Lost At Sea
"Everything can change at any moment, suddenly and forever."
Chapter One
Beyond the Waves
"His heart's still beating… just barely."
Fury's words echoed over and over in Simmons' head, mimicking a broken record, as she stared at the door ahead of her. Fitz's door. Ever since she had awoken on Fury's jet, she had wanted nothing more than to see him. To see Fitz. It hadn't been as immediate a reunion as she had expected. To begin with, she had been stuck in her own decompression chamber for what felt like a lifetime though, in truth, she was utterly clueless as to how long she had lay awake in there for. Decompression had then been followed by her own medical check-up, then by the revelation that Koenig was alive, quickly followed by an explanation that Koenig wasn't the Koenig that she thought he was.
In a daze throughout the entire process, Simmons still wasn't clear on just what was going on with the entire Koenig situation, but it didn't matter. She didn't care, not in that moment at least.
After what she had endured, all she could think about, all she could focus on, all she could care about was seeing Fitz.
Finally, she was within a few feet of him.
One simple, unlocked door remained the one thing standing between them and yet, she couldn't bring herself to open it.
She remained fixed to the spot, her arms down by her side and her eyes staring absent-mindedly at the door. Her mind wandered to the last time she had seen him, when they were stranded at sea, when she was desperately clinging onto his unresponsive body and fighting with all her might to keep them both afloat. He hadn't been breathing, all the oxygen knocked out of him the moment he had pressed that bloody button, but there had never been a chance of her letting him go. All she'd been focused on in that moment was finding a way to get them both out of the water.
They had gotten out of the water, but she hadn't been the one who got them out. It had Fitz. The hour he'd spent rigging the EKG to send out the faintest of distress calls was the only reason Fury had found them. It was all Fitz. If it weren't for him, they'd both be lost at sea.
Instead, they had both made it to the latest in a line of Fury's own personal secret bases and she was left fighting to muster up the courage to visit Fitz. She had been up on feet the very instant that Koenig confirmed she was cleared to see him; she didn't need telling twice. Her enthusiasm had been crushed, however, by one of Fitz's nurses who had caught her right as she was reaching for the door handle, providing Simmons with an update which destroyed her eagerness to see him.
It was bad enough hearing that her best friend was dependant upon a ventilator to breathe – that statement alone had taken the breath straight out of her – but the news had only worsened from there. The sentence which had followed was the one which had utterly thrown her.
Coma.
Fitz was in a coma. At first, she had thought it was a joke. Fitz was so full of life, there was no way he, of all people, could be in a coma. She had even laughed at the suggestion, dismissing it instantly. The nurse hadn't shared her amusement. He maintained the same apologetic facial expression, waiting patiently for the news to sink in as her own laughter subsided into a nervous chuckle and then cut out completely. The gravity of the situation crashed down on her as did, it felt, the entire world.
She hadn't moved since.
As much as she wanted to squeeze her eyes shut and open them again to find it had all been a horrendous nightmare, Simmons knew she had to face reality. The grim reality was that she had been in a state of denial since Fury had left her alone with her own thoughts in that chamber. She's allowed herself to believe that she could just waltz into Fitz's room, and nothing would have changed. Like they could pick up where they had left off on a project, and that would be the end of that ordeal.
But reality was far harsher and far more consequential than she had allowed it to be in her head. She needed to face the painful truth that her best friend was on the other side of the door fighting for his life. A life he had been so willing to sacrifice for her. As hard as it would be to see him in the condition that had been described to her, as much as a huge part of her just wanted to turn and run from reality, she had to be there for him. For everything he had done, it was the least he deserved.
Her eyes hardened in determination as she collected her thoughts. She pushed the door open in one quick, swift move. She stepped forward, into a room full of machines, letting the door swing shut behind her. There was no going back.
It wasn't unusual for Fitz to be surrounded by machines. All things machines and electronics were practically his second home. They had always acted as an escape for him; when things got too much, he would find comfort in his work. But there was nothing homely or comfortable about the machines in that room. They were machines Fitz was relying on to stay hydrated, to access nutrients, to breathe.
To survive.
It was all so wrong.
So undeniably wrong.
The thick ventilator tube around his mouth looked completely unnatural and a plethora of wires and lines seemed to swarm him, tangling him up in their web. The steady beep of the heart monitor machine he was hooked up to was both comforting and utterly terrifying at the same time. She was on edge just listening to it. The possibility of it suddenly flatlining, and that dreaded long beep filling the room, permanently rested at the forefront of her mind, only increasing her apprehension as she crept closer towards her best friend.
