Author's Note; So, since I published Fitz POV, I've had this stuck in my head. I wrote it a while ago, and have been contemplating publishing it. Why not? Here we go and enjoy :)

Jemma POV:

"Alright, he have to hurry. We have to do this soon. There needs to be-"

"To be enough oxygen to ignite, yes." She finished for him, adding some more tape to secure the bottle of ethanol to the window seal. God, she couldn't believe that they had managed to find a way out. The resignation that had been on Fitz's face since she had woken had scared her. He'd given up hope of surviving, of living. That thought scared her more than she was capable of dealing with at that moment, so, like she had been for the last weeks, she pushed it to the back of her mind. She could deal with it when they were both back on the mainland. Or maybe when they had their plane back and they could lock themselves in one of their bunks and just relax for the first time in forever.

"Okay," he murmured, taking her elbow gently and pulling her away from the window. She took in a deep breathe and expelled it in a rush, fighting the nervous smile that was desperate to make its way to her lips. She heard him sigh heavily before looking up and meeting her eyes. There was something in them that she just couldn't put her finger on.

"Now, when I press that power button-"

"The window will blow in, and water will rush inwards." She said. She knew all this. It was simple physics.

"Yeah, which is going to be like a hundred punches to the stomach. Okay? The wind is going to be knocked right out of us." Again, she knew, but nodded anyway, just to give him some reassurance that she was listening. He nodded once before turning quickly and grabbing something with the arm that wasn't in the sling (she wished he would let her look at it, but he'd been so defeated, just telling her that it didn't matter anyway). When he turned back she could see that he had an oxygen cannister in his hand that had the face mask from a resuscitator attached to it.

"Now this is near empty but I've rigged it to let out a burst at very high pressure. It should force a breath into your lungs, but you have to hold onto it, okay? Hold onto it tight. It should be enough to get you up the 90 feet or so." His tone was urgent as he spoke, taking her back a little. Running through his words, trying to find the hidden reason for his urgency, she felt her breath catch in her throat.

"One breathe. But there's two of us." She had meant it to be more of a question, but it came out as a statement. He was a genius; this simple Math couldn't have escaped him.

"Yeah, I've done the Math." There he went again with the Math. As though Math was going to save them. His eyes were wide, pleading, as he looked at her, but she was shaking her head, even as he continued, "That's why you're taking it. You're the better swimmer anyway."

"No," she said firmly. This was stupid. She began running through scenarios that they could share the air, but she was coming up empty. And that terrified her.

"Jemma." He started, but she wasn't done.

"No. I'm not leaving you here. That's ridiculous! We need a new plan." They would come up with a plan together. They always worked better together anyway. Two halves of a whole. Fitz and Simmons. FitzSimmons.

"No, we're not discussing it, okay? You're taking it. End of story. I couldn't live if you didn't."

She would not pity him. Didn't he realize that he was just asking her to make the same horrible decision. A life without Fitz? It was impossible. And if she was living that life because she chose to save herself instead saving him, too? That wasn't worth thinking about.

"Well, I feel the same way! There has to be another way!" She said, not caring that her volume was raised. She rarely raised her voice at him, but God dammit, he deserved it this time!

"You're taking it." He said quietly, but she ignored him.

"Why- Why would you make me do this?! You're my best friend in the world!"

Why was he being so cruel? How could he ask this of her? Didn't he understa-

"Yeah, and you're more than that, Jemma."

His words hit her like a slap in the face and for the first time in as long as she could remember her mind went completely blank. More? More than his best friend?

He'd looked away from her now, an agonized expression on his face. She could feel the tension running through him but couldn't move. She was frozen. She wanted to, God, she desperately wanted to reach for him, she brush her fingers over his forehead, to smooth out the deep lines that had etched themselves there, mindful of his bruises and lacerations. He looked up at her finally, his eyes full of tears she knew he wouldn't let himself shed. He was speaking again, his soft brogue rasping with emotion.

"And I couldn't find the courage to tell you. So please," he was begging her now, and suddenly she was aware that she hadn't responded except for tearing up. "Let me show you."

