some sort of guard dog to detect the presence of dangerous objects, they could've done something to prevent the imminent destruction of their new life in front of their very eyes. Hive was after them, Coulson was aware; that was why the whole safe house, "Plan B," was created in the first place. They weren't disavowed from SHIELD like Hunter and Bobbi had been, thankfully, but they weren't allowed back on the base or the plane before all possible threats were eliminated.
They had thought it was a solid plan; Coulson had run the logistics past May first, and then Daisy used her research and hacking skills to search for the most isolated place she could find while maintaining the structural, aesthetic stipulations Fitz and Simmons had required of her. Given that Hive was a force to be reckoned with, not able to be effectively derailed within a short period of time, they had planned for the long term, which meant revealing their future plans for Perthshire to the entire team. With Fitz and Simmons unable to head the Science Division anymore on the base, Coulson pulled a lot of strings to get Helen Cho, a scientist working under the advisement of Bruce Banner himself, to serve as a temporary substitute. Dr. Cho was a busy person, constantly running experiments and giving important presentations at prestigious biochemistry and neurology conferences all around the globe, but she agreed to work on the base if she could continue to do her own research on her off-hours.
A month had passed by Fitz and Simmons in a blur. Although there wasn't a whole lot to do in the cottage after the repairs had been made and they had moved in their belongings, they always found little ways to pass the time like playing cards and chess and various other board games from their Academy days. Communication with the team was scarce due to the spotty Wifi signal and cell service, and messages could only be sent in cases of emergency through encrypted lines that enemies couldn't hack, so any kind of contact with the team was a risk. Coulson was the only one with access to the encrypted lines and he was the one that received Fitz's weekly reports. With this knowledge, he occasionally updated the team on Fitz and Simmons's condition, but otherwise little was known about their time at Perthshire.
Until now.
It had been a normal spring day in Scotland when the incident occurred. Fitz was sitting on a rocking chair on the front porch, nonchalantly reading a book on quantum mechanics while Simmons was finally going to work on turning one of the weedy fields into a lovely vegetable garden. He couldn't keep track of how many times she had made excuses about the arduous task in the past, always claiming that she needed to finish reading her latest Jane Austen novel or drive 20 minutes to the nearest grocery store to buy food for the week, but he was glad that she was taking advantage of the rare sunny day to plant those daisies, chrysanthemums, and tomatoes she had been gushing about non-stop ever since they moved to Perthshire.
Ten minutes into his book, he felt a knot form in the pit of his stomach. Something was wrong. The air was too still, the sun was beating down too intensely on the creaky porch steps to be considered normal, or maybe it was the raccoon living underneath the house that was getting on his nerves again. He shrugged it off and returned to his reading. Of course he was just being paranoid about things- how could he not after everything that had happened over the past couple of years? Was that really enough to stray him, preventing him from enjoying a beautiful day with his girlfriend? He chuckled to himself, convinced that he really just needed to stop worrying about everything.
That is, until he heard the scream.
It was the loud boom of the explosion he had heard first, but it was the hair-raising screech that accompanied it that would fill his head for years to come. Fitz didn't hesitate to throw the book to the ground as he sprinted in the direction of the field where Jemma had been toiling away. Or, what was left of the field, that is.
The cloud of smoke led him to his destination and he was absolutely horrified by the destruction he saw. All of the weeds were gone, replaced by plant skeletons and clumps of dirt swirling in the air, and Jemma's gardening tools were nowhere to be found, most likely blown away by the blast. It was what he couldn't see through the thick smog that was making his heart leap out of his chest. Where was she? She wasn't...she couldn't be...
And then, out of the corner of his eye he spotted Jemma, her delicate form sprawled out in a disturbingly unnatural position on the far corner of the field.
