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"We have got to accept it."
The words ring through his head as he takes the shotgun and cocks it.
"We have got to accept it. To say goodbye."
He still feels the ghost of Coulson's hand on his shoulder as he takes the gun and marches down the hall.
"We need to say goodbye. Jemma would want us to do that."
But Coulson doesn't know Jemma like he does, doesn't feel what Fitz feels. She wouldn't want him to say goodbye if there was hope. He doesn't want to say goodbye if there isn't.
"Okay?"
If it was okay, he might have given up. But there's something inside him that knows it's not okay, that she had to go somewhere and he has to know where that is. He rips the caution tape off and kicks the door open with a righteous rage. It takes two shots to open the case containing the monolith, and he throws the gun to the side when the door swings open.
"We need to say goodbye."
He'll say goodbye, but not to her.
"We have got to accept it."
He feels a peace wash over him as he opens the door and goes into the case like a lamb before slaughter. If he's going to accept anything, it'll be her fate. He has no life without her, anyway. It's love that brings him face to face with her door, love and longing and desperation. He stands up straight and prepares to take it like a man, but the monolith doesn't acknowledge him.
"Do something," he commands.
This is the source of all his grief. This is what snatched happiness right out of his grasp. They fought a war over this big, black thing, but it just stands there and mocks him. The anger swells up so suddenly that he can barely breathe. His clenches his fists so tight that they might be harder than rock.
"DO SOMETHING!"
He's screaming, he's punching the rock with his fists, he's telling it to take him. He's offered himself as a sacrifice, and there's no going back now. That rock took everything this world has to offer him, and the least it can do is finish the job.
He's not tired of hitting his hands on the monolith; he's tired of life. He's tired of searching, tired of hoping, tired of leads going cold. He's tired of being without her, and he won't do this anymore. This is his last stand. This is the last thing he'll ever do.
He falls down on his knees and begs it to take him. He has to be with her, and he doesn't care how. He has to be with her.
He has to be with her.
"Fitz!"
There's footsteps in the hallway, and he knows there's more than one of them, but he only hears Mack. He's running out of time; it has to happen now. They'll grab him and put him in a straightjacket. They'll never let him near her again.
"Fitz, what are you doing?"
He wonders if he has to fight them off, but when door to the room swings open, the impossible happens.
The monolith melts.
"Fitz! Fitz!"
He doesn't know whether to run or dive in, but in the end, it doesn't matter. He's consumed by a sea of black tar that turns to electricity, zapping him from the inside out, from the outside in, from everywhere at once. He's being pushed and pulled and thrown from the tar into dust that he's desperate to spit out. Where is . . .? What?
There's a crash, and he can't even look around to see what it was or where he is, because the ground has tilted on its axis, and he's sliding off the edge. He's spitting out dirt and clawing at whatever he can find. And he's screaming. He's definitely screaming.
But someone else is screaming, too. Someone other than Mack.
"Fitz!"
He almost falls off, but he finds hand holds just in time.
"Fitz! Fitz! "
His feet are dangling off the edge, but he knows this voice. Right now, he could lift a car with one finger. He can lift his body off of this cliff. And it is a cliff, though he tries not to look down. He's at the edge of a canyon, and if he doesn't move now, everything he's done will be pointless. This road of blood and tears will end in her watching him fall to his death. So he pulls himself up until his feet find purchase on the steep ledge, then uses his legs to push the rest of his body forward. There's a bit of a lip a few feet up, and if he can get there, he'll make it for sure. He scrambles up before his muscles have time to fail him.
"FITZ! There's glass!"
There is glass, though he doesn't register at first that that's what stings. It's everywhere, like he landed on a bush of thorns, and he's scrambling again to get out of it. When he finds flat ground that doesn't bite, he finally has a chance to look around. There's a wasteland before him, two moons above him, and behind him, there's—
He almost falls down the hill and off the cliff, and the cuts don't sting because his whole body has gone numb.
It's Jemma.
He heard her voice, but it's not until he sees her that he lets himself believe it. She's on the other side of the canyon, but she's there, alive, and she's still calling his name. He realizes he's been too busy screaming to answer.
"Jemma!"
"Fitz! Are you okay?"
"Are you?"
She smiles at him. She's dirty and in rags, but she's smiling like she just won the lottery. She looks to her right, and a shock runs through him when he sees a man coming towards her. A big man, from the looks of it, but she doesn't seem scared. No, she talks to him, pointing over at Fitz like she's showing the man his dreams come true. The man only cocks his head at Fitz and scratches his head. Jemma's smile fades, and she gets the man to look back at her. As they talk, Fitz's mind is whirling. Does she have a lot of friends here? Are they near a village? Is he . . . are they . . . could she possibly . . . well, of course she could have—
"We're coming to get you," she yells, her voice echoing. He's still trying to get his bearings in this place. How are there two moons? Is he—
"You'll have to meet us in the middle."
This is a low, booming voice from the stranger. Something stabs at him, and he realizes it's the glass. He's got shards of it sticking out of his skin. He starts to pick them out and winces. Some cuts are small, but a few go deep.
"Take the grappling hook. Go to your right until you get to where the canyon narrows," says the man. "We have a rope; we'll pull you over to our side."
Fitz shields his eyes in an attempt to see better, though he's not sure what good he expected it to do in the dark. All he can see is that the woman he came through that rock for has disappeared.
"Where's Simmons?" he yells.
The man shakes his head, smiling. "She's running."
Fitz is about to ask where she's running to when he realizes that she's running to him. She's running to where she can meet him. Jemma. Why is he wasting so much time?
