Chapter 36: (Jemma) Nobody Said It Was Easy

April 2014

"Jemma, you're in love with Fitz. It's okay to admit it."

Except it wasn't.

The time for admitting had been in the pod, before he'd tried to kill himself to save her life.

Or back when she'd done the same to save his life by jumping off the bus.

Or a million other times when all she had to do was glance over at the person who was an extension of herself, look him in the eyes with a smile, and say those three little words.

Three words. Eight letters.

It seemed like such a small thing, but the truth was it was everything.

Jemma couldn't say the words out loud. Admit to others that she loved him, not when she couldn't even say the words to his face. Back when he could still understand, anyway.

She ran a hand across his as she pulled the new quilt she'd knitted for him across his body.

"Don't worry, Fitz, I've got all of your things packed for you," she continued, ignoring her overwhelming urge to cry over him. "I know you'll wake any day now and you'll want your favorite pair of pajamas and some books to keep you occupied.

Don't tell anyone, but I've got some cookies hidden in your other quilt.

I know it won't be the same as having me there, but I hope it reminds you of home-I mean, me."

She found herself blushing.

The truth was, Fitz had always felt like home to her.

She was the biggest idiot in the world for not telling him how she felt when it still mattered.

Jemma sat at the edge of his bed and took his hand gently, not wanting to disturb his IV.

"Your new doctors are going to take such good care of you," she whispered, voice shaking. "We'll see each other soon, Fitz. You just needed time to heal. You're almost there."

The hair on the back of her neck stood, and Jemma took a deep breath in an effort to remain composed.

"I'm sorry, Jemma, but it's time," the Director whispered from the doorway.

She nodded, still holding his hand.

You can do this, she told herself.

So what if they hadn't been apart more than a few days at a time over the last decade?

She was strong. She could handle this.

They'd survived the worst, right?

It wasn't as if things could get worse. Only better.

She had to believe that.

Coulson placed a gentle hand on her shoulder, and she knew it was time to let go, but she couldn't make herself.

"Jem?" Triplett whispered, appearing in front of her. "The medi-copter is here for him." He kneeled and took the hand that was now clutching Fitz's in his own. "I know this is hard, but it's a good thing. He'll have the best care and they'll get him awake and he'll be back here bickering with you in no time."

She nodded again but made no other movements.

Every cell in her body ached and she could feel her heart breaking-Literally.

Her skin was clammy, chest tightening, lungs struggling to breathe.

Was this how he'd felt? Down in that pod, knowing he was going to die.

She didn't even realize she'd started crying until she tasted salt on her lips.

"I've got her," Triplett announced, clutching her against his body.

"Don't take him!" Jemma tried to yell, but she knew her words were muffled by the sounds of her loud sobs.

"I've got you, baby girl," Triplett whispered, holding her tightly.

"I. Need. To. Be. With. Him." She hiccupped, struggling against him.

"No. You can't," she heard Triplett yell, but he didn't stand a chance against Agent May.

Jemma didn't feel the needle, but she recognized the effects of the tranquilizer as May's blurry face came into view and was the last thing Jemma saw before everything went black.

May 2014

"I'm not hungry," Jemma insisted, not even bothering to look at Antoine.

She knew it was him by the way her mattress shifted when he sat down.

He was the heaviest of her three babysitters. And while Skye and May were almost impossible to tell apart, she always knew when it was Skye because she was the only one who would touch her. Everyone else treated her like she would break, but Skye knew better.

Perhaps because she was the only person suffering with the same kind of grief.

"You haven't eaten in days," he whispered, moving closer. "Staying holed up in your bed isn't going to do anything. You need to keep up your strength."

Jemma rolled her eyes and pulled her covers up further, hiding her face.

"Skye brought me lunch," she muttered, knowing full well it still sat, untouched, on her nightstand.

Antoine sighed.

"I really don't want to do this, but you've left me no choice."

"What the hell?" Jemma screeched as he ripped her covers off and scooped her up into his arms like a ragdoll.

"Unhand me!" She ordered, knowing she was too weak to escape his clutches on her own.

Antoine rolled his eyes and carried her towards the door.

"I said put me down!"

"Sorry, baby girl, but I have orders to get you to dinner by any means necessary."

"I have created toxins that can kill you undetected," she threatened.

"That's nice, but I'm more afraid of what May will do to me."

Jemma huffed, crossing her arms. She could not believe she was being manhandled like this.

"I'm telling your mother about this," Jemma pouted.

