"Ready with the pulse?" agent Grey checked, turning to Fitz who nodded, thumb floating above the on switch of the small, black box he'd hurriedly put together.
"Ready," he answered determinedly. "Let's see if this works."
It had taken them over half an hour but the team had succeeded in identifying the frequency of the signals released by the arm and now they were testing various methods of interference.
Simmons was poised over the arm, prepared to jolt the area near the wrist with the MENS device upon Fitz's signal. The staff had been transfered to a new containment box, recently having blasted through the previous one and burning a hole in the wall which smoked grey puffs for several minutes. Luckily Fitz had suggested they keep the rest of the scientists out of its line of fire and no one had been hurt. Her friend was a quick learner.
Fitz flipped the switch and the device hummed to life, a red light blinking to indicate the inaudible pulse, set at 6955 kHz, was being released. He gave a hopeful thumbs up and Simmons responded by stimulating the nerve, her breath catching anxiously in her chest as the pressure to produce results weighed over them like an anvil.
Nothing happened. Which was exactly what they had wanted and she turned to Fitz, grinning, to find him beaming back.
"Take that you ugly devils," he cheered, casting a glare at the arm, before his triumphant smile returned.
"We should get the information out to the agents in New York," agent Karev suggested, typing their findings into the database. "There are several engineers on the ground who could get something like this up and running there."
"Like Jack," Simmons mumbled, hoping he and Sam were alright. Her gaze shot to the casualty estimate, it was divided into three categories, civilians, police and firefighters, and SHIELD agents and all three had achingly high counts. It was hard for Simmons to imagine that kind of devastation, that great a loss. She remembered the tightness in her chest, the horrible dread that had taken hold of her like a sickness, when she'd thought Fitz had been hurt or even killed and tried to multiply that pain by the numbers she was seeing. It was unimaginable.
"Jack and Sam?" Fitz asked, smile quickly drooping into a frown, concerned.
"Yeah," she told him softly before she blinked and broke eye contact. They weren't any help to anyone unless they were working and they needed to get back to it.
"What the hell do they think they're doing?" Agent Karev exclaimed, startling her, suddenly, furious.
He was staring again at the monitor and Simmons was about to urge him to return to his work, to tell him the best way to help would be to find answers, but her words never left her, they chocked back down her throat at what she saw written across the bottom of the screen.
'Nuclear missile deployed, detonation in 3 minutes, 30 seconds.'
"No," Fitz hissed, and she could feel his rage pulsing off of him in hot waves. "What are they doing?"
"They're trying to destroy the Chitauri," agent Yang realized, she looked queasy.
"No," he shot back, eyes flaring. "That's what we're doing. That's what that team in New York is doing, the police, the firefighters, their own bloody agents." He slammed his hands down on the desk and there was a loud clang which made one of the other agents jump before they returned their attention to the screen.
All those people. Thirty seconds had passed, the timer was counting down, dropping towards zero alarmingly fast and there was nothing they could do about it. Tears filled Simmons eyes and she squeaked out a tiny sob, horrified.
Fitz's head snapped up at the sound, anger cooling and allowing tears to condense in his own eyes as his expression softened. They moved towards each other, and she gripped onto his sleeves while he clutched at hers and they helplessly watched the time run out.
"I don't think SHIELD authorized that," agent Grey stated icy and quiet.
"What does it matter?" Fitz muttered grimly.
Simmons couldn't speak, couldn't put all the awful things she was feeling into words.
It did matter, not now, not for the people in the city, but it would later, for the world left behind. It would matter who launched it, eventually, but in that moment all Simmons could think about was the death it was bringing. Friends, families, people who wanted to live just as much as she did, weren't going to be allowed to and it wasn't fair. She moved closer to Fitz and he stretched his arm so that his hand rested protectively on the back of her shoulder. It was comforting, Simmons knew that they would keep each other safe, but who was going to protect everyone else?
Her question was answered when Iron Man grabbed the missile and hope lit up the room. No one spoke at first but there was collective gasp, almost a sigh of relief except that it was too early for that.
"What's he doing?" Someone wondered, breaking the silence.
"He's-," Simmons realized.
