Another case, another death.

Simmons stared at the blinking cursor on her laptop screen.

Not just another death - not that any death was more or less important than the other - but this death was someone Simmons had seen as potentially being part of their team. A man she had flirted with. A man with a child.

This death felt different somehow than Dr. Hall who had died during the aftermath of the gravitonium case.

Simmons quickly wiped away the tears that kept collecting for the man she barely knew and forced herself to focus on her task at hand.

Lost in thought, Simmons didn't even hear the knock on her bunk's door. It wasn't until she could hear Fitz plainly calling at her to let him in that she snapped out of her trance.

"Oh, sorry, Fitz!" She apologized, dashing over to open the door and let her friend in.

"I was knocking for ages, Simmons. What have you got up to in here?" Fitz asked curiously, craning his head around the room for clues. He spied the laptop sitting open on her bed, "Ah ha!" He cried, smiling.

He scanned the screen and his face dropped to absolute bewilderment. "Jem," he whispered, staring at her. "Wha-"

"Oh, don't make that face at me, you Drama Queen," Simmons admonished, pulling the laptop from him and setting it on her desk, joining him on the bed. From the duo's perch they could still see the text of the open word document reading 'The Last Will and Testament of Jemma Simmons.' "You know I'm just doing what's practical - as field agents now we are constantly under serous threat, this most recent case showing that more clearly than ever. I'm just doing what must be done, should the worst happen."

Fitz gaped at her for a few moments more, then seemed to finally process your words. "You're right," he finally said, resigned. "It's just a precaution though, right?" He asked nervously.

"Of course! Oh Fitz, you don't think I'm planning to fling myself off a plane again?" Simmons said, trying to keep the tone lighthearted.

"No, course I don't... Sorry, I think I was just shocked to read that, is all."

"I initially wrote it back during my first year studying a cadaver. I try to update it from time to time, just double-check I'm still satisfied with everything."

Fitz groaned, rolling his eyes, "You WOULD be the only 13-year old on the planet to draft her own will." He laughed, reaching forward and snagging the laptop. "I suppose I should have one of these too, then? May as well see what I'm sure will be an exemplary example to get the gist of it."

He paused as he pulled the laptop onto his lap, half expecting Simmons to protest and pull it away from him. He had a strange sense of satisfaction when she didn't react at all - he never took their closeness for granted.

"Let's see here, shall we? 'I, Jemma Simmons, being of sound body and mind,' well that's debatable," he interjected, laughing at her dirty look, "'Do hereby declare this to be my last will and testament.'"

He scanned the first few paragraphs with all the standard lego mumbo jumbo that Simmons had of course translated flawlessly into her own document.

It was immediately following that that Fitz shifted uncomfortably, glancing at Simmons to double-confirm she was fine with him reading it. Simmons wasn't materialistic, but the few things she did value she absolutely cherished. Reading a list of all of her precious possessions - the necklace her parents had given her for graduation, her framed first patent - methodically categorized and assigned to someone else was proving very difficult for him to do. It really drove home the realization that if any of this came to pass, it was because Simmons was dead.

Simmons must've felt his mood shift because she gently lay her hand on his arm. "Fitz, it's just a precaution. I have no intention of going anywhere."

Fitz just nodded, and tried to take those words to heart. He continued skimming, seeing his name pop up a few places, touched she would think to bequeath to him her first lab kit, the authentic, handwritten sample of Marie Curie's work that he had somehow miraculously managed to acquire for her on her 18th birthday, even the stuffed monkey he got her to sleep with at the Academy when she was feeling particularly homesick. For some reason, those few items were the one that made his insides tighten, knowing that she loved those gifts he had given her so much.

Clicking onto the next page, Fitz's eyes lit up "Of course!" He muttered, reading intently now as he recognized every word on the page. "Our work!"

"Of course I have to account for our work, Fitz!" Simmons admonished, and though he still hadn't looked up from the paper, Fitz could practically hear her rolling her eyes.

"Well, excuse me for not having been demented enough to plan out my own funeral," Fitz teased lightly, scrolling through even more pages of their work, impressed but not at all surprised by how well-documented it was.

"I haven't planned my funeral, Fitz, I-"

"I know, I'm just teasin."