"And I'll tell her it was because you were starving yourself and she'll force feed you until you gain twenty pounds."

"Ugh," she complained. "You're the worst."

"I love you too, Jem," he teased.

As they approached the kitchen, he gently put her on her feet, staying close as she did her best to stand on her own.

"I'm fine," she insisted when he placed a hand on her back.

"Sure you are," he sighed, catching her when she stumbled.

Jemma reluctantly took his hand and allowed him to lead her inside.

Maybe he had a point about her strength, but she wasn't going to tell him that.

A loud slap filled the air, followed by an even louder 'oww'.

Jemma stopped in her tracks. She knew that yell. But it couldn't be…

"You're a bloody menace!"

"Those aren't for you," Skye shot back, pulling a plate of fries towards her.

Every part of her wanted to rush towards him, throw her arm around him, and sob, but she knew if she tried, she'd fall flat on her face. Instead she gave Antoine's hand a squeeze and hobbled forward a few inches.

"Lancelot?" She croaked, her throat dry.

He glanced over, his mouth still full of fries. It took a full minute for him to swallow them and register that she was really in front of him

"Crumpet?"

Jemma could feel a sob in her throat as she nodded.

"I thought you were dead!" He cried, pulling her into his arms.

"I thought you were dead!" She sobbed, wrapping her arms around his neck. "I missed you," she whispered, burying her face against his shoulder as she let out more tears.

Lance hugged her tighter, kissing the top of her head. "Bob and I searched for you, but they burned the Academy to the ground. We thought-"

"Bobbi's alive?" Jemma hiccupped, pulling away from him.

Lance set her on her feet, keeping hold of her by taking her face in his hands.

"Bobbi's too stubborn to die," he teased with a smile. "Gran will be relieved."

Guilt filled her chest. Gran. Her parents. She hadn't even thought to find a way to let them know she was okay. She'd been too busy trying to find the words to tell Mrs. Fitz what had happened.

Lance seemed to sense it, because he drew his thumb across her cheek.

"Don't worry, love. They know it's too dangerous for you to contact them.

I still have a burner. We can call them together. Where's that boy of yours? He can do his mad scientist thing to make sure they can't trace the call. And call his mum while he's at it?"

Jemma choked back a sob.

"I've got you," Antoine helped her into a seat as her entire body began to shake.

"No," Lance whispered. "Not Fitz."

"What about Fitz?"

Jemma glanced up quickly, barely able to make the Amazonian form out through her tears. But that glimpse was enough to give her the energy to rush across the room and fling herself against Bobbi.

"I missed you too, kiddo," Bobbi chuckled, stumbling back before hugging Jemma back.

"Fitz is gone!" Jemma wailed.

He was going to die in that medical center, and she was never going to see him again.

"You sure you're feeling okay?" Bobbi whispered, her hand still on Jemma's forehead.

She nodded, knowing Bobbi and Lance meant well, but she just wanted to sleep.

It wasn't healthy by any means, but the only way she could be with Fitz now was in her dreams.

"Call for me if you need anything. Hunter and I are just across the hall. And I left a trashcan by your bed and Skye is going to be back with some ice water."

"Thank you," Jemma whispered.

She'd been eating and going to the lab since her cousins had arrived, but the stress was getting to be too much. She'd passed off today's vomiting as a flu, but she knew she could only go with that lie for so long.

"Feel better."

Bobbi kissed her forehead before leaving the room.

Once she was alone, Jemma reached a shaking hand into her nightstand, pulling out a picture of Fitz.

"Please come back," she said aloud, as if he could hear her.

Feeling stupid, Jemma wiped her nose on her sleeve and carefully put his picture away.

Hugging her pillow tightly, she closed her eyes, willing his face into her mind so when she drifted off, he'd be in her dreams.

June 2014

"She's not okay, A.C.!" Skye argued.

Jemma placed a hand on the door to the Director's office, moving closer so she could hear them better.

"I know she's not, Skye! But what do you want me to do?"

"I don't know! But letting her see Fitz is a start!"

"It's not safe-"

"She's not safe here. She is falling apart. She needs to see him. To be with him."

Coulson sighed loudly. "Seeing him won't help."

There was a long pause before Skye spoke again.

"Why? Because it will make her worse? How bad is he?"

Jemma stepped away from the door, not wanting to hear the answer.

He'd been gone for weeks, she knew the odds were bad, but she couldn't confront her worst fears about his condition. Not in this state of mind.

"You don't have to be nervous, Agent Simmons."

