A/N: Okay, trying to write for AoS again and bear with me on this one, it's going to be a little weird until we get into it... This whole thing stems from a quote on Tumblr that managed to scientifically explain soul mates and my brain just ran with it. Please let me know what you think of it, I'm a little worried about this one and this chapter is ridiculously short, do you have any idea how hard it is to write dialogue with a coma patient?!

Anyway, I'm getting off track. Please enjoy!

DISCLAIMER: I own nothing.

I Don't Know What I'd Do If I Lost You

"You guys are like soul mates, you know that, right? So, you've got to come back. We all miss you but Simmons is freaking out without you," Skye told the comatose body of one Leopold Fitz. "She's not FitzSimmons-ing anymore, she's just Simmons-ing and worrying and you need to fix that. You have to fix it," the self-proclaimed hacktivist begged, unaware that standing in the doorway, watching the entire interaction, was the biochemist herself.

Staying silent, Simmons watched as Skye attempted to bribe, blackmail and beg Fitz to wake up.

"Well, I have to go, AC-DC is waiting for me-"

"You really ought to stop calling him that," Jemma interrupted, defending the newly appointed Director Coulson.

"Hey, if the joke fits…" Skye began, "How long have you been standing there?"

"Not long," Simmons lied, "I just got here myself to check on Fitz."

"Uh-huh, sure. Well, take care of him; I'll come see you both later, I'll bring food."

"You really don't have to," Jemma tried to argue as Skye ran down the hall. She knew that fighting would be pointless as Skye had appointed herself mother-hen, taking care of Jemma however she could which recently included forcing the scientist to stop and eat something every few hours.

Simmons had noticed that her appearance had changed since Fitz had been moved to the Playground; she'd lost weight. A lot. Her already slight frame now seemed more pronounced, her cheekbones standing out and her hair had begun falling out which had led to an impromptu hair cutting session that Skye had thankfully salvaged.

Moving to sit in the empty chair beside Fitz's bed, Jemma ran through ideas of what to say to her motionless partner while pulling at a loose thread. Trip had been reading to him, picking up whatever he could find and just reading for hours on end while Coulson usually just came by for a minute or two to see how the engineer was in between meetings before leaving. Skye kept him apprised of the recent gossip on base, telling him all about the latest horrors of training telling him to wake up repeatedly. Agent May just stared and told him to 'hurry up' whenever she came by.

Taking a moment to compose herself, readying herself to greet her long time best friend and before beginning her nightly vigil.

"It's a load of bollocks, I hope you know," Jemma whispered, surprising herself. "The whole notion of a soul mate is preposterous, the very belief that there's this one set person out there who is supposedly just perfect for you," pausing, Simmons looked at the man lying before her, "It's ridiculous. Isn't it?"

The idea of soul mates didn't sit well with Jemma Simmons, there was no way to identify it or measure it, there was nothing remotely scientific about the idea. It was just pure chance, to find someone who you connected with on so many levels but to say that the encounter was fate was ridiculous.

Standing, feeling the vertebrae in her back pop as she moved, Jemma waited silently for Fitz to argue with her, to say something, anything, to go against her but, as usual, Fitz said nothing. Instead, the Scot remained impassive, laying comatose on the bed as she paced the floor; the only noises coming from the ventilator forcing air into his lungs and the persistent beeping of the cardiac monitor which she just knew would drive Fitz mad if he were aware of it.

Halting mid-pace, Jemma turned and watched her partners face for any sign of change and finding none she resigned herself to sitting back in the chair by the head of the engineer's bed. Humming softly, Jemma idly picked up Fitz's hand, turning it over and running her hands over the scars and callouses left behind after years of work. One week ago, Jemma could barely bring herself to touch Fitz, the guilt over taking the canister of oxygen and her anger at her partner's reckless behaviour had kept her away from the hospital room entirely but, like magnets, Simmons quickly found herself beside her partner once more.

"And why are soul mates always romantic, why can't they just be best friends? How would a person even know they'd found their soul mate? It's not like you just get a letter in the post, is it? 'Congratulation on finding each other'…" Trailing off quietly, Jemma looked up, eyes studying the face of the man who had been beside her through so much. "What if they were too late?" she whispered, tears beginning to swell, preparing to fall.

"Fitz, what happens if you lose your soul mate?" Jemma begged, "What happens if you find them and you lose them?"

Running a hand through her hair, barely noticing several strands falling out as she did so, the biochemist waited for an answer, desperate for response. Feeling the tears rolling down her cheek, dripping off of her chin, Jemma leant forward, placing her hand on Fitz's scruff covered jaw while griping his hand tightly with her other hand. "What happens if I lose you?"

Knowing that she would receive no answer, Jemma sat down on the side of the hospital bed occupied by her best friend, noticing the items on the bedside table.

Get well cards.

Flowers.

A rubik's cube.

A monkey.

A monkey.

"I like to think of the first law of thermodynamics, that no energy in the universe is created and none is destroyed..."

Smiling to herself, Jemma moved so that she could lay down beside Fitz, careful not to pull at any other the wires attached to his body.

"Maybe they would meet again," she mused, reaching out to grasp Fitz's hand, "Maybe soul mates don't die, they just change. What if it's just energy, searching for the right person, the right energy?"

Resting her head on her partners shoulder, Jemma smiled, turning her head to press a small, chaste kiss to Fitz's jaw.

"I won't lose you Fitz, I'll find you; I'll find your energy. Or you'll find mine," Jemma whispered, allowing her eyes to close, imagining herself and Fitz finding each other, over and over again, listening to the steady beeping of the cardiac monitor and dreaming of Fitz's hand, fitting just right with her own and his fingers tightening around hers.

A/N2: Honesty time, what did you think? I know this is only the prologue but any feedback would be appreciated...