I peered over the top of my computer screen at Fitz, who was sat in the chair opposite my desk. He was staring at a spot on the wall above my shoulder, oblivious that I was watching him. His eyes carried that distant, far-away look that cloaked him like a curse. He appeared to be mumbling to himself, having a conversation with some non-existent person. His hands were constantly moving, pulling at the threads in his clothes or wringing them together, tapping at surfaces or tucked into his armpits as if to conceal the shaking.
Fitz looked ill, even now, with our near-death trauma reaching several months ago. Heavy, purplish-blue bags bruised under his eyes and his skin seemed almost grey in some lights. I thought back to seeing him in his coma, lying there in the hospital bed, so pale, desperately wanting to help him. His shouts and murmurs of anguish when he slept still hurt to listen to, his nightmares intertwining with my own.
Where was the Fitz that I used to know? It was like he’d been replaced by some poorly-replicated clone, never quite himself, the stuttering and twitching a malfunction of the system. Every now and then I’d think he was coming back to us, only for him to shrink back into himself at random moments, sitting in silence for hours on end, not communicating with any of us. Not even me. It was heartbreakingly painful to witness.
“Fitz?” I said softly. “Fitz, can you hear me?” No reaction. “Leo, please!” I could have been talking through soundproof glass. I sighed as I sat down, resting my elbows on the surface of the desk and cupping my face in my hands. I blinked away the tears that seemed intent to overcome me at least once a day. Several times, I’d almost lost control and tried to literally shake him out of it. But time and time again, I took a deep breath, regained my composure, and continued as normal, dragging myself through each day, trying to become absorbed in work, in science, always praying to see Fitz recover.
It physically hurt to have once been so close to him, the closest he was to anyone, and not be able to help him. His brain had been affected badly; ‘the damage to his temporal lobe too extensive’, the specialists had said. I don’t think he had foreseen the consequences when he sacrificed himself for me. That time in the box would never leave me, waking up to realise that I was going to die, uncontrollable terror gripping my heart. I felt almost ashamed at how I’d reacted with Fitz, half suffocating him with affection and sorrow.
For the millionth time, I wished that I could have done something, anything, to minimise the after affects. I felt so guilty that I had come out virtually unscathed, whilst Fitz had been battling for his life, spending several days in intensive care before it was determined that he would live, spending nine days in a coma- the worst nine days of my life- then finding out that he was suffering with an intense case of Hypoxia. I had once had to leave his bedside, lock myself in the bathroom and cry, an ugly flow of tears that never seemed to stop, that left me feeling exhausted, as I looked at him, drained after the effort of trying to string together a single sentence. My intelligent, caring Fitz, reduced to a shell.
As a scientist, and Fitz’s best friend, I had automatically wanted to involve myself fully in his recovery, and spent hours researching the rare disease. But as the specialist doctors, and my friends, had told me over and over again, there was nothing that I could do except be there for him. Skye had been extra supportive, and I appreciated her help so much, the little things she did for me meaning more than she could ever realise.
But hope had slowly drained away as I watched the Fitz I had known for years fade in front of me. Before we escaped from the box, he had confessed about how he felt about me, but I just couldn’t think about that right now. I thought that I might have made a difference, given how he felt, but nothing worked. Nothing.
“Jemma?” I looked up, the voice making me jump, momentarily thinking it was Fitz before I registered that it was Coulson’s voice. He was stood in the doorway, wearing his usual black suit, white shirt and striped tie “Could I have a word, please?”
“Yes, sir, of course.” I said, as I stood up and nodded. I placed my hand on Fitz’s shoulder as I passed him. “I’m just going out for a minute, Fitz, shout if you want anything.” I tried not to treat him like an invalid, act the same with him as if he was the same Fitz as before, as hard as it may be. I wasn’t always sure if I succeeded. To my surprise, he turned his head and mumbled a reply, stumbling over his words. Something like, “OK, th-thanks”, though I couldn’t be sure.
Coulson gave me a look of sympathy as he nodded for me to turn left in the corridor outside.
"How’s he coping?” He said quietly.
“Oh, you know, same as usual.” I tried to smile in a positive way, but failed, half grimacing instead. Coulson shook his head before starting to walk down the corridor. I increased my pace to keep up with him, curious about what he wanted to talk to me about. We passed May, who was coming towards us from the opposite direction and she nodded at him, slowly and purposefully, without stopping to talk. Now I was confused. What was going on?