He looks around, grabs the grappling hook, and gets to his feet. It doesn't matter that his throat is raw and his skin stings. There's time sitting between him and Jemma, and he's going to speed it up as much as he can. He takes off at a sprint, almost going blindly until he remembers his objective. He keeps the canyon to his left and watches his footing so he's not in danger of falling in. He goes fast enough that he catches up with her and she laughs like a child on holiday. It's infectious at the same time it pushes him faster. He's not sure how long they run and he doesn't care, because she is in his sight, because she was gone for so long and now she's happy to see him. It's not until they stop that he realizes his throat is a desert, that he needs to gasp for air. She's gasping, too, but she smiles through it. There's a bit of a ledge that pushes into the canyon, and it looks sturdy enough to support his weight and hers. He's tired and out of breath, but he's almost sure he could make it if he jumped.
"Can you see?" she asks, pointing down at the ledge. "Is it safe?"
He takes a second look and nods. "Looks so."
She takes a step forward to test it, then another. She's so careful, this girl who survived on the edge of nowhere. He's in awe.
When she's satisfied the ledge won't crumble beneath her, she sits down with her legs swinging over the abyss below.
"We'll have to wait for him," she says, still breathless. He's so caught up in her that it takes him a second to process what she said.
"Who?"
She nods in the direction she just ran from. "Will. He has the rope. He'll bring you over."
"Will?" The name is so normal, so common, and he wasn't able to see the man that well before, but is it possible that he's— "He's human?"
When he points up at the sky, her eyes follow.
"Yes," she says, "he's an astronaut. From NASA. He's been stranded here for years."
"Oh," says Fitz. "How many?"
Her gaze goes from the sky to him. "How many years?"
He shakes his head. "How many people?"
She stares at him for a second before he can see the realization dawn on her. "Oh. There's no one else; just us. He was alone before I found him."
Fitz is about to ask a question when the man himself appears, and Jemma stands up and away to give him room. Will goes on the ledge and holds out a rope.
"Toss the hook over."
Fitz obeys, almost afraid he won't be able to throw it far enough until it clatters on the ground behind Will. Jemma beams at him, like he's done something to be proud of. Will simply picks up the hook and attaches it to the rope.
"Now," says Will, "I'm going to shoot this into the canyon wall. We had to cut a little rope off to tie the bottle on, but we should still have enough."
He's about to ask what bottle was tied where before he feels the stings in his skin and realizes he's already well acquainted with it. They threw the bottle on the ledge? Or catapulted it? On purpose?
"It had a letter for you," she explains as Will works, "to show you how to open the portal and come get me."
The portal. He came through a portal. It's starting to make sense. He looks down at his bloody hands and shrugs.
"Guess I ruined your plan," he says.
"No!"
She shouts it, almost like the word was ripped from her throat. She grimaces, then regains her composure. "I mean, it's alright. We'll find a way out together."
There's a loud bang! as the grappling hook hits the wall below him and takes hold. Will pulls on the rope to test it.
"Okay," he says, "that should work. Just shimmy on over here, and we'll be on our way."
Fitz looks down at the rope, then at the canyon floor below, then up at Will.
"I'm just supposed to what, walk a tightrope?"
"It's a big canyon," Jemma explains. "It'll take weeks to walk around it. This was our plan for getting to the portal, but at the last minute, we discovered that the canyon was too wide where we needed it to be."
Fitz doesn't understand the look Will and Jemma share, but he's too concerned with the rope to care. He gulps once, then twice, and then his bad hand starts shaking.
"You can do it, Fitz," she says, "I know you can. It's just a little ways, and it'll be over."
It's her eyes that make him do it. It's too dark for him to see them properly, but he knows those eyes well enough to know that they're sparkling with warmth. He's so desperate to get to her that he's climbing down on the rope before he knows it, then pulling himself across, then being pulled up by Will. It happens so fast he can hardly believe it, and it's not until he looks over the ledge and down at the canyon that he understands what he just did. He was dangling over that canyon and holding on to a rope for dear life, but he made it across without thinking because Jemma was on the other side.
She crushes into him, throwing her arms around him and hugging him tight. It takes him a second to put his arms around hers in return, but when he does, he knows this must be what Heaven feels like. She's here, she's alive, and she's in his arms. There's no better feeling in the world.
"You did it," she says into his ear. He shudders from head to toe. "I can't believe you did it."
His hands go up and down her back in the only gesture of gratitude he can manage. "Would have come sooner if I'd realized it-"
"Was a portal, I know." She pulls back to look at him, her face glowing beneath the dirt and despite the dark. She reaches for his hand, threading her fingers through his. He can't tear his eyes away from them. She's holding his hand. "Now, I'll treat your cuts as best as we can, and then we can take you home."
He furrows his brow. "Home?"
"Well," she says, and he instantly regrets the way her face falls. "Not really, of course. Just, where we've been staying. But it's safe."
He does the best thing he can think to do, which is to wrap his free hand around their joined ones and tell her that he'd love to see it.
She's different here. Everything is. They've been walking for hours, and when he asks if the sun'll come up soon, she only laughs.
"Not for another month, I'm afraid."
"You're lucky you'll only have to wait for a month," Will chimes in. "I haven't seen it the whole time I've been here."
Jemma turns to Fitz and rolls her eyes in the general direction of Will, giving a secret smile that Will can't see.
"See what I have to put up with?"
Will only smirks at them. "Yeah, yeah, laugh it up. I'm the one that's going to have to put up with the two of you."
Fitz looks to Jemma for an explanation just as she looks away. It's still dark, but he wonders if he saw a hint of pink on her cheeks.
"Well, now that Fitz is here, I'm sure we'll never see the sun." She looks at him then, eyes sparkling. "This sun, at least. We'll be long gone by then."
Fitz has to look away, because he's fighting off a blush of his own. He should have done this long ago. He should have camped out by that rock and not missed a second by her side.
"If you say so," counters Will, "but we'll have to start over from scratch with no computer."
