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“ We can save people, ”
Jemma had told him this before. Fitz repeats those words in his head as he works, running numbers and trying to come up with a cure from the tissue samples they gathered. Jemma sits silently beside him as he works, occasionally giving input as he bounces ideas off of her.
Out of everywhere they’ve been, everything they’ve faced, the middle of a zombie apocalypse in an alternate timeline was the last place Fitz expected they would wind up. But something had fried the system and messed up their jump, stranding them in some familiar but unfamiliar place overrun by zombies.
Fitz would deny he screamed when they found out. Jemma would attest to that, saying he did multiple times. He was scared and so was she, so what if he did? Wanting to make a quick escape he had rushed to figure out the problem, Jemma stopping him a moment.
“Fitz, we can help them. Maybe that’s why we’re here.” Jemma had reasoned. “I’m not saying we shouldn’t focus on getting home, I’m saying we help them too. We could create a cure or something.”
He thought for a moment, shaking his head. He looked at her again and sighed. “You know I can’t say no to you.” He sighs, grabbing her hand. “Okay. We can try.”
It has been two weeks since then, 15 days since they had arrived. Working diligently on a cure and fixing the ship on side. Gathering samples and supplies, working day and night hoping for a breakthrough with no luck yet. Fitz’ hands clench the tablet in his hands tight as he mumbles under his breath, brow furrowed.
“Fitz, slow down. You need to think. Breathe .” Jemma whispers in his ear.
He just nods, sitting the tablet down. Placing his head in his hands, he takes a deep breath. “You’re right, you’re right. I just can’t figure this bloody thing out.” He sighs, sinking deeper into himself.
Jemma places a hand on his back, rubbing it reassuringly. “ You’ve never given up on anything before. You will get this, I know you will. ”
Fitz looks up to stare out the window, at the moon rising up in the sky. He sighs and nods, picking the tablet back up and trying new equations and formulas, running new diagnostics and simulations of potential cures. The samples they had collected were too complicated to understand. They were unpredictable, reproducing and mutating like nothing like they have ever seen, giving them no place to start for a cure. His foot taps the ground in a frustrated manner as he jabs at the screen, frowning at yet another unsuccessful attempt.
“Oh, come on!” He yells, throwing the tablet across the room. Jemma looks at him from her spot beside him.
“Fitz -“ She tries before being cut off.
“No! You don’t understand. I can’t figure it out. Nothing works!” He screams, standing up and kicking the stool he was previously sitting on. “I can’t save anyone! I can’t-”
“Fitz, you need to breathe. ” Jemma says softly, holding out a hand to calm him down. “ Yelling won’t change anything. It’s okay to not get it right away. But you can’t give up. ” He shakes his head.
“Not on this.” He whispers, looking at Jemma with teary eyes. He shakes his head, willing his sadness, frustration, and anger away.
“Rest. It’s getting late. We can work on this tomorrow. Sleep on it and look at it again with fresh eyes. ” She soothes, placing a hand on his shoulder. He sighs, rubbing his eyes. He knows she’s right, but something in him is pushing him to find this cure. For him to not rest until he gets this right. He nods into his hands.
"You're right, we can work on this tomorrow. We should get some rest." He sighs again, looking up at Jemma. She’s not there though, the pressure on his shoulder gone. His eyebrows furrow as he looks around, a scratching noise from behind him catching his attention.
Jemma is standing there, her hair disheveled. She stares at him with no recognition in her bloodshot eyes. She snarls at him as saliva drips from her cracked lips, her hands scratching at the clear glass of the cell wall as she desperately tries to claw her way through. Tears fill his eyes as he stares at her, the memories of what happened rushing back.
"I promise you I’ll fix this.” He walks up to the glass, Jemma’s movements becoming more frantic. He places a hand on the glass where hers is hitting it, looking at the bloody bite mark near her elbow. He looks back into her eyes as tears slip from his own.
He whispers to her before turning away, “I'm right here, Jemma. I love you."
——
1 week earlier
“Fitz!” The sheer panic in Jemma’s voice had him shooting up. He turns, hot breath on his face as he comes face to face with a zombie. He freezes a moment, finding himself unable to move, to think. His only thoughts are of Jemma, of how she had kissed him and had looked at him just moments earlier. He had so much he still wanted to do, wanted to say.
He stumbles back, tripping over one of their bags and falling to the ground. Looking up at the zombie that’s snarling at him as it advances, he mentally apologizes to Jemma for what’s about to happen.
Then suddenly, as if the thought of her alone had summoned her, Jemma is there. Breathing heavily as she stands over him, holding out a hand and helping him up. A growl from beside them and she’s pushing him away, screaming as the zombie turns on her, tackling her to the ground.
“No! Jemma!” Fitz screams, reaching for anything he can get his hands on. His eyes land on a screwdriver, one fallen out of the bag he had just tripped on. He is up on his feet and stabbing it into the zombies head before he can even think of a plan. He heaves and yells as he rips it out, stabbing it again and again. Assured it’s dead, he pulls it out and pushes the zombie to the side.
He looks at Jemma expectedly, eyes scanning her face then down her body for any injury. His eyes lock on her forearm, her other hand gripping it tightly as blood drips down.
“No,” he whispers, grabbing at her arm. He pulls her hand away, looking at the bite mark then back up at her. She just smiles at him with teary eyes, somehow looking so beautiful even in the face of death. “No.”
She shakes her head, a sad smile on her lips. “It’s okay. We should get out of here.”
