A/N: So... More angst, anyone?

Big thank you to those who left reviews :)

And yes, poor Simmons, indeed, but also, poor Fitz, because he's justifiably upset and angry. Everything's just so messed up. Life can be cruel (or, should that be 'fanfiction writers can be cruel'? :p).

Coulson's Playground office isn't as cosy as his one on the Bus had been. Most of his collectibles, his knick-knacks, everything that had been a reflection of his personality and his passions, had been destroyed or damaged when Hydra had stolen their plane and rampaged through it. His office here is rather bare, and a bit of an organised mess. He has files on his desk and in plies on the floor, where they're still being worked through before being put into cabinets, and there's a large floor lamp, an over-stuffed armchair in the bottom right corner of the room, a computer, and a wall monitor. There are no vintage spy gadgets, no framed trading cards, no model of the Bus.

Jemma sits down in one of the chairs pulled out on her side of the desk, and wilts under Coulson's stern gaze. "I'm so sorry, sir-"

"-I thought I told you once before - don't ever pull a stunt like that again."

Well, she hasn't jumped out of a plane, this time, but she can see his point, so she keeps quiet, because it wouldn't do to question him, especially when he's mad at her, and rightly so - she'd taken them all from their positions, away from all the important work they were engaged in, all because she'd run off in a fit of self-pity without even thinking about it. She's more than a little disappointed in herself.

"You know, despite the fact that we're hidden away here, we can't take anything for granted. Hydra is out there, and the first thing we thought was that they'd found us, that you'd been captured. We were worried sick - what the hell were you thinking?"

"I..." Jemma shakes her head and looks down at her hands in her lap, pulling the cuffs of her jumper down over them as she fidgets. "I wasn't. I was upset, and... I know that's not an excuse. It was stupid of me, selfish. It won't happen again, I promise."

Coulson stares down at her, his face now a little softer, and as if she senses this, she glances up at him.

"This isn't like you, Jemma."

"I know."

"I know with what's happened, that we've all gone through some degree of change, but we have to stick together, because at the moment, we're all we have, all we can trust. Whatever you're feeling about the world around you, it's justified, but who you are, deep down, will always be there, and that's the Jemma Simmons we need, because you're just as important a part of this team as anyone else."

She nods, and braves a small smile up at him.

He doesn't smile back, but his face is still gentler than it had been. For a moment, anyway, and then it hardens again. "And on that note..." He walks over to the door, and pulls it open. Jemma thinks that's her cue to leave, but before she can stand, he calls for Fitz. She freezes. She'd known he'd called them both in, but she'd assumed he'd wanted to speak to them separately. Maybe he does. She finally pushes herself up, but ends up hovering awkwardly when Fitz walks in, his eyes determinedly set away from her.

"Stay seated, please, Simmons," Coulson says. "I need to speak to you both together. Fitz." He gestures to the other chair, and Fitz sits down, his face unreadable, features set to blank.

Jemma looks up at Coulson questioningly. He stands there with his arms folded across his chest.

"Carrying on from what I was just saying about being the person we need, I don't know what the hell has happened between you two, but you'd better fix it, fast. You two were best friends, and you're two of the best SHIELD scientists I've ever known, and you're more than just my employees - after everything, we're more than just a team. That's why I waited, because I thought you two would be able to sort this out on your own - it's why I let you have your own lab, Fitz, because I honestly didn't think it would last - but it's clear that you can't, so know this - if this is going to compromise our-"

"-It won't!" Jemma jumps in, before she can stop herself. She lowers her voice at the unimpressed look on Coulson's face, and glances away sheepishly. "I mean, it won't, sir."

He gives her a curt nod. "See to it that it doesn't. And if either of you need to speak to me privately about anything, at any time, if you have any grievances, just come and knock, and I'll do my best to help. I've had no problems with your work here, from either of you - it's still above and beyond. But you work best as a pair. You were hired as FitzSimmons for a reason, and that reason still stands."

There's an awkward silence, and Fitz, who hasn't said anything at all, has barely reacted, suddenly finds the surface of the director's desk very interesting. When neither of them move, Coulson sits down and flips open a file.

"You're dismissed," he says, not looking at them.

Fitz is up and out the door before she can move. She's not going to let him get away, though, so she hurries after him, catching him at the end of the hall. "Fitz, please, wait."

He ignores her and carries on round the corner, going in the direction that will take him to his lab.

"Please." She reaches out to touch his arm, and he stills immediately. He doesn't shake her off, so that's a good start, but she removes her hand out of courtesy, anyway.

"You don't have to pretend to be nice to me just because of what Coulson said."