Her name caught in his throat as he tried to call out to her, and the short amount of time it took to reach her somehow felt like an eternity. He fell to the ground beside her and with shaking hands he brushed her ponytail aside to feel for a pulse, receiving a sluggish beat that was music to his ears. The flooding sense of relief screeched to a halt as he saw the mess of blood that had been her leg- that was hopefully still her leg. The shrapnel must have buried itself deep in her flesh, cutting up any living cell that it pierced. Miraculously, the rest of her body appeared to be relatively untouched with the exceptions of small, deep cuts on her face, the drops of blood trickling from a wound on the side of her head (that thankfully didn't seem to be too serious), and any internal injuries hidden underneath her clothing.
"Oh god," Fitz whispered, unable to stop the tears welling in his eyes as he practically tore off his blue cardigan, the one that Jemma had always been so fond of, and went through the painstaking effort to wrap it around her leg to slow down the bleeding. "Oh god, oh god, oh god, no, no, no..'
He kept muttering those words to himself until Jemma let out a weak gasp, paralyzed by the shock of the unimaginable pain she must have been experiencing. "Fitz." She reached out for him with a trembling hand and Fitz grasped it tightly, immediately stopping his instinctive mental medical analysis.
"Jemma, stay with me," he pleaded, taking the time to press the CODE BLUE emergency button on his watch while looking into her bugging, unfocused eyes. "Please, just stay with me."
"I don't...know if I...can." Her breathing gradually became labored and shallow and Fitz clenched his teeth together, almost biting his tongue in his panic. She had lost too much blood already and she was barely hanging on, probably about to go into shock at any moment.
They were in the middle of nowhere with no one within miles to help them all because of a bomb. A fucking Hydra bomb, camouflaged in the array of weeds, that was meant to send a message to SHIELD, as he would find out later from Coulson. A detailed analysis would later reveal that the bomb hadn't necessarily been meant to kill, as it had been set to go off when a person approached it from a certain distance. He couldn't understand how the bomb wasn't detected and why Hydra had placed it there in the first place. Hydra could've just used a chemical toxin to paralyze them, or they could've just stormed the cottage and taken them hostage, leaving them with both their lives intact and leverage against Coulson.
But to plant a bomb in the most unexpected place possible to purposefully put innocent people in harm's way just to send a political message? That was just...inhumane. Cruel. A number of adjectives that would never make it out of Fitz's mouth but would darken his mood for days.
"Clotting...agent."
Fitz blinked. "The what?"
"First aid...living room. Clotting...agent."
"The clotting agent? The one Cal gave Coulson to save Trip?" Fitz shook her hand gently, urging her to stay conscious. The only response she could muster was the slightest of nods and a soft groan. "Okay...but wait. No, I'm not leaving you here, that's ridiculous!" he said indignantly.
But he knew better than that. He had to take the risk; otherwise, she would surely bleed out before the team would be able to reach them. "I'll..." He sniffed loudly, wiping away his tears with a grungy fist. "I'll be right back. I know you're a fighter, Jemma. Please wait for me."
And then he took off, not even daring to breathe or think as he sprinted back. It didn't take long for him to find the first aid kit; he had memorized its exact location anyway for scenarios such as this. He scrambled through the mess of bandages and cotton swabs and sterilized needles and syringes until he found the clotting agent, nestled at the very bottom of the case underneath a cloth bandage. His mind whizzed through the calculations on how much agent he would need to plug up the numerous punctures in her leg and he hurriedly (while somehow maintaining a meticulous accuracy) filled a syringe with the clotting agent before running back to her location, where she hadn't moved a bit.
Jemma's eyes were glazed over as he carefully removed his soaked cardigan and inserted the needle into her wound. "As long as she's not going into shock, she should be fine," he recited to himself, recalling the instructions and the warnings listed on the back of the packet. His eyes widened as he noticed the sweat pooling on her brow, one of the many indicators of the shock that was just about to kick in. With a strong push of his thumb, the liquid rushed into her system and she screamed loudly, her face contorting into an expression Fitz would never want to see again.
However, within seconds her muscles relaxed, her leg only shaking slightly as the medicine worked to stop the bleeding. Temporarily relieved of the pain, her grimace was replaced with the ghost of a smile as she drifted into unconsciousness.
