Jemma Simmons hesitates uncertainly at the door. She raises her hand to knock, only to pause and draw it back hurriedly, shifting from foot to foot. She repeats the process several times, scolding herself each time for her cowardice. It's not as though it's something she needs to be embarrassed about, after all. It's a perfectly legitimate question with entirely innocent intentions. In fact, it's the right thing to do, not just the polite one, so really she's just being silly by blowing this all out of proportion, isn't she?

Sucking in a deep breath, she reaches up and knocks sharply before she has the chance to second-guess herself. There's a call for entry from the other side and she pushes the door open quickly, like ripping off a bandage, shutting it behind her just as hurriedly, as though she could somehow shut the door quick enough so that her silly anxieties couldn't follow her inside.

Phil looks up from whatever he'd been reading—files of some sort, it seems—and smiles, looking entirely unsurprised to find her in his office.

"Finally decided I wasn't so scary after all?" he quips.

"I… what? Sir?" Jemma blurts.

"I could hear you talking to yourself outside the door," he explains.

"Oh," she says, lowering her eyes guiltily. She looks up suddenly. "Oh, it's not that I'm afraid of you or anything, sir. Really, you're very easy to talk to. You're not intimidating at all. Honestly."

"Not even a little?" he asks, looking highly disappointed.

Jemma opens her mouth and closes it, not quite sure what to say. She lets out a relieved sigh when he chuckles and shakes his head at her.

"I'm sorry, I couldn't resist pulling your leg a little," Phil informs her. He leans forward in his seat and gestures for her to take a seat before he folds his hands over his desk. "Now, what did you want to see me about?"

Jemma slowly slips into the proffered seat, her posture ramrod straight as she scoots to the very edge of it.

"Well, sir, it's about what happened at the Hub," she begins.

"I assume you're referring to the incident with Agent Sitwell?" he asks.

"That would be the one," she replies, wincing.

She's surprised when she gets a sympathetic look in return. "Well, given the situation, I think he'd understand. We've all made questionable decisions at one time or another in our lives. You were doing something to aid your teammates; I don't think anyone can really fault you for that, even if your method was… a bit unconventional."

"Thank you for saying so. And that's actually the reason I'm here," Jemma says, leaning forward in her seat. "I know that Agent Sitwell was brought to the infirmary and I suppose I just wished to apologize to him personally."

"Understandable," Phil says with a nod of his head. He reaches for a pen and a stack of sticky notes and begins writing as he speaks. "You should know that Jasper has a bad track record with being drugged. So being admitted to the infirmary is more because he tends not to handle them well and less because of your actions in particular. He seemed perfectly fine when I visited him, but I'm sure hearing from you wouldn't hurt."

"You… visited him?" Jemma prompts.

Phil pulls off the top sticky note and reaches across the desk to hand it to her. "I was Jasper's S.O. when he first joined S.H.I.E.L.D.; he's an old friend."

"I see," Jemma says, taking the note and wondering what it says about her that she shot her team leader's old friend in the chest. She looks down at the note. "This is a number."

"That's his personal," Phil says. "You're more likely to catch him with that one."

"I don't suppose you'd have his email address instead?" Jemma fishes uncertainly.

"You really want to send an apology via email?" Phil asks, not unkindly.

"No, I suppose not," Jemma admits.

It seems to her that he takes pity on her then because he leans forward in his seat, the look in his eyes telling her that he's going Papa Bear on her. Skye had been the first one to refer to Melinda and Phil as mom and dad, but it had stuck. Because they really are rather parental, aren't they? In any case, she's grown used to Phil watching out for all of them in much the same way a father would and his treatment of her now is therefore unsurprising.

"I apologized to Jasper myself and I can assure you there are no hard feelings," he informs her. "You don't really have to apologize to him if you don't want to."

"No, sir, I do," she says resolutely, his words only serving to make her surer of herself on the matter. "It's the right thing to do. And it's the professional thing to do. If we're to work with Agent Sitwell again in the future, I want to be sure that this incident isn't hanging over either of us."

Maybe it's just the light, but she swears she sees a proud twinkle in his eye as he smiles at her.

"Alright. Well, you have his number," he says, gesturing to the note in her hand.

"Yes. Thank you, sir," she says.

She sits and waits for him to say something else. There's a pregnant pause before he raises his eyebrows at her.

"Something else you needed?" he questions.

"Oh. No. I was just… I'm sorry, I have a difficult time understanding when you've dismissed me," Jemma says as she nearly jumps from her seat. "Well then, ehm… sleep well?"

"Thank you," Phil says with a nod. "Goodnight, Jemma."

"Goodnight, sir," she answers with a small smile.

As she slips out of his office, she's fairly certain that he isn't going to be doing anything remotely resembling sleeping for some time despite the lateness of the hour. If she were in a position to do so, she might have heckled him a little more into doing so, but she's certain Mama Bear will give him a properly stern glare come morning.

So she returns to her bunk, stopping to check on Leo and pleased to see him fast asleep with his face mashed in his pillow. It had been a terrifying ordeal for all of them, knowing he and Grant were out there without an extraction prepared, but everyone is back safe and sound, tucked in for the night, and so she tries to let her worries end there. Except she has this slip of paper in her hand with a number that she really should call.

An hour later, Jemma is sitting in bed in her pajamas, still fiddling with the slip of paper Phil had handed her. It's not that hard, is it? It's just a phone call. And it doesn't even have to be a particularly long one; just hello, this is Agent Simmons, I'm sorry I shot you in the chest and dragged your unconscious body to the corner of a restricted hallway, I look forward to working with you in the future, goodnight.