When Fitz casts a quizzical glance Jemma's way, she gives a sympathetic sigh.
"Will has an old computer that we were using to map the stars, only we were using my phone to power it, and now it's dead." She holds up the phone to show him. "It's thanks to you, really, that we got that far. The battery lasted me this whole time."
His eyebrows shoot up to his hairline. "Really? I mean I hoped it could, but—"
"I was careful to conserve the battery, though I did take some readings of this planet."
"And she likes to look some of her photos," Will adds. He shoots a sly glance at Jemma, who winces back at him.
"Anyway," she says, "the computer was originally designed to work on solar power, so I had to convert it to take electricity, but now that we don't have that, I'm not sure what the next step is." Her eyes widen. "Unless you brought your phone with you?"
Fitz puts his hands in his empty pockets and shakes his head. "I think I left it on a counter somewhere. But I'll take a look when I get there. I'm sure we can work something out."
She smiles so big that he's mesmerized, so big that he forgets where they are or what they're talking about. All he can think is that he loves her more than he thought he could love anything.
"Excellent," she says.
It's strange, being in this place without the sun. They've been walking and walking for hours, and they stop when they can't walk anymore. They'll go to bed and wake up not when the sun peeks out over the horizon, but when they just stop sleeping. He wonders if this is the source of the darkness hidden in her eyes, if she's so starved of sunlight that she's not sure which way is up. Does it matter on this planet? Does anything matter?
Will asks them to stay put while he does a little scouting to make sure this little outcropping of rock is safe. He and Jemma watch Will's figure disappear over the horizon.
"Are there animals?" Fitz looks around for miles and miles, and sees nothing. She'd already said that there weren't any people. "Are there . . . are there predators?"
Jemma watches him for a second before shaking her head. "Hardly anything grows here. But there is a thing—a monster—that's been hunting us."
Fitz raises an eyebrow at her, and she gives him a sad smile. "I know what it sounds like, but we're on another planet, Fitz." She takes his hand a second time, squeezing gently before letting him go. "You have to allow to the possibility of the impossible."
He has to think about it before he agrees, giving deference to her judgment and experience. After all, he's only been here a few hours, and she's managed to survive here for months.
It takes Will a bit longer to come back than they thought, so he gets her to tell him all about the monster that hides in sand storms.
"We should be safe, though," she says, after she explains how the monster drove Will's team mad. "It mostly sticks to an area far away from here. Will calls it the no-fly zone." She sits down in the dirt and takes off her pack, motioning for him to join her. "I didn't even see it until I went down there."
He obeys, sitting with his hands on his knees. "Seems like you'd know better than to go into the belly of the beast," he teases.
"Well," she says with an exasperated smile, "I was at the end of my rope. Will had a lot of research on the planet, but I couldn't figure out a way to use it to get home. I was so desperate to get out of here and get back to—" Her eyes flick up at him, and she stops, like she's said too much. She swallows. "I mean, this planet has a way of getting into your head. You find yourself doing things you never thought you would."
"What do you mean?"
He blurts out the question and instantly regrets it. Whatever she's done, she did it to survive, and the last thing he wants is for her to think he's judging her for that.
"Sorry," he covers, "I didn't mean—"
"No, it's alright," she says, waving it off. "I didn't eat anyone or anything. There isn't anyone here to eat. I did kill a monster plant, though, and ate part of it raw. And I live with the most infuriating man on any planet. And I—" She flashes him a quick smile and ducks her head, playing with the frayed edges of her shirt. "I talk to myself, sometimes. Other people, too. People who aren't here." She looks up at him like she's done something wrong.
"Isolation will do that to you, I suppose." He says it in his warmest tone with his warmest smile, because she needs to know that the fact that she's alive is a miracle. He's not sure if she gets the message, but she does return his smile.
"It'll get better now that you're here," she says. She has a glimmer in her eyes that makes his heart swell.
"It'll get better when we go home," he says. "Everyone'll be so happy to see you. They missed you terribly."
He's about to continue, stumble through the words that he's been practicing in the mirror for months, but Will comes back before he has a chance. Now that he's confident that the area is clear, they all turn in, though they only brought bed rolls for two.
"You can take mine," offers Will, but Fitz sees the pointed look Jemma gave Will before he spoke, and he isn't sure Will means it.
"Nah," he says, "I'll be fine." To prove it, he lays down in the dirt and pretends that it's comfortable. "Besides, I slept in a bed last night," he lies, "so, doesn't seem fair when you've been without one for so long."
When the polite arguing is over, Fitz looks up at the stars and falls asleep thinking about how different his life is compared to how bleak it was twelve hours ago.
When he wakes up, he's not sure why his legs are pinned down until he finds Jemma's head on his lap. She looks so peaceful there, with her hand just past his knee, and she must have decided to crawl over to him and use him as a pillow. He doesn't mind. He just watches her breathe in and out, wishing he would know if it was okay to touch her, wishing he could pull her up to him and hold her. In the end, he decides that he can run his fingers through her hair, so gently that she smiles in her sleep. He's had a bed the whole time she's been gone, but he hardly ever used it. When he drifts off again, it's the beginning of the best night's sleep he's ever had.
"There's plenty of energy," Fitz posits when they're back at Jemma's hideout. He points towards the light peeking through the walls. It's geothermal energy, to be precise, but he doesn't have to tell Jemma that. He just has to convince her that he knows how to harness it. Which he doesn't.
"Yes, of course there is," she says, "but how do we use it?"
He'd hoped that she would start spouting off ideas that he could build off of, as they usually did, so her resignation stuns him. He looks at her, then back at Will, who seems to be brooding in the far corner of the room. Will's been in a weird mood ever since they woke up, and Fitz isn't sure if it has something to do with him, or of this is how Will usually is. Either way, he finds it very off-putting.