Jemma hadn't even realized she'd been tapping her hands on her knees until she caught him watching her.

She stared down at her lap, trying to compose herself.

"We don't have to talk if you don't want to," he whispered.

Jemma found herself tugging on a loose string of her sweater and rolled her neck to fight the feeling of her body trying to claw out of her skin.

"No, it's fine," she insisted, hugging herself.

"How long has that been going on?" He motioned towards her now tapping foot.

She shrugged.

"Jemma-Can I call you 'Jemma'?"

She nodded, hugging herself tighter.

"Jemma, you went through something terrible. It's okay to not be okay."

"I know that," she whispered.

"Phil-Director Coulson, called me because he wants to help you. Are you okay with that?"

She could see her really wanted to help her, which calmed her down.

She nodded again, still having trouble expressing her pain verbally.

"I'd like to see you a few times a week, to help you talk through everything. But I'd also like to prescribe you something, to help with your anxiety."

"I don't have anxiety," she insisted, wiping her hands on her pants.

He stared at her fidgeting limbs before meeting her eyes.

"That panic you're feeling right now, is it because you have trouble being in enclosed spaces?"

Jemma glanced towards the closed door in the windowless room. She hadn't even consciously noticed how small the space was, but now that she had, her urge to run grew.

Dr. Garner stood and walked over to the door, opening it all the way. He glanced around outside, to make sure they were alone, before returning to his seat.

Jemma let out a long sigh of relief.

"Okay, maybe I have a little anxiety," she admitted.

He gave her a smile. "A little. And a little PTSD?"

Jemma shrugged.

"It will take a few weeks for your body to adjust to the medication, but once it does, it will improve your daily life. Help you distinguish between the perceived threats your mind lies to you about and the real ones. And if you'll let me, our sessions will help you work through everything that happened, so you can move on."

"I can't," she whispered. "Move on, I mean."

"Because of Agent Fitz?"

"If he dies, I don't…I just need him to be okay. It's my fault he's like this. I don't deserve…" Jemma wiped away a tear. "I won't be okay until I know he's going to be okay."

"Jemma, it isn't your fault-"

"It is," she interrupted sternly. "He tried to save me, and I was too selfish to let him die on his terms and I wasn't fast enough saving him and now he's just…" Jemma covered her face with her hands and began to sob.

Fitz was gone. He'd been gone. And she wasn't sure she would ever be able to come to grips with it.

"He's going to die," Jemma hiccupped as Bobbi rubbed her back.

"I don't know," Lance muttered, looking Fitz over. "He's just as pale as I remember. Maybe he's just faking all of this for attention."

Bobbi shot him a glare, but Jemma laughed for the first time in months. But her laughs turned into sobs.

"He's gone," she wailed, knowing if Tony's doctors couldn't save him, nothing could.

"Jem, he just needs time to heal. He still has brain activity…His brain is letting itself and his body heal. When he's ready to wake up, he will."

"It's been months," Jemma whispered, wiping her tears away angrily. "The damage to his temporal lobe…"

She took a long, deep breath before pulling away from Bobbi.

"Can I have a minute alone with him?"

"Are you sure?"

"I'm not going to break, Bobbi," she insisted. "I just…" She sighed. "I just want to sit with him. I haven't seen him in so long…" She ran her hand over his, glad he was no longer on a ventilator.

"We'll get dinner ready," Lance suggested.

"Good idea."

Jemma could feel them lingering in the doorway, waiting for her to fall apart.

Ignoring them, Jemma reached up to brush his hair away from his forehead. It was longer than she'd ever seen it and she kind of liked it.

Smiling, she studied the rest of his face, familiarizing herself with all of the subtle changes he'd gone through since she'd seen him last.

He was indeed still as pale as ever. Skinnier. They'd been shaving his beard, but he had stubble.

The door clicked and she glanced back to find they were finally alone.

Closing her eyes, she took a few deep breaths to calm herself.

You're in the base. With Fitz. Not at the bottom of the ocean.

Once her panic subsided, she opened her eyes and moved closer to Fitz.

"You know, if this is all a performance, then you're a bigger prat than I thought," she teased, feeling a twinge of pain when he didn't smirk back at her.

"Yeah, I didn't think so," she whispered. "Your acting skills are terrible." She remembered how terribly they'd done on their first undercover assignment and chuckled.

It seemed like so long ago now.

They were still kids when they'd walked onto that damn bus and now…

"You've got to wake up, Fitz." She moved to the mattress and leaned over him, staring down at his face. "I can't do this without you. You've been glued to my side for twelve years."

