A/N: Okay, so I'm not really sure where this came from, but it appeared and I had to write it. Please let me know if I should continue!

Enjoy =).

She remembers.

She doesn't want to, but she can't help herself.

He's a monster, a dangerous monster that had nearly killed her and had caused brain damage to her best friend.

The knowledge that he was locked up made her feel safer, but she knew that she would never feel completely safe around him again.

Not after she found out what she was.

But today, today she had treated someone with a sprained ankle.

The memories came flooding back, despite her best effort to stop them.

…

"Does this hurt?"

Jemma winced as Ward probed her swollen ankle with his fingers. He was trying to be gentle, but even the light touch sent shooting pain up her leg. "No," she lied through her teeth.

Ward chuckled and shot her a disbelieving glance. "It's okay to admit when you're in pain," he advised, turning away from her to grab the ice pack he had made up to take the swelling down.

"You never do," she retorted, flinching as the cold settled against her skin, wrapped in a cloth to prevent frostbite. "And you've been shot. Multiple times."

His warm hand closed around her calf, holding her leg steady. His touch sent sparks through Jemma's veins, and she looked at him, surprised.

His gaze met hers briefly and she could see her emotion mirrored in his gaze.

"I'm a specialist. It's my job," he replied, more brusquely than before.

Swallowing and trying to ignore the fluttering in her stomach, Jemma replied, "And patching people up is my job. I can take care of this - it's just a sprain." She pointed to her ankle. Although she was protesting his attention, a part of her admitted that it felt good to see his obvious concern for her and his gentleness in ministering to her injury.

"Think of it as a thank you for the many times you 'patched me up'," he mimicked her accent. "Besides, I'm the most qualified to deal with injuries.' At her pointed look, he added, "Other than you."

The ice pack shifted against her ankle, and Jemma bit her lip at the wave of fresh pain.

"How's it feeling?"

"Ow," she replied through her teeth.

His thumb starting rubbing soothing circles on her calf as he held her steady. "Just a little longer, then I'll wrap it."

She nodded, not trusting herself to speak until the pain died down again. His touch was a useful distraction, though.

"How did you manage to sprain it?" Ward finally asked the question she had been dreading. "You weren't involved in the fighting."

She felt a blush rise to her cheeks and she couldn't meet his gaze. He had just single-handedly destroyed a small personal army without so much as an injury, and she...well, she was an idiot. "It was an accident," she stated.

"I figured that much. What happened?" With his free hand, he tilted her chin up to meet his gaze. His eyes bored into her soul and she found herself unable to look away.

"I...I wanted to help," she answered lamely. "There was fighting and I figured that if I could get close enough to the mansion's security system I could sound an alarm and call away some of the enemy."

"A second security breach," Ward nodded absently.

"Exactly. But," she hesitated, feeling her cheeks grow warm again, "someone found me and was about to shoot, so...so I fell down the hill and must have sprained it on the way down."

Ward glared at her. "You could've been killed," he stated flatly, his attention now completely on her story, her ankle forgotten. "What if he had followed you?"

"He didn't."

"Jemma," he threw up his hands in exasperation, "you're not a field agent."

"I was helping," she stressed. "And I'm fine."

"You have a badly sprained ankle," he pointed out. "And assorted cuts and bruises."

"You've had worse," she countered, even though she knew he was right. She wasn't trained for combat.

Ward sighed and, grabbing the tensor bandage from her hands, started wrapping her ankle. "Just be more careful, okay?"

Nodding, she focused on his smooth movements as he would the bandage correctly around her injury, applying just the right amount of pressure. It hurt, but it was a manageable pain.

"Keep it elevated," he instructed. "And Jemma?"

"Yes?"

"Leave the combat to the experts next time." He softened his words with a genuine smile, which she returned, still touched by his concern.

…

She didn't know how to reconcile the caring man who had treated her ankle with such gentle ministration with the monster who had nearly drowned her.

It didn't make sense.

She didn't want to remember.

But how could she forget?

Please leave a review and let me know if you want me to continue!