Will isn't important, though—Jemma is. Since Will started acting this way, he's seemed to bring Jemma down with him, and Fitz is determined to help correct her emotional course.
"We just . . . okay." He closes his eyes and tries to remember. It's something he's learned, but never used, so he has to dust off the cobwebs in his brain before it clicks. "Geothermal energy is harnessed by using steam to spin a turbine that powers a generator to convert that energy into electricity."
Jemma nods, though her face is grim. "Yes, of course."
"We can make a generator," he says, "all we really need is a . . . is a . . ."
He flushes with embarrassment. This is something he actually knows, but he's distracted by the way that Will is pacing behind them.
"A DC motor," Jemma finishes. Fitz looks over and sees the hint of a smile, which proves catching.
"Yeah," he says. "Have you got one?"
She lights up, and he's surprised at how relieved he is. A generator shouldn't be too hard to put together, but a motor would be tough.
"Yeah," she says, "come on."
She takes his hand, and he follows her into the next room. It's a wonderful thing, holding her hand, waking up near her. He tries to stay focused as she runs him through their supplies, but Will is in the other room, she's finally in proper light, and he can't take his eyes off of her. She notices his gaze, and her eyes widen.
"What?"
Fitz tries to tear his eyes away and finds that he can't. He clears his throat instead.
"You just . . . you look different . . . in the light. That's all."
She lets go of his hand and tucks her hair behind her ear. "I'm covered in dirt," she says.
"Yeah," he allows, "but you're alive."
When she looks back at him, it's like she's giving him a code he can't decipher. She leans in, plants a kiss on his cheek, and he's still confused.
"And you're here," she says, looking up and around this cavern she and Will have made home. "And I wouldn't wish this life on you or anyone, but . . ."
This time, he's brave enough to take her hand, squeezing it as he gives her a smile.
"But now that I am," he says, "we can find our way out of here together."
She gives him a squeeze in return, smiling warmly enough to evaporate whatever fog Will put her in.
"Yes," she says, "together."
It takes them a few days to make it work, but they're wonderful days. Jemma tells him story after story—how she waited at her entry site until she risked dehydration, how she found water just when she thought all hope was lost. He could spend hours listening to her, and he does, deflecting each time she asks him what he's been up to these past five months. She likes telling her stories, but she wouldn't like hearing his, and he wouldn't like to tell them. So he listens as they work, as they find a bed for him to sleep in, as Jemma insists on letting him sleep in her room. He feels that objecting would be the honorable thing to do, but he can't bring himself to do anything that would put any distance between them.
It takes them about a week to find the next time and place the portal opens, and he's intoxicated by the light in her eyes until they put the coordinates on a map, and she frowns.
"Are we sure about this?"
He looks at her, then down at their calculations. "We already double-checked it, but we can do it again if you—"
"No," she says, "I'm sure it's accurate, it's just—he's not going to like this."
Fitz looks around, then lowers his voice. "Will?"
"Yeah," she says, nodding, "this is . . . well . . ." She shifts from one foot to another, and he reaches out to put a hand on her arm.She looks down at it, and the way his thumb strokes back and forth across her skin, and she stops fidgeting. "It's fine," she says. "I'll just . . . I'll go talk to him. He's already a little upset at us for ignoring him the past few days—"
"I offered to let him help."
"—and I'll need to, just, smooth it over." She looks back at where his hand has stilled, covering it with hers. "Just give me a few minutes with him, alright? It'll be fine."
Fitz nods, and she gives him a brief smile as she gathers up the map and leaves. It's silly to miss her before she's even gone, but he does. When she told him she might have feelings for him, he hoped that it meant they were meant to be together. He became sure of it when she was taken from him, but now that he has her back, now that she's spending each day by his side, he's becoming convinced that it's not some kind of mirage. The only thing that gives him pause is whatever is going on between Jemma and Will—the looks he gives her, and the way she pretends not to notice. He shouldn't let himself worry, but he finds himself at the precipice of something wonderful, something that he's wanted desperately for longer than he's willing to admit, and the thought that anything could take her away makes him sick to his stomach.
That's why he creeps closer when he hears raised voices, why he leans against the doorway to the next room as carefully as possible. It's rude to eavesdrop, but she's been in there for an eternity already, and his curiosity has always gotten him into trouble.
"It's not as bad as you think," Jemma argues.
"It's in the no-fly zone, Jemma," says Will. "And you're going to go out there? Just because Fitz told you to?"
Fitz leans over far enough to peek into the room and see a sliver of Jemma, with one fist clenched. He'd kill to see the expression on her face.
"Because Fitz and I figured it out. Together . And we're going together—all three of us. Since we have time to prepare—"
"Oh, well I'm glad you decided to invite me along."
"Of course we are!" Jemma's hand flies up, probably to ball into frustrated fist somewhere under her chin. "Why would you think that we wouldn't—"
"Because I stopped mattering the moment he got here," says Will. Jemma steps back, her hands falling limp at her sides. "It's like he's the only person you want to talk to," he says.
The words almost make Fitz gasp, and he can only imagine Jemma's reaction. She offers no words of her own, letting a silence grow and consume them all. Fitz leans against the wall to steady himself.
"Will, I—" she finally says, her voice barely above a whisper, "I missed him."
"And you're just going to let him take you off to where It lives? After everything I did to keep you safe?"
"And what?" she challenges. "You want us to stay trapped here forever?"
"It killed my whole team, Jemma. It's going to kill you."
There's a pause, and Fitz knows she's trying to keep herself calm. He wonders if she's shifting her weight as she wrestles with her feelings, but his own internal battle prevents him from seeing for himself.
"I know there's a risk, but we've done the math, and I really think that—"
"Do you love him?"
