A/N: Sorry that I've been gone for a while...school has been a little crazy for me lately! Anyway, I'm back with the next chapter =).

Enjoy!


She remembers.

It was always the inconsequential things that reminded her, things that should have no effect on her, but somehow still do.

Today, it was his arms.

"What do you even do all day? Work out?" That was the first thing she had said to him that wasn't confrontational or full of anguish since she had discovered that he was a Hydra agent. It felt wrong, but familiar. Like their relationship used to be.

Ward was in his cell, doing push-ups, the movement smooth and easy. He wasn't even breathing hard. "Not much else to do," he replied with a faint grunt, pushing himself off the ground and onto his feet. His arms flexed with the effort, showing well-defined muscles. "I'm glad you came back."

She stared at him, saying nothing.

"I didn't want to leave things the way we did last time," he continued, approaching the barrier.

She flinched back as he neared, trusting that the barrier would hold but at the same time wishing that she could see evidence that it was there. "Jemma, please listen to me."

"Stop calling me that," she forced out, trying to keep her tears at bay this time.

"It's your name," he pointed out with a slight smile, the smile that she used to love.

"Agent Simmons, to you." Her voice trembled, but only slightly.

He shook his head. "Too formal."

"Appropriate for the situation, then."

"This isn't what I want for us, Jemma. Is there any way we could-"

"-forget that you are an insane murderer and still be together?" she finished hotly. "No, I think that is out of the question."

He chuckled, but the sound was full of pain. "I figured. So, why are you here?"

She bit her lip and looked down. "I don't know." It was hard to admit that to him - it felt too vulnerable, too much like their relationship had been.

"You're not over me. And that kills you."

"You don't know anything."

"I know you. Better than you know yourself, sometimes."

Jemma didn't know what she had expected to accomplish by coming, but it was just hurting more than she could handle.

She couldn't cry in front of him. Not again.

As she left, she saw him resume his push-ups.

"You're arms are huge," she muttered absentmindedly as she dabbed at the blood clotting on his bicep gently with a damp rag. "Impressively huge."

Grant chuckled despite the pain he must be in from his bullet wound. "You sure know how to make a guy feel better," he joked, then winced as she applied a little more pressure to his fresh injury. "Ow."

"Sorry," she immediately apologized. "I didn't realize that you could actually feel pain."

"Or anything, right?" he asked, his tone suddenly much more serious.

"I-"

"It's okay - everyone thinks that," he continued. "But I'm human too."

"I never said you weren't."

"But you want proof."

Jemma wouldn't admit it, but there was a part of her that didn't really believe that Grant could actually experience emotions similar to hers - he just seemed so stoic and calm all the time. Emotions were a luxury that he couldn't afford in his line of work.

"For example," there was a teasing grin on his lips that she had never seen before, "I happen to be extremely aware that there is an incredibly beautiful woman standing only inches away from me, and that I'm currently not wearing a shirt. I'm sure you can imagine what I'm feeling."

A heated blush rose to Jemma's cheeks at his words and the intensity of his gaze on her. "I'm your doctor," she protested weakly. However, though she was supposedly a master of clinical detachment, she had to admit that she had spent a couple moments admiring his bare chest, noting the firm muscles under the taut layer of skin.

"I don't see that as a problem," he whispered, leaning towards her.

"But...your arm…" Words seemed very difficult to find with him that close to her. There were only inches between their lips now.

"You talk too much."

Their lips met in a soft, brief caress, one that sent tingles through Jemma's body and made her shiver. It was short, much too short. Not much more than a peck, really, but even the slightest contact had a huge impact.

The sound of voices floated out to them, making Jemma practically spring back just before Skye and Fitz came into sight, on their way towards her and Grant.

"How is he?" Skye asked when she reached Jemma's side.

"His arm...it was shot," she babbled inanely, still off-balance from the kiss.

"Yeah, we got that," Fitz shot her a strange look. "You feeling okay?"

"Fine. Great."

"Am I all done?" Grant interrupted, the heat in his eyes promising her that they would pick up where they left off later.

"Oh, yes."

"Thanks." He picked up his shirt and put it back on, careful not to move his injured arm more than necessary. "Can I come talk to you later about more painkillers?"

She smiled, fully aware that painkillers would not be the subject of their conversation. "Of course."

Trip was waiting for her as she exited the room that held Ward's cell, his arms crossed in front of him and his back leaning against the wall. "You alright?"

"I don't know," she answered honestly, walking right into his embrace as he held his arms open for her.

She and Trip had been spending more and more time together the last little while. Their relationship was purely friendship and much-needed comfort at this point, but Jemma knew that there was potential for something more, something that terrified her.

She didn't know if she could handle it after what had happened with Ward.

"Does seeing him help?"

She buried her face in his strong shoulder and swallowed. "I don't know. I need to do something."

"Whatever you need, I'm here for you."

"I know."

Still, she remembered all the painful memories of the times spent with Ward.

How could she forget?


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