I saved her

In the bustling yet confined space of the Bus, Coulson’s plane, an unspoken tension following Skye’s critical injury threaded through the air, exacerbated by the arrival of Agents Garrett and Triplett. 

However, for Jemma Simmons, the world had narrowed down to the steady beep of the heart monitor in the medical pod, where Skye lay fighting for her life.

The team had managed to stabilize her, but the uncertainty of her recovery loomed large over everyone, especially Jemma, who had never felt so helpless.

The science that was her sanctuary now seemed woefully inadequate. In these moments, with her emotions a whirlwind, Jemma found herself at Skye's side more often than not, a silent vigil held for the teammate she secretly cared for far beyond the bounds of friendship.

Agent Triplett, noticing Jemma's frequent visits to Skye's bedside, sought a moment to speak with her alone. He found her in the lab, her eyes red but her determination unwavering as she worked on yet another angle to assist Skye's healing.

"Dr. Simmons, you've been working nonstop. Maybe you should take a break, get some rest?" Triplett suggested, his tone warm yet tinged with concern.

Jemma paused, her hands stilling over the petri dishes. "I can't," she replied softly, "Not until she's... not until Skye's better."

Triplett offered a gentle smile, stepping closer. "You care about her a lot, huh?"

"Yes, more than I've admitted to myself," Jemma confessed, not meeting his eyes.

“It’s admirable what you’re doing for her, but I really think you need a break. It's not good to overwork yourself like this," he suggested, his voice soft yet firm.

Jemma shook her head, her gaze fixed on the microscope. "I appreciate your concern, but she needs all the help she can get."

It was then Triplett decided to take a chance, leaning in slightly. “If you want to take a break I'll have something to drink at the bar, if you want you can join me later.”

Jemma, caught off guard, merely nodded, her focus fragmented between her concern for Skye and the unexpected conversation. Triplett, interpreting her silence as an opening, ventured closer, his voice dropping to a more intimate tone. “You know, sometimes, finding someone to talk to can make all the difference. Maybe I can be that someone?”

Jemma stiffened, the implication clear and her discomfort rising. She was not interested in complicating her life further, especially not with her emotions already tangled by her fear for Skye.

He moved even closer to Jemma, placing his hand on the counter in front of him. "You know, life's short, especially in our line of work. If you have feelings for someone—"

Without fully thinking through the ramifications, Jemma found herself blurting out, “Agent Triplett, I appreciate your concern, and your... flirtation, but Skye and I, we're together. Romantically.” The lie tasted strange on her tongue. She didn't dare meet Triplett's eyes, afraid her expression would betray her.

Triplett stepped back, his eyebrows shot up, surprise evident on his face before it settled into a respectful nod. “I had no idea. I apologize if I overstepped,” he said, his demeanor shifting to one of professional courtesy. “I hope she recovers soon, really.”

"It's alright, Agent Triplett. You couldn't have known," Jemma replied, her voice steadier now that her ruse seemed to have worked.

Triplett nodded, a new respect in his gaze. "Well, if there's anything I can do to help, for you or Skye, just let me know."

Jemma offered a small, grateful smile. "Thank you, Agent Triplett. Just keep helping the team, keep everyone safe. That's what we need right now."

As he walked away, Jemma let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. The lie had slipped out so easily, a fabricated confession to protect her already vulnerable heart from further distractions. She couldn’t help but feel a twinge of guilt. Yet, as she turned her attention back to Skye’s medical files, a part of her wondered at the ease with which the idea of being with Skye had come to her. It was a lie, yes, but one that felt unsettlingly comfortable. In the quiet that followed, Jemma allowed herself to imagine, just for a moment, a world where her lie was the truth. 

In the stillness of the night, the idea struck Jemma with such clarity that it felt like a bolt of lightning. She had been poring over Skye’s medical files, the data from Coulson’s miraculous recovery dancing around the edges of her tired mind, when it all clicked into place. Coulson had been brought back from the brink of death, his recovery nothing short of miraculous, and if there was any chance that the same could be done for Skye...

Without a second thought, Jemma rushed out of the lab, her feet carrying her quickly and quietly through the dark corridors of the Bus. She reached Coulson’s quarters, hesitating only for a moment before she knocked urgently on his door.

Coulson, a very light sleeper, answered quickly, concern etching his features at the sight of Jemma's frantic expression. "Simmons? What's wrong? Is it Skye?"

"Coulson, I have an idea, a way that might help Skye, but I need your help—and potentially, your blood," Jemma blurted out, the words tumbling over each other in her haste.

Coulson’s expression shifted from concern to confusion, then to cautious interest. "My blood? What for?”

