Jumping to conclusions
"I'm doing what we always do. We're gonna fix this. Together."
His throat hurts from screaming. The back of his head where she hit him does too.
His initial terrified state is gone in seconds after she's jumped. His hands are shaking, he can barely breathe, but he knows what he has to do. He rushes to his station, to the fourth batch of anti-serum he made. He grabs the small cylinder, secures it in the device he built. He knew they could do it. He knew they would fix it.
Why did she have to go and jump off that stupid plane then?
Jemma.
She gave up hope. She gave up on them. He wants to know why, but now isn't the time to ponder. He'll ask her. When everything is done, when everything is fixed. Because he's gonna do it, he's gonna fix it.
He knows what he has to do.
His left hand clamped around the device, he rushes through the doors of the lab – their lab – and grabs a parachute from above the row of seats. Hastily secures the straps on, the wind slapping his face from the open ramp of the plane. His heart is pounding so hard in his chest that's all he can hear. But he knows what he has to do.
He doesn't think.
Not because he's afraid that thinking too much would incapacitate him, would stop him from jumping to his probable death – because who is he kidding, he knows what he has to do, but that doesn't mean he's gonna succeed. But he has to. There's no possible world he can live in where he isn't at her side.
He doesn't think, because he doesn't have time to.
He needs to be fast. He needs to catch up to her.
Jemma.
He's seen James Bond movies. He knows how to do this – theoretically. The wind is all around him, he can barely see, he can barely breathe. The pounding of his heart is faint in his ears now, replaced by the whistling noise of the air enveloping him. The adrenaline is coursing through his veins, and when he sees her, right as she disappears in a cloud, he forces his arms at his sides and dives right after her. It's a very counter-intuitive thing to do – as is jumping off a plane really – but he still does it without hesitating.
The speed at which he's falling is terrifying. His scientific brain wants to find solace in calculating said speed, but he forcefully shuts himself up. There is no time. His mind is racing now, anticipating everything despite his attempt not to. Overthinking things is not a good idea. He needs to focus on doing and not thinking – another very counter-intuitive thing for him.
He's never felt more driven in his life before though. That's a good thing.
He needs that.
It only takes a few seconds to reach the cloud she disappeared in, and then he can see her. He needs to figure out how to control his fall so that he doesn't slam into her and hurt her. He's never done this before – of course not. He's seen videos though. Movies. Tutorials. He can do this. He just needs to slow down his fall enough to be at the same level, and then grab her. It's gonna be fine.
Everything's gonna be fine.
Jemma.
He's getting close, and she's seen him now. She's trying to stop spinning but with her back to the ground – well, the ocean – she doesn't seem to be able to. He doesn't know how, but he somehow manages to stop right at her level and grab her arm with his right hand, tugging her to him with all the strength he can muster. Her body collides with his as her hands grab at his shoulders, and then she's wrapping her legs around his waist and her arms around his neck, clinging to him so hard it takes his breath away.
He did it. He's got her.
He administers the anti-serum as soon as he's sure they're both holding on tight, zapping it on her left leg, and hears her whimper in his ear. The last step is as tricky as the rest, reaching for the handle of his parachute to deploy it. He's under the impression that he fumbles for it for ages between their two bodies, and when he finally manages to yank it, the wave of pure relief crashing through him almost makes him break.
The whiplash induced by the deployment of the parachute is sudden and violent, making them hold onto each even more tightly, slowing their fall in seconds. The noise quiets down around them, and he can breathe again. She feels so warm, so alive against him. He's thankful for her tight embrace because he's pretty sure he'd be quivering without her. He did it. She's here. She's safe.
Jemma.
He's so lost in his relief to have her back that he barely even notices the blue electromagnetic pulse coming out of her. She goes slack in his arms and he figures she might have lost consciousness, just like the rat in the lab. It only last for a couple of seconds, then he hears her sharp inspiration and she tightens her grip around his shoulders once again.
