Jemma Simmons was alone again.
It was the third night in a row that she had been the only one left on S.H.I.E.L.D.’s Globemaster, their humungous plane that they had been conducting missions and living in for the past few years. By now, she knew every square inch of the vessel, and being alone in such a huge space made her feel like the only human left alive; which, of course, could one day be a possibility that she feared to imagine.
Her fellow agents have been struggling to contain the infection since it started three months ago. Every day, they flew to a new location in an attempt to relocate civilians to one of S.H.I.E.L.D.’s safe zones, or attempt to heal the injured. Of course, it never worked. Jemma had seen too many innocent people be killed due to this abnormal infection than she would have ever cared to.
Of course, Jemma had seen people die on the job before. Civilian casualties were a tragedy that everyone at S.H.I.E.L.D has tried their hardest to avoid. But these are not your ordinary casualties. It is a new day now, and survival is top priority.
Jemma leaned against the clear experiment table and sighed. She did not like this new world. She had to watch as the great but crazy world she once loved become...well, just crazy. She had to watch people who used to live ordinary lives turn into cannibalistic maniacs right in front of her eyes. Humans have devolved back into barbarians, killing each other without so much as a glance. A feeling of relief washed over her; no one she knew had been infected yet. Her fellow agents had taken every precaution necessary, using their latest technology to protect their bodies in suits similarly used when treating the infected. They were bringing in all the toys; now was the world’s darkest hour, and people needed S.H.I.E.L.D. more than ever.
Jemma reminded herself that the world also needed her. She tucked her wispy hair back into a ponytail and headed over to the rats. Her job, other than to guard the plane, was to stay in the lab and conjure up a vaccine, a cure, anything to stop or reverse this...virus? Bacteria? Drug? Jemma still wasn’t sure what was causing the bodily transformation, but she was determined to figure it out.
She crouched down to observe the five rats, each contained in their own individual cages. The first four seemed normal, all of their regular habits maintained constantly. As her eyes traveled to the fifth one, she flinched again at what she would have to see. A scraggly, decomposed rat pressed itself against the glass, snarling and baring its teeth. Patches of its fur were falling off, exposing a purple, infected-looking skin and flesh underneath. Its eyes were red and sunken; its teeth rotten and yellow. Everything about it looked positively evil.
Jemma reflected back on when she injected it with the...oh, she hated to say the word zombie. It sounded like science fiction, or something from a bad 1950s horror movie. But Jemma couldn’t deny what was happening; the stories of Haitian folklore and Romero’s fiction were, impossibly, coming to life. Of course, Jemma shouldn’t have been surprised. With S.H.I.E.L.D., she had spent most of her time studying alien technology and biology with Fitz. Her own superior, Agent Phil Coulson, had been brought back to life using alien biology and science, and she had used the same technique to heal her friend, and fellow agent, Skye. Seeing people be brought back to life was basically normal around here. But this was different. Not only were people being brought back to life, but they were being completely changed. They were alive, but dead. She struggled to understand how both could happen at once. From her years of expertise and training, none of it could have prepared her for this. Aliens were nothing compared to the apocalypse around her.
She focused her attention back on the rat. Since injecting it, she had been studying its behaviors for signs of weakness, or patterns. So far she had noticed that it did not show any of the normal biological behavior. It didn’t eat, sleep, defecate, or try to amuse itself. Just like with the newly infected humans, all he seemed to care about was taking a bite of Jemma’s fresh flesh. She cringed at the idea.
She had also tried injecting the rat with every cure she could possibly imagine. She had tried everything from the flu shot to bloody cold medicine. Nothing seemed to even remotely affect it, and she was going nowhere fast. She was starting to lose hope.
The rats had helped Jemma out before; in fact, they had saved her life. She had been exposed to this strange, telekinetic virus that would, eventually, cause her to combust. In an attempt at saving everyone on the plane, she had jumped off the back end, thinking that there was no cure. Fitz saw (after she had knocked him out, of course) that the rat they had exposed to the virus was cured, and he rushed out to save her. Agent Ward was the one to jump out of the plane and inject her, but she still owed so much gratitude to Fitz.
Fitz...the thought of him made her worry. Her best friend had been out there for three days with the rest of the agents, assisting in detecting the infected and guiding the healthy to safety. He had always been fine on the field, but he was nowhere close to being a field agent. She worried about him, no matter how much he insisted that he would be fine.
She tried to shake the thought of him out of her head. His dumb, fluffy hair and his silly Scottish accent. It was hard to imagine him fighting off hordes of...zombies. She still hated to even think of that word.
Right as she decided to try and infect another rat, she heard the entrance ramp of the plane open. Immediately, she rushed to the ramp, tranquilizer gun at her hip. Were they back? Or was it an intruder?