He still won't look at her, so she moves in front of him. She's not going to let him go, not now, no matter how stubborn he continues to be. She'll follow him until he snaps. "I'm not pretending. Please, can we just talk?" Her voice breaks unexpectedly on the last word, and she inwardly curses herself, because she'd been trying to remain strong, and now her eyes are watering, but it's clearly stirred something in him, because he finally looks at her, and, despite his hard demeanour, his face relaxes just a little, just enough so that she notices, and she tries to tamp down the premature soaring of her heart, because that hasn't stopped the rest of him from radiating mistrust and frighteningly controlled rage.

"Fine."

Now there are butterflies partying in her stomach. "Your place or mine?" she asks, trying to sound jovial. It falls flat, and it was probably - no, definitely - the wrong thing to say, considering. He just stares at her impassively. "Right, sorry." Jemma takes a deep, steadying breath. "Your lab's closer, if that's suitable?"

Fitz walks away from her, and she takes that as a 'yes' and trails behind him until they reach the small, make-shift lab that's tucked away in a corner of the base that's primarily used for storage. It's probably as far away from what was once 'their' lab as he can get.

His lab is pristine apart from an empty coffee cup and a half-eaten bag of pretzels on his desk, next to his computer. It's as she expected it to be. There's a monitor on the wall which is showing a progress bar of sixty-seven percent, and despite wanting to ask him what he's working on, she knows she should probably keep to what she's there for, because she doesn't know how much time he'll give her.

He wordlessly gestures to a chair tucked underneath one of the lab tables, but she shakes her head. She's too nervous to sit down. Fitz leans against his desk, his ankles crossed and his hands pressed against the edge.

To Jemma's surprise, he speaks first, and she doesn't stop him. She's just happy he's agreed to this, so she lets him do it on his terms.

"I never expected anything, you know," he begins, his voice thick with something she has difficulty identifying as one emotion - it's a mixture of anger, hurt, disappointment, and a deep, profound sadness. He's staring at the ground. "I didn't wake up and think 'Oh, I'm alive. Well, now she'll have to love me back because I tried to sacrifice myself for her and it's the least she can do'. I only told you so that you would take the canister - I didn't for one second think that you felt the same way - that's something I came to terms with a long time ago. I just wanted you to know just how important to me you were, that you'd been loved, that that was why I was willing to die for you, why it was so important that you survived, especially as I was a lame duck. There was no point in both of us dying - if there was one thing I wasn't going to do, it was let you end your life for nothing."

Jemma sniffs and swipes a hand across her cheeks. "I never... I don't hate you. Please, look at me." She waits for a moment before continuing, to see if he does, and when his eyes finally lift to hers, she almost sobs. "I've never hated you. It had nothing to do with what you said, I promise you. I just... I..." Say it. "I took that oxygen from you, and I can't stop myself from feeling guilty over it. I know why that doesn't make sense, but I just can't stop. You almost died, and I couldn't go through that again. I thought it would be best if we distanced ourselves from each other, learned to cope on our own rather than as a unit. I thought that if we got used to that, if the worst happened in the future, we'd be far better equipped to deal with it. So, I pushed you away, caught myself when I slipped, and I was so wrapped up in it, that it didn't even occur to me that what I was actually doing was hurting you, and-"

"-How?" Fitz stares at her incredulously. "How on Earth could you not know that it was hurting me? Jesus Christ - you didn't even talk to me about it. You didn't explain your fears to me, you just made a decision on your own, and not once did you think about how I'd take it? Wouldn't it mean that I wasn't much of a friend in the first place if I wasn't affected by it-"

"-I don't know!" she cries, cutting him off. "I mean, no, I didn't think that, that you weren't much of a friend - that's... That's ridiculous, after everything we've been through. I just thought you'd realised what I was doing, and that it was for the best, and I know how that sounds, now, that I've been monumentally stupid, but we're FitzSimmons, and I just thought you'd-"

"-We were FitzSimmons."

Jemma feels a knife twist sickeningly into her guts.

"And are you serious? You thought I'd just pick up on it, that I'd accept something like that?!"

He's shouting now, and she turns her head away from him, tears streaming down her face, hot and salty and raw.

"What the hell is wrong with you?!" Fitz pushes away from his desk and buries his hands in his hair as he walks to the other side of the room, away from her. "You had no right to make that decision without me," he snaps, spinning round to face her, his face red and etched with complete devastation. "You had no right to keep things from me and make me feel like I'd made you hate me. Do you have any idea...? You were my whole world, Jemma. I made you take that oxygen - how could you think what happened was your fault? Did I ever, at any point, give any indication that I was upset with you, that I blamed you for me almost dying?"

Jemma shakes her head, unable to speak, completely overwhelmed by what's happening.