"Bringing it through the portal," Fitz finished her thought.
"Can he make it?" she breathed, watching the flying man rocket upwards.
"I don't know," Fitz answered.
Time was running out, if he didn't get through the portal before the explosion...
Simmons couldn't look anymore, she didn't want to see them die, so she pushed her face into Fitz's chest.
"I don't have the stomach for this," she whispered. "I'm sorry." She felt guilty, weak, for turning away. Fitz hadn't, none of the other scientists were hiding in their friend's shirts. (Or if they were, she couldn't see them.)
"It's OK," he answered gently, holding her against him. "An audience isn't going to speed him up."
"He's not going to make it," someone worried.
"Yes he is," Fitz mumbled, stubborn as always. "C'mon, you're so close," he urged quietly.
Simmons sniffed and turned her head to look, keeping one cheek against Fitz.
He was almost there, he could do it.
"C'mon," she whispered.
He shot through and seconds later the Chitauri died, each one collapsing, like robots that had been turned off, falling from their boards and raining to the ground.
The room sang with loud cheers. People applauded, shouted, caused a commotion, but it was all blotted out for Simmons when Fitz lifted her off her feet and spun her around and she laughed as surprised delight sweetened her relief. She hadn't expect him to do it and it was over more quickly than she would have liked, though, she told herself, she couldn't really expect him to spin her around all day, his arms would get tired.
"He did it," Fitz grinned, setting her down.
They danced around, bouncing joyously on their toes, when her feet touched the ground and their arms remained locked together even after he pulled slightly away.
"It's over," she added ecstatically, a little disoriented. Everything had happened so fast, one second the world was ending, the next it wasn't. It was like being plucked out of the air and placed safely, gently on the ground after falling towards it, out of control and fearing the bone shattering impact. Fitz's arms, still linked to hers, were a warm, familiar reminder that she hadn't been falling alone and she hadn't landed alone either. They'd had each other to hold onto, and maybe in the grand scheme of what had happened that could seem like a small thing, but for Simmons it had been vitally important. It had been crucial to her, to have Fitz at her side. She needed him, he was the lifeboat in the wreckage of a ship, the oasis in the desert, the thing you swam, trekked, ran towards because, even if it couldn't save you, it could shelter you, give you hope.
Fitz leaned towards her again, his gaze flickered down to her mouth and for a heartbeat she thought he was going to kiss her. Then it lifted so their eyes met and he bridged the remainder of the gap between them to gently tap his forehead against hers. Her shoulders relaxed but she was unsure if it was out of relief or disappointment as she tapped back, giggling because they were safe now, everyone was safe and it was going to be alright.
Agent Brink spoke to them over the PA system and the room hushed so she could be heard. "Attention everyone," she began. "As most of you have probably seen, it's over. The world is safe again thanks to the courageous actions of many and the unbelievable strength of a few. Thank you all for your hard work and dedication during this frightening time."
"And for Tony Stark," Fitz added, expression clouding for a moment with concern before he once again glanced at the monitor. Simmons mimicked him and saw the man walking away, shaky but alive, with the rest of the team. They turned back to each other and grinned again, glad he had made it out, glad all their heroes had made it. She hadn't been thinking of best case scenarios but, aside from none of this happening at all, their current situation was definitely it.
"Go home," agent Brink instructed. "Go see your families, call them, take the rest of the evening off. Tomorrow we begin cleaning up the mess today left behind."
Her family, her mum and dad. They'd be at their wits end with worry, they knew she worked for SHIELD, knew she was posted not far from New York. She needed to call them.
Fitz must have been thinking the same thing about his mum because he slowly untangled himself from her and motioned with a jerk of his head for them to leave.
"Lets go home," he said.
Simmons nodded and took his hand, not wanting to lose him in the flood of other SHIELD scientists, all anxious to do just that.
/-/-/
Just one chapter left now :). Thank you for coming along on this adventure, I hope you had fun.
The Fringe reference is the pulse set at 6955 kHz. (The machine Fitz made hums but it is not the sound of the pulse, which I believe is outside the range of human hearing). In the episode, a box releases a pulse at this frequency and kills anyone who hears it.