Her question was answered when she saw Coulson and Agent May helping someone walk, arms slung across their shoulders. She struggled to see who it was and walked closer.
“Simmons!” Coulson yelled, still dragging the injured person along. “I need you to get your medkit immediately.”
She rushed closer. Before she could ask what happened, she watched as May and Coulson dropped Fitz against the side of one of their cars. She ran over to him, her heart racing, panic rising in her chest. She kneeled over and looked at him, immediately grabbing his hand. His usually boyish and happy face was pale, his eyes looking bloodshot, with purple veins snaking across his skin. His breaths came in raspy shakes; he looked like he was about to pass out, or worse.
“What happened to you?” Jemma asked. His eyes slowly locked on hers, and there was something so dreadfully wrong in them. She was so anxious, she thought she might explode.
“Surprise attack,” May answered, closing the entrance ramp.
“He was setting up some traps when a crawler came up from behind,” Coulson added. “Turns out there was a rip in the back of his suit. None of us noticed, but-”
“The zombie did,” Jemma finished. She looked down at his sprawled out legs and saw what looked like a huge bite mark at the back of his ankle. Blood and some sort of purple ooze spread out over his skin, and starting trailing along the veins in his legs.
She looked back up at his face. Not Fitz, she thought. Please, not Fitz. She knew he had been injured on the field before, but it was never like this. It was a bullet to the hand, or getting knocked out, or something else that could be fixed. This was different. This blasted purple goop was going to take her best friend and turn him into a decomposing, cannibalistic monster. She couldn’t bear the thought.
“Hang in there, okay?” She begged, not sure what else to say. “I’m going to clean this up, okay? It’ll be fine. You’ll be fine. Just keep breathing.” She could hear the desperation in her voice, but she didn’t care. She was desperate. No agent had been bitten yet, and Fitz was the first. It was too much.
Skye brought over the medkit. Jemma thanked her, completely forgetting about it in the chaos of what was happening. She quickly scooped as much of the purple goop as she could into various test tubes. She wiped out the wound and was about to sterilize it when Fitz shakily put his hand over hers.
“It’s okay, Simmons,” he said raspily. “You can’t-you can’t stop this, okay? There’s no other way.”
“No,” Jemma denied. “No, I refuse to accept that. There is something we can do, please, just let me keep working!”
“Simmons,” Coulson directed, averting her attention. “It’s almost ten minutes. You know what we have to do.”
Ten minutes. A cold chill ran down her spine. That was how long before they turned; ten minutes. She turned back to Fitz, tears welling up in her eyes.
“You know I can’t do that,” she whispered, holding Fitz’s hand again. She squeezed it so tight, she thought it might pop off. “Please, just...tie him up, or something. Please. I’ll find a cure, I will, I just need time.”
“Do you really want to make him go through that?” Ward cut in, pacing in the distance. “You really want to make him turn, then lock him in some room so he can suffer while you try and find a cure?” Something like mania and panic had come over Ward; his sharp jaw was locked, his eyes bulging.
“Well I’m not going to kill him!” Jemma yelled, practically sobbing now. “You can’t expect me to do that!”
“Well if you won’t, I will,” Ward said, walking over to Fitz. “I can’t let you leave him to suffer.” He started to pull out his pistol.
Before Jemma could react, May walked over and took Ward’s gun from him. “We will not kill off one of our own if he even has a chance of survival,” she commanded, her eyes hard and insistent. Jemma felt a rush of gratitude.
“Can we please stop talking about me like I’m not even here?” Fitz asked, his breath somehow weaker than before. Everyone turned toward him.
“Okay,” Coulson said, eyeing the crowd. “We let him decide what he wants to do.”
Fitz looked at the agents before finally locking eyes with Jemma. She felt her heart drop; she couldn’t bear to imagine her life without Fitz. She just couldn’t. She tried silently begging to let him try, to please let her try and save his life, even if it means he suffers.
“You’ve got one minute,” Coulson said, looking down at his watch. Fitz nodded and made an attempt at clearing his throat.
He looked Jemma square in the eye and said “Lock me up in the interrogation room.”
A small gasp was heard; Jemma wasn’t sure if it was her or someone else.
“Are you sure, Fitz?” she asked, squeezing his hand once more. It might be the last time she could.
He swallowed. “Yes, I am,” he replied. “I trust Simmons. I know she can find a cure. I’m willing to go through whatever I have to.” He made a weak attempt at squeezing Jemma’s hand. A sob escaped her chest.
“Alright, you heard Fitz,” Coulson reported. “Get him into the interrogation room. Do not open it at any costs, and make sure someone keeps watch at all times.”
May and Ward immediately worked to lift him up. They tied his arms behind his back. Jemma stood up.
Their eyes met one more time. “I’ll see you again soon,” Jemma insisted. She resisted every urge to hug him; it just didn’t seem like the time.