Surprisingly, Jemma's lack of response did not faze Fitz; she was breathing, the bleeding had stopped, and he just had to keep her stable until an extraction team arrived to take care of her. He dropped his head in relief, kissing her cheek and resting his forehead on her chest where her heart was beating. This time, having no reason to hold them in, he let his tears fall. She was going to be okay.
When she woke up, her vision was blurry. Two fuzzy, tall objects stood in front of her, occasionally shifting balance while another pasty, smaller one sat by her side. It was only when her vision cleared that she realized the objects were people.
"Fitz, what is going on-" she started before the excruciating pain kicked in. She let out a small wail and instinctively pressed the morphine button, which she assumed was going to run through one of the many tubes plastered to her body any minute now. Aware that Fitz had been holding her hand for quite some time now, she squeezed it hard, causing him to yelp in surprise.
"Dr. Cho and I have some good news and bad news, Jemma," Coulson started, moving to the other side of her bed.
Dr. Cho? Under different circumstances, Jemma would've been much more excited to meet her, as she was one of her many female role models. "The good news is that we were able to save your leg. You're going to need a lot of time to recover, but it was a miracle that we didn't have to amputate it," she spoke solemnly.
"You can thank Fitz for that," Jemma said quickly, glancing over at his hunched, worried posture. "He saved me. He found the clotting agent and used it to stop the bleeding."
"Actually, it was- er, it was Jemma who remembered we had it in the first place." Fitz looked down at his lap modestly.
"It doesn't matter whose idea it was. It matters that you're alive," Coulson responded more sharply than he had intended. "The bad news is..." He looked at the two scientists sadly. "Since your location has been compromised, I can't let you return to the safehouse. An extraction team has already packed up your belongings and returned them to your respective rooms."
Fitz and Jemma turned to each other, distraught. They knew this was coming, but they hadn't expected the news to hit them this hard. "We...we can't go back? Ever?" Jemma managed to choke out.
"As long as you remain affiliated with SHIELD on your records, your compromised location will always remain a target," Dr. Cho clarified. "I'm sorry it has come down to this."
"Dr. Cho will continue to head the Science Division until Jemma is able to move around on her own again," Coulson continued as the news sank in further. "She needs to rest and Fitz, I can set up an appointment with a specialized trauma counselor if needed."
"I-I think I'm good," Fitz stuttered, unable to meet Coulson and Dr. Cho's gazes.
"Okay. We will give you a few moments alone with each other before Dr. Cho tends to Jemma's wounds once more."
Coulson turned to leave but then surprised Jemma by putting a hand on her shoulder. "I am truly sorry about this. I know how much Perthshire meant to both of you." And with that, he led Dr. Cho out of the treatment room.
"Fitz..." He stared wordlessly back at her. "Did Coulson mean...that we will never be able to go back to Perthshire, not just to the cottage?"
"I don't know." His jaw tightened and he ran a hand through his curls, which he had let grow back over the past month. "His answer was sort of vague." At the moment, all Fitz could do was think of the worst possible scenario, but he had to stay positive for her, for both of them. "I guess we'll find out eventually. Coulson has a habit of keeping secrets from us, but I don't think Perthshire is one of them."
"But Fitz, this isn't just about the house and Perthshire! This is about-"
Us. Our future. "I know," he said, leaning his forehead against hers. "I know." She didn't need to say it out loud for him to know what she meant.
And there they sat, crying and comforting each other as the prospect of the future they dreamed of together seemed to drift farther away from their grasp. It was still a possibility, of course, but it was becoming less and less probable as time passed on.
They never found out who planted the bomb in the field that day, whether it was Hive acting alone or Malick trying to scare Coulson off or if was even a Hydra affiliate acting on their own. But whoever had even dared to destroy the future of innocents just trying to live a peaceful life together...their hearts must have been filled with an evil no one could possibly comprehend.
Again, so sorry for how morbid this got, but there will be happier drabbles to come, I promise!