Hi guys! This is my first Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. fic and while, I have one already in the writing process, I just HAD to write this. Muse just hit me and words came flowing out from my thoughts and onto paper - well, more like Word. This serves as an alternate, what-would've-happened-if-life-was-fair fic for the FitzSimmons scene which had me squealing with joy. I just wish the scene had been longer.

The season finale had me close to tears and I just couldn't even! (Yes, I just said that. Sue me. Okay, please don't. I don't have the money for that.)

I was so glad that Bobbi lived. Huntingbird FTW!

I won't go into SkyeWard or Ward in general because I have a lot to say on that particular subject matter, but I think it's apt to talk about FitzSimmons on this fic. Ahem.

OH. MY. GOSH.

SIMMONS! NO!

(Why can't the writers just let them be happy?!)

Disclaimer: I do not own Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. or any of it's characters.

When Jemma sees Hunter standing by Bobbi's bedside, his hand holding onto her idle one, all she can think about was when Fitz was in a coma, non-responsive to the real world. She had sat by his bedside and stubbornly refused to leave, grasping tightly onto his hand and talking to him about anything and everything. It wasn't until Skye forced her into one of the rooms of the Playground and refused to let her out until she had eaten the contents of the brown bag that was left by her bedside – Thai food – showered, and slept for at least eight hours – she had slept for twelve - that she left his side.

The past few months had been unstable, but her relationship with Fitz? It was relatively stable enough. They had started to hang out again, talk to each other again, finish each other's sentences, talk at the same exact time, and the cloud of uncomfortable silence and awkwardness had somewhat dissipated. But it wasn't like it was before. And she was starting to accept that that was okay.

Of course, she loved him – how could she not? But with everything going on and Fitz doing his best to actively ignore her, she couldn't really find the time to tell him. But now, walking defiantly over to the locker room where she knew Fitz was currently packing to leave with the team, she knew this was her chance to tell him. She had always been confused by her feelings, but it had become less foggy during their time on the Bus, back when everything had been… normal-ish. Fitz had been and always would be the most important person in her life and she hoped that he could be something more too.

She stops at the doorway, watching as Fitz rummages in his backpack, double-checking the things he needs. She's oddly reminded of the time when Fitz was preparing to leave with his first mission with pre-Hydra Ward. She couldn't believe only a year had passed since then. So much had changed. It felt like a lifetime ago.

"You'll be careful." It's not a question, but an order. If something happens to him, she doesn't think she'd be able to stay strong like she had before.

He turns towards the sound of her voice, but still reverts going back to double-checking the contents of his backpack. His voice is uncharacteristically cold and distant and she almost flinches at the harshness, "I won't be careful, I'll get the job done."

That hadn't been the answer or response she was hoping to hear. The universe always had other plans for them.

She moves to stand inside the locker room, rather than teetering by the edge between Fitz and safety – they used to be one and the same – and hovers a good distance behind him. "W-well," she stutters, but finally finds the words to speak, albeit at a faster pace that was a result of her nervousness, "Watch your back because I just saw Hunter with Bobbi and it made me realize that…" She trails off, trying to find the courage to say what she wanted to say. She lets out a frustrated sigh and she doesn't even know if Fitz is even paying attention to her anymore, but forges ahead, "It's just that, uh, we never really spoke about what you said to me at the bottom of the ocean." She says those last words quickly, forcing herself to say them instead of cowering out of a real discussion with him. Again.

He freezes then and she knows that got his attention.

She's still too, waiting anxiously for his response.

He turns around dumbfounded and maybe now's not the time to think about how great he looks in that bullet proof vest and those tight slacks.

"This?" He asks, completely taken aback by her words. "Now?"

Jemma's close to breaking down, her eyes welling up with tears. She needs to let everything out and she wants him. Badly.

"You want to talk about this now?" He looks at a loss for words – she inwardly laughs at the irony. Although, she can't help but think how much his hypoxia has improved since his awakening from his coma.

He turns back to his packing, not even bothering to attempt what he had kept in for so long. She supposes it was a bad time – it was out of impulse, really.

She forces a smile, even though he can't see it, and now crushed by his response she says, "No, we don't, uh, have to, uh," She struggles to find the right words to say, watching as Fitz puts on his backpack. She only has a few more seconds to say what she needs to say. So, she does.

"It means a lot to me that we're friends again and I, uh, and maybe when you get back we could finally, um, just talk about it." She lets out a strained breath as Fitz turns towards her, the backpack thrown over one shoulder. He doesn't even look at her.

"It's, uh, there's nothing to discuss, Jemma." He says. And her world crashes down just then. But she doesn't give up because she can't afford to. So, instead, as he brushes past her, she grabs a hold of his hand – tightly, just like when she was by his bedside – and breaths, "Maybe there is."

And she sees this look in his eyes that makes her relax – just a little.

Tears are in her eyes and she has a hint of a real smile on her face and it looks like Fitz is coming towards her, but the sound of Coulson's voice stops him. He's still grabbing onto her hand, though.

"Agent Fitz, we're on the move." He leaves then, but acknowledges her presence.

She slinks away, knowing that the moment's passed. And he's going to go on the mission, danger fully imminent. She's defeated and she knows that she has to let him go, but she can't. It's Fitz. It always has been.

She thinks he's going to just walk away and leave – just like she had, but those were under different circumstances – but he doesn't. Instead, he turns back towards her and looks at her. Just, really takes a long look at her.

Time feels longer than it should and she feels so small, like she's being scrutinized under her gaze.

He gives her hand a squeeze and relief rolls off of her like waves in an ocean – okay, wrong words, but still.

It's like he's searching for something as she watches him watch her. She's mesmerized by his blue eyes and the visible change in his face. Slight stubble, short hair, tired features.

And then, it's like time slows down even more as he walks towards her, dropping her hand, and cups her face in his hands.

He's kissing her and she's frozen against him. Once she realizes what's happening, she kisses him back. Hard.

Her hands come to cup his cheek and slide their way through his hair and her lips part ever-so-softly. The rush of sensations that overwhelm her is nothing she's ever felt before and she wants more of it. It's intoxicating and addictive. Their bodies are pulled close and Fitz is slightly nibbling on her lower lip. Her head is ensconced in his hold and she's never felt safer than this moment. She pours her soul and all the words she came to say, but couldn't into the kiss until they're both gasping for air.

When they part, his hands still hold her face in his grasp; hers are still caressing his cheek and playing with his hair. They say nothing for a moment, only letting the sound of their breaths fill the air.

She notices that her tears are now rolling down her cheeks and she's about to move her hand to wipe them off her cheeks, but he beats her to it. She can't help but smile at the synchronicity.

His thumbs are soft and callous against her cheeks and in a flash, all she can smell is Fitz – metal and lemon and peppermint and his aftershave.

"I'll be careful." He says quietly.

And that's all it takes for her fears and anxiety to all just go away – at least in this moment.

She hugs him tightly. "You better come back to me, Fitz."

He hugs her back tighter and mumbles into her hair, "Nothing will stop me from coming back to you, Jemma."

He kisses the side of her head and then kisses her once more on her lips before reluctantly pulling away from her.

She gives him a nod, tears welling up in her eyes yet again. He nods too, with a real smile plastered on his face, his hair mused and lips swollen. He finally leaves and the waterworks come flooding right back as she lets out a shaky breath she didn't even realize she was holding.

She turns around quickly, looking towards Fitz locker – side by side with hers, disobeying the alphabetical system that had been put in place – and smiles.

Now, all she has to do is wait for him to come back to her.

A/N: Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this fic, please leave a review! Constructive criticism is always welcome!