FZZT
Wind roared in Jemma's ears as she plummeted downwards, a silent scream on her lips. Arms and legs flailed as she fell, a desperate attempt to slow her rapid descent into death's eager hands. Faces and feelings and voices flashed uncontrollably through her mind, like a scrapbook of her life but shown in such quick succession she couldn't keep track. Her mother's singing. Her father's gentle, dependable touch. Stars blinking in the sky. The weight of books, filled to bursting with knowledge, in her hands. Her hungry eyes, darting across countless pages. Her eagerness, her excitement. Her optimism, her ambition. A boy in her class, around ages with her, his hand flying into the air. Irritation, jealousy, respect that he too knew the answer to the question. Chemicals, pervasive and pungent, stinging her nose as they work together on a project for the first time. A smile blossoming on her face. Laughter, acceptance, understanding as they grow closer. Coulson, standing tall before them. Pride and honour and nerves making her hands tremble. Fitz, his face drawn tight like a bow, uncertainty etched into his features. Then Melinda May, strong and stoic. Grant Ward, intuitive and caring. Skye, charismatic and intelligent. Their faces flash by, too quickly, she lost her grip each time. And she falls, and falls, and falls. All she knows then is terror, gripping her chest so tightly she couldn't breathe. Then, blue stretching on farther than the eye can see and Jemma was hurtling down and she couldn't stop and-
She awoke with a start, her hair plastered to the sweat that was dripping down her face. Her chest heaved as she flew upwards, shaking hands darting out to stop her fall. Except she wasn't falling anymore. She was safe, in the Bus, in her bunk. Relief hit her like a ton of bricks as she settled back against her wall, still panting and trembling as she willed herself to calm down. She had known that this would come, that sooner or later the shock would wear off and she would face the consequences of coming within touching distance of death. She had just hoped she would get a solid night of sleep first. Apparently, her hope had been misplaced.
Unable to stay tangled in her sheets any longer, Jemma decided the best thing to calm her nerves would be a cup of tea. Stepping carefully onto the floor, hyper-aware of the fact that she was sandwiched between Daisy and Fitz's bunks, she reached blindly for the hoodie she had left folded on a chair and shoved it on over her head. She blearily checked her phone for the time as she picked it up and she sighed when she saw it was 3.45am. Too early to start her day, but also not quite late enough to go back to sleep after her tea. Having the foresight to stick on some fluffy socks, (the Bus, whilst very impressive, tended to be a bit on the colder side, and the floors in the early hours of the morning were like an ice-rink) she slid her door quietly open and padded softly away from her bunk.
Jemma reached the kitchen area after relying on muscle memory to carry her through the dark plane, not wanting to wake anyone up with lights. Now that she was far enough away from the sleeping area, she flicked a switch and the kitchen was illuminated. Forgetting just how bright it would be, she spent the next few minutes squinting uncomfortably as she busied herself making tea. The familiar process was soothing and it chipped away at a bit of the terror that had invaded her sleep. Soon, she had a steaming mug in her hands and a couple of digestives that she had brought from home, stashed away specifically for sleepless nights. It's not that she had them often, but sometimes when she was at the academy, being homesick could keep her awake for hours. A little taste of home done wonders to cheer her up. Obviously, she hadn't anticipated needing such comforts to calm herself after jumping from plane without a parachute, with the absolute intent of killing herself (but saving her team, her friends, in the process) but nevertheless, she hoped the old trick would still work.
Deciding that she wasn't quite ready to face her bunk again, Jemma rerouted to the common room. Mindful to use a coaster (she had spotted Coulson insisting on it more than once, and she had more than enough respect for the man to acquiesce), she settled her tea down on the coffee table and burrowed into the cushy couch, drawing her legs up to her chest. She found herself wishing she had stuck something warmer than her shorts on, because whilst the hoodie (which now she was in better lighting she realised was Fitz's) and her fluffy socks weren't doing much to warm her frozen legs.
"You can turn the heating up, you know"
Jemma's head whipped round to the door, where Coulson was leaning casually. She huffed a nervous chuckle when she realised it was him, but her heart still hammered against her ribcage.
"Sorry. Should have made more noise coming down the hall" he apologised, an easy smile on his face.
"No, no it's fine. I'm just a bit jumpy is all" Jemma reassured him warmly, returning his smile. Her cheeks had taken on a pink tint, and Jemma prayed Coulson couldn't see it from where he was stood. It was silly to feel embarrassed, but Jemma couldn't help but feel like a child caught with her hand in the cookie jar, even though she hadn't actually done anything wrong. But then she realised how she was dressed (clad in a worn, navy hoodie that reached the tops of her knees - which completely hid her black, fleecy shorts - and grey fluffy socks with little yellow hearts dotted along them, with her hair haphazardly tied into a messy bun on her head, she was far from the picture of professionalism) and her face burned so bright she was certain it could light the room on fire.
"Sorry, sir. I didn't mean to- I'll just be on my way." Jemma stuttered, flustered, reaching to grab her tea and biscuits.
"Simmons, it's fine. You are perfectly within your rights to enjoy a cup of tea in the common room" Coulson placated her gently, coming round to sit in the armchair next to the couch. Jemma paused, halfway up from the couch with her mug clutched in her hand, and watched awkwardly as he settled himself. It took Coulson motioning for her to sit before she actually moved. Stiffly, she sat back down and sent her superior an anxious, but appreciative smile.