Jemma continued talking, her hands moving frantically while her mind racing with the possibilities.. “I think there are still traces of the drug they used to resuscitate you in your blood. If there, it could help Skye recover. It's a long shot, but we have to try.”

Understanding dawned on Coulson’s face, and without hesitation, he agreed. "Let's do it. Anything to help Skye."

They moved quickly, Coulson following Jemma to the lab where she had everything prepared for a blood transfusion, her earlier research into Coulson's recovery now taking on a desperate, immediate significance. 

With careful, practiced hands, Jemma drew blood from Coulson, her movements efficient despite the tremor of hope that coursed through her. “Sir, do you think we should tell the others?”

Coulson seemed to think about it for a moment, before shaking his head negatively. "Better if all this stays between us. If your theory turns out to be true, we will explain everything to the others. Now the only thing that matters is Skye."

While working, Jemma nodded before explaining her theory in more detail: how the regenerative properties of the GH.325 -that was the name of the mysterious drug- if still present in Coulson’s blood, might be enough to stimulate Skye’s healing process. Coulson listened, his faith in Jemma's abilities and his desperate hope for Skye’s recovery lending him a calm demeanor.

With the transfusion set up and Skye’s vital signs monitored closely, they began the delicate process. Each drop of blood was a beacon of hope, and Jemma found herself whispering silent pleas to any power that might be listening, begging for Skye to be given a chance to fight back.

The night wore on, the only sounds in the lab were the steady beeping of the heart monitor and the soft hum of medical equipment. Coulson and Jemma took turns at Skye’s side, watching for any sign of improvement, however slight.

It was 4 O’clock when Jemma, seated next to Skye, noticed a subtle shift. Skye’s brow furrowed slightly, a faint but unmistakable sign of distress. Jemma leaned forward, her hand finding Skye’s. "Skye? Can you hear me? It’s Jemma."

For a tense, heart-stopping moment, there was nothing. Then, slowly, Skye’s hand twitched in Jemma’s grip, a weak but deliberate movement. A tear slipped down Jemma’s cheek as she squeezed Skye’s hand gently, relief and joy flooding through her.

"She’s fighting," Jemma whispered, more to herself than to Coulson, who had stepped up behind her, a silent sentinel in the early morning light.

Coulson placed a reassuring hand on Jemma’s shoulder, the weight of it grounding. "She’s a fighter, our Skye. We just gave her a fighting chance."

As the first rays of morning light filtered through the windows of the Bus, May was already up, her instincts telling her something was amiss. The quiet bustle in the lab was unusual for this hour, and she made her way there, her steps silent yet swift. The scene that greeted her was Coulson and Simmons, their attention wholly focused on Skye, who was still lying in the medical pod.

"What's going on here?" May demanded, her tone sharp with concern and the need for immediate answers. Her gaze flickered between Coulson and Simmons, then to Skye, noting the new setup around her.

Coulson, ever the leader, met May's gaze squarely. "Simmons came up with a potential treatment for Skye, based on the procedure that was used on me. We decided to try it tonight."

Simmons, who looked as though she hadn't slept in days, nodded in agreement, her eyes bright with a mixture of fatigue and hope. "It's a bit of a long shot, but we believe Coulson's blood, which still might carry traces of the GH.325, could help Skye recover."

May's expression softened slightly, understanding the desperation behind their actions. Before she could inquire further, Fitz's arrival added another layer of surprise to the unfolding situation.

"What's...what's happening? Why are you all here?" Fitz stammered, his eyes wide as he took in the scene before him.

Before anyone could respond to Fitz's questions, a small movement from Skye caught everyone's attention. Her eyelids fluttered, causing an immediate reaction from Jemma, who was by her side in an instant, her hands gently caressing Skye's face and checking her pulse.

"Skye? Skye, can you hear me?" Jemma's voice was soft, laced with an emotion that she hadn't allowed herself to fully acknowledge until this moment.

To the astonishment of everyone present, Skye's eyes slowly opened, her gaze unfocused but unmistakably conscious. A collective breath was held and then released in relief and disbelief as Skye tried to form words, her voice a mere whisper.

"Jemma?" she asked, licking his lips for thirst. Jemma's response was a choked sob of relief and joy.

"Yes, yes, I'm here. You're going to be okay, Skye. You're going to be okay," Jemma assured her, her voice steady despite the tears streaming down her face. Skye tried to smile at her, but a look of pain crossed her face. Jemma was immediately ready to inject her with some painkillers.

Fitz, witnessing the scene, felt a mix of emotions swirling within him: relief for Skye being awake, surprise for the brilliant idea Simmons had and stupefaction for her laboratory colleague’s behavior towards Skye. He was also very worried about the girl, but he wondered when Jemma and Skye had become so close.

