Fitzsimmons

PTSD

Quick Note: I heard fitzsimmons is killer next episode 🙊

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Jemma didn't know why she woke up with a knife.  She didn't know why swallowing meat or biting fruit was so difficult, and she didn't know why she showered with her back to the wall and the curtain wide open.  Maybe if she could read some of her old psychology textbooks she'd be able to identify it herself, but right now PTSD felt more like a jumble of unnecessary letters than a condition. And she didn't have time for letters.  She had to protect herself.

"Jemma?" Fitz asked cautiously, still crouching on the ground.  Why was he down there again?  "Jemma, are you okay?"

"I'm fine, why are you on the floor?"

Fitz smiled fondly, but she could still make out the sorrow beneath his eyes, and it killed her.  "Think about it," he suggested, standing slowly.

Jemma stood, frozen, and took a small breath.  Her brain wasn't letting her focus on the past, and she wanted to scream because of it.  "I don't recall..." she managed, then tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.  Her hands fell into fists at her sides, and she flinched away when Fitz took a half-step toward her.  He kept up his smile and took a step back.

"That's okay.  It doesn't matter too much."  Jemma shook her head.  Her brain wasn't working and it did matter.  "I just frightened, you that's all."

"What did I do?" she asked, voice trembling as she struggled to hold back tears of frustration.  But she remembered as soon as he began explaining.

"You were in the lab, doing your write-ups, and I came in to make sure you're okay.  Your back was to the door, so you didn't see me, only heard me.  It's really not your fault."

But the tears were already rolling, and Jemma retreated towards the chair, running her fingers through her hair.  "I attacked you."

"No, Jemma.  The post traumatic stress attacked me.  You're just it's vessel."

"You're still hurt," Jemma protested, already back to her absent-minded documentation of just how damaged she felt.

"Hardly," Fitz insisted, smiling warmly.  "You know, I've taken much worse than a blow to the stomach.  So have you."

"How can I control it?"  Her voice was so small she barely knew she'd said it out loud.

Fitz took several cautious steps toward her, making sure she saw his face every move.  Then he raised a hand to gently cover the one resting on the table.  "You keep on trying.  You stay strong.  You do the writings Andrew wants you to do and you eat and sleep and read and watch Doctor Who as much as you bloody want.  And you don't give up hope of being happy."

Jemma nodded her head hesitantly, so Fitz traced his fingers up her arm and stroked his thumb over her shoulder like he always used to when she'd been anxious before.  He could feel the tension beneath his hand release, if only the slightest.

"I'm so tired," Jemma breathed out, leaning her head forwards against his chest.

"You've got so much fight left in you," Fitz promised, wrapping himself around her.

"No, Fitz, I mean I want to sleep now," she said, even managing a small laugh.

"Oh, yeah," Fitz replied with a grin.  Every time Jemma smiled or laughed was just a step closer to better health, so he couldn't help but be happy for her, too.  "Should I go get the sedatives?" he offered, still rubbing small circles into her back.  She shook her head.

"Sleep with me?" Jemma asked.  If she wasn't so exhausted she might've cared about the way she said it, but at this point in her life it was a good day if she could go without jumping at someone.

"I'll do whatever you need, Jemma."

"I just need you," she said, then yawned.

"Then let's go sleep, yeah?"

For the first time in two weeks she didn't have trouble getting to sleep.  They were gone, not chasing her anymore, and she didn't feel the need to protect the team anymore.  Fitz's arms were resting loosely around her, keeping her warm and protecting her from her own mind.  In Fitz's arms she could, if only for awhile, forget her dreary reality.

She still had nightmares.  She did every night.  They still woke her at the most absurd times, but at least she woke to Fitz assuring her it'd be okay.  Fitz was always there, helping cut up her food or guarding the bathroom door or dropping everything to come watch television with her when she wanted company.  A lot of the time she was certain that her disorder was a burden to him and the rest of the team.  She confessed this to him once during a writing session, and he responded in a way Jemma was still surprised to hear.

"You'll never be a burden, Jemma.  You're such a gift to the team, one hundred percent of the time.  We all love you, no matter how many lash outs you have or prescription medications you take.  You're still brave, kind-hearted Jemma Simmons.  You're still the girl I fell in love with."