A/N

On Wednesdays we wear pink ;) jk I think I own one pink shirt and it's not even a pink shirt it's black with pink/fuchsia polka dots. Anyway, thank you so much for your reviews! They inspire me to go on. Sorry about the lateish update, this week was hectic with all the summer intensive auditions *rubs back of neck nervously* so yeah. Enjoy!

DISCLAIMER – If I did own AoS there would be a whole separate show just for Fitzsimmons, and since there isn't it's pretty obvious that I own nothing except my genius plot.

3 days.

8 hours.

47 minutes.

12...

13...

14...

Fitz slammed his fist into the metal lab table. His rage clouding his nerves so much, he didn't realize his knuckles had crushed a few slides and were dripping blood until one of the assistants offered to bandage it. He glared at the young man. Jemma used to patch him up whenever he did something stupid like this. She knew just what to say to make him ignore the burn of alcohol on his skin. She knew just how to wrap the gauze so that it wouldn't get in the way of his tinkering and building. This stranger didn't know. He couldn't know. But the words wouldn't come out to explain the situation so he just stared at the young man even harder making the trainee lower his head and mumble an apology before leaving the lab. Now he was alone. It seemed everyone left him eventually.

"Hey Turbo."

Mack. Mack was good. He was here with him. Not alone. That was good. If he's alone... only the Lord knows what he would do if the stress got to him while he was alone.

"Anything new?" He asked his tone happy as always.

He wasn't very fazed when he found out that Simmons had been taken. Then again, he never had the chance to meet her before she...

Fitz hunched over the counter, elbows on the white marble, palms rubbing his eyes while he shook his head.

"What the hell man!"

Fitz looked up at his friend, eyebrows furrowed at his tone, mouth open to ask what had happened. It wasn't until he saw Mack reaching for the first aid kit that he remembered his hand was still bleeding.

"You've gotta stop doin this." The man spoke as he cleaned the engineer's wound, "I know you're frustrated but-"

"I'm not frustrated!" His jaw tightened.

He started shaking his head and tapping his foot not meeting Mack's gaze as he finished cleaning his cuts. He hated it when people just assumed things about him. Frustration wasn't the word for what he was feeling, it was something else. But he couldn't remember. The Scot ran his fingers through his hair, his foot tapping getting quicker as he searched his brain for the right letters to put together.

"I'm just- I can't- it's- " he groaned burying his face in his good hand.

Why were words so difficult when he needed them most? By this time, Mack had finished bandaging his injuries. He couldn't help but notice how it's form wasn't as effective and clean as Jemma's. Dear God, Jemma. He felt his stomach drop to ground and his head begin to spin. He paced while ruffling his hair. His fellow engineer just stood off watching him. He knew well enough to give Fitz space when he was trying to find the right word. But that was the problem. There was no right word to describe how he was feeling. It was too much.

Rage.

Sadness.

Pain.

"Guilt." What was supposed to be a small whisper came out as a growl, he threw the test tubes and papers onto the floor with a loud crash.

"Hey!" His friend took him firmly by the elbow, forcing him to meet his gaze, "Calm down!"

"It's my fault! She- Simmons was cap- she was," he waved his left hand in the air, "taken by HYDRA and, and it's all my fault!" He yelled.

"Okay, you've totally lost it now. How does that even make sense?" Mack asked loosening his grip on Fitz's arm.

"If- if I hadn't, if I would've stayed just quiet and not- and not have said the thing, my feelings, she would still be here, safe."

Fitz absolutely detested crying. He did not like it one bit. There were very few things that could move him to tears, and Jemma Simmons topped everything on that small list. He blinked back the water that was threatening to fall, trying to keep up the strong facade he had been playing for the past few days.

"Are you serious?"

Fitz's eyed widened as he saw Tripp walk up behind Mack. He shook himself free from Mack's hold, "If I- "

"Stop." He put a hand on the other engineers shoulder, "You wanna play the 'what if' game? What if Ward would've shot her on site? Would that be your fault? What if you two had never been in that pod? Would she know how you feel about her? I can go on all day if you want me too." He sighed, his hard gaze softening.

"My grandfather used to say that the darkest nights bring the brightest mornings."

Mack nodded in agreement.

"The average kidnapping victim only lasts 48 to 72 hours." Fitz's stare narrowed at the men before him as he clenched and unclenched his fists.