Coulson lead me to his office, not speaking a word since he first fetched me. I followed him in and he shut the door, then gestured to the chair facing his desk. We both sat down, me feeling increasingly more awkward. “Simmons, I need to ask you a huge favour, but it cannot leave this room. Do you understand?”
“Yes, of course, sir.” I said, frowning. “What do you need me to do?” He took a breath before saying;
“I need you to work undercover for S.H.I.E.L.D. at Hydra.” I stared at him.
“You-you need me to do what, sir?!”
“I know this request may come as a surprise, but we need more people on the inside, and you’d be the perfect candidate.” I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. There was no way I could work undercover!
“I’m sorry sir, but you can’t be serious?!” I exclaimed, not as respectfully as I should have. He clasped his hands together and placed them on the desk, leaning slightly forward.
“But I am. 100%. We need you, Agent Simmons.”
“Woah, slow down. Sir.” I added more appropriately, after a pause. “How on earth could I help you?”
“We need more intel on what Hydra is up to. Much more than we have at the moment, or else S.H.I.E.L.D. will never be able to build itself up again."
“Sir, I am not a field agent. I am a terrible liar under pressure, and I wouldn’t know the first thing about pretending to work for Hydra, of all people, whilst simultaneously gathering information and not looking suspicious!”
His tone became more serious and urgent. “Jemma, we really do need your help. S.H.I.E.L.D. has been reduced to a minute percentage of what it used to be, and there are only a very small number of people on this planet that I trust.”
“Well, what about- what about May? Or Skye? They’re field agents! Or anyone other than me?” But even before he answered, I knew what he was going to say.
“May and Skye are too well known. They’re the last people that Hydra would trust, or even consider, to work for them.” He replied calmly.
“But what about me? They kidnapped Fitz and I, and we did put up quite a fight.” I admitted. “They’d never believe that I actually wanted to switch sides and join them.” I swallowed as I thought of how it all went wrong from that moment onwards.
“We’ll train you, Jemma, make up a story for you to follow to make you feel more comfortable. Base your allegiance around your interest in science and discovery, and that you feel that Hydra is the best option for opportunity and knowledge. You’re an incredible scientist, and I’m sure that Hydra had their eye on you long before S.H.I.E.L.D. fell. They won’t turn you down.”
Nerves at what Coulson wanted me to do suddenly made me feel sick and I broke eye contact with him, looking at the floor as I tried to gather my thoughts.
“But, sir. I can’t just- I… What about my life here? And Fitz? I can’t leave him, Coulson, surely you can see that.”
“But I can.” Slowly, I raised my eyes again. His voice softened and he walked round his desk to stand next to me. “I know Fitz is struggling, I can see that. But Jemma, healing takes time. I know from experience. And honestly-?”
I began to shake my head, anticipating what was coming.
“I don’t think you’re helping. If anything, you’re stunting his recovery. Every time he looks at you he’s reminded of what happened. He’s associating you with the trauma of that time in the box. And he just can’t cope.”
A lump of emotion stuck in my throat. I knew what he was saying was right, inside I’d known for a long time, if I allowed myself to admit it. I tried to clear my throat and say something, but before I could stop myself, a single hot tear slipped down my cheek. I desperately tried to wipe it away quickly, not wanting to seem weak in front of Coulson. I didn’t want his pity. He put a hand on my shoulder in comfort.
“It’s OK to feel like this, Jemma. We’re all struggling to come to terms with who Fitz is now, and what happened to you both. I can barely imagine how you feel, but I think it’s best if you gave him some space for a while, see how he reacts and take it from there.”
I nodded, straightened up, and took a shaky breath, hating how fragile I’d become.
“I think this could do you good too, Jemma, not only Fitz. As harsh as it sounds, you both need time apart.”
“OK.” I sighed. He’d backed me into a corner and if it meant helping Fitz, I’d do anything. The thought that I’d been hurting him was unbearable, agonising, and the thought had unconsciously been gnawing away at me for weeks, wearing me down. “I’ll do it.” I said, weakly. What choice did I have?
