Fitzsimmons

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Quick Note: Thank you all for fifty thousand reads! I love Fitzsimmons, and it feels good to know that other people love them, too!

So here's a happy little prediction for the winter finale. I strongly suspect there won't be much happiness, so here's a version to be happy about.

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Rumbling interrupted the team's planning.

"Sir, the entrance shaft in um... unstable. We need to exit now," Fitz warned after some more shaking.

"We have to protect the temple first," Coulson commanded.

"Sir, the temple will implode," Simmons stepped in, backing up Fitz. "It could be completely submerged, along with the rest of the city, in a matter of minutes. We need to get out."

"All of our work would go to waste. What about Mack? Don't let him die for nothing."

"Don't let more people die for nothing," Simmons insisted, and the rest of the team started back up the shaft gradually.

"I can't let this go," Coulson pleaded desperately. "You don't have to back me up if you don't want. This is just me. I have to save the temple."

"Sir," Simmons argued.

"Go," ordered Coulson, then turned to run back towards the temple. Simmons bit her lip as the rest of the team, save for Fitz, fled. With one exchanged glance, Fitz knew her plan,

"I have to stay with him," she stated. "You can leave if you want, but Coulson's my director, and I have to follow him."

Simmons ran after their director in the pitch black, trembling entryways, leaving Fitz speechless. Eventually, he had to follow her, but by the time he had decided that, she was at least thirty seconds ahead of him.

"Coulson!" Jemma called, having lost her sense of direction in the dark. "Coulson! Phil!" The tunnel vibrated around her, adding to her disorientation.

When a light shown somewhere at the end of the shaft, Simmons ran towards it. Basic survival instincts told her to find the light. It wasn't under her control.

"Jemma!" She could barely hear it over the pounding of her heart and the rapid quaking. "Jemma, get out of there!"

Then the space behind her emitted a loud crack, then a rush of air, startling her into a sprint. She wasn't sure who or where she was running to, but at this point it was her only chance.

Simmons ran straight into a taller figure, who's arms enveloped her as a scream ripped through the chamber. She buried her face into his shirt, noting the smell. It was Fitz.

As the dust rained down on them, she pressed closer in and he stared worriedly at something in the distance.

"Jemma, it's caving in on us," Fitz whispered softly, not concealing his sadness. Simmons wrapped her small arms tightly around him, beginning to sob.

"Fitz, don't start this. I can't take it again."

"Jemma, I can't always say it right," Fitz ignored her pleading, and Simmons muffled a cry with his shirt. They had just started to reconnect, and now they would be crushed by debris.

"But, I'd do anything to protect you," Fitz stuttered. Then, right as the ceiling caved in, "I love you."

All Simmons could do as they met their demise was hold him tighter.

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It was black. It was black, but she wasn't dead. She attempted sitting up, but a searing pain ripped through her head. She diagnosed it as a possible minor concussion and forced herself to recognize something around her.

There was another body next to her, and it was warm and alive. She nudged at it, and it appeared to be unconscious. She felt the wool covering his torso.

"Fitz!" Simmons shouted in sudden realization. "No, not again..."

She turned him over so that he was face up in the small stone room. It was difficult with no light, but her eyes were adjusted to the darkness and could see clearly. She pulled an eyelid up to reveal his eye, staring blankly forward.

"Fitz, can you hear me?" Simmons pleaded. He wasn't responding.

Then she noticed the excessive dust around his mouth. He had breathed in too much debris.

In an instant she was performing CPR, pressing his chest repeatedly and trying not to get emotional. Thirty pumps, then two rescue breaths, then thirty more pumps.

After a few minutes of this, Simmons began to let tears out, but kept her constant pace. She was losing hope quickly, when Fitz coughed up a cloud of dust, then gasped for air.

Simmons forgot her doctor side in that moment and embraced him tightly, glad he would live another day. Fitz continued to sputter, so Simmons released him, remembering he needed time.

After Fitz's coughing had mostly died down, he returned Simmons' embrace, stroking her dusty hair. They both cried for several minutes, relishing in their embrace.

"What happened?" Fitz asked finally, pulling away. He let out some more tiny coughs as Simmons tried to explain.

"Coulson went after the tunnel, and the city started to collapse. We followed him, then everything fell on top of us. You were knocked unconscious and you suffocated on the dirt."

"Are you okay?" Fitz asked immediately.

"Just a minor concussion," Simmons replied, sensing Fitz's worry. "How did we survive?"

"I don't know. Maybe the debris of the city created an air pocket."

"How do we get out?" This was all too familiar. Like that time in the ocean, but in a tighter, dirtier space.

They let the question go unanswered for now as each remembered that day.

"Fitz?" Simmons started, more nervous than she had ever been in her life.

"Yeah?" he replied, equally anxious. Simmons took a deep breath.

"You're my best friend in the world," she whispered, and Fitz couldn't hide his wince.

"And," Simmons continued, her heart thumping wildly. "You're more than that." Silence.

"Jemma," Fitz breathed out. It showed excitement, doubt, fear, want. He wanted to make sure she really felt that way. He would never want he to be pressured into something she didn't want.

"Fitz," Simmons replied, finality in her voice. "I want to try this."

Then she leaned towards him, placing her hands on either side, pressing her forehead to his. Their pounding hearts and mingling breaths echoed in the small space.

"Jemma," he repeated, in half-hearted warning and want.

"Shhh," she whispered, inching her face closer.

Her lips met his lightly, then pulled away when he didn't react.

She looked at him with eyes full of fear, and he looked back in utter shock.

"Did-?" Simmons breathed like she had done something wrong, then backed away. "I... I'm sorry."

"No," Fitz said back, frustrated with himself.

"Why..."

Fitz surged forward, connecting their dust-powdered lips as Simmons gaped in surprise. Soon enough, though, she responded with the same enthusiasm as Fitz. And the scientists smiled into the kiss, keeping close when they broke apart.

"So?" Fitz asked, grinning softly.

"It was fantastic."