Statistically, he knew. He knew better than anyone else that her chances of getting out alive were about 8.37%, getting out unharmed had about a 1.09% chance. Yet, that didn't stop him from hoping for the 1.09%. That small number was the only thing keeping him sane at the moment. Because the Lord knows that if HYDRA has so much as picked a hair from her head, he would hunt down every one of those bloody bastards and have their heads for hurting his Jemma.

"She's a tough cookie."

Fitz looked back over his shoulder to see Mei leaning on the lab doors.

"She'll make it." The woman nodded before leaving up the stairs.

It occurred to him that this was the first time he'd seen Mei outside of the cockpit since Coulson had given them the news.

"We will find her." The look on Tripp's face was full on drive and determination.

"No doubt about it." Mack placed his hand on the young engineer's shoulder.

Fitz looked between both men, "We have to."

In that moment the Scot silently excused himself from his fellow agents. He made his way to kitchen in hopes that a cup of tea would help calm him. But all he could think about was what they would do to her every second of every minute of every hour of every day until he found her.

The walk to the kitchen was relatively short. It would've taken him no less than a minute or two to get there. So it was safe to say that he had taken a major detour. See, to get to the kitchen you had to pass by Vault D. Supposedly, the room was simply used for storage. But even with his brain damage Fitz wasn't stupid enough to but that lie. What kind of storage room needed three different locks? Seeing Skye slip out of there just made his curiosity levels rise.

Just as the door closed, the Scot slipped through. It was obvious that this was not a storage room. He placed his hand on the railing and made his was down the stairs only to find an empty chair, a tablet, and a white screen. His eyebrows furrowed. What could they possibly be hiding? With a few stokes on tablet the white vanished and he felt like he was drowning all over again.

"Fitz."

No. No this wasn't real. Coulson wouldn't do that to him, to the team. Skye just came out here. Did she know? Did she know about the monster that was under their feet and not tell him?

"Look I know that-"

"SHUT UP!"

If you would've told him a year ago that he would be screaming at Grant Ward telling him to keep quiet, he would've given you a very lengthy explanation about how he was very attached to all of his limbs and therefore yelling at one of the top Field Ops agents was not a possibility. Yet, that is exactly what he had just done.

His breathing became ragged and uneven. The Scot ran his fingers through his hair like a mad man, pacing back and forth, stealing glances at him.

"You- do you- did they tell you?"

The ex-agent just raised a brow.

"The um- the oxygen didn't uh-" his gaze fell on the tablet in his hands, "um maybe I should ah- I should just show you yeah?"

He typed in a few commands then looked up just in time to see Ward's eyes become the size of saucers. Now it was his breathing that was ragged and uneven as much as he tried to control it.

"Fitz-"

"My uh- brain went too long without oxygen. So I had to- I had to re- relearn, a lot." He watched as the person he looked up to like a big brother sat down on his bed, his face gaining a slightly pink color, "But um- my hands, they don't- they don't work like they- like before."

"Please Fitz-"

Ward thought begging would help him? Begging didn't help Simmons and him when he threw them off the Bus. The engineer locked his jaw, his hard gaze unwavering.

"But it wasn't enough yeah? You bloody bastards- you couldn't settle with me. You- you had to, you just had to take," He inhaled deeply in effort to slow down his heart rate, "her."

"Je-"

"Don't you dare." Fitz hovered his fingers over the tablet.

Ward put a hand up in surrender and pointed to himself with other, "Help." His word coming out more as a gasp than anything.

"You want me to help you?" His bottled up rage tittering over the edge of explosion.

The man in question shook his head in disagreement. He pointed to himself again, "Simmons. Help."

"You can help us find Simmons?" He lifted an eyebrow.

Ward's face completely red at this point and slightly purple. He nodded ferociously, but he could be bluffing. Then again, he could be telling the truth. He was HYDRA after all, maybe he knew where they took their prisoners. Fitz knew that if he wanted the information he had 27 seconds before the damage would be irreversible. He should let him suffocate. 20 seconds. He deserved the pain he was going through and so much more. 14 seconds. The chance of him lying were about 72.64%. 5 seconds.

He typed in a command and the oxygen in the chamber began to flow again. The ex-agent took several deep breaths never breaking his gaze from the engineers.

"If you lie to me," Fitz stood as close as he could to the barrier, "there isn't a force in the universe that'll stop me from killing you."

And he knows that Ward believes him. The way he's still out of breath, hunched over, eyes wide, nodding.

"Rio."

Yeah….. I originally planned to end it with Fitz leaving the lab but I got inspired to be extra trolly. You're welcome.