Why was she so bad at this expressing her feelings thing?

"You're an idiot. Who tells a girl they love her before dying? You didn't even give me a chance to tell you…" She smiled, running a hand across his cheek. "You're more than that too, Fitz."

When nothing happened, she sat back, feeling like an idiot.

What did she expect? For him to wake up? Take her in his arms? For his heart rate to spike? For him to take her hand? Open his eyes and smile?

"Just come back to me, Fitz," she whispered, defeated.

Jemma wasn't sure what had possessed her to go against protocol and run an unauthorized DNA test, but here she was, staring down at results that were going to change everything.

Glancing up as voices filled the air, she quickly shoved the results away.

Pulling out her fake physical reports, she pretended to study them intently as her interns entered the room.

There were still no more than two dozen agents in the base, and less than that scattered across the globe, waiting to be activated, but luckily a few of the students had survived the attack on the Academy. Jemma knew she was in no shape to be a good mentor at the moment, but having them around gave her a sense of purpose.

Sure, the love of her life was gone, and she was left with a shell of him, but at least she had a reason to get out of bed every day.

Making sure no one was watching, Jemma slipped Skye and May's test results under her arm and snuck out of the lab.

She had no idea how she was going to explain this, but it was now or never.

Jemma really wished she hadn't meddled.

Sure, Skye had a mother now, but…

"Sir, this is a bit awkward," Jemma began, nervously shifting her weight.

"It's okay, Agent Simmons, I know."

She furrowed her brows. "No, sir, I really don't think you-"

"I'm not her father," he whispered sadly.

"How did you-" She began, the lab results almost falling out her hands.

"Know that you would assume I was? Or that the lie you fed me earlier about needing a blood sample for physicals was so you could see if I was?"

Her cheeks went red.

"I'm so sorry."

"Don't be, Simmons. I already knew."

Maybe so, but she could still see the flicker of hope in his eyes as he scanned the results before handing them back to her and returning to May and Skye.

Jemma stood in the hallway, feeling terrible.

"Oh Fitz, where are you to stop me from myself?"

"It's time," Coulson whispered gently.

Jemma had suspected he was here for this. He and May hadn't left Skye's side since the night before, so for the two of them to leave her alone to sit her down…

"This will kill her," Jemma whispered.

"She's his mother, she deserves the chance to say goodbye."

There it was. They'd given up on him.

Staring down at her hands, Jemma couldn't form the words to respond.

She had none.

Fitz was going to die, and she wanted to join him.

"What is that thing?" Lance asked, peeking over her shoulder.

Jemma hadn't moved from this spot in over an hour. She'd walked in to find the interns working on repairing the device Mike had used to stop Ward's heart. After yelling at them to get out, she'd taken it and channeled her inner Fitz to not only fix it but to improve it. And then she'd just stood, staring down at it, resisting the urge to use it.

"It stops your heart," she whispered, glancing up at him. "It's a Hydra device the Director wants to replicate, for interrogations."

Lance made a face. "What happened to good ol' fashioned torture?"

Jemma rolled her eyes.

"Put that thing away, will you? Don't need Bobbi using that the next time I piss her off."

"Idiot," she muttered, letting out a sigh.

He was right though. Something like this should be locked away.

She didn't know what she was thinking messing around with it.

"You okay?"

She glanced up to find May in the doorway.

"Why? Because the Director is willing to let Fitz die?"

May sighed. "He's not. I think he hopes-"

"That having his mum here will make him wake up?"

May shrugged.

Jemma turned her back to her, clutching the device in her palm.

"He's not going to wake up, is he?" Jemma whispered. Logically, she knew his odds. But emotionally, she needed someone to reassure her that holding on wasn't futile.

"He could," May lied. "Or he be like this forever.

Either way, his mom deserves to see him."

"This will destroy her," Jemma whispered, glancing back at May.

She shook her head. "No, it won't. Because she'll have you."

Jemma knew May's words were meant to comfort her, but all she could think about was Fitz's poor, fragile mother dying from her grief and Fitz dying soon after.

Jemma couldn't remember May leaving the lab, or following suit soon after, but here she was, standing at the bottom of the stairs to Vault D, tablet in one hand, device in the other.

She stared through the laser wall, watching him stare back at her in surprise. He looked terrible and she was glad. He deserved to suffer. Suffer the same way Fitz had. Trapped underwater, his lungs filling with water, losing consciousness…

"Jemma?" He whispered, staring not at the device in her hand, but the way she had clutched onto it so tightly, blood dripped from her palm. "Hey, she needs a medic!" He yelled, looking up at the surveillance cameras.