In any other situation he would probably complain just a little, or make a joke of some sort, something about a koala maybe – they're not primates but they're a little similar, he can tolerate them even if they're definitely not as cool as monkeys. But he's too breathless, too worn out to even try and think about something good, something that would make her laugh. He would love to hear her laugh, just to make it even more of a certainty that she is okay.
Because she is. They did it. They fixed it.
He goes for the most generic thing to say, the kind of useless assertion that doesn't bring anything to the conversation but a very blatant, unnecessary observation. "It worked," he states breathlessly, then thinks he's maybe being too hard on himself. Observations are very important in any type of science field after all. "The anti-serum worked."
She lets out a wet, disbelieving chuckle, and he can feel the small but warm puff of air on the sensitive skin under his ear. It does something to his heart that he's not quite ready to analyze just yet. She doesn't say anything, and he knows why. He can feel her trying to catch her breath against him, and he wishes he could help with that too. She just needs time. He isn't sure how exactly he's so calm right now – breathless and trembling with exhaustion, yes, but the only thing he's feeling at the moment is the most powerful sense of relief he's ever felt in his life.
The aftershock is gonna be violent, he can already anticipate that.
But in the meantime, they're safe.
Well. As safe as humanly possible while dangling 1,500 meters above the Atlantic Ocean. So, mostly safe. There are still tons of variables to consider, tons of things that could go wrong, but he elects to not think about these. She's here, flushed against him, breathing the same air, and she's safe. The others on the bus are gonna come and get them, and that's gonna be the end of it.
Jemma.
He just needs to keep her safe for a little while longer. After all, they are suspended to a one-person parachute above the Atlantic. He knows she's a pretty good swimmer, but a 1,500-meter drop is definitely not advisable. So that's his task for now. Hanging onto her and making sure she doesn't plummet to her death again.
He cannot believe she was willing to sacrifice herself to save them all. Ah, but who is he kidding, he should have seen this coming, of course she would do something like this. She's the most caring, selfless, beautiful human-being he's ever met.
And yet. The relief warming his heart before is slowly subsiding, revealing a cold anger he wasn't aware he'd been feeling this whole time. How could she do this to him? It's unfair of him, he thinks, her heart was in the right place, but he somehow cannot stop himself from feeling this. The words come out of his mouth without him really thinking them. "What were you thinking?"
It comes out a lot more accusatory than he would ever intend, and her scoff in response is no surprise. She unwinds her arms from around his neck, just enough to be able to look at his face, and she's frowning, of course she is. Meeting her wonderfully familiar brown eyes does another something to his heart, and this time he does think about it just enough to deem it not a good idea at all to think about that specifically.
This is not good.
"What was I thinking?!" she retorts in an affronted voice, that voice he knows so well from years of hearing it. "Excuse-you, what was I supposed to do? Let you all die?!"
"Of course not!"
"For all I knew the rat was dead, Fitz–"
"Well it wasn't so–"
"Yeah I know that now," she interrupts him too, letting out a sigh. It's not born from annoyance though, more like she's embarrassed. They're so close he can witness every micro expression on her face, every shift in her eyes. She's just a breath away, their noses almost touching. His heart is pounding, and he suspects it has nothing to do with skydiving.
"Next time try not to jump too quickly to conclusions," he suggests after a beat, ignoring his dry mouth and the overwhelming feeling that something major is about to change. But maybe he's being ridiculous. Maybe he's just overthinking things again. Or maybe, just maybe, it's always been that way and he's only just now seeing it.
She laughs. She laughs at his stupid pun. She lets her head lightly drop on his shoulder, chuckling softly, and he tells himself he's only tightening his grip on her back because of her sudden movement. His hands are crunching the soft fabric of her blue sweater now. He wants to pull her even closer, and never let go. It's an irrational thought, a ridiculous one, and yet.
When she looks up again, an amused smile on her lips, his heart skips another beat. It scares him. He can't be feeling things for her, she's his best friend, this isn't right. But maybe it's just the situation. She almost died, they both did, he's just deeply relieved that it's not the case, is all. Coupled with how impossibly close to him she is right now… it makes sense. He's not being too irrational after all.
