Fitzsimmons

Why She Joined Hydra

Quick Note: My theory for why Simmons joined Hydra. We all love her so much, so I made her kind of helpless to the situation. Sorry...

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Simmons could feel the sweat beading above her lip and along her hairline. Was the burlap sack really necessary? Not only was it completely over-the-top, but it was also cliché. Simmons was repelled she was actually going to join such an indiscreet terrorist group.

In retrospect, she should have been struggling against it. She knew Hydra wouldn't let her into their ranks so easy. There would likely be harsh interrogations under a single light, with a clearly assigned 'good cop' and 'bad cop'. Possibly torture. Simmons was thinking logically enough to know they wouldn't kill her if she could convince them she wanted to join.

She really did want to join. She had used the S.H.I.E.L.D. locating systems to find a nearby Hydra cell, walked up to it, and was calmly kidnapped by members referring to her as a 'gifted'. No protest whatsoever. She knew Hydra was her best option. Her favorite professors from Sci-Ops had ended up being Hydra. Her coworkers. She had personally seen the medical wonders Hydra had accomplished, from Centipede to Garret.

This was her best option, because it was Fitz's best chance. If she could become Hydra, if she managed to make them all trust her, help her, they had a chance.

"Jemma Simmons, biochemist," an unfamiliar voice spoke, breaking through the noise of her thoughts. The sack was ripped from her head, and she made a big deal of spitting out the bits of thread stuck in her mouth.

"So you want to be Hydra?" a suited Englishman asked her.

"Do I really have a choice at this point?" Simmons forced, a smile playing lightly on her features. It was all an act,of course. Jemma had made it a top priority to work on her lying ever since she found out about the actors betraying her. The Englishman was unamused.

"Yes, I want to be Hydra," she said with a frown. It sounded so wrong saying it aloud. She remembered the time at the motel pool, her hand on Fitz's knee as she promised him she wasn't. Simmons tried to swallow back the guilt inconspicuously.

The Englishman looked perplexed. "Why?" This was the moment that would either make or break her chance of getting in, and of Fitz's chance at recovery.

"Truthfully," Jemma analyzed her welcome party's face, deciding what to tell him.

"It's my partner. My former partner, I guess." She had to pause here in order to recompose herself. "He was injured. It was my fault," she spoke carefully, not letting emotions through. "I need help fixing him." She looked up at the man's face.

"How do I know you won't change alliances again after we help?"

"I might," Simmons dared. Her negotiation plan all depended on how much they thought she could benefit. "That's a risk you'll have to take," she finished, surprising even herself with her boldness.

The man stared her down for a moment, then left the interrogation room. Simmons knew she was being watched now, as she had been the entire conversation. She showed no sign of regret or fear, although that seemed to be all she was feeling. If she couldn't get this, Fitz couldn't get better, and she wouldn't allow that to happen.

A minute or so later, the Englishman came back with an expressionless look on his face. "You're in."

Simmons gaped unconsciously. "Sorry, what?" She wasn't sure she heard the man correctly. Did they just let her in to Hydra, no questions asked?

"Welcome to Hydra. I'll show you to briefing." The man stood, expecting Simmons to immediately follow. It took her a minute, but Jemma eventually caught up with him.

After sitting through a brief briefing (the wordplay), Simmons was learning to fire projectiles with the other recruits. Luckily, there was no one she recognized. Unluckily, there was no one as bad as she was at aiming, which led her to believe she was the only doctor in the group. Though she would never admit it, she was struggling without a partner.

After the weaponry training, Jemma found herself alone, in a lab almost identical to the Bus's. She wasn't the only person in the lab, she just didn't seem to click with any of the other individuals. With a sigh, she began to work on the bullets she was tasked with improving. She didn't allow herself to think about the people, the friends, these bullets would be used against.

Turning in her work early, she subtly searched the files in the computer system. She found a thirty-page report on frontal lobe damage, and began skimming it, checking over her shoulder every five seconds. Just as she reached the part about successful trials, the Englishman interrupted her.

"Agent Simmons, shut it down," he ordered clearly and calmly. Jemma jumped back and quickly apologized. She subconsciously wiped at the tears forming under her eyes. A feeling of doom settled in her stomach, and she reached out to close the window she was in. How would she be able to fix Fitz if she never got a chance to find a solution.

"Don't worry, miss. You'll have time later." She could hear the smirk spread smugly on his face. Pulling herself together, she wiped a final tear off her cheek, and willed herself to turn and face him.

This was the moment she felt herself breaking. "Yes, sir," she replied shakily.