'So we wait and watch. That's it?' Fitz asked suspiciously, his eyes narrowed as he scrutinised May's expression for any hint of foul play.

But May, as usual, was unreadable. 'That's right. It's called a stakeout. I'll be on the comms.' She turned on her heel and headed back to the quinjet.

Fitz locked eyes with Jemma, trying to gauge if she believed May and this was really a simple stakeout exercise. Jemma shrugged and shuffled a little in the long grass, trying to get comfortable.

May had flown them out in the quinjet at the crack of dawn. They'd spent much of the flight catching up on sleep, until they landed in the middle of a grassy field just before 10. May had arranged a set of camouflage uniform and a pair of binoculars for each of them, and directed them to their hiding place: a slight dip in the grassy landscape where the natural contours of the landscape and their camouflage uniforms would be sufficient to conceal them.

They were to monitor the building about five hundred metres away and take note of vehicles entering or leaving. It was a military base of some sort, and Fitz could make out half a dozen armed guards. He fingered his I.C.E.R nervously, even as he rationalised that it would be highly unlikely for any of those soldiers to wander out this far for no apparent reason and just happen to stumble across two SHIELD operatives on an unwarranted training exercise (he assumed May hadn't got diplomatic approval; he didn't even know what country they were in).

Fitz's nerves must have shown, because Jemma reached over and placed a hand on his wrist to stop it from shaking. He hadn't even realised he was shaking.

'Just relax, Fitz,' she said softly, flashing him one of those gentle smiles that never failed to instantly put him at ease. 'We'll be here a while.'

Fitz nodded and smiled back, suddenly feeling much better.

The first hour passed with very little excitement. They reported a single truck entering the compound during that time, to which May merely responded 'Roger that.' Fitz was beginning to feel restless and his muscles were aching from the lack of movement. He shifted a little, but the movement made the long grass shuffle and although it was just a soft rustle in the wind, to Fitz it seemed deafeningly loud.

Beside him, Jemma seemed to be faring much better. She shifted slightly every few minutes, but on the whole seemed to be quite relaxed. Maybe it was because she was 23 days younger than him, and enjoyed the advantage of youth. Or maybe it was her biology training, honing her muscles to become used to hours sitting still in front of a microscope.

'Fitz,' Jemma whispered. Her hand was on his wrist again. 'You need to relax. Otherwise your muscles will stiffen up and you'll be in pain.'

'Too late for that,' Fitz grunted miserably. He eased himself into a slightly more comfortable position and went back to designing Coulson's new arm in his mind.

The next event of note was that same vehicle leaving the compound, which didn't occur until around 5 pm. The sky was darkening rapidly now, hues of purple and gold streaking the sky. Clouds were also beginning to settle in, and Fitz fervently hoped that it wouldn't begin to rain. This exercise was uncomfortable enough as it is.

Maybe he jinxed it, because at exactly 1824 h according to Fitz's watch, the heavens opened and the rain poured down in earnest. Within minutes, both of them were soaked and shivering. The visibility was awful too, and between the rain and the dark, neither of them could see anything of the compound.

'Did- May- say- how- long- we'd- be h-here?' Jemma asked through chattering teeth.

'Course she didn't,' Fitz grumbled. He shuffled closer and grabbed Jemma's hands. They were ice-cold to touch, even though he himself couldn't have been very warm.

Fitz pulled Jemma closer to him and reached his arms around. 'You're freezing, Jemma,' he observed, his stomach beginning to churn with worry. All thoughts of being discovered by foreign soldiers had completely vanished, and he was now consumed by the rising panic that Jemma could be catching hypothermia and there was nothing he could do about it.

Jemma didn't answer, but tried to bury herself deeper in Fitz's warm embrace.

'May, if you're there, we'd really like you to come get us now,' Fitz said into his earpiece, his tone as sharp as acid.

Suddenly, a large gust of wind blew across them, causing Jemma to shiver even more violently. Fitz tightened his grip on her and tried to cover her with his body, shielding her from the blizzard.

But it wasn't a crazy weather pattern. It was the quinjet, landing barely fifty metres away from there. The ramp lowered, and Fitz hurriedly pulled Jemma to her feet and dragged her towards the quinjet.

May was waiting with towels and clean clothes. To their surprise, she was looking rather apologetic.

'Didn't realise it would rain so suddenly,' she muttered, tossing the towels over them. 'I'll get us in the air.'

May returned to the cockpit, leaving the other two to dry off as well as they could. Wordlessly, they turned away from each other so that they could change into dry clothes.

Ten minutes later, Fitz had Jemma leaning against him, half-supported by her seatbelt and half-supported by Fitz's shoulder. She was half-asleep, apparently exhausted by the day's activity, or lack thereof. She was still freezing to touch, but no longer shivering. A pile of soaked camouflage clothes lay discarded in the corner.

Fitz was just wondering whether he should be worried about Jemma's semiconscious state when May emerged from the cockpit, evidently having set the quinjet to autopilot. She took one look at Jemma's pale face, then began rummaging in the supplies cabinet until she found what she was looking for: a space blanket.

'Put it over her,' she instructed, passing it to Fitz.

Fitz obeyed, wrapping Jemma in the blanket, and she murmured appreciatively, eyes still closed. Fitz looked up at May, and was surprised to see her expression soft and almost...motherly.

'We'll be there soon,' May said. 'Then you two can have a hot shower.' When Fitz continued to look uncertain, May added. 'She'll be okay.'

True to her word, as soon as they landed, May hurried them out of the quinjet and back into the base. Jemma was looking much better now. Fully awake, she had shed the space blanket and instead opted to huddle against Fitz for warmth. They stumbled out of the hangar and made a beeline for their bedroom where they retrieved clean clothes so that they could shower.

Half an hour later, Fitz lay in a warm, soft bed, one arm resting around Jemma's shoulders as she lay her head against his chest.

'Do you think we passed today?' Jemma murmured, and Fitz rolled his eyes. Never mind half-freezing to death, of course she was worried about passing the test.

'Definitely,' Fitz answered. 'We did everything she asked us to do. I don't think she meant to leave us in the rain either.' His earlier annoyance with May had evaporated when he saw the motherly concern in her eyes, back in the quinjet.

'I know,' said Jemma with a sigh. 'She really means well, you know. Wants to keep us safe.'

'I know, Jemma. Let's get some rest, then we can spend the weekend planning. Next week, it's our turn.'