The Fitz laid unconscious on the bed before her looked almost unrecognisable to the Fitz she had known for the last ten years. He had always been pale, but he was impossibly paler, nearly blending in with the sterile white sheets of his bed. He looked so helpless, so vulnerable, and so drained of life.
Standing there, beside his bed, she felt like a total fraud. They'd both been dropped into the bottom of the ocean and yet she had gotten away with barely a scratch, whilst he was barely clinging onto life. If anyone deserved to come away practically unscathed, it was Fitz, not her. He was the one who had saved them, and she was the one responsible for putting them both in that position in the first place.
"No."
"What do you 'no'?" Simmons gaped back at him in disbelief, not quite believing what she was hearing.
"What do you think I mean?" Fitz shot back at her, his hands waving dismissively to match with the tone of his word. "I mean no chance, no way, a thousand times no."
"You want to say no to the Agent Coulson?" Simmons questioned him, searching for clarification.
"The Agent-" Fitz cut himself off in exasperation, his blue eyes boggling at her, as his thumb jerked at the door they had come through. It was the very door Agent Coulson was waiting outside as they underwent their hissed discussion. "Just a few minutes ago you were telling me, 'Don't be weird, he's just an agent."
Simmons rolled her eyes at the frankly inaccurate voice he always put on when he imitated her. She folded her arms, "You know that sounds nothing like me."
"Yes, it does," was Fitz's immediate indignant response. "That's not even the point! You've had one conversation with Agent Coulson and now you're jumping at the chance to join the world of combat drills and marching and-"
"Oh, that's ridiculous, Fitz!"
"-you were so drawn in that you were about to accept-"
"We're talking about joining a field team-"
"-without even talking this through with me!"
"-not about attending Operations!"
A short silence followed once they stopped talking over each other before Fitz let out an exasperated, "Where do you think all the others on this team are going to come from? All gung-ho, shoot first and ask questions later."
"If you're worried about fitting in-"
"I'm not!" Fitz interjected her quickly, seemingly not appreciating that suggestion. "I'm not. Although, since you brought it up, we're not going to fit in. We're scientists. Science is logical and methodical and there's an order to it. There's no order to the work they do out in the field."
"They refer to it as operations because there's intelligence gathering and strategy planning at work," Simmons countered. "It's not just running in guns blazing. There are plans which are formed and enacted."
"Plans go out of the window ninety-nine percent of the time."
"Since when were you such an expert on field operations?"
"Oh, there are far too many uncontrollable external variables for plans to go down without a hitch!" Fitz maintained. His thumb once again jerked towards the door, outside of which Agent Coulson continued to wait patiently, his back to them. "Do you think Agent Coulson planned on getting stabbed through the heart by an Asgardian God? Only yesterday, we believed he was dead. Most of the world still believe that."
"But he isn't dead. And it's not like he's asking us to join the Avenger and tackle world-ending threats," Simmons argued. "I mean really, the probability of us meeting an Asgardian, let along being stabbed by one, is extremely low."
"Oh, that's alright then!" Fitz shot back sarcastically.
"There's actually a much higher probability of us getting caught in a chemical explosion in the lab," Simmons continued during which Fitz let out a frustrated groan.
"That's not what I… I'm worried that we-" Fitz struggled to gather his thoughts enough to piece a complete sentence together. He momentarily glanced up at the ceiling, taking a moment to compose his thoughts, before trying again. When he spoke once more, there was less frustration in his voice; it was softer, more vulnerable, "Why do you want to join his team so badly? We've got a good thing going for us here. At least I thought we did, but you seem so keen to change everything."
"Not everything," Simmons insisted, though she could tell from the slight tilt of his head and the furrow in his brow that he didn't believe her. "We'll still work together, and we'll be in a lab together. The only difference is that it will be mobile."
"How's that any better than our current set-up?" Fitz questioned her, sounding utterly baffled by her openness to change.
"Don't you see? It's a chance for us to do exactly what we do now whilst also getting to see the difference that S.H.I.E.L.D has on the world first-hand," Simmons argued passionately. "And, speaking of which, it's the most perfect opportunity for us to see the world! We'd be utter fools to pass this one up."
"There's no talking you out of this, is there?" Fitz realised.
"It's a remarkable opportunity. These don't come around often," Simmons urged him. "And you'll have direct access to a field team to test and report back on your various prototypes…"
She dangled the idea for him, a small smile creeping onto her face when she saw his blue eyes light up at that thought. He was always complaining about how long it took to get any decent feedback on necessary modifications.
"Oh, what the hell, let's do this!" Fitz finally agreed, prompting Simmons' smile to grow into an excited grin.