"You really don't have to sit with me, sir. I'm sure you have other things to be doing"
"Like sleeping?" he asked her pointedly, and Jemma narrowly avoided burning her mouth on her tea.
"Well, yes. If that's what you want to be doing, I can head back to my-"
"Simmons, sit down and drink your tea. If anything I'd enjoy the company. And a biscuit." he added slyly, and Jemma hurried to give him one.
"What is it?" he asked, perplexed, as she handed him the snack. Jemma gasped softly at his question, placing a hand on her chest in mock offence.
"Did I just insult the British?" he asked wearily, causing Jemma to chuckle.
"Just a little. It's a digestive. They're very popular back home" she explained, watching in anticipation as he bit into it. After a moment of chewing, he hummed happily, giving her a thumbs up.
"I can see why you'd miss home" he commented lightly, but the way he watched for her response made it clear he didn't mean to pose the question casually. Trying her hardest to keep her face neutral, and keeping her gaze steadfastly aimed at her tea, she swallowed her digestive and pondered an answer.
"You think I miss home?" she asked, her voice a little too high to pass as nonchalant.
"I think after the day you had you'd be missing your family, and maybe your old life too" Coulson responded, his eyes kind. Jemma was quietly impressed by just how observational and intuitive the man was.
"I don't really miss my old life. I'd always wanted something more, something...exciting, and challenging. But...I do miss my parents" she admitted, softly, as if missing your family was forbidden.
"You could call them. I'm sure they would be awake, given the time difference" he suggested, but Jemma was quick to decline.
"They were reluctant about me taking this job as it was. I even had to lie when I told them about my field test - they think Fitz and I passed it. Telling them this, it would only worry them more" she sighed, wrapping her arms around her small frame.
"I didn't think lying was your forte" Coulson joked.
"It was included briefly in an email, so there wasn't much room for error, even for me" she tittered, her mind casting back to the incident at the hub.
"I still can't believe I shot him". The words slid out without much thought and as soon as they did she wished she could take them back. Daring to sneak a glance at Coulson, who she was sure would be sporting an unimpressed look, she was surprised to see him laughing.
"Neither can I. I had to ask May to say it again when she told me". Jemma buried her head in her hands, her own shoulders shaking lightly with laughter. She was glad to find that some of the stress from before had ebbed away, leaving her in a decidedly better mood.
"Thank you for this, sir. I feel better now" she said, once they had recovered from their trip down memory lane.
"If you have trouble sleeping again, I can always arrange for someone to come speak with you" he offered and Jemma found herself blushing.
"That won't be necessary, I'm sure. But, thank you. Sincerely."
He nodded, probably deciding that pushing her on the matter wasn't wise, before he got to his feet and eyed her, a gleam of concern behind his eyes.
"I'd feel better if you got some sleep, Agent Simmons" Coulson said, and Jemma took that as a cue to follow him.
"Yes, I think I'll head back to my bunk now. Thank you again, sir" she said as she bid him farewell, and as she passed he placed a warm hand on her shoulder.
"I meant what I said earlier. We would be sad to lose you, Simmons"
In her tired state, Jemma felt her eyes well and she struggled to keep the tears at bay.
"Likewise, sir" she replied in a wobbly voice, before heading out the door and back to her bunk before she embarrassed herself further.
Upon arriving back to her bunk, she was surprised to find Fitz shuffling unsurely at her door, hand hovering at his head, almost like he was contemplating knocking.
"Fitz?" she called softly, not wanting to scare him. He turned to face her, his eyes wide. He glanced first at her, then back at her closed door, then back to her again, clearly confused.
"I couldn't sleep, so I made myself some tea" explained Jemma as she padded towards him.
"Oh- me neither. So, I just...thought I'd-"
"Stand watch outside my door?" she finished, her voice teasing. He automatically scoffed, however the tips of his ears turned pink. Jemma giggled as she typed in her passcode and pushed the door open. For a moment, they were suspended awkwardly in silence, identical questions on both their lips. Jemma fumbled with the edge of her hoodie as she tried to sort through her messy thoughts. Her bunk suddenly looked so lonely, and Fitz was the closest thing to home that she had. Plus, they had spent nights together before, cramming for exams or working on ideas and inventions until way past curfew, forcing them to camp out where they were until one could sneak out in the morning. But, never like this, never without any reason except Simmons didn't want to be alone if she fell again. Her eyes, big and imploring, met Fitz's.
"Stay?" she requested finally, her voice so fragile and delicate. Fitz untensed instantly, his shoulders slumping in relief.
"Yeah! I mean sure. If you-if that's what you'd like"
Jemma nodded, a smile spreading across her face.
"Erm, okay. Like the old days, yeah?" he joked, following her into the bunk.
"Exactly. We could even study if you want" she joked, although Fitz could tell she was being slightly serious.
"I swear I've never met anyone so in love with homework"
"Oh Fitz, I'm not in love with it. I just enjoy studying"
They bickered back and forth naturally, falling into the comfortable patterns they had sewn since they had met, all those years ago. And they continued to talk, in hushed tones so as not to wake Skye, until one after the other, they fell asleep, squeezed into Jemma's little bed in her bunk.
And if Skye woke to their not-so-quiet squabbling before they fell asleep, and hacked into Jemma's bunk so she could slide the door open without a passcode once they fell quiet, they would never had known. But she did, and she barely supressed a squeal at how Jemma's head was cushioned in the crook of Fitz's neck, and how his arm was snaked around her waist protectively.
They were meant for each other, and Skye promised to herself then and there that she would stick around long enough to see them together.