"They can't hear you. I disabled them."

She stared down at the tablet and disabled the laser grid, hoping he used his freedom to come after her. It would give her a reason to kill him.

"You need help," he whispered, holding both hands up in surrender, his eyes still on her bleeding palm.

"Don't pretend you give a damn," she spat. "You tried to kill me! And you succeeded with Fitz!"

Ward's face fell.

"No, Coulson told me he…" He closed his eyes tightly, clenching his fists. "I was trying to protect you both…the pod was supposed…Coulson said you both survived."

She didn't know what finally made her snap. The way he was pretending to care about Fitz or his excuses.

What she did know was that Ward was now on the ground, device stuck to his chest, and the control in her hand.

"I can't replicate what he felt down in that pod when he was drowning, but I hope this is worse."

"Jemma, don't!" Lance yelled, tackling her to the ground and wrestling the remote out of her hand.

"It's too late."

She glanced over to where Ward was writhing around on the ground, suffering a heart attack.

"Dammit," Lance yelled, rushing to his side.

She watched as he began chest compressions, screaming for help.

Watching Ward die wasn't going to bring back Fitz, but it sure as hell made her feel better.

"How did you know she was down there?" Mack whispered.

"I saw her playing with that stupid thing in her lab and when she went missing…I just had a hunch."

"How is she?" Coulson asked, pacing behind Bobbi.

"Still in shock," Bobbi whispered, flashing a light in Jemma's eyes.

"Skye was right, she was on the verge of a breakdown-"

"Stop. You got her a therapist, sir," Bobbi whispered. "None of us could have predicted she'd try to kill him."

Lance left Coulson and Mack's side and moved to Bobbi's.

"She hasn't said anything in hours. Are you sure those drugs you gave her didn't do something?"

"She just tried to kill someone, Hunter. She's not like us. She's traumatized."

Jemma could hear them all and was aware of their presences, but she felt as though she was outside of her body, just lost in the dark.

She knew what they were saying was true. She'd tried to kill Ward. But she couldn't remember doing it. It was like someone else had been in her body.

"What the hell is taking the doctors so long?"

"Since when do you care if Ward lives?" Lance snorted, glancing back at Mack.

"Since when do you? You didn't have to save him," he snapped.

"And let my precious Jemma become a killer?"

"Am I supposed to want the father of friend's child to die?"

They stared each other down for a moment before Lance sighed.

"Fine, so we're both rooting for him to pull through."

"I killed the father of Skye's baby," Jemma whispered, suddenly becoming aware of her hands.

Why were they bandaged?

"Hey, no you didn't," Lance insisted, pulling up a stool and sitting in front of her.

"You may have saved his life," Coulson insisted.

Jemma was still not fully present, so she blinked back at him in confusion.

"They found an issue with his heart. Probably from when Mike used the device. They would have never found it without surgery. He could have died with us never knowing it was there."

"I don't think Skye will see it that way," Jemma replied.

"Skye won't see it any way," Coulson insisted. "She can't handle the stress of this, not right now."

"She's right," Bobbi said gently. "We have to keep this from her, until we're sure the baby can survive the meltdown Skye is going to have when she finds out."

"I'm the worst person alive," Jemma sobbed, finally realizing the gravity of what she'd done.

Bobbi wrapped her arms around Jemma and kissed her temple.

"Shh, everything is going to be okay."

But it wasn't.

Her best friend hated her. She hated herself. And Fitz was still comatose.

"And what exactly was the point, Skye? To scare the dozen or so agents in the room?"

"You're damn right it was," Skye retorted.

"Was it really worth it?"

"Yes, it was. You're high if you think Jemma's going to be the last one to go after him. And who knows what they might try to do to my kid.

They'd have be a fucking idiot to fuck with me now."

"And how are you going to warn off the agents who are showing up here every day?"

"They'll hear the story of how Melinda May's pregnant daughter is so unhinged she tried to cut her best friend and know that I'm not to be messed with."

Andrew sighed loudly.

"You're your mother's child, all right."

Jemma heard footsteps and snuck into a closet, not wanting Skye to see her. She had every reason to hate her and Jemma knew she hadn't really tried to kill her, but a big part of her wished she had. She had enough guilt to live with knowing she was responsible for Fitz, but now…

She had to find a way to make things right.