"Yes! Yes! Yes!" an overjoyed Simmons excitedly engulfed him, wrapping her arms around her unsuspecting lab partner. "You won't regret this!"
"Oh, no, there will definitely come a moment when we will both regret this decision."
Simmons had called him a pessimist at the time, to which he had argued that he was a realist. Pessimist or realist, it didn't matter. Ultimately, he had been right. Of course. He was always right. She hadn't taken his warning seriously at the time. She'd waved it off, too caught up in the prospect of working on a field team with Coulson, and all the fantastic opportunities they would gain from it. She'd never given the danger involved much thought, not until she had been infected by the Chitauri virus and, even then, she had shrugged it off because it had been her life at risk.
As she took in Fitz's condition before her, the regret seeped through her, just as he once said it would. He'd tried to warn her of the dangers, but she had barely even given him the chance to, too determined to get him to see what an incredible opportunity they'd been presented with. If only she'd taken the time to take a step back, to listen to him, he would be alright. They never would have met Ward and they would never have ended up in that pod at the bottom of the bloody ocean.
"The last thing I want is for things to change."
It was something Fitz had said to her only four days ago, yet it already felt like a lifetime had passed. When Coulson had first come to them with the offer to join his field team, she had mistaken Fitz's concern of the dangers for his typical avoidance of change. She always tried to encourage him to embrace changes and to consider the multiple doors that change could open up for him. She never considered the possibility that the change in their working environment would lead to Fitz fighting for his life in a comatose state.
She had never quite been able to understand his aversion to change. She accepted it, she helped him through his anxiousness towards change, but she had never quite experienced that feeling towards change herself. Suddenly, however, faced with a potential future in which Fitz was not a part of it, she utterly despised change. The lab set-up they'd had back at Sci-Ops had been more than perfect and they had been making regular breakthroughs together. There had been no need for her to go chasing after change.
And yet she'd pushed for it and pushed him into it. She changed their entire lives, thinking at the time she was doing them both a favour by pushing them both out of their comfort zones. How outrageously wrong she'd been, and now Fitz was paying the price for it.
Her thoughts were disrupted by the sound of the door opening and closing behind her, making her jump. She'd been so caught up in her own thoughts, in Fitz, that she had forgotten about the world around them. Her world was falling apart around her, and yet, the world went on.
The new presence in the room was Fitz's doctor, a middle-aged man, who introduced himself to her and went on to talk about Fitz's condition. None of it processed, none of it went in. She was numb to it all, her gazed fixed on Fitz and barely even acknowledging the doctor.
His doctor seemed to pick up on this before Simmons was even aware of it, for she only realised that she had all but ignored him when he suddenly appeared in front of her, holding out a glass of water. A comforting hand was placed on her shoulder as he pressed the glass of water into her own hand.
"You need to drink," the doctor told her gently as he guided her hand towards her mouth, prompting her to drink. It was the first sentence the doctor had spoken that she actually processed, and she picked up on his Welsh accent for the first time. "And you need some rest."
"No. I'm not leaving him," she shook her head adamantly, her own voice sounding hoarse and foreign to her.
Fitz wouldn't leave her. If the tables were turned, if she was in his position, he would stay with her, just as he had stuck with her when she had caught the Chitauri virus. He more than deserved the same from her. Even though deep down she wanted so badly to run away, to block it all out, pretend none of it was happening, she knew she couldn't bring herself to do it. She knew she would never forgive herself if she left him all alone.
"You don't have to," the doctor assured her.
He took her hand and guided her gently over to a chair placed right beside Fitz's bed. She hadn't even spotted it there, too focused on the bed, too focused on Fitz, to pay attention to the rest of the room. She took the seat without argument.
"You can stay but make sure you get some rest," the doctor told her. "Exhausting yourself won't help him."
He continued to prompt her to drink the water whilst carrying out checks on Fitz's condition. By the time he had completed his check-up, he had successfully coaxed her into drinking the entirety of the glass of water. He left Fitz's side, taking the cup from her. Within a few seconds, the cup was returned to her, full once again, before the doctor left the two scientists on their own once more.
Alone again, Simmons leaned forward placing both her hands around his right hand, gripping on tightly. Just like back in the middle of the ocean, she wasn't planning on letting go anytime soon, not of his hand, nor of him in general.
"You have to fight this, Fitz," she urged him. "You can fight this. I'm here for you, the same way you were when my life was at risk from that Chitauri virus. You gave me hope when I had none, it's time I did the same for you. You will get through this and I'm going to be right here with you the entire time because we've been beside each other ever since the academy and Grant Ward will not be the one to change that."