The whole damn time

Memories

He was the hero.

Although to him it didn’t quite feel right. He wasn't the one that jumped out of the plane after her, he didn't catch her in his arms and inject her with the vaccine (or anti serum, as Simmons insisted it should be called) that saved her life. That was Ward. And while Simmons had reassured him that he was the true hero, he still didn't quite feel like he was.

And that was what he was thinking as he sat on his bunk, pouring over an old photo album he had found discarded at the bottom of his drawer while he was looking for a spare pair of boxers, which he suspected Simmons had taken. The photos were old, he didn't look a day over ten years of age, and she was a bouncy child with short curls and rosy cheeks. He smiled as he traced his finger over the glossy pictures, over them buried waist deep in snow, over them making angels in a pile of auburn leaves, of her adding chemicals to a test tube and him staring on in awe. He found it appropriate to relive those memories, as he had nearly lost her and wanted to start over again, back to the days of snowball fights and movie marathons and mostly harmless experiments. The days on the bus, though he did not regret them, were so eventful that he didn't have the time to spend with just him and her, and he wanted to make the opportunity for them to rebuild their friendship.

There was a knock on his door and Fitz lifted his head, placing the album gently on his pillow. He treaded to the door and pulled it open to see Simmons standing in front of him. She was smiling warmly.

"Do you want some company?" she asked, her warm brown eyes looking up at him questioningly. Fitz moved out of her way and gestured with the hand not holding the door knob to come in. Simmons sat on his bed, just beside the dent in the covers where he had been sitting just moments before. Fitz closed the door gently behind him, his back to her, procrastinating for a moment. He was still having trouble getting that image out of his head, the one where she was standing on the edge of the ramp with that apologetic look on her pale face, before taking that one step and plummeting down through the air. He still felt like there was a glass barrier between them, one that he desperately wanted to shatter but didn't know how to.

He heard the soft rustling of pages. Simmons had picked up the album and was leafing through it, a sad little smile on her face. Fitz finally sat down beside her, their sides almost touching. A little close, but it was Simmons after all, and while they may have not been on the same page at that moment in time, it felt natural again.

"I remember that. When you threw that particularly large snowball at me, and I got sad because it got all in my hair and down my top," Simmons said, and the warmth was gradually returning to her voice. It was what Fitz wanted to hear, just her voice, because he almost lost it.

He murmered in responce to her reminiscence, and it didn't quite satisfy her, for she turned to look at him. "What's wrong, Fitz? You seem a little... off," she said worriedly.

"What's wrong, Jemma? I nearly lost you," came his incredulous reply. "I'm in shock, that's all. I just don't know what I would have done if we hadn't found the cure."

"But we did, Fitz, and that's all that matters," she said, leaning her head against his shoulder. Butterflies flew in Fitz's stomach, but it wasn't uncomfortable, it was a nice feeling. She put his mind at ease, and they just sat there for a while, each lost in one another.

"I had to step off the ramp. I didn't know we had found the cure, and I couldn't take everyone else with me. It was me or them, Fitz. And you would have done the same."

"I know. You were right. I just... don't ever put me through that again. Promise?" he asked, and she heard the pleading in his voice.

"You know I can't, Fitz. Not here, not when we are stepping into the unknown every single day. But I'll be more careful next time," she sighed.

Fitz's smile drooped a bit. "I hope there is no next time."

"So do I. It was terrifying, knowimg that I only had mere hours to live," Simmons whispered. Her body tensed, and Fitz felt it, so he put his arm around her.

"I don't ever want to find out."

The scientists felt better after talking it out. Fitz leant over Simmons' lap and pulled the photo album over so it was resting on her thighs. There was only one photo on the page it was open to, one taken a few years ago when they had been named first equal in their class at the Academy. Simmons smiled at the happy memory.

"This book still has quite a few pages left. We should put some more memories in there," Fitz suggested, and Simmons suddenly grasped his cold hand, linking her fingers through his and holding him tight.

"That's a brilliant idea, Leo. I don't ever want to forget."

Maybe it was the use of his first name, one he didn't hear very often, maybe it was Simmons' hand tracing reassuring circles on his hand, or maybe it was the because Simmons wanted to remember every moment of their time together, Fitz felt happier than he had felt in a long time