"Well, I had to include our work. We have so made so many contributions to science that really aren't finished. In the event that you are unable to complete the work on your own, I'd like to leave our incomplete work to people we really, truly trust to finish the job correctly."

Fitz hummed in agreement, noticing numerous familiar names from their time at the Academy, a few very high-level SHIELD operatives, and even a few Nobel Prize winners listed as beneficiaries of their various unfinished projects.

"These are just people you suggest I collaborate with if I can't finish on my own?" He asked.

"That's right."

Having reached the end of the will, Fitz silently clicked the print button and shut the laptop, setting it down beside them on the bed as he rose to fetch the documents.

"Fitz?" Jemma asked, confused.

He swiped a black pen from her desk and handed her the sheets and paper, "Looks like you're all done! You know you have to have a paper copy and a witness, you know," he looked at her pointedly.

"I know that, Fitz," Jemma said, sticking her tongue at him for half a second before grabbing the pen and paper from his hands and signing the last page with a flourish.

Fitz grinned, realizing how long it had been since she'd done that. Since before the Chitauri incident, he knew that much for sure.

Finished signing, Simmons sighed and walked to her desk, bending over to unlock the safe in the bottom drawer.

"Wait a sec," Fitz said, reaching his hand out and beckoning for the paper, "Where do I sign?"

"What?" Simmons looked utterly confused.

"Well, all of the work listed on there is half mine, too, right? Shouldn't I sign saying I agree with their bequeathment, or however you put it?"

Simmons stared at him, realization dawning in her eyes. "Well, yes, of course, I'm sorry!" She immediately handed him the papers. "I don't know why I didn't ask you in the first place - I guess I just assumed you would agree."

"Well, you were right as usual, Simmons," Fitz said as he signed his name and handed the sheets back to his partner. "I do."

Fitz sighed, standing to go. "Sorry - didn't mean to get so sidetracked," he apologized, grabbing one of his electrical tools from the edge of Simmons desk and heading out. "I just meant to come pick this up - I knew I left it in here."

"Fitz!"

Simmons' voice stopped the scientist and he turned, poking his head back in the room. "Yes?"

"Let me know if you need any pointers writing your own," Simmons said, nodding at the Will stacked neatly in front of her. "I know you hate this sort of thing."

Fitz shrugged, "Thanks, but I don't think I need to write one."

"Fitz! We discussed this!" Jemma protested. "I know it's unpleasant, but it's necessary. What happens if something happens to you? Who gets all your valuables?"

Fitz sighed, leaning against the open door frame and crossing his arms. "Must we do this?"

"Yes!"

He sighed again, "Fine. Simmons, I don't need a Will. Because, as you well know, I don't really have any valuables, and you have very nicely just accounted for everything I have that truly matters anyway, my work. If it comes down to it, just split everything of mine with my ma. You get everything science related, she gets everything baby picture related, you can split what's left. But really, can we just use yours as a joint Will? That's what would be best."

"What? Of course not!"

"Why not?"

"Well.. I need… I need more specifics. How am I to split things up with your mother? Do you have anything you'd want to make sure to leave for friends from school? You'll notice that I was very specific in how you were to make sure my possessions were split among my friends and family."

Fitz shook his head, "Yes, and it is all very well organized, Simmons, but really, I think you'd be better walking Coulson or Skye through all this than me."

Simmons stared at him, shocked. "Would you not want to be involved with my funeral?"

At that, Fitz burst out into a bitter laugh, a cloud passing over his face Simmons had never seen before. "Oh, please, Jemma, let's be honest. If you're dead, I'm already long gone. There is no possible scenario in which we are in a life-or-death situation and you aren't the one that gets out alive. That would never happen. I will never let that happen."

SImmons looked confused, "Why? Fitz, I assure you, you're much more capable in the field than you realize. No, you may not have the physical prowess of Ward or May, but you are certainly every bit of capable of getting out of a tight spot! Why, you just proved that on your mission with Ward!" She said, beaming at him.

Fitz smiled sadly at Simmons, ever his cheerleader. Best not to ruin the moment and clear up her misunderstanding at his comment. "Yeah… I suppose you're right."