May observed the interactions with a rare softness in her eyes. The relief was palpable, and though questions about the procedure and its implications hung in the air, they were for another time. Right now, the focus was on Skye's incredible step towards recovery. 

Coulson, with the insight of a leader who had always been keenly aware of the dynamics within his team, sensed the unspoken undercurrent of emotion between Jemma and Skye. He understood that Jemma's dedication to Skye's recovery went beyond professional concern; it was deeply personal.

"May, Fitz," Coulson began, his voice carrying the weight of command softened by understanding, "I think it's time for me to turn in. Could you help me to my room?" 

May gave a slight nod, always ready to support, while Fitz, still slightly bewildered by the emotional intensity of the situation, agreed with a quick, "Of course, sir." 

As they left the med bay, Coulson cast a final glance over his shoulder, his gaze lingering on Jemma and Skye. With the room emptier and quieter, Jemma felt a profound sense of relief mixed with an overwhelming rush of emotions. She was acutely aware of Skye's gaze filled with gratitude on her, while she carefully administered the painkillers to help ease Skye's discomfort. Her touch was gentle but firm. 

Skye, feeling the strength drain from her voice but the urgency of her emotions undiminished, reached out to Jemma. Her hand shaky, yet her touch was deliberate, seeking the comfort and connection Jemma offered. 

"Jemma, I..." she began, her voice a fragile whisper that spoke volumes of her gratitude.

Jemma, understanding the importance of the moment, silenced her with a soft, "Shh, don't strain yourself. You're safe now, Skye. You're going to be okay." Her voice was a soothing balm, her presence a steady anchor in the storm that had passed. Jemma held a straw to Skye’s lips, helping her sip water, attentive to every need.

"Don't try to talk too much, Skye. You're still very weak, but you're going to get better," Jemma whispered, her voice laden with emotion. She brushed a strand of hair from Skye's forehead, her gaze locked with Skye's. In that quiet moment, the rest of the world seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of them in their bubble. 

Skye reached out, her hand finding Jemma's. Their fingers intertwined, as Skye tried to talk again. Her voice was barely audible, yet her words carried a weight of meaning that filled the room. "Thank you...for saving…me."

Jemma’s exhaustion was palpable, but she managed a soft smile anyways. The blue circles under her eyes were a testament to the countless hours she had spent working on a solution to save Skye, followed by the anxious vigil she had maintained by her side. Yet, the thought of leaving Skye, even for a moment to catch her breath or rest her eyes, was unthinkable. She was too caught up in the fear that Skye's condition might worsen the moment she looked away, too ensnared in the web of emotions that tied her to Skye's bedside.

Skye, despite her weakened state, was acutely aware of Jemma's fatigue. With a feeble but determined gesture, she beckoned Jemma closer, her intent clear even without words. Jemma hesitated, torn between her professional boundaries and the deep, personal connection she felt with Skye.

"I need to monitor your condition, Skye. I can't sleep…" Jemma began, her protest weak even to her own ears.

Skye’s eyes, clear and insistent, met Jemma’s, conveying a depth of understanding and care. She patted the bed gently, her movement slow but purposeful. It was an invitation, a silent plea for Jemma to allow herself a moment of vulnerability.

Jemma looked around the empty med bay, her mind racing with a hundred different reasons why she shouldn’t. But as her gaze settled back on Skye, all those reasons seemed to fade away, overshadowed by the simple human need for connection, for the reassurance that they weren’t alone in this.

Jemma carefully positioned herself on the bed, ensuring she kept a respectful distance while still close enough to respond if Skye needed her. She slipped her shoes off, mindful not to disturb any of the medical equipment surrounding them.

Skye's hand found Jemma's once more, their fingers intertwining with a gentle pressure that spoke volumes. Jemma allowed her eyes to close for just a moment, the steady rhythm of Skye's breathing a lullaby that promised a respite from the storm of the past few days.

As Jemma's breathing evened out, mirroring Skye’s, a peaceful silence enveloped the room. In that moment, they were not just scientist and patient, or teammates or even friends; they were two souls seeking and finding solace in the presence of the other.

The early hours of the morning were quiet, with the exception of the occasional hum of technology and the soft footsteps of S.H.I.E.L.D. agents moving through the corridors. Ward, Garrett, and Triplett, having been briefed by May and Fitz on the miraculous recovery Skye was undergoing thanks to Jemma's bold treatment, felt a mix of anticipation and concern as they approached the med bay.

Their footsteps slowed as they neared the door. What they expected to see was Jemma, perhaps poring over charts or preparing another dose of medication, with Skye slowly awakening to the world around her. 