The air goes out of the room, and it's like Will punched Fitz in the stomach. Worse, there's another pause, and Fitz knows that, like him, Jemma's been thrown completely off guard. She'll regain her senses soon enough, though, and then she'll—what? Leave the room so she won't have to answer?
He knows what he wants her to say, but it doesn't matter what he wants. What matters is something completely out of his control, but he's so desperate for an affirmative answer that he's sure he's going to be sick.
When her answer does come, it's quiet, strong, and clear.
"Yes."
Yes?
He's so stunned that he's not sure how he got to the floor, but he's dimly aware that Will almost trips over him on his way out of the room. Fitz watches him storm off, unable to move when he senses her presence, hovering at the doorway.
"Fitz."
He looks up at her and sees the tears falling down her cheeks. When did she start crying?
"Fitz," she says, "he's leaving."
The urgency in her eyes is enough to get him to scramble to his feet and go after Will, though by the time he gets to the common room, Will is halfway on the ladder with a rucksack under his arm. Fitz manages to stutter out half a syllable, but it's not enough. By the time Jemma catches up, he's just gesturing wildly at the hatch that Will slammed shut. He looks at Jemma, who stares back at him.
"Should I go after him?" he asks, pointing upwards. Jemma shakes her head, and maybe this should be the moment they run at each other, and he sweeps her up in his arms while she kisses him senseless. Instead, they stand there, swallowed up in the enormity of what just happened. She doesn't have to ask what he heard—he's sure it's written all over his face. He waits for a signal from her, something as small as a smile, but it she only folds her arms as fresh tears fall from her eyelashes.
"I guess," she says, her voice shaking, "I guess we have to let him go."
That's when he knows what she wants him to do, because he's done it a hundred times before. He opens his arms and she runs into them, tucking her head under his chin as he holds her tight. He's always been good at letting her break, letting her know that he can hold her together. She cries with the fierceness of someone who's held back her tears for too long, and he lets her cry them all out. When she's done, they're just standing there, holding each other like this was life itself.
"I'm scared, Fitz," she says.
Fitz thinks of Will, out there in the wilderness, and he thinks of the miles of wilderness standing between them and the portal.
"I know," he says. "But we'll figure it out."
She doesn't say anything when she eventually slides out of his embrace. She simply gives him half a smile and goes to her bed, leaving him to decide how to react. It seems weird sleeping in her room, especially after all that just happened. In the end, though, he figures that sleeping in Will's bed would send the wrong message. If his mind wasn't buzzing with Jemma and Will and Jemma, Jemma, Jemma, it wouldn't be so hard to fall asleep.
But he does go to sleep, and when he wakes up, he finds Jemma sleeping right next to him, with her bed pulled next to his.
Jemma is different the next few days, even as she insists that everything's fine. It's harder to get her smile and almost impossible to get her to laugh, and she keeps looking up at the hatch that leads out of this place. Does she expect Will to come back? Does she want him to?
But, Fitz decides, of course she does. Will was the only person she had before Fitz got there, and he knows from experience how easy it is to get wrapped up in a person you're stuck with.
But Jemma doesn't bring him up, and Fitz follows her lead. Instead of talking about Will or the confession Fitz overheard, they make plans for getting to the portal. It's actually not that far away, but Jemma insists on two conditions: first, that they take a long and rather circuitous route; second, that they arrive at least a day early.
"I got so close last time," she explains. "The canyon was supposed to be easy to cross, and I suppose it was, just, not where we needed it to be."
He's about to ask where she got the bad information, but he holds his tongue. Of course it was Will. He was the one that mapped the area, after all.
"So," she continues, "we should make sure we have enough time to account for any unseen variables."
He nods. "Okay, and we're going in a circle instead of a straight line because . . ."
"Because we're going to stay out of the no-fly zone as much as possible," she says. He knows that the forcefulness of the statement is not meant for him; she's arguing with the ghost of the man who left. Fitz decides to be the one who agrees with her; after all, the portal is going to open when it opens, and he doesn't care how the intervening time is spent as long as it's spent with her.
"Okay, then," he says, "we'll go home that way."
She nods at him, and he feels a victory in the small smile that comes with it.
"What'll you do when we get back?"
Jemma's question prompts Fitz to look over at her, and she looks up at the hatch again. It's an obvious attempt to change the subject, and he's happy to give her a distraction.
"Well," he says, "go back to work, I suppose. I'm sure Coulson'll be happy to have the two of us back."
"Not right away, I hope," Jemma says. "We'll have to get used to Earth's gravity again." She clears her throat, looking down at the hands in her lap. "We'll have to get used to a lot of things, I expect."
She's gracious to include him, but they both know that he still hasn't had the time to get used to this planet, much less become unused to the planet they call home. She, on the other hand, has been here long enough that leaving will take some adjustment.
"Oh says, "that's a . . . that's a good point. But when . . . when you're ready to come back to the lab, your desk will be waiting for you. Every Post-it note is still in place; I know how particular you can be."
This gives him an earnest smile, and he may have imagined it, but he thinks she's leaning closer to him.
"Good," she says. "What else? What else will you do besides work?"
He has to take a deep breath to gather his courage. "Actually," he says, "I know it's been a while since we talked about it, but if you're still interested, I thought you and I could go to-"
"Dinner," she finishes. She looks over at him and chuckles, putting her head into her folded arms. "I sounded too eager, didn't I?"
Fitz shakes his head. "No. You sound . . ." He feels his cheeks flush, and he can't look at her. "Are you . . . do you want to?"
She doesn't answer right away, and when he finds the strength to look over at her, she's staring back at him.
"Why don't we do it tonight?"
He's caught so off guard that he almost chokes on his own spit. "Tonight? Really?"
He looks like an idiot, coughing and gasping, so he's not sure why she gives him that smile.
"I know a great place. The food's nothing to write home about, but it has a great atmosphere." She bumps her shoulder against his, and he returns her smile. "Well," she says, "it's better than in here."