Fitz nodded, tears coming to his eyes. Before he could answer, May and Ward were bringing him into the interrogation room. They threw him in and shut the door, almost like he was an animal. Jemma cringed, but knew it was necessary.
Skye and Coulson ran to the security cameras. Jemma knew it was to watch him “turn”. She couldn’t bear to look, but somehow her legs moved her over to the screen. She watched as Fitz, leaning against the wall, suddenly started to snarl. His normally cheerful blue eyes shifted to a horrid, blood-red; his eyes practically sinking into his skull. His skin lost all color other than purple veins and blotches across his skin. He bared his teeth like a caged animal, and already she could see that they were turning yellow. Areas of his skin started to peel off; his normally curly hair went flat. He started thrashing against the walls and growling. He looked like something out of a horror movie. Fitz wasn’t there anymore. Jemma covered her mouth to stop a sob from escaping.
She ran back into the lab and tried to focus on her breathing. She had to cure him, and she couldn’t do that if she was a hysteric, bawling mess. She was usually composed in situations like this. Okay, there never had been a situation like this, but she knew how to handle herself in a panic. I can do this, she thought. She took some deep, shaky breaths and steadied herself against the counter.
Images of Fitz kept flashing through her mind as she prepared her equipment. One minute, it was them at university, laughing on the courtyard, or making a speech in front of future agents. The next minute, a snarling beast. How could this have happened?
She took another minute to breathe. Skye suddenly ran in, looking concerned and shaken, almost as bad as Jemma felt.
“That was…” Skye trailed off. Jemma nodded. She knew what Skye wanted to say.
“Do you...need help, or something?” Skye asked. Jemma thought. Skye was great at hacking, and her field skills were improving, too. But she was no scientist by any means.
“I appreciate it, but...I think it would be better if I was alone,” she answered. She tried her best at giving a smile, because she did appreciate Skye’s concern.
“Okay,” Skye replied. “Just let me know if you need anything.” She left the room, leaving Jemma alone again that night.
Hours went by. At this point, all of the rats had been infected. She was hoping that one of them would show some different behaviors, maybe have different patterns. But they all acted the same.
She gave them samples of every medicine she could think of. She started getting desperate and tried feeding them. It wasn’t human flesh, so they didn’t want it. All the while, she could hear the snarling and thrashing of Fitz on the screen behind her. She refused to look.
She tried taking their blood. She tried analyzing it. She looked at every core and fiber of DNA imaginable. She was amazed that she had some of the most advanced technology in the world and she could not figure out what the cure could be to this blasted virus.
She looked at the list of everything she had tried. It was so long it could have passed as a book. She was losing hope again.
She forced herself to turn around and watch Fitz. He seemed to have given up on the thrashing and just stood there, staring at the door, snarling. To Jemma, that seemed even worse than him growling and thrashing about. Before, she could have believed that it was Fitz fighting to break out, fighting to regain control of his body and mind. But now, he was just standing there. No fighting, no trying. There was nothing left.
Tears started welling up in her eyes again. She was starting to see no way to cure Fitz. He had trusted her. She had trusted herself to fix him and now he was going to suffer like this.
Coulson walked in. He cleared his throat, and a startled Jemma jumped and turned towards him.
“Oh, hello, sir,” she stammered.
“Have you found anything?” he asked. He looked pale, nervous. Jemma knew that he hates whenever an agent is down; he almost feels personally responsible.
“No, sir,” she sighed, flipping through her list of failed treatments. “I’ve tried everything I could imagine. Every vaccine, pill, food, drink, blood, you name it. They’ve all stayed exactly the same.” She looked over at the rats, a sense of hopelessness filling her chest.
“Let me see that list,” Coulson said, walking over to the counter. He looked through the list, actually smiling a couple of times when he saw the ridiculous things Jemma had tried. He could see she was getting desperate.
“What about what you took from Fitz?” He asked, looking back up. “All of the samples we have are from people who have been infected for way longer than a couple of hours. Maybe a fresh sample would change things.”
Jemma opened her mouth to insist that it was a ridiculous idea, then closed it. What Coulson said was true. Every sample of infection that she had studied had been at least a week old. She never had a sample this fresh.
She pulled out the medkit from before a poured out the purple goop. Black swirls trailed the liquid, and bubbles popped off the surface.
“This is bloody disgusting,” she whispered.
Coulson watched from the side as Jemma examined the DNA of the sample. As suspected, it was different than the others. One of the patches acted almost like a clock. It seemed that the virus stayed constant until a certain time; the ten minute mark. At that point, the virus mutated and took complete control of the brain, much like a parasite. She still didn’t understand how it could begin to decompose the body so quickly, but she had no time for that. She quickly started to reverse engineer the sample. She had tried this with the other samples, but they had already turned when they were taken. This sample still remained in its pre-muted stage; without the DNA to mutate it, it remained relatively stable.