That's not hard at all.

And yet she continues to hesitate. In all likelihood, he's not even awake at this hour. Although, the more she thinks about it… the more she thinks that may work in her favor. She could call and just leave a voicemail. That way, if he felt like it, he could return her call and perhaps they could have a conversation that didn't have such an uncomfortable subject matter. This way, he would see she'd made an honest attempt to contact him directly and, as he was asleep, had left a polite voicemail instead. He's not likely to answer his personal number at this hour, is he? No, not at all.

Confident in her new plan of action, she retrieves her phone and dials the number that had been given to her. She waits patiently as the phone rings once, twice, three times. As the voicemail greeting begins to play, she breaths out a sigh of relief. Her plan is going perfectly.

"Sitwell."

Jemma freezes as the recording is cut off by a groggy greeting. No, no, no, he wasn't supposed to pick up. This is not how the plan was supposed to go.

"Hullo?"

She hangs up.

She hangs up and tosses her phone to the edge of her bed. So much for leaving a voicemail. So much for escaping with so much as a shred of her dignity intact. At the very least he won't have known it was her, right? As her phone begins to ring, the likelihood of that possibility is waning. Biting on her lower lip, she contemplates just letting it ring through, but thinking back on her conversation with Phil, she knows she has to take responsibility. So, taking a deep breath, Jemma grabs her phone and answers the call.

"Hello?" she says, hoping against hope that she can get away with a 'wrong number' excuse.

"Good morning, Agent Simmons."

Well, no chance of that, then. She tries not to wince.

"Ah, yes. Good morning, Agent Sitwell," she says, clearing her throat.

"Is there any particular reason why you're calling me at—" There is a pause where she imagines he must be squinting at the clock. "—quarter of four in the morning?"

"I'm terribly sorry, I really am, I was just going to leave a voicemail," she explains . "I didn't mean to wake you."

"I've woken to worse things."

Jemma can't help her nervous twitter of laughter, but can't say anything in return. What could she say to that?

"So, are you gonna tell me what was so urgent that you had to leave me a voicemail at this hour?" he asks her, his voice still heavy with sleep.

"Right. That," Jemma says. "Well… I was just… What I mean is, I had been feeling…"

She stops herself, takes a deep breath and lets it out. It's not that hard. It doesn't have to be that hard.

"I wanted to apologize," she says.

"Mm. You do know that Phil already took care of that for you, right?" Jasper asks.

"Yes, he did mention that," Jemma says. "But I'm afraid I don't feel comfortable with allowing someone to make an apology that I should be making myself. Whether it's standard procedure or not, I don't care to let my superior take responsibility for my actions."

"That's good to know," Jasper says. "And apology accepted."

"Really? Just like that?" Jemma queries uncertainly.

"Just like that," Jasper hums.

"Well then. That was easier than I'd anticipated," Jemma states. She tugs on the hem of her shirt. "But I really am very sorry. That sort of behavior isn't something I make a habit of, it's just…"

"You were looking out for your team. I get it," Jasper says. "Water under the bridge."

"You're alright, then? No adverse side effects?" Jemma probes.

"Still a bit drowsy, but I've been told I'll just sleep it off," Jasper informs her. "For such a ridiculous name, that thing sure packs a punch."

Jemma snorts. "Well, at least I'm not the only one who thinks it's ridiculous."

There's a short span of silence before she hears a yawn on the other end of the line and she remembers that she'd woken him for this conversation. Put on top of any lingering effects from the Night Night Pistol, she's sure he'd probably prefer to go back to sleep than to listen to her go on.

"I'm sorry, I'm keeping you awake," she notes.

"Like I said, I've woken to worse things," Jasper answers with a sleepy laugh that borders on giggling. "'Sides, what are you doing awake?"

"Well, I…" Jemma says, trailing off. Her tone drops considerably in volume as she fiddles with a loose thread on her pajama sleeve. "I suppose I was just a bit worried, is all."

"I appreciate the concern," Jasper says, his tone warm. "But seeing as I'm fine, do you think maybe we could both go to sleep?"

"I believe so," Jemma answers. "But one more thing."

She hears an assenting hum, prompting her to continue.

"I still feel very badly over the whole thing and I was wondering if I could make it up to you," Jemma says in a rush, certain that if she doesn't, it won't be said at all. "Perhaps the next time we're at the Hub I could… take you to lunch?"

"On one condition."

"Yes?"

"I'm pretty sure I asked you to call me Jasper. So you should call me Jasper."

"Yes, you did say that, didn't you?" Jemma asks, feeling a flush creep up on her cheeks. "I suppose I can agree to those terms."

"Glad to hear it. And I'd be glad to hear from you again," Jasper tells her.

"Perhaps at a more reasonable hour," Jemma teases.

"That might be nice," Jasper answers. She hears another yawn. "Speaking of which, as much as I'd like to continue this conversation, consciousness isn't working in my favor so I'm gonna have to throw in the towel here."

"Of course," Jemma says, nodding her head in understanding despite the fact that he can't see it. "We can… we can continue another time?"

"If you call, I'll answer."

She finds herself smiling. "Goodnight then, Agent, ah… I mean, goodnight, Jasper."

"Goodnight, Agent Simmons."

It's only after they've both hung up and she places her phone on the nightstand that she considers how that conversation had gone. She'd intended to leave an apologetic voicemail and had wound up effectively asking a superior officer out to a lunch date. Not the plan she'd laid out, but she can't say she's disappointed in the turn of events.

Perhaps next time she should ask him to call her Jemma.