What they found, however, was a scene far removed from the clinical detachment they had prepared themselves for. Through the glass, the sight of Skye and Jemma sharing the same bed, in a pose that spoke of deep care and mutual protection, stopped them in their tracks.

Jemma's head rested gently on Skye's shoulder, positioned with an awareness to avoid any contact with Skye's wounded stomach. Skye's arm, despite the evident weakness they all knew she must be feeling, lay protectively around Jemma's lower back. 

For a moment, the trio stood in silence. 

Ward's gaze continually shifted between Jemma and Skye, perplexed by the undeniable closeness between them. Despite their stark differences in character and the absence of any apparent friendship prior, they seemed inexplicably connected.

"Looks like they've been through more than we realized," he said, his usual facade of toughness softened by the scene before him.

"I'm not surprised," Triplett finally said, his voice low but carrying a hint of knowing. "Jemma mentioned last night they're together.”

"What?!" Fitz exclaimed, almost shouting behind the three agents.

Ward's shock was palpable, his features contorted with disbelief and a hint of hurt. His feelings for Skye had always lingered beneath the surface, unspoken but undeniable, and seeing her with someone else stirred up a tumult of emotions within him.

"What do you mean, 'together'?" Ward demanded, his voice edged with a mix of confusion and frustration.

Triplett glanced at Ward, recognizing the turmoil in his expression, but his resolve remained firm. "Um, like…they're a couple. Wait, you guys didn’t know? Shit, pretend I didn't tell you anything.”

Fitz, still reeling from the revelation, struggled to process the information. "But why keep it a secret? And how long has this been going on?

Ward couldn't shake off the feeling of unease that settled in the pit of his stomach. "But how did this happen?" he pressed, his tone tinged with frustration. "I mean, they never seemed close before."

Garrett interjected, his tone measured yet authoritative. "That's their personal business, gentlemen. Let's not make this situation any more complicated than it already is. Skye's recovery is what matters right now."

Triplett nodded in agreement. 

Fitz, still processing the revelation, chimed in. “But why didn't Jemma tell me? I thought we were...friends.”

Ward remained silent, his gaze fixed on the scene before him. He couldn't deny the pang of jealousy that gnawed at him, nor could he ignore the ache in his chest at the thought of Skye with someone else. But he knew Garrett was right: they had more pressing concerns at the moment.

Taking a deep breath to steady himself, Ward forced his emotions down, locking them away behind the mask of professionalism. "You're right," he conceded, his voice strained but controlled. "Let's focus on Skye and her recovery. That's what's important."

May, who had quietly joined the group and overheard Triplett's revelation, added her assent without hesitation. "Their personal lives are their own. Our focus remains on supporting them and ensuring the team's strength," she stated, her voice leaving no room for argument. “Now let's give them some privacy," she suggested, her voice carrying an uncharacteristic softness. "They've earned it."

The group stepped away from the door, their departure marked by a collective understanding. 

As the team members dispersed, leaving Jemma and Skye to their rest, May lingered behind, noticing the conflicted look on Ward's face. His usual composure was fractured by the revelation, revealing a depth of emotion that he rarely showed. May, ever observant, decided it was time to address the elephant in the room.

"Ward, we need to talk," she said, her tone indicating that this wasn't a request but a necessity.

Ward hesitated, then nodded, following May to a secluded corner where they could speak privately. The weight of the situation hung between them, an unspoken tension that needed to be resolved.

"Look, I know you have feelings for Skye," May started, cutting straight to the heart of the matter. "But you need to respect her choices. Jemma and Skye are together now. That's something you're going to have to accept."

Ward's jaw tightened, a clear sign of his inner turmoil. "How do you know?” he asked, worried that his bed partner was angry with him. 

May laughed bitterly. "The fact that I don't express emotions doesn't make me stupid, you know? I'm not blind and neither is our team."

“I know," he finally admitted, the words forced out as if they were physically painful to say. "It's just hard, you know? I didn't realize how deep my feelings were until I saw them together like that."

May softened slightly, understanding all too well the complexities of relationships within their line of work. "I get it, Ward. But carrying that jealousy and letting it fester isn't going to help anyone, especially not you. You're a key member of this team, and we need you focused."

Ward looked away, struggling with the truth in May's words. After a moment, he met her gaze again, the resolve beginning to firm up in his eyes. "You're right. I don't want my personal feelings to jeopardize the team or what we're trying to accomplish. I'll deal with it.”

May nodded, acknowledging his commitment. "Good. And Ward, we’re done.”

He nodded in understanding, heading towards the training room.