Jemma wasn’t sure how long it was before the process was finally over. She scooped the rest of the sample back into the tube and rushed over to the first infected rat. She first paralyzed the rat so it couldn’t thrash out, then quickly injected it with the vaccine. Coulson and her waited eagerly for something, anything, to happen. A minute went by, then two. The paralyzed rat remained the same, lying on its side. The feeling of panic started to rise again. This was their only chance. If it didn’t work...well, she wasn’t ready to think about that. She wasn’t ready to think of a world without Leopold Fitz. Silly, goofy, Leopold Fitz.
Five minutes went by with no change. Jemma thought she was going to scream in frustration. Right as she was about to turn around, she saw a twitch. She looked closer at the rat and saw that it was twitching. Coulson saw it, too.
“It’s probably just the paralysis wearing off,” Jemma sighed.
“No, look right there,” Coulson insisted. He pointed to a spot on the rat’s neck where it had originally been injected with the infection. The purple veins started snaking back to the original prick, then reopened and started oozing out. Jemma quickly scooped it up into another test tube and gently cleaned the reopened hole. She noticed the rat’s eyes seem to return back to their normal position. It’s flesh became its normal color. The fur patches were still off, but those could grow back. A rush of euphoria came on Jemma. She felt like crying again, only this time, with tears of happiness.
“It worked,” Coulson mumbled, surprise in his voice. “I really didn’t think that would work.”
“Me neither,” Jemma admitted.
“Does this mean it will work on Fitz?” Coulson, asked, looking up at Jemma.
“I can’t say for certain,” she answered. “But if it does, the only way we could make more cures would be to find a newly bitten person and take the sample. Someone would have to turn to make a cure.”
“Sounds complicated,” Coulson replied. “It’ll probably take a while, too. Are you sure we should take this chance?”
She locked eyes with him, a newfound determination in her. “I don’t see any other way,” she confirmed.
Quickly, Jemma took the remainder of the sample and reverse engineered it to become another vaccine. May and Ward carefully held Fitz down as Jemma entered the interrogation room. He started thrashing and growling again, desperately trying to take a bite of Jemma. She took a deep breath and reminded herself that Fitz would never try to hurt her. It was just the infection.
She carefully injected the vaccine into Fitz’s wrist. As expected, he continued to thrash around and growl.
“It took about five minutes for the rat to change back to normal,” Jemma told May and Ward. “So keep your hold on him. Who knows how long it will take for a human to be brought back?”
So they sat there for what felt like forever, May and Ward restraining a lunatic Fitz, Jemma sitting across from him with a mix of anxiety, fear, and hope. She knew that if this didn’t work, they couldn’t let him continue to suffer. They would have to take him out. She couldn’t think of it; she wouldn’t let herself. She looked into the crazed eyes of her best friend and knew she couldn’t live in a world without him.
One hour later, Fitz stopped thrashing and growling. Jemma was worried for a second that he had died. Suddenly, the purple veins in his skin started to recede. Color started returning to his face. His blond, curly hair wisped up again. His teeth turned back to white, and his breathing was deep and controlled. Lastly, his infected eyes turned back again to their wonderful, cloudless-sky shade of blue. Jemma’s heart practically exploded from her chest. She had done it. He was back.
He slowly looked around the room, taking in his surroundings. He saw May first.
“May?” he asked, his voice cracking. “Is that you?”
“Yes, Fitz, this is May,” she answered, her tone serious but her eyes showing relief. “Do you know where you are?”
He looked up at the ceiling and the wall, his eyes slightly out of focus. “I think I’m in the interrogation room.”
“Good,” Ward said, smiling. Fitz turned toward Ward and smiled his classic goofy smile. The sight of it made Jemma smile, too, the most genuine smile she ever had.
“Hey, Ward,” Fitz greeted. “It’s nice to see you again.”
“You feeling alright?” Ward asked. “You went a little crazy on us.”
“I don’t really remember it,” Fitz answered, shrugging. “It was like I passed out, or something.”
“Fitz,” Jemma stammered. His eyes finally locked over to her. The blurriness in his eyes became clear and bright, and he smiled an even bigger one than before.
“Jemma,” he murmured. “You...you cured me, didn’t you?”
Jemma nodded, tears coming to her eyes again. “Yes, I did.”
Ward and May unrestrained Fitz. Jemma immediately took hold of Fitz and held him tight, silent tears falling onto his shoulder.
“I’m so glad you’re alive,” Jemma whispered. “I was going crazy thinking about you leaving.”
“Don’t worry,” he said, holding her closer. “I’m not going anywhere.”
And so they sat there, holding each other.