“Jemma, no. You can’t- I can’t-“ he stumbles over his words, unable to get anything out. She shakes her head again, placing her free hand on top of the hand holding her arm. She squeezes it gently, tears dripping from her eyes.
“It’s okay. We were working on a cure, remember? We got the samples we needed,” she breathes, squeezing his hand again. “Now we can start.”
“I can’t. I can’t do this by myself, Jemma. Not without you.” He sobs, clutching Jemma close. His body shakes hers as he sobs, holding on as if he could shield her from the inevitable.
“You can. You will.” She pulls away slightly to look at him, both of them a mess. “You won’t get it as fast as me, of course.” She attempts to joke. “But you will get it. I know you will.”
“You’re the absolute worst, you know that?” He cries. “You just had to jump in and save me, didn’t you.” Fitz shakes his head, mentally berating himself for not moving faster, not being able to save himself or Jemma.
Jemma shakes her head. “And I would do it again in a heartbeat. It’s what we do, isn’t it? We save each other.” Fitz shakes his head again as a sob rips its way from his throat.
“I wanted to save you.” He whispers. Jemma gives him a small smile.
“I know, and you will.” She says without a doubt in her mind. “We need to go now.” Fitz nods, helping her up. He grabs the bag with the samples in one arm, using his other to wrap around her waist. He set them off at a brisk pace, hurrying back to the ship.
“Fitz, it’s okay. I can walk.” Jemma reassures. Fitz just shakes his head and holds her a little closer, a little tighter. They make it back in no time at all, having not ventured far. Hurrying back on the ship, Fitz rushes to get Jemma settled and immediately starts working on setting the lab up.
“You have to help me, okay? I meant it when I said I can’t do this by myself.” Fitz says as he works, rushing to set things up.
“Fitz,” Jemma tries to reason, being cut off once again.
“No. Jemma. I need you.” He comes over with a bandage, reaching out for her arm. She extends the shaking limb towards him and he captures her cold hand between his own two warm. He carefully examines the wound before bandaging it up. By the time he finishes wrapping he can already see dark, angry, jagged lines poking out past the bandage. He leans in, pressing a chaste kiss to her arm before continuing. “I love you and I can’t do this without you.” His voice breaks on the last word.
“Oh, Fitz,” She sighs, leaning into him. He wraps his arms around her and pulls her impossibly closer.
“But I won’t give up, I can promise you that. No matter what I will fix this. I will fix you.”
She nods into his chest. “I know you will.”
They began to work, Fitz setting things up at Jemma’s instruction. Her arm begins to grow so heavy she cannot lift it, the lines crawling up her arm and spreading to her face and chest. Jemma tries not to look and Fitz does his best not to stare. She holds it in her lap and tries to ignore that the pain has gone.
Fitz gets closer to her at one point to check her arm and see how she is. Jemma can’t hold back the snarl as she lunges at him as he approaches, startling him back.
“Jemma!” He calls. She freezes and blinks, looking down at her outstretched hands. She cries out as she pulls her hands back to her chest, hitting the ground and scooching back against the wall. Fitz starts to walk towards her and she flinches back.
“No, get back! I don’t want to hurt you.” She sobs, curling into herself. She gasps as arms encircle her, pulling her into a warm chest. The hands hold her close, pressing her head into his chest where the sound of his heartbeat soothes her.
“Jemma Simmons, you could never hurt me.” He murmurs, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “You could never hurt me.”
He holds her as she cries, trying to soothe her in any way he can think of. They sit like that a moment, both of them wishing for eternity but cherishing these last few moments.
“It’s time,” Jemma speaks up, voice raspy. Fitz goes to object, to say he’s not ready, that they still have time. But the look in Jemma’s eyes tells him that she's ready, and if they wait any longer she won’t be.
“Okay,” He whispers. Standing up he gives her a hand, pulling her close once more. He leans in, inches away from her mouth. “I love you, Jemma Simmons.”
She leans in impossibly closer. “I love you too, Leopold Fitz.”
At that moment nothing else existed besides the two of them. Pouring everything they have, everything they left unsaid into that one kiss. Too soon they pull away, wiping their tears. Jemma pulls away, walking over to one of the containment rooms. The doors close behind her and she shudders. She turns around, coming face to face with Fitz, She stares at him and he stares at her, both memorizing every inch of each other's faces.
He places a hand on the glass, choking back his tears. “It’ll be okay. I’m right here.” She places her hand on his, desperately wanting to feel the warmth of his palm one last time.
The last thing Jemma sees is Fitz, her last thought being of him before she turns completely.
—--
Two days earlier
“Jemma!” He shoots up in a panic, eyes darting around the dark and empty room. He heaves in deep breaths as his eyes adjust to the dark, looking for Jemma. He had finally fallen asleep after working tirelessly for a cure. His hysteria only seemed to grow, breaths coming in short and fast as he panicked, desperately looking for Jemma.
“I’m right here.” His head jerks to the side, seeing her sitting on the edge of the previously empty cot. She looks as she did before they left, dressed in the same clothes but not torn and dirty, no traces of blood on her at all.
“Jemma?” She smiles at him and nods as he sits up, relief written on his face.
“Oh, thank god you’re okay. I was so worried.” He laughs, wiping a hand down his face.
She smiles and nods. She places a hand on his shoulder. “We still need to get working on that cure, remember?”
“Of course. I promised, didn’t I?” Fitz nods in response before getting up, too caught up in his relief to realize he couldn’t feel the hand on his shoulder.