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After being hurt in Aida’s demise, Jemma and Fitz heal together. Speculation fic for tonight and next week’s episode.

The flaming skull of the Ghost Rider sparked and spat furiously as Robbie, what once was Robbie, stepped towards Aida. Jemma hid behind a supply shelf, watching, the shadows shielding her body from view.

With Daisy’s help, after the rescue of the rest of their team, she had tracked down where Aida had taken Fitz. An empty warehouse, a former clinic, one that had belonged to Radcliffe. There were still boxes with medical supplies littered around the place, and clear, plastic sheets hung around empty gurneys, probably leftover from Radcliffe’s horrible experiments.

Aida stepped back, foot thumping against the wall, warning her she couldn’t retreat anymore. She lifted her chin. “I’m not scared of you,” she said, voice quivering. Robbie said nothing, merely staring at her.

Something shifted in the corner of Jemma’s eye; Fitz stood behind a sheeted cubicle, hefting a broken piece of pipe. “Oh, Fitz, no,” Jemma murmured, and began shaking her head in hopes that he may see. He did, and his brow knit in confusion at the sight of her. Lifting his club, he pointed at Robbie and mimed swinging a baseball bat. She continued to shake her head adamantly. He gave her a pointed look, and turned. “No. Fitz!” she hissed, louder than intended.

Robbie turned around, and spied Fitz wielding the pipe. In the moment of distraction, Jemma creeped towards him, while Aida cried, “Leopold! Help me!”

Fitz made as though to charge them, when the Ghost Rider stomped his foot. A line of fire sprang from the ground, heading straight towards Fitz.

“NO!” Jemma shrieked, and she leaped in front of him, pushing Fitz out of the way. She bat at the flames around her, but it was suffocating. The heat and light danced around her, growing so it was the only thing she could see. Her skin screamed in agony, before slowly, too slowly, black settled in, and she succumbed to the pain.

Rapid beeping. Yelling EMTs. Flashing red and blue lights.

Everything filtered in her brain with little comprehension. Was Darth Vader there? Jemma could hear his breathing. There was something tight over her nose, keeping her breathing from full capacity. She tried to reach up to move the blockage, but her hand hit something and fell back to her side. “Miss, please don’t remove the oxygen mask!” somebody yelled. Oxygen mask?

The gurney jostled, and a shadow fell over Jemma’s face as a figure stood above her. “Jemma? Jemma, are you okay?” Fitz asked worriedly. Jemma tried to answer, but her mouth was like cotton and her brain like syrup.

“Fi…”

Then it was black again.

Jemma faded in and out of unconsciousness over the course of the next week, still too weak to stay awake for more than a couple minutes. As she was weaned off of the painkillers, she spent her time sleeping, especially as the pain became more prominent.

Friends, or maybe dreams, filtered throughout the long minutes. Some squeezed her hand, others planting a kiss on her forehead. Even Mack, and his daughter from the Framework showed up, although Jemma was fairly certain that had been a fantasy.

The first time she was finally full conscious, her immediate surprise was at the amount of flowers and sweets stacked up at her bedside table. She reached over to examine a box of chocolate, but the pale pile of bandages cloaking her hands made her freeze. Her eyes trailed up her sleeved arms, and the sensation of cotton against her neck was suddenly all too noticeable. Shaking, she felt her face, then cringed. It wasn’t bandaged, but the skin felt raw.

As Jemma was pulling her hands down, a nurse walked in carrying a tray. “Miss Simmons,” she smiled. “I see you’re awake.”

Jemma grinned weakly. “Yes, I am. How are you?”

“Good.” The nurse placed the tray down. “But I should be asking you that.”

“Oh,” Jemma groaned. “I’m fine, I suppose. May I ask what my diagnosis is?”

The nurse chuckled. “They told me you were a doctor. Well, as far as I know,” she said, confronting the clipboard tacked to the bedpost, “You have a range of first- and second-degree burns, with a couple third degree patches, although…” she trailed off, scanning the data. “Looks like you got a couple skin grafts to take care of that. Are you in any pain?”

“No, not currently.”

“Good. You hungry?”

