Quick Note: Okay this is probably way overdramatic, but I think Simmons will do something similar when the time comes.
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As Simmons descended the stairs into Vault D, she knew what to expect. Coulson had told her everything about what she needed to do while down here. She complied, although unwillingly. Grabbing the tablet from its resting place, she blew a strand of hair out of her face in preparation for this moment.
She was surprisingly unafraid of Ward. She knew Trip would be right behind her, ready to intercede if things took a turn for the worst. Grant was weak from spending so much time underground, only sustained by bland foods, so he couldn't do much anyways. Yet she still would've expected herself to be nervous from seeing the man that nearly killed her. Instead, she felt determined.
When she lowered the wall concealing him, he was staring right at the spot he knew someone would be standing at. It was borderline unnerving, but discomfort wasn't exactly the thing running through her mind.
She took two large steps towards him, scrunching her fingers into a fist before leaning back so that all her weight was on her back foot. Barely even seeing the confusion on his face, she threw herself into her arm swing and planted a punch square on his nose. The immediate crunching of bone was registered as a broken nose, and Jemma, not intending to be sympathetic, emotionlessly held out a handkerchief for moping up the blood pouring from his nostrils. She shook out her punching hand; the pain only fueling her rage against him.
"I deserved that," Ward admitted, pressing the quickly reddening cloth firmly. Jemma didn't trust him.
"Yes, you did," she replied before picking up her medical equipment and pulling the wet rag harshly away, noting his wincing.
She never once, throughout the entire check-up exam she was required to give him, listened to his pleading and desperate apologies. He wouldn't be getting off the hook so easily, if ever.
Just as she was packing up her tools, about to leave, Ward interrupted her planned, dramatic exit.
"How is Fitz?" he asked, sounding genuinely concerned. Jemma, although weakened a bit by his painful question, remained in a mask of anger.
"Not good. And it's all your fault," she retorted harshly, then snapped around, locked up his vault, and ran up the stairs, not letting him see her hurt.
He had looked fairly hurt, too. She made herself consider his humanity, but quickly dismissed it. He was a monster. If it weren't for him, her and Fitz could have been happily fighting against Hydra in their cozy old lab, both unscratched and best friends. But now they were injured, physically, mentally and emotionally.
He had ruined them. And Simmons wasn't sure she could ever forgive him for that.