"Sure, but I thought . . ." He closes his eyes, swallowing. "I mean, I was going to . . ."
He trails off, deciding it's better not to tell her that he still has the reservation he made before he knew she was gone, that he's spent months wondering what kind of dress she'll wear and if she'll let him pull out her chair for her. He's brought out of his thoughts when she wraps her hand around his.
"We can do that next time," she says, and her eyes are so bright that he has to turn away. "Back on Earth. We should probably leave tomorrow, so tonight is the best time for it."
He swallows again, his heart in his throat.
"Yeah," he says, "if that's what you want."
Her smile is the only answer he needs.
He was supposed to wear his suit coat and the dress shirt that brings out his eyes, but Jemma doesn't seem to mind. She seems almost giddy as she leads him to a little ridge, then guides him to sit down next to her. They've got a stunning view of this planet's two moons, and he's never noticed how breathtaking they are. Jemma, of course, is even more stunning, glowing from the inside out.
"The sun is going to rise over there," she says, pointing to the horizon. "I, um, I ran some calculations this morning. I'm sad you're going to miss it."
Fitz shrugs. "I've only been in the dark for about a week. I can't imagine how anxious you are to see sunlight."
She nods, still looking at the horizon. "Well," she says, "we'll both see the sun before this one rises. We'll see our own sun."
"I'm not sure who'll be more excited," he says, "you when you get to see the sun, or Daisy and everyone else when they get to see you."
She gives him a quick smile and ducks her head as she rummages through her bag. "So you said," she replies. She produces two cups full of food (which he's sure she's given a name to, but Fitz can't remember which) and hands one to him. "I would have thought that . . . I mean, it's been so long. I was sure they'd all moved on by now."
Fitz remembers the hand on his shoulder, and the words Coulson whispered in his ear. He doesn't want to lie to her, but he doesn't want to hurt her, either.
"You're not easy to replace," he says, "or, um, get over. They missed you."
She sighs, then surprises Fitz completely by putting her head on his shoulder.
"I missed them, too."
He's not sure exactly what he's supposed to do now, but he settles for resting his head on hers. It seems like the right choice.
"I knew you wouldn't give up," she says.
He almost chokes. "Y-yeah?"
He can't see her face, but he knows her smile is the kind that always warms him to his toes.
"It's just how you are," she says, "just like with Ward. And Skye."
"You are not like Ward," he says, bristling. He can tell she's rolling her eyes.
"I know that, of course, but you still believed in him when all hope was lost. I figured that if you could do that, you wouldn't give up on me."
"You're not like Skye, either. And she goes by Daisy now."
"Fitz."
"You're not!" He lifts his head off of hers, and she looks up to meet his gaze. "Jemma, I hope you know that—"
"I do," she says, her voice as gentle as her eyes. "I do." She settles back onto his shoulder, and he has no choice but to return to his previous position. He takes a deep breath as a calming silence grows between them, and soon he is able to revel in the fact that she believes in him. He takes a few bites from his cup as she takes some from hers, and together they eat under the moons and stars, so grateful for each other that there are no words for them.
When Fitz's cup is empty, she takes it from him gladly.
"I have a surprise for you," she says. Fitz raises his eyebrows.
"Yeah?"
She retrieves an old bottle from her bag, blowing off the dirt. "I got this the last time I went to the no-fly zone. Seems appropriate to drink it now."
She gives him a questioning look and he nods, watching with interest as she fills his cup and hers.
"What should we drink to?" she asks.
He has to consider that for a moment. Drinking to the portal seems wrong, since it's what put Jemma in this mess in the first place. Should they drink to the chem lab, where they became friends, or maybe SHIELD as a whole?
He's still trying to figure it out when she saves him.
"I know," she says. "To Bobbi and Hunter. Couldn't have done it without them."
He agrees and clinks his cup against hers, knowing full well what she means. He smiles as he tips the cup to his lips, but grimaces when the wine hits his tongue. He tries to be polite and drink it down, but Jemma's spitting it out, so he figures it's okay to follow suit.
"It's pure vinegar," she says, chuckling a little as she chokes. "I held onto that for all this time, and it's-"
"Vile," Fitz finishes, laughing along with her. "How old did you say this was?"
"Well, I found it next to a sword and a sextant, so . . . old ."
"Yeah, that sounds about right."
He's trying to reign in his laughter, but he takes one look at her and completely loses it, setting her off as well. She leans against him and she laughs, burying her face in his shirt, and they don't stop until they're out of breath and their sides ache. She sighs into his shoulder with one hand on his chest, desperately trying to recover.
"Oh, Fitz," she says, still breathing heavily, "what would I do without you?"
He's about to say she'd do whatever she's done for the past five months, but he knows it would kill the mood. He decides to take it in another direction.
"You'll never have to find out," he says.
And he knows that this was a date, and that dates usually end in a kiss, but Jemma didn't bring water, and they're too repulsed by the bad taste in their mouths for either of them to suggest it. Instead, they stumble home together, sober except for the laughter that keeps bubbling up between them. When they get back to the cave, they take large gulps of water and wish each other good night.
Fitz wakes up, perplexed when he feels something warm at his back and cold at his middle. He looks down and sees that it's hands at his stomach—Jemma's hands. Somehow, in the course of the night, she's managed to wrap herself around him. Did she mean to?
He wonders if it's a coincidence that this happened right after Will's departure, if she doesn't feel as safe without him gone. He's not the survivalist that Will is, but he can shift until he's facing her, pulling the covers over their head to protect them against demons. He can barely see the shape of her face in the darkness, but he is mesmerized by how peaceful she is.
He puts his arms over her waist like she did to him, hugging her closer and wishing they could stay that way forever. When they get home, they'll be able to sort everything out, but for now he decides that they can stay in their little cocoon for as long as she needs to.