At Jemma’s nod, she carefully set the tray over her lap, propping her up with pillows so she couldn’t dribble. “For today’s luncheon, you are being served the chef’s special chicken noodle soup and cherry jello. We hope you enjoy it.” She gave a mock bow. “If you need anything, you can call me with this,” she added, pointing to a red switch, “and my name is Maria.” She left.

Watery soup had never tasted so good. In her sleepy state, all she had been fed was the nutrients through a feeding tube; to eat true food, even a hospital meal, was a gift.

As she was digging in, there was a hesitant knock. “Jemma?”

She almost tipped her food over in excitement. “Fitz! You’re here!”

He smiled shyly. “Yeah, Maria told me you woke up. That was ten minutes ago, though.” At her puzzled frown, he elaborated. “I…was scared you wouldn’t want to see me. I brought flowers,” he blurted in a rush.

“Oh, Fitz.” Jemma’s voice softened. He stepped forward, closing the distance between the doorway and the bed. He set the flowers down with the others, and pulled up the visitor’s chair next to her. “It’s good to see you.”

“Yeah,” Fitz said, absent-mindedly taking her hand. “I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too.” Tears filled her eyes, and she blinked them away. “How are you feeling?”

Fitz sighed. “I’m managing, at the moment. You?”

Jemma waved it off. “I’m fine, other than physically.” She shoveled another bit of the forgotten soup in her mouth, and gasped.

“What? Is it too hot?” Fitz asked, springing up.

“No! I can’t believe I forgot. What happened with Aida?”

Fitz froze, before sinking back into the chair. “She’s dead.”

Eyes widening, Jemma’s spoon plunked back into the soup bowl. “How did it happen? It was Robbie, right?”

Dragging his hand down his face, Fitz leaned back, pondering. “Yeah, I guess, but it wasn’t really him. I don’t think he even recognized us. I mean, look at what he did to you.” He paused, and tenderly stroked her knuckle. “He said something to Aida about her sinning against mankind, and how she deserved to burn in hell for her transgressions. Then he just grabbed her and disappeared in a big ball of flame.”

“Wait,” Jemma said, pausing him. “How come she didn’t just leave? Couldn’t she have teleported out of there?” At his shrug, she continued. “She can do that, can’t she?”

“She seemed pretty weak when we landed. Maybe that’s why,” he suggested. “ After Robbie took her, you stopped burning, but it was pretty bad. How are you feeling?” he asked again.

She laughed. “You asked me already. I’m fine.” She reached over to him and placed her hand against his face. Fitz tensed, but allowed her to graze his cheek, down to the corner of his neck and shoulder. “Fitz,” she said softly. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” he breathed.

She gazed at him. “After Aida kidnapped you, she replaced you with an LMD, and…I killed it.”

His fist curled around hers. “But I’m here right now. It wasn’t me, see?”

“I know, but…” she hiccuped. “I’m sorry.”

He squeezed her hand. “I should be the one apologizing.”

“No, Fitz-”

“No, listen. I know that it was just a simulation, but it was still me in the simulation. I still killed those people! And you can’t say it’s just a-a piece of code or whatever, but there were real people in there! I killed Agnes!” This time, Jemma let the tears fall. Fitz was crying as well. “Please don’t try to reassure me. It won’t work!”

“Fitz, I can’t even imagine what you are going through! I’m sorry,” Jemma said. She inhaled a shuddery breath. “I just wish we could be happy.” With a sad chuckle, she added “Maybe you were right when you said that the cosmos-”

The misery evaporated somewhat from the atmosphere. “Oh, come on, not the cosmos comment-”

Jemma started laughing, and then they were both cracking up. “It wasn’t- even- that funny,” Jemma gasped.

A minute later, they calmed down, but with the laughter gone, it was tense again.

“I’ve talked to Coulson and May, a little,” Fitz admitted. “It’s helped, especially what May said. You know, since she was HYDRA too.”

“Well, I’m glad you’re not alone,” Jemma said.

“Hey. You’re not alone either.” He nudged her shoulder. “I’ll be there with you, okay? I promise.”

Jemma searched his eyes, and nodded. “Together.”

“Together,” Fitz agreed.

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