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“And don’t come out until you two have talked out your problems!” came Skye’s muffled voice from the other side of the locked door.
Looking around at the cramped closet, the scientists both realized exactly what this tiny, cramped closet was like. They were painfully brought back to a memory that neither of them particularly liked to relive. Ninety feet underwater with only one way out and one breath left.
Their breathing both increased in the exact same way. Soon, Jemma’s turned more frantic, looking around the small area for a way to escape that wasn’t the locked door. She felt her way along the walls, looking for something, anything to pry open the door.
“Jemma,” Fitz said calmly. Although he was still panicking, it wasn’t nearly as bad as Jemma, and someone had to be the voice of reason in this situation. “Jemma. Please calm down.”
She just ignored him, as if she never even heard his voice. She began pounding on the walls, yelling for Skye, Trip, anyone. Her breaths were getting shallower by the minute. Her mind was turning into worst case scenario mode, that they’d be locked in this minuscule closet, no food or water, the walls closing in by the second.
Her nervous thoughts were interrupted by Fitz loudly yelling, “JEMMA!” and gently grabbing her by the shoulders. She looked up at him, her usually bright eyes filled with tears, her cheeks stained with tear tracks. Quickly, she broke the eye contact they had held for the briefest of moments.
She was murmuring to herself under her breath, “Fitz, we have to get out of here, and you are not dying for me. We’ll do this together, like we always have been. Yeah, together. Together.”
Fitz was legitimately frightened. Jemma was speaking as if they were actually in the pod and not just in some closet where Skye and Trip were probably just a room over with the key. He needed Jemma to calm down so she wouldn’t accidentally harm herself.
“Jemma, Jemma, listen to me.” She stopped her mumbling as soon as Fitz stared at her with those bright blue eyes, laced with a mixture of determination and fear. “We are in a closet in the Playground. Do you understand?” He spoke slowly and calmly, staring straight at her, neither of them daring to break eye contact.
When she nodded, he continued. “We are not in that pod, okay? Skye put us in here for one reason or another, and she’ll probably let us out in a few minutes, okay?” She nodded again, her breaths evening out regularly. That was good.
Fitz could have released his hold on her shoulders, but something in his mind told him not to, that breaking contact would be bad. He kept one hand on her shoulder while the other one hesitantly reached up to gently wipe away a few tears that had escaped.
Fitz had been surprised at himself for initiating that contact, especially when he had been the one to make sure no one touched him, even Jemma, especially Jemma. But he knew that Jemma needed comfort. If this was under normal circumstances, he probably would have ended up making tea and marathoning her favorite season of Doctor Who, but this wasn’t normal circumstances. Nothing seemed to be normal nowadays. So, he had to make do.
Physical contact always seemed to make Jemma feel better, whether it being a comforting hand on a shoulder, a hug, or even a kiss on the cheek. Fitz knew Jemma always showed her affection like that, so it only seemed reasonable that she would feel comfortable in the same way.
Once he felt that she had truly calmed down, Fitz slowly moved his hands back down to his sides. “Better now?”
“Much. Thank you,” Jemma croaked out. Her face was still bright red from crying and overexerting herself, but her eyes were completely dry and she was no longer hyperventilating.
“Good. Now we just have to wait for Skye to let us out. Fun. Who knows how long that will take.” At his sarcastic quip, Fitz noticed Jemma smile the smallest of smiles before returning back to normal. It instantly made him feel better.
Jemma slid her back down the wall until she was sitting on the floor, legs stretched out in front of her. “Now we wait.”
Fitz followed her exact same path until he ended up in the same position she was. “Let’s just hope it’s not too long. We don’t want to end up pulling a Rory and waiting 2000 years outside a box.”
When Fitz heard Jemma’s melodious laugh reach his ears, he was genuinely confused. It really wasn’tthat funny, he just wanted to lighten the mood and what better way to do that than to make a Doctor Who reference?
But the funny thing was, Fitz would end up “pulling a Rory” if him and Jemma were in that situation. Hell, if something happened where he was immortal and had to protect Jemma, he’d gladly do it for 2000 years, even10,000 years if that’s what it came to. No matter what, he’d want to make sure Jemma was safe and sound, whether that be waiting outside a box for thousands of years or just giving her the last breath of oxygen. Even while he was mad at her–even though he’d probably never admit it out loud–he would easily risk his own life if that meant that hers would be saved.
He really hadn’t learned his lesson from the last time he did that, but this was one lesson he really didn’t want to learn.
They spent the rest of their time in the closet talking about Doctor Who. Even though the show was absolutely preposterous at times (not to mention they hadn’t even caught up on the most recent season), the show was a nice reminder of home, even when they were thousands of miles away from it.
Skye opened the door not too much later. She had heard the sounds of laughter and immediately rushed to let them out, thinking that her mission was accomplished.
When she saw faint tear tracks on Jemma’s face, Skye instantly realized her mistake. Cramped, closed quarters with just the two of them probably wasn’t the best idea considering what they had been through. Skye apologized profusely, even making breakfast for the two of them every morning for a week to make it up for them.
Although Skye felt incredibly guilty for her actions, she couldn’t help but notice the way Fitz and Jemma seemed closer after letting them out. It was almost like they were when she had first met them on the Bus. Finishing each other’s sentences like it was no big deal. Standing way too close with complete disregard for personal space (not that they minded, of course).
She couldn’t help but think “Mission accomplished”