"Simmons."

Simmons heard Fitz's gentle voice calling to her from the door to the med bay on the Bus, but she ignored him and continued working, rushing from monitor to monitor, noting even the most minute changes in Skye's status, personally observing her through the glass of the compression chamber, checking the oxygen level, taking photographs of her wound to see if the blood had spread any more.

"Simmons," she heard again, louder this time as he approached her. She ignored him again and once again began her cycle around the room.

Monitor 1, monitor 2. Observation. Oxygen. Wound.

"Jemma!" Fitz's hand on her shoulder, on the same place where he had held her when she had broken down in the medical supply closet just a few short hours ago, halted her pacing.

"I'm very busy, Fitz!" Simmons snapped, shrugging him off. After allowing herself to fall apart in his arms, Simmons had thrown herself into observing Skye and keeping her as absolutely comfortable and well-cared for as the young scientist was capable.

"I know," he said softly, in that hushed same tone he had told her repeatedly that everything was going to be alright. "But it's time for a break."

"I can't take a break, Fitz! Skye needs me!" Simmons insisted, blinking furiously to keep the tears at bay. She could not afford another breakdown.

"I know," he repeated, ghosting his hand over her arm and leading her to a chair near Skye's bedside. "And sitting right here keeps you close, just in case you're needed. Is this okay?" He asked, pulling his chair up close to hers.

Simmons nodded reluctantly, anxiously glancing back up to Skye's monitors.

"Now. Dr. Simmons. Tell me about your patient," Fitz instructed gently.

Simmons ran a hand through her frazzled hair and took a calming breath, finally focusing on Fitz. "The patient is stable. Barely. Blood pressure is low. Pulse is very faint. But she is breathing on her own."

"So what's happening right now?"

"The patient's body is working to repair itself, so she is unconscious. There are no signs this is a coma, so she should wake up in due time... Unless she doesn't wake up at all."

"Recommended next steps?" He prompted quickly, trying to keep Simmons from going down that line of thinking.

"Get her to a medical facility. As soon as possible."

"Which we are currently en route to. I just checked with May - we should arrive in the next 30 minutes."

"Good."

"Good," Fitz echoed, smiling sweetly. "Well done, Dr. Simmons. I think you've done everything you can for right now, yeah?"

"I..." Simmons glanced back at Skye for one more long moment, then finally sagged back into her chair, Fitz's line of questioning having snapped her out of her frenzy. "Yes. I've done all I can do. The rest is up to her."

"Which is frustrating."

"Not being able to do anything? Yeah."

"Look on the bright side - when she wakes up, you'll have a drugged out Skye all to yourself. You'll get to boss her around for a change, won't that be fun?" Fitz elbowed Simmons, making her smile tiredly.

"If she wakes up."

"When."

The pair engaged in a morbid stare down until finally Fitz gave up. "Tea?" He asked, offering Simmons a cup that was still steaming. She hadn't noticed it propped along the edge of the windowsill.

"Yes, please," she accepted, immediately taking a long sip and closing her eyes, feeling some of the tension drain away.

"How are you?" She heard Fitz tentatively ask.

"Ugh, Fitz, I'm fine," she insisted, not wanting to open up the floodgates again after earlier that afternoon.

"I don't mean mentally, Jemma," Fitz responded. His voice got even softer as he leaned closer to his friend. "I know you've been busy with Skye, so... Has anyone checked on you?"

"What?" Simmons seemed genuinely confused.

"You... The dendrotoxin grenade. You were touching it when it went off - practically wrapped around it. The very definition of close range." Fitz said, his eyes haunted as he remembered.

"Oh, right," Simmons said. "No, I'm fine," she said quickly, shrugging off his concern. "Just a little sore, but I'll be fine."

"Jemma."

"What?"
"Remember, I know when you're lying."

"Well, I'm not lying about this."

"Oh, really?"

"Really."

"Then why did you react when I was hugging you earlier? You were fine and then I squeezed around your ribs and you backed away."

"I..." Simmons started, then trailed off, realizing it was useless. She gazed at Fitz for a moment, then sighed, standing. "Let's get this over with," she grumbled.

She lifted up the hem of the shirt up to the bottom edge of her bra so Fitz could see her entire stomach and half of her rib cage. Normally Fitz would blush, being eye-level with so much of her bare skin, but any excitement he felt was immediately pushed away as he saw a giant black and purple bruise spread over the entirety of her right side.

"Shit, Jemma..." He swore under his breath, lightly running his hand over the injury. She flinched at his touch.

"Sorry!" He said immediately, but still continued to run his thumb around the end of her ribs, lightly testing for broken bones.

"'s okay, it doesn't hurt," she mumbled, still shivering slightly at his touch.

Luckily, Fitz didn't seem to notice as he remained focused on his examination. "Well, it didn't break any skin, that's good."

"No, and if I hadn't been so close, I wouldn't have any injuries at all," Simmons said, her voice directed down to the top of his head. He pressed one hand to the back of her rib cage while he lightly pushed front the front with the other hand. "This - um..." Simmons stuttered, "This is only due to the force of the dendrotoxin releasing directly onto my skin."

"Which is why you were out for so long," Fitz muttered, brushing his thumb once more on the center point of the bruise and then reaching up to gently pull Simmons' shirt down. "Do you know how dangerous that was?" He asked, his tone accusing as he glared up at Simmons.

"Excuse me?" She said, surprised by his sudden change in tone.

"You. Absorbing the shock of a grenade, for God's sake!"

"What else was I supposed to do?" She asked, indignant.

Fitz stood, suddenly eye level.

"Not get yourself hurt!" He said, motioning angrily at her ribs.

"But he had a grenade!"

"EXACTLY!" Fitz practically shouted, then winced and lowered his voice as he heard it echo through the room. "A grenade, Jemma! Did you even know it was a night night version before you jumped on it? Or did you think it was real?"

"I-" Jemma started, then stopped, ducking his gaze.

Fitz's eyes went wide and he clutched his fists at his side for a moment, squeezing his lips together to keep himself from shouting at her even more. "So it's just by luck that you're not blown into a million bits right now," he confirmed, tone low but laced with fury.

"He could've hurt you and Skye," Simmons protested weakly.

"Skye would've been fine, she was farther away and had something to duck behind."

"You could've gotten hurt," Simmons tried again.

"THEN LET ME GET HURT!" Fitz shouted again, unable to control his anger. "Honestly, Jemma! Let me get hurt! Not you! Never you!" He threw up his hands in frustration and began pacing around the room.
"Hey, why do you have to be the only hero here?" Simmons asked, suddenly angry. "I can't just let you get hurt when I can do something to stop it."

"Yeah," Fitz said, stopping his pacing and whirling on her. "And I accept that, and I appreciate it. But you can't do something that'll get yourself hurt - or worse - just to keep me from injury."

"But-"

"No buts, Jemma. Never get yourself hurt for me, okay?" He stopped pacing and turned to face her, his stare intense.

"Well that's ridiculous, I'm not going to agree to that-"

"Promise me, Jemma," he insisted, his hands going on her shoulders as he held her gaze.

"Don't be absurd! I couldn't possibly make that promise! If there is anything in my power I can do to help you, of course I'm always going to -"

"Promise," Fitz said again, desperate.

"Fitz! What are you on about? Of course not! Why are you acting so insane?!" Simmons asked, staring at him as he removed his hands from her shoulders and ran them through his unkempt hair and practically growled in frustration.

"Fitz!" She called after him as he marched out of the room, passing May as she walked in.

"Bloody frustrating woman. Stupid genius," he muttered under his breath. "Agent May, can you help Doctor Simmons wrap her fractured ribs? She'll tell you she doesn't have any, but ignore her. She doesn't have the best judgement right now."

"Fitz!" Simmons yelled again, this time in disapproval. "Oh, honestly," she rolled her eyes as her partner disappeared around the corner.

May passed a wary eye between Simmons and the door Fitz had walked out of, then arched an eyebrow at the female scientist.

"I'm sorry about him, May," Simmons apologized politely. "I don't know what's gotten in to him."

May remained silent and reached for a role of medical tape, nodding at Simmons' shirt, indicating she should pull it up.

She did and May began wrapping the tape tightly around her ribs.

"He's been acting so strange lately. And just now, asking me not to ever put myself in harms way? Obviously I'm going to be careful, but it's unfair for him to expect that from me when I know he'd never hesitate if our situations were reversed."

May nodded, walking around Simmons and smoothing the end of the bandage against Simmons' back. "Men have a hard time accepting how little control they have in situations like this. They tend to act irrationally when someone they care about is in danger or hurt."

Simmons nodded thoughtfully, turning to look at Skye's unconscious face through the glass. "I suppose that's true. Until Skye wakes up, I expect everyone will be a bit on edge."

May, still standing behind Simmons, rolled her eyes. She reached up and gently pulled Simmons' shirt down to cover the bandage. Honestly, these two were getting painful to watch.