"I... I felt so alone. I felt like I'd wronged you, like I'd mortally embarrassed you. I felt like such a fool. Because, god forbid that anyone could actually love Leo Fitz, let alone Jemma Simmons. And even though I now know that wasn't the reason, you never gave me any indication at the time, and knowing that now doesn't make it hurt any less." Fitz lets his eyes wander to a spot on the opposite wall, before letting them rest back on her after he takes a deep breath. "I know that sounds contradictory, saying you made that decision without me, but we had time on our side, this time."

"I wasn't..." Jemma swallows heavily. "I wasn't going to say that it was. You're right, we did have time, but I was scared! I was terrified, and it stopped me from thinking clearly, and I know that's not an excuse, but it's the truth." She walks towards him as she speaks, desperate to be closer to him, wanting nothing more than to take him in her arms and comfort him and promise him the world, wanting nothing more than for him to hold her back, to be soothed by the warmth of him. But when he wraps his arms about himself and takes a small step backwards, she pauses, and it takes everything she has not to just break down completely, all her strength and her courage, and she takes a steadying breath and plants her feet firmly, feeling like a sapling trying to cling on in a hurricane.

"It reached a point where I wish I had died. Because to get up every day, to be so near you and yet so far away, to have you treat me like the last seven years didn't exist, that I meant nothing-" Fitz's voice cracks, painfully, and he presses the heel of his hand against his mouth. "It was the worst form of punishment," he finally continues. "I'd rather have been slowly tortured to death than have you push me away."

It kills her to hear him say that. "I wasn't... I didn't..."

"I know. I know that, now. But it doesn't make it right!"

He's crying, and she can't stand it.

"I love you!" she blurts out, and the lead weight that's been pressed into her chest for so long that she didn't even know it was there, lifts with those three words, and suddenly, everything becomes clear as crystal. "I... I love you. I didn't say it back, before, because I didn't know how I felt, and I was in shock, and everything was... But, now I know. I've loved you from the very beginning - it's been there for so long that I didn't even think that that was what it was. I thought that I was supposed to feel more, and when I didn't, it scared me. Fitz... The reason I didn't feel more, was because I already loved - love - you more than anything in the universe. You're my soulmate, and I know neither of us believe in that sort of thing, but you are. I couldn't love you more, because my heart is already, permanently yours, and..." She has to stop to breathe, and she wipes her eyes on her sleeve. She doesn't care what she looks like. "I don't expect you to feel the same, not now, and maybe I don't deserve it, but, do you think... And I know it will take time... But could we... The way we were? Because I don't want that at all, to not be close to you - I can't believe it ever entered my head. I miss you. I don't want to live my life without you right beside me. I'm so sorry, Fitz."

Fitz sniffs as he gasps down air almost painfully, and Jemma watches as tears drip from his face and onto the floor. When he looks at her this time, he really looks at her. "... I don't know..." He looks truly, heart-breakingly sorry as he says it.

She sobs brokenly at his words, devastated, hiccupping as she tries get her lungs to work properly, and she turns away from him for a second in order to try and gather herself. When she turns back, mostly unsuccessful, she nods. She can see the jagged hole she's left in his chest from where she's unintentionally ripped his heart out. But, unintentional or not, she'd done it all the same. He's raw, completely bare before her, his trust and his soul pouring out of that gaping wound, and she doesn't know if she'll ever be able to scoop all of it up and push it back inside. Would she miss bits, no matter how thorough she was? If Fitz does ever decide to resume their friendship, will he forever more have difficulty trusting her?

Will they ever be the same again?

"I understand." Jemma brings a hand up to her face, presses it over her mouth, and diverts her gaze from him as her shoulders shake. She squeezes her eyes shut, tears continuing to leak from them.

"I'm..."

Her eyes snap back open at the sound of his voice.

He shakes his head. "I'm so mad at you," he almost whispers, the fight flooding out of him as the plug is pulled, until he's completely drained. "I do realise that you didn't mean to... But still, it happened. I need... I need time to think. I promise you that I'll come and talk to you when I've got my head around everything, but I can't guarantee how long that will take-"

"-It's fine, take as long as you need," she interrupts, desperate for him to know that she'll give him all the time in the world, that she'll just have to deal with it until he's ready, that she's just so happy that he's even willing to think about it.

He nods. Sniffs. "I'm sorry I spoke to you the way I did."

"Really, there's no need-"

"-I'm sorry," he says, pointedly.

She doesn't dare say anything else.

He studies her for a moment, with something almost familiar in his eyes, and her heart can't help but leap a little. "Go and wash your face," he says, gently, "then get some sleep. I'll... I'll see you around."

Jemma gives him a small, heartfelt smile, and takes her leave. No matter how much she wants to stay, she knows that she can't. He needs time, and she'll wait forever if she has to.

It's only when she's in her room and lying on her bed, her arms wrapped around her pillow, clinging to it the same way a young child clings to a comforter, that she realises he called her 'Jemma'.