It keeps happening as they make their way across the wilderness, turning into something of a ritual. They have their own bedrolls, of course, but somehow, they keep waking up wrapped up in each other. Sometimes he thinks it's just Jemma looking for security and warmth, but sometimes it's him purposefully inching closer to her. This is a dangerous dance they're doing—dangerous in the sense that it's absolutely addictive. In all that time since he saw Jemma jump out of the Bus, how often did he dream of waking up with her? Maybe he should have warned her that he'd be so needy, that she'd reach out for comfort and he'd never want to let her go.
They talk about a lot of things, but they haven't talked about their date. They still haven't talked about her confession to Will. But he does learn more about her than he ever thought to ask—things about her parents, her childhood, her expectations for where she would be by now.
"My father taught me to love the stars, but I never thought I go to them," she says as they walk. "I figured I was a little small to be an astronaut."
"No," he tells her, "if you were an inch or two shorter, maybe. But you're in the official height range, and there's no way anyone can compete with your science background. You'd just have to log some hours flying the Zephyr, and you'd be a shoo-in."
It takes him a few seconds before he realizes that she's stopped, and he does the same, looking back at her.
"What?"
She smiles, cocking her head at him. "When did you learn NASA's requirements?"
He blinks back at her, then turns around and keeps walking. "Just . . . picked it up, I guess."
He hears a scrambling of feet, and Jemma soon appears beside him. "You wanted to be an astronaut, too," she teases. Fitz ducks his head, feeling his ears burn.
"Every boy wants to be an astronaut, Jemma."
"Yes," she allows, "but you actually did your research."
He can't look at her, but he knows how she's smiling at him, more smug than she would ever admit to being.
"Yeah, well," he says, clearing his throat, "SHIELD offered me a better opportunity. And I had a much less chance of dying in the cold vacuum of space, so . . ."
"So SHIELD it was," she finishes. "And yet, we both ended up on an alien planet, anyway. How's that for irony?"
They share a smile, their conversation reaching a necessary pause as they consult their map. When they've determined that they're still going in the right direction, Jemma turns to him.
"There is a science requirement, right? That's what you said?"
He furrows his brow and nods. "You have to at least have a bachelor's in a scientific field, but advanced degrees are highly desirable."
"Hmm."
Fitz waits for her to continue, but she doesn't.
"Jemma?"
She looks up at him as if startled. "Oh, it's nothing," she says. After a few beats of silence, she adds, "I wonder if Will will meet us there."
Fitz frowns. "At the portal?"
He waits for her to nod, but she sighs instead. "It's just, I told him where and when it would happen. He'd have to try and make it, wouldn't he?" She adjusts the straps on her bag, her expression suddenly strained. "He'd have no other choice."
Fitz takes a breath in and out. "Well," he says, "would he be able to keep track of time on his own? Without you?"
She offers him the flash of a smile. "It wasn't me, really. He always knew what time it was, even when we were inside. It was almost like—"
She stops mid-step, bringing a hand to her temple. When she starts walking again, she pinches her eyes closed once, then a second time.
"Almost like . . .?" asks Fitz.
"Like Ward," she says. "I used to watch his surveillance feed when he was our prisoner. He was like a machine, that man. I never knew how he did it."
He sees how she balls her hands into fists, and he reaches out to comfort her. "Hey," he says, taking both of her hands in his, "I guess that's the best thing about this place, huh? You're about as far away from Ward as you can get."
She looks down at their hands, then up into his eyes.
"I suppose we should count our blessings," she says.
It takes three days until they get to the border of the no-fly zone, or rather, there are three times when Fitz falls asleep next to Jemma and wakes up entwined with her. He's starting to get used to the feel of her head and hands on his chest, and he's glad that he's the one that always seems to wake up first, so he can watch her rise and fall as he breathes.
When they get to the border, however, it's hard to breathe at all.
Maybe it's silly, being afraid of this monster that he only knows from Jemma's stories. Jemma herself knows very little about the creature from personal experience, so most of their information comes from Will. She told him everything she knew as they drew closer—what he did to Will's team, how Will blamed It for widening the distance to the canyon. Fitz isn't exactly sure what to believe, but he decides there's nothing wrong with being cautious.
"We just have to be in there a few hours,' she says, "especially if we walk fast. We'll go to where the portal is supposed to be, make sure nothing is stopping is from getting there, then come back here to sleep."
He's not sure at what point she took his hand, but she squeezes gently.
"Sounds like a plan," he says. "If we see anything like a sand storm, we'll run back here. No use risking our necks unless the portal's about to open."
She nods her head in agreement, her eyes fixed in the horizon in worry.
"Hey," he says, "it's not too late to turn around. Maybe the next time the portal opens, it'll be in a better location."
She looks at him with wide eyes. "I want to go home, Fitz. Don't you?"
She doesn't know that he has everything he wants right here, that he's not strong enough to be in a world that doesn't have her in it. But he knows that she's talking about sleeping in a bed and taking showers.
"Yeah," he says, "of course. I just . . . it's dangerous."
She looks down at their hands, then starts walking forward. "At least we'll have each other," she says.
"Yeah," he affirms, "of course we will."
They don't see anything that moves the whole way to where the portal will be, though Fitz is paranoid enough that he gets spooked once or twice. There isn't even anything that exciting when they arrive. The portal, according to their calculations, will open about twenty feet away from the base of some large rock formations. It's good, Fitz thinks. It would be strategic, if they had any hand in planning it. It's fairly easy to get to the portal site from the direction they came in, but the rocks create a barrier that blocks anyone who would come from anywhere else. As long as they were sure no one snuck up behind them, they should be perfectly safe.
And yet, when they get back to where they started that day, he can tell that Jemma is worried by the way she lays her head on his chest without pretext. He dares to run his hands through her hair.
