If there was ever anything Grant Ward hated, it was waiting.
He had patience; yes he did from the rigorous training he received. But it didn't mean that he liked it. The dread of anticipation laying heavily like a snake coiled in his stomach with no way of knowing when it would strike disturbed him. He was helpless and out of control.
The situation had spiraled out of his control when Coulson announced that Simmons was infected. Viruses, biology or actually any fields in advanced science were out of his specialty. He knew the basic physics laws and chemistry equations to pull him through and that was it. His guilt was compounded by the fact that he was supposed to protect the unfit-for-combat team. He had no idea that their field trips would involve him stepping out of his comfort zone into biochemistry and crazy engineering feats.
But that was why FitzSimmons were brought on and now Simmons was at risk. Ward remembered protocol for emergency situations like this all too well. He waited in the meeting room, observing every movement she made and noticed how increasingly distraught and frustrated she was with every failure. He crossed his arms, leaning against the table, his muscles tensed but there was nothing he could do but trust that she could save herself. It took every single bit of control he had to be still and mask his face. He realised immediately what happened when the alarm went off.
Silly Simmons.
That was exactly what that scientist would do, believing that following protocols would be the best for the team. He sprung to action, racing down to Fitz and snatching the pack along with the anti-serum from him. In a way, he was relieved that he had the chance to save her, saving damsels in distress was at least included in his job scope.
So he had jumped after her.
His heart clenched watching her fall through the sky like a rag doll and he willed himself to go faster before the ocean embraced her. When he finally did get to her, he pulled her close, not even fearing a possible death caused by the pulse she would release after the administration of the anti-serum.
The parachute opened and for a few moments that stretched out to form an eternity, they floated gently in the sky, above the ocean. In the gravity of the situation, the surrealism of their current plight was not lost on him. Here they were, her head pressed against his chest, close as lovers. "We actually make a pretty picture," he mused, wanting to laugh. He didn't know if his heart was pounding extra hard from the adrenaline or from her proximity.
"It must be both," he decided. He also knew they were over Moroccan waters and that they would have quite some time to spend together. He thinks of the long hours they would have in the ocean together and a corner of his mouth lifts a little. That wouldn't be so bad.
Not if he was with her.