She wasn't even aware the first tear had fallen. It didn't trickle down her cheek, stinging her sensitive skin. Somehow it welled over and dripped straight down onto her jumper. (A jumper Fitz had bought for her, she thought absently.) A garbled noise wrenched the air and then she was falling into him, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling herself up. Distantly she was aware that his broken arm that was still tucked into the sling was being squashed between them and would most likely be causing him pain, but she didn't care. All she cared about was holding onto him. Everything hit her at once. It was so overwhelming. All the moments she'd questioned that he might have felt more, all the moments she'd been suddenly struck by him, his heart, his mind, even the occasional moments the light would catch him at a slightly strange angle and all of a sudden her breath left her and she recognised that he was beautiful. Maybe not rugged like Ward, or athletic like Mike or Tripp, but he was beautiful.

"It's okay," she heard him whisper to her as his free came up and circled her in a hug like it had a hundred times before, but this was different. This felt like him trying to impress the feeling of her body against his into his memory. His words registered. Okay? This wasn't in the stratosphere of okay!

"No," she moaned, not caring how pitiful it sounded. "No, no, no, no, no." Desperately she turned her face into his neck, intending to bury her nose there and just inhale his scent. He'd always smelled incredible, a unique blend of cinnamon, solder and metal. But that wasn't enough. She had to let him know. The first kiss was unintentional. She didn't mean to press her lips to him, but after the first she couldn't stop. She pulled back just far enough that she could see him, and carded her fingers into his curls and continued to trail kisses across his skin. Up his neck, his cheek, his forehead, his temple, his jaw. She avoided his lips. Their first kiss would not be like this. The thought struck her that maybe they wouldn't get a first kiss, but she only continued to protest, and clung to him tighter, once again burying her face in his neck.

"Jemma. Jemma, please, come on, we have to hurry up." She felt his arm unwrap from around her which made her shiver and hold him tighter. She couldn't let him go. She felt the vibrations of his next words rather than hearing them.

"Take it, Jemma."

That caused her to pull back. She wanted to tell him no. She wanted to tell him she loved him, too. But he smiled at her and pushed the cannister into one of her shaking hands. "Take it."

"No!" She cried, not registering that her fingers had automatically enclosed on the thing that represented his love for her. He was literally giving her his last breath. She couldn't-

He was smiling. How could he be smiling? She tried to draw in a breath but it stuttered.

And then he turned.

"NOO!" She screamed, even as he hit the button that sealed his fate. She wasn't facing the window, so she didn't see the explosion, but she felt it a flash of heat which caused her to step into him and try to hold onto him with her free hand.

The water hit and she distantly felt the air whoosh out of her lungs, instinctively putting the mask to her face. Her eyes widened even as salt water splashed and stung them.

After that it was like an out of body experience, rather than feeling it happen she was watching. The corporeal-her let go of the cannister, but kept a tight hold on Fitz as the influx of water tried to pull him away from her. Her body kicked strongly against the current, tugging Fitz behind her. She made it out the window, kicking and kicking and kicking. They rose. A burning sensation made itself known in her chest and then it was like she was pulled back into her body. The burning raged into an inferno and she almost gasped. Not yet, a voice that sounded strangely like Fitz's echoed and she listened. Kicking again. And then a strange feeling. Her face broke the surface and the burn in her chest changed from fire to ice. This time she couldn't resist the gasp, and panicked momentarily before her body recognised that it wasn't water that was being pulled in. It was air.

Air. Fitz. Fitz needed air. With a last burst of strength she pulled until she could see his head break the surface. She turned him so his head lolled back against her shoulder, trying to keep his nose and mouth above water, even as she dipped back under.

This time when she came up there was a shape in the air above her.

"HELP!" She screamed, waving her arm that wasn't wrapped around Fitz in the air. And then there was a figure, and a hand, and someone was pulling her out. Idly she recognised the feeling of Fitz slipping from her grip, but she was too weak to do anything. And then black.