Archive of Our Own

After Daisy had dragged herself off to bed, Lincoln had lumbered to the fridge and pulled out a six-pack of some lovely dark German beer, which he had Fitz had started in on in short order. 

Having Jemma as a best friend through the Academy and Sci-Ops had been nothing short of a miracle. That didn't mean that there was nothing missing for Fitz. As horrible as the aftermath of Fitz's drowning after the med-pod had been, his recovery had brought him the experience of socialization with other guys, something he'd never known he always needed. Lincoln and Fitz fell into the same unspoken pattern of male bonding that most guys seemed to understand as broken-heart protocol - downing at least one beer in short order, then one of them posing a question to the room's silence, that the other may choose to answer. 

Fitz spoke up first. "D'you think Jemma'll be okay?" 

Lincoln took a long draw from his second beer. "Define okay."

Fitz gave him a withering look. 

"I mean, the girl survived six months on an alien planet with weird air and next to no food, right?"

"With him," Fitz grunted. "He had supplies. He kept her warm at night, as both Hunter and Ward felt the need to point out to me." He took the first drink of his own second beer, and muffled the resulting burp with his fist. "As if I didn't already know. As if I hadn't tried to block out the thought a million times already." 

"Sucks," Lincoln grunted. 

They sat in silence for several more moments. 

"Still, you know," Lincoln offered, "s'not like she was on vacation, right? I mean, Captain HogFace couldn't have done anything to make up for the lack of sunlight, showers, and any hope of a normal life."

Fitz scoffed. "Guess you're right. At least when she went to Hydra she had her own apartment." 

Lincoln sat bolt upright, turning slowly to Fitz. "I know you can't be thinking this, but I gotta say it anyway. There's no way she was having fun at Hydra. No way she wanted to go. That had to suck for her, just as much as this sucks for you."

Fitz shrugged and took another long drink of his beer. "She left because I'd changed. And she couldn't stand to be around me." 

"And you left because....she's changed and you can't stand to be around her. Right?"

Fitz hung his head, the weight of the truth of those words washing over him. Or, however true they felt in his buzzed state. Maybe it was the for the best that he was a bit fuzzy now. Maybe it helped him hear the core of what Lincoln was saying - Jemma was angry that he'd gone, but more than that, she may also have been sad, and hopelessly confused.

Fitz finished his second beer and pushed himself out of the springy office chair, wobbling the slightest bit as he did. "Thanks, Lincoln. Really."

Lincoln called after him as he strode away. "Don't say anything stupid! I know you're going to send her a message now!"

Fitz waved him off, chuckling to himself. He would almost certainly say something stupid. But maybe that was the point of liquid courage. 

****

Fitz managed a shower and a quick tooth brushing before he changed into a clean shirt and sweats and burrowed under his covers. It was nights like these, where he felt warm and fuzzy inside, that he most longed to share with Jemma.  

He sighed, stretched out his arm so that Jemma wouldn't have to look up his nostrils as he spoke, and pushed the "record video" tab. 

"Sorry about the shampoo, Jemma. I mean, I'm not sorry it makes you miss me. I mean, I am sorry if you're upset that I'm gone, but if you miss me, it means...maybe...well, you know." Fitz blew out a breath and noted how his lips didn't feel quite right. A bit numb, maybe. 

"You know, when you left for Hydra - I didn't know that's where you were going at the time, mind - I kept finding those elastic things you put in your hair. Y'know, the ones you girls wear around your wrists and are always buying on supply runs, even though they come in packs of fifty or some nonsense. How can y'lose fifty glorified rubber bands in the space of a few weeks? They were everwhere. In the drawer of my lab bench, behind doors covered in dust bunnies, on the floor of the shower. Anyway, at the beginning, I still thought you were on holiday visiting your mum and dad, so I kept 'em in a pile for you. Once I realized you weren't coming back any time soon, I told myself I'd stop. But I couldn't. Even the version of you in my head told me it was pointless, but I couldn't make myself stop picking up the ruddy things and putting them in that jar. Just in case y'came back. 

"Then, you know, as the days went on, I found fewer and fewer of 'em. It was like even those damn hair elastics were telling me - it was over. You weren't ever coming back."

Fitz sighed. "I don't want to do that to you, okay Jemma? That's why we have these messages. So you'll know where I am, what I'm thinking. I will come back. I will."

Fitz blew out a long sigh. He couldn't deny that, even as he said it, he was preparing himself for the near-inevitability of Jemma deciding they were best as friends, and friends only. After all, if she hadn't found herself in love with him by now...after all this time, knowing how he felt, bloody kissing him...would she ever be able to love him like he loved her?

Fitz shook his head to bring himself back to the video message. 

"I'm knackered, Jem. I just wanted y'to know...I didn't want t'leave. Just felt like I had to. Okay? Just...erm...just message me back soon, okay? I like t'hear your voice. And, Jem? I miss you too."

Not two minutes after Fitz hit 'send' and let his eyes fall shut, his watch buzzed against his wrist with an incoming message chime. Jemma's face on the tiny screen in deep-contrast looked even more exhausted than it had in her last message. It was smooshed against a pillow, and her hair was a wild halo around her head. A standard-issue S.H.I.E.L.D. coverlet swooped over her shoulder, bare except for a thin strap. Bloody hell.