“I want you to understand that this will be very dangerous, and that you’ll constantly have to be on your guard. I know I don’t need to tell you how ruthless Hydra are; they will not hesitate to kill or torture you if they become suspicious.” He took a key out of the bottom desk drawer and unlocked one of the many filing cabinets, handing me a file, with ‘CLASSIFIED’ stamped on the cover in red.
As I read through the mission specifications, the overwhelming enormity of what I’d agreed to began to sink in. Hydra were killers, skilled in all aspects of murder and revenge. How could I, alone, turn the tables so that S.H.I.E.L.D were one step ahead? Hydra had beaten us for that exact reason; they’d always had a plan, always manipulated the situation to their advantage. We thought we’d wiped them out for good decades ago; Agent Peggy Carter and Captain Steve Rogers working together to destroy their leader, and Peggy disbanding and wiping out the rest. S.H.I.E.L.D. itself rose from the ashes of that time. But as the saying goes, I thought, ‘cut off one head, two more will take its place’.
“Jemma? You won’t be completely on your own in there. I can’t say anymore as it could blow your cover, but I’ll keep in touch, come and visit every now and again. We’ll make sure nobody finds out about you.” I just nodded mutely, not able to say any more, flicking through the pages and skim-reading. Coulson paused, seeming unsure how to phrase his next words. “This is going to sound cruel and cold, but I can’t let you say goodbye to anyone here. I’ll let you have ten minutes with your family on a secure line, which is the maximum we could possibly give you, but that’s it. We can’t take any chances here.”
I opened my mouth to protest, thinking of Fitz and Skye especially, and Trip and all the others. May clearly already knew, though I was sure she was the only other person who Coulson had confided in. He interrupted me before I could say anything.
“We need to make this look like you’ve abandoned us and changed sides. I know we’re in hiding but any whisper of doubt could blow our cover and kill you. I’ll tell the rest of the team that you’ve had to go to England to visit your family, urgently and suddenly, or that you’re doing important work for us elsewhere. They’ll understand, Jemma.”
I didn’t reply, sitting in silence for almost a minute before answering him. His request had completely thrown me, and hundreds of thoughts were battling their way through my head. “Sir, I understand, but how do you think Fitz will react?” At this moment, he was my main concern. I knew that giving him some space would hopefully help the both of us figure things out, but if I just disappeared? Would that make him better or worse? I could imagine how angry and hurt he would feel. I was torn. “He’ll think I’ve abandoned him.” I whispered.
He sighed. “Jemma, I’m afraid you’ve got no choice.” I took a deep breath. I wouldn’t know what to say anyway, but I still felt a tug of sadness in my chest as I thought about the possibility of never seeing my team again, or my family at home. I hadn’t spoken to my family in a long time, and just skimmed over the details over what happened with Hydra, not wanting to upset them. I hadn’t actually seen them, or my home in Sheffield, since when the team had been put together and Fitz and I had flown out to meet them, full of excitement and innocence.
I had originally scheduled some time off to go home, coincidentally at the time just before S.H.I.E.L.D. fell, before I had realised how deep our mission had become and before any of this had even been foreshadowed. Needless to say, I’d cancelled it, knowing I couldn’t leave my friends to deal with the mess and danger we were all in. I hadn’t found a good time to reschedule my visit, not wanting to leave Fitz on his own. It had been so long, and a wave of homesickness hit me.
I’d become lost in my thoughts of home, of a simpler life before S.H.I.E.L.D., and realised that I needed to go over the details of my mission with Coulson. “I’ll give you some time to think this through as you pack up your things. We’ll need to relocate you temporarily while we prepare you. I don’t imagine it would be easy to continue life here until you were ready.”
Leaving now? It made sense, but I still felt a jolt when he said it. I doubted that I would ever be ready, was nearly overcome by the sudden urge to scream and shout that everything was moving too quickly and that I couldn’t handle it, that Coulson needed to find someone else.
I hesitated as I stood up, not knowing what to say next. “Could you tell the team that I said goodbye, and that I’m sorry that I couldn’t say it to them myself. Especially Skye and Fitz.” I asked.
“This won’t be goodbye for good, I know you’ll fight to come back, Jemma.” I just nodded numbly and excused myself to get ready, shutting the door behind me with a resounding click.