Notes: Takes place between season 1 episode 14 and episode 15. Skye has been given GH-325 and is recovering from her injuries.
Simmons stood in the open doorway of the med pod, watching Skye's chest rise and fall with her breath. She was alive, her injuries healing at an exponential rate. Simmons guessed she'd probably wake soon. She sighed deeply, letting relief finally wash over her, the knot in her stomach unclenching as she fully realized that yes, Skye would be okay.
They had grown closer over the past few weeks, Simmons mused, as she puttered around Skye's bed, checking vitals, making notes, tidying away medical equipment. Skye was easily her closest female friend, possibly the closest she'd ever had. She had watched Skye grow more confident as she provided assistance on missions and trained with Ward. Simmons thought she might have even seen Skye head to the gym without any makeup a couple of times – something she knew made Skye anxious. But every punch Skye threw and jab she dodged seemed to put a bigger smile on her face, and chip away at her insecurities.
Looking at her friend's clean, pale face now, Simmons wondered how Skye would feel upon waking. She knew worrying about how she looked would probably seem petty and ridiculous to anyone else, but for all of Skye's bravado and recklessness, her appearance was one topic that she couldn't seem to joke about. Simmons furrowed her brow, wondering if Skye would feel too exposed, too vulnerable, lying here in the med pod where anyone could see her in this state. She wished for the hundredth time that she could somehow impress upon Skye how much the team already cared for her, how free of judgment they were when it came to silly things like how she looked. She's gorgeous anyway, Simmons thought. She'd have nothing to worry about even if we did care about such things.
Skye stirred, pulling Simmons away from her thoughts. Skye's eyes fluttered open as Simmons gently brushed the hair from her friend's face, smiling down at her. "Simmons?" Skye croaked, and then coughed. She winced, hissing in a breath. "What happened?"
"You were shot," Simmons said gently, fetching a glass of water and dropping a straw in it before holding it up to Skye's mouth for her to sip. "Try not to move too much. Are you in pain?"
Skye nodded, and Simmons pressed a couple of buttons, causing a strong dose of painkillers to flood through Skye's IV into her bloodstream. "That should help in a moment," Simmons said. Then she picked up her phone and texted Coulson to let him know Skye was awake. "Coulson is on his way down," she told Skye.
Skye nodded, looking pleased, but then doubt washed over her. She chewed her lip and looked away before saying "I look like a mess, don't I." She smirked up at Simmons, trying to appear like she didn't really care.
Simmons sighed. "No, Skye, you look like you were shot and are recovering."
"Ah, so more like death warmed over, then," Skye joked. Simmons just smiled and shook her head. She knew she wasn't going to win this argument, but she wasn't ready to give up either.
"You look a bit pale," Simmons said in a serious but gentle tone, "but honestly, you look more like an angel than a mess."
Skye rolled her eyes. "That's the dorkiest thing you've ever said," she told Simmons, but she could feel herself blushing. Simmons was too nice to her, she thought. Too nice to even admit when she looked terrible. "Can I have a mirror?"
Simmons paused, frowning at Skye, looking for a moment like she was deep in thought. She seemed to make a silent decision before announcing, "No."
Skye looked at her with surprise. "No? Why not?"
"Because what you look like is so monumentally unimportant right now that I can't bring myself to indulge your insecurities." Simmons said firmly. She knew she was pressing her luck, and she hoped Skye would understand what she was doing. She placed her hand gently on Skye's arm, smiling the slightest bit. "You're alive, Skye. You can't know how relieved we all are to still have you here with us." Her voice grew quieter. "I was so scared, Skye." She looked away, suddenly a bit embarrassed.
Skye placed a hand over Simmons' squeezing slightly. "Hey," she said. "You're right. I'm still here. I'm pretty relieved myself," she joked, and Simmons smiled back at her.
Coulson arrived just then, and began explaining to Skye all that had happened, about finding her, rushing her to a medical facility, discovering that the "miracle drug" was the only way to save her. It took a while to catch her up on how he had died and been brought back, and how they had given her GH-325 to save her. Skye's eyes grew wider and wider as the story progressed, her appearance obviously forgotten as the magnitude of all that had happened hit her. Coulson stayed for a while, just chatting with Skye. Simmons excused herself when she saw the vulnerable look in Coulson's eyes, knowing he'd want a moment alone with Skye. He had sat by her bedside for hours when she was still unconscious, and she knew he was as relieved as she was that Skye was okay – possibly even more relieved than her.
She's getting better, Simmons thought as she headed back to the lab. And not just physically. She smiled to herself, hoping that eventually, Skye would see that she was truly loved.