"I'm worried about Will," she says, fisting his shirt. "I don't want to leave him here."
"I know," he says. "But it was his choice to leave. You didn't do anything wrong."
She sighs, turning her head so she can bury herself in him. "That's not what it's about," she mumbles. She lifts her head to look him in the eyes. "I don't want him to be stranded here forever just because we had a row."
He has to swallow, because she's close enough that he could kiss her now, but he restrains himself. It'd be wrong to take advantage of her need for comfort when she's upset. Instead, he gives her the comfort she needs by cupping her cheek with his hand.
"He won't be stranded," he promises. "Coulson will send a rescue team for him. Trained agents with guns. The monster won't have any idea what he's in for."
This seems to work, as she resumes her position on his chest, tracing lazy patterns with her finger.
"I think you're right," she says. "Coulson wouldn't leave a man behind, even if it's a stranger."
"No," agrees Fitz, "he wouldn't. And I don't think Will would want you to be here a second longer than you absolutely had to be."
He feels her smile through his shirt.
"No," she says. "No one who's been here would wish that on anyone."
His fingers return to her hair, comforting her until her tension evaporates and her breathing slows. It's not until he's sure that she's asleep that he lets himself drift off, too.
"Well," Fitz says, "we're here, we're safe, and the portal should open any minute now."
He swallows down the anxiety he no longer needs, seeing Jemma do the same.
"I've been so worried this whole time," she says. "I was sure something would go wrong."
"Yeah," he says, putting his backpack down so he can sit, "me too. You think Will'll show up?"
Jemma takes a look to the left, then the right, then does a complete three-sixty. "I don't know. I was sure we'd run into him by now. I thought he'd come back after the first day, actually. I guess I didn't realize how much I hurt him."
She sits down next to him, and he looks over at her.
"You didn't do anything wrong, Jemma."
"I know you keep saying that, but I can't help but think—"
"We both tried to include him in our work. He's the one who didn't want to—"
"—of course, a man who thinks this place is Hell is bound to—"
"—you'd think a scientist would be able to look at it rationally."
Jemma stops, furrowing her brow at him. "He's not a scientist—just an astronaut."
Fitz stares at her. "But Jemma, you have to be a scientist to become an astronaut."
"So you said," she counters, "but he was a pilot before. They let him in based on his flying expertise."
Fitz has to think about that for a second. "Well, maybe he had a contact. Someone who pulled some strings because they wanted him." He scratches an itch on his chin. "Strange that they'd want a pilot, though, seeing as there wasn't anything to fly." He takes a look at this little corner of the world, which is just as desolate as the rest of it. The only interesting thing they’ve found is the monster. "Are you sure it was a mission of scientific exploration?"
Jemma shrugs, bringing her hand up to her temple. "I guess—it doesn't matter now. I just don't want my last words with him to be such angry ones."
He feels a stab of guilt, because he knows those words were about him. Maybe that's why they haven't been able to talk about it.
"Well," he says, figuring that now's as good a time as any, "do you . . . do you regret it? What you said?" He wishes he could look her in the eyes, but instead he watches his hands.
"What? No!" He feels her hand on his shoulder, but he doesn't move. "Fitz, how could you think—"
"JEMMA!"
They both stand up as they hear a thundering of feet, and Fitz makes sure to put himself between the intruder and Jemma.
Behind him, Jemma calls out. "Will?"
"Jemma, It's coming! It followed me!"
He feels his heart race as the adrenaline spikes. The rocks protect them on three sides, but if the monster comes in the way they came, they're trapped.
"Fitz," Jemma says, "Fitz, we can't let It through the portal."
She clasps his arm, and he covers her hands with his.
"We won't."
He's not sure how he can keep his promise, but he doesn't have a chance to try. The moment Will appears, she bolts for him. Fitz has no choice but to follow.
"Will!"
"Jemma," calls Will, "Jemma, back away! He's coming!"
She stops, then cups her hands around her mouth. "We can't let It through the portal!"
Will grimaces. "I know!"
She starts forward again, but Will reaches a hand out to stop her, and before Fitz can say anything, he feels a gust of wind that nearly knocks him over. He grabs Jemma and pulls her back towards the portal.
"I'll stay here," Will says, shouting over the wind. "I'll keep It busy, then I'll run in at the last second."
"You can't do this," she screams, "we all have to get out of here!"
Fitz isn't sure what to do or what to say, but the wind is bringing sand with it, and he has to shield his eyes.
"Jemma!"
He reaches for her blindly and finds her hand, then pulls her like their lives depend on it.
"Jemma,” he shouts, “we have to go."
"I'm not leaving him."
"The monster'll kill us!"
He hasn't even seen the monster yet, but he can feel it, a presence of evil that sinks into his bones. It seems to weigh him down, and as the winds whips through their little enclave, he's not sure which direction he should go.
He clutches Jemma tighter.
"Do you see where the portal is? Is it open?" He tries to turn to Jemma and gets a mouthful of her hair.
"We can't leave him, Fitz!"
He tries to take a breath, but the sand is in his nose, in his eyes, in his lungs. He has to get out of there, has to get Jemma out, and if she insists on saving Will, then he'll simply have to—
"Okay," he says, "you go through the portal. I'll go get Will."
"NO!"
She screams it so loud, he looks to see if the monster got her. Instead, he finds her pleading eyes.
"I'm not going without you, Fitz. If you stay here, I do too!"
"If we stay here," he says, "It'll kill us."
"Then it'll kill us both!"
"Jemma," he says, and he starts to get his bearings, "you can't be serious. You've been stuck here forever; all you want is to go home."
"All I want is you!" She's pleading with him now, but he's pulling her towards the portal now, anyway. "I meant what I said, Fitz. There's nothