DISCLAIMER – I own nothing because life is stupid.
( you should really listen to "Vengeance" by Zack Hemsey while you read this to make it really intense )
Everything was dark.
She couldn't see anything yet for some reason, she could feel her chest heaving. Almost as if she was running. Why was she running? She couldn't remember. She knew it was important, but her memories were a blur. Why were they a blur? She heard a name being called. Was it her name? What was her name again?
Jemma Simmons.
Yes. That's right. She was Jemma Simmons. Bio-chemist. The youngest person to graduate from The Academy alongside Fitz. Leopold Fitz. Suddenly her breathing was harder. Her heart was pumping faster. Why? She heard her name again. This time, in a distinctive Scottish accent. It was Fitz. He was calling for her. Was he the reason she was running? Was he chasing her? Was he secretly HYDRA? No. She instantly ruled out the third option. He couldn't be HYDRA. But maybe HYDRA was the reason she was running.
It made sense. She was a S.H.I.E.L.D agent. They'd want to capture her. But they didn't know she was S.H.I.E.L.D was still active. They didn't know she was active. Right? Her chest was hurting quite a lot now. She should really stop. Yet, she couldn't, and she had no idea why. Everything was still so dark and she didn't know why. Why was she running? Why was this so important? Why couldn't she stop? The questions kept rolling around in her head. Gosh, her head. It was pounding. Was someone beating it in with sledgehammer? That is certainly what it felt like.
She heard her name again in that same voice with that same accent.
Why could she hear Fitz calling her? Was Skye right? Were they psychically linked? No. Of course not. That simply wasn't possible. It was most likely her subconscious trying to keep her from completely fading, trying to help her stay awake until she reached the surface. Was there really an end?
A splash of ice water woke her up.
Memories of infiltrating HYDRA and being caught mid-escape came flooding back. HYDRA had her. The conclusion was quite simple to make even if she didn't have her memories of the gunshots and adrenaline. She watched as Daniel Whitehall leaned back into his metal chair.
"It is good to have you back Dr. Simmons." he spoke smiling.
Her breath hitched as the rest of her senses kicked back in full throttle. She wasn't sitting like the old Nazi leader. She was standing, just barely, as her toes ghosted over the floor. Her wrists were chained above her head rather tightly. Her bullet wound had stopped bleeding, but the pain coming from her right shoulder was still hardly bearable. She tried to readjust her current position in hopes that the pain would lessen. It didn't. A small whine came from her lips and her shoulder and underarms burned white hot.
"I suggest minimal movement." He pushed up his glasses, smile still on his face.
"I suggest you let me go." Her voice was hoarse and scratchy, as if she hadn't spoken in days.
How long had she been out exactly?
"Now Dr. Simmons, we both know that is not an option." He was laughing now, talking to her as if they were old friends just catching up.
"It is an option." her voice came out strained, "Let me go now, and I'm sure I can cut a deal with the Director for you."
"Please my dear, the chance of deals left the table long ago."
He took off his glasses and began to clean them. She took the chance to think back to her brief Field Ops training. First, she had to take in the environment. The air was damp and heavy even though she felt a slight breeze. The room she was in was rather large, at least twice the size of the interrogation room on the Bus. There was no furniture from what she could she, besides the chair Whitehall sat in. The only source of light was a single light bulb screwed into the ceiling in between them. Only one camera on the far left side of room. One door under the camera. No windows. Alright, she knew everything and nothing all at the same time.
"If you are thinking of ways to escape, there are none."
She turned her gaze back towards him.
"This is the same facility we used to house the Winter Solider while he underwent training." His smile turned into a smirk, "I am confident you have heard of him, correct?"
Her eyes widened and he slipped his glasses back into place.
This was where they had trained the infamous Winter Soldier? Did they really think she was such an escape risk that they had to keep her in such a high security compound?
"It is not so much high risk of escape as it is more high risk of being rescued."
Her mouth opened. Did she say that out loud?
"Yes, you did."
Bloody hell.
"You should work on keeping your brain to mouth filter under control Dr. Simmons. You wouldn't want to accidently leak any secrets, would you? "
The man stood up from the metal chair and walked towards her at a passive rate, his gaze everywhere around the room with the exception of her eyes. He tapped his chin with every step.
"What was that name you kept muttering in your unconscious state?"
No.
"Tritz?"
She would not play into his hand like this.
"Litz?"
She knew this was a game to him. He just wanted to make her squirm, his eyes met hers.
"Fitz."
It wasn't so much a question as it was a statement. She flinched at the mention of the name and hoped that Whitehall would pass it off as a side effect of her current situation. He didn't.
"Yes, of course, Fitz. You two were close?" he stood a breath away from her now, "Exactly how close were you hmm?"
"I don't believe that is any of your concern." She stared at him, eyes sharp and narrow, breathing through her teeth in effort to mask her pain.
"Very close then." He took a long step back and looked her over before settling on her eyes again, "Good."
He began to walk away leaving the chair behind in the middle of the room. A question clawed at her throat. She shouldn't ask. She truly should not ask. However, she was a feminine woman that leaned towards her feline side. As they say, curiosity killed the cat.
"Is that it?"
Whitehall stopped as her placed his hand on the door knob. He turned his head in a profile position, eyebrow raised.
"I beg your pardon."
With a sharp inhale she continued, "Is that it? No threats. No torture. You're just going to leave me here."
He laughed. Not an oh-that's-funny laugh. It was a full on omg-wtf-this-brit-so-basic-like-why laugh. When he finally calmed down after about thirty seconds and wiped a single tear from the corner of his left eye, the man looked at her.
"Believe me Dr. Simmons," he opened the door, "there will be plenty of torture for you."
We walked away smiling. However, instead of closing the door behind him, he left it slightly ajar. In walked a person pushing a cart, face hidden behind the bad lighting. She supposed this was the person in charge of extracting the information Whitehall wanted out of her. Jemma could clearly identify his as someone from the male species from his tallish frame and broad shoulders. Jemma stared at him from behind as her pulled on some gloves and came to conclusion that his arse wasn't half bad, it was quite nice actually. Along with what looked like an unruly, mop of curls at the top of his head. As she continued to study him from this angle, she realized that he looked just like Fitz from the back which she deemed a complete coincidence.
She should have known better. The universe is hardly ever so lazy. So when he turned around to face her, blue eyes and all, she could've sworn her stomach had flipped ten times over. Because it was logically impossible even though there was always that 1.38% that it was true. She had done the math when S.H.I.E.L.D fell and Ward betrayed them. There was always the possibility, but the chances had been so low she had over looked them completely. Just 1.38%. Yet here he was staring her down with the same lopsided smile from their Academy days. His Scottish accent shining through as he spoke,
"'Ello Jemma."
A/N
BWAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAAHAHAHA! I am such a troll. I couldn't help it. I completely understand Riordan, Moffat, Davies, Roth, etc now. What a cliffy tho XD I really am a terrible person. Tell me what you think ;)