It doesn't matter that he glances down at her lips when her smile slowly fades away, and it definitely doesn't mean anything when she looks down at his lips too. They're just finding comfort in each other's closeness because they both almost died. That's it.
"You saved me."
Her voice is soft and caring, and a shiver runs up his spine. It's a simple statement, and yet it still takes his breath away for some reason. He wants to tell her she saved herself just as much as he did, that it was a team effort, that they did it like they always do, together.
He wants to tell he's pretty sure life without her wouldn't be worth it.
But the words are trapped in his chest, trapped by something in her eyes he's not sure he's ever seen before. And he's known her for years, he thought he knew her every expression, thought he'd witness all of them, thought he could name and understand them all. But this one is new. She's looking at him in a way she's never looked at him before, and he has no idea what it means, or what she's thinking.
Skye said earlier it looked like they were psychologically linked, and he must admit that sometimes he thinks so too. He knows her every tell, he can guess what she thinks from the slightest shift in her eyes, or the smallest scrunch of her nose. That's because they both think the same way, that's why they can finish each other's sentences or reasoning so often, and why they've grown so close in the years that they've known each other.
In engineering things are what they are, they don't change.
In biochemistry things are much more malleable, much more unpredictable.
She's used to adapt to things, while he isn't at all.
He's not sure any of what he's thinking makes sense at the moment. His brain is an endless swirl of erratic thoughts he can't control. He can't talk either, so he just nods and shrugs at the same time, tightening his hold on her back again. She's so close still, so desperately close, he would only have to move a couple of inches to close the distance between them. Close the distance between their lips. But he can't do that. That's not, it's not…
"Thank you," she whispers, and it's faint and shy, but he still hears it. He cannot say anything to that. Not when she's still looking at him that way, not when she's glancing at his lips again, not when she seems to ever so slightly lean forward all of a sudden. He can't move at all. He stays still, waiting, waiting for her to close the gap, waiting for her not to, he has no idea. He can't move, can't think, all he can do is wait.
Her nose brushes his, and his heart is pounding in his chest. She presses her forehead against his, her eyes fluttering to a close, and he leans into her touch, not even daring to breathe. They stay still for a second, then she moves again, slowly, deliberately, and he knows she's aiming for his lips next. His breath is caught up in his chest, his heartbeat quickening. He won't lie and say he's never imagined what kissing her would feel like. He can't believe he's about to find out.
But then there's a loud rumble above their heads, and they both instinctively look up, the moment fleeting away. Probably the bus coming back to fish them out of the water. Speaking of…
"I think we're close," Jemma tells him, and her voice is a little hesitant now. She's not looking directly at him anymore, and he can't blame her. His cheeks feel like they're burning, but hopefully she doesn't see it. "Depth perception is rendered difficult by the water but I'm pretty sure we're about to, well, land." She makes a face at the inaccuracy of what she just said, and his lips stretch in an amused smile that has her roll her eyes. "This is not gonna be easy," she adds with a serious expression, "you're gonna have to make sure–"
"–not to get tangled in the canopy or the lines, yes I know."
"I'm going to swim away from you as fast as possible, to leave you room to get rid of your harness." She stops for a second, assessing him in her most analytical gaze she has in store – he likes this one, although it's never usually directed at him. "I'm betting there's no flotation device on that thing."
"Didn't think to grab one before I jump," he admits with another amused smile.
"Well that was pretty reckless of you," she says, raising an eyebrow at him, and his mouth falls open at that.
"Well you're the one to talk!" he retorts in disbelief, ready to launch himself in a demonstration on how much more reckless she was just now, jumping off of that stupid plane without anything in the first place. But then he catches her smirk, and he lets out a sigh. The water surface is getting closer, any minute now they're gonna drop in. There will be plenty of time to bicker with her once everything is over, he thinks.
"We can do this," she says, and he knows she's telling him just as much as she's telling herself.
He catches her eyes one last time, relishing in the way her expression lightens up ever so slightly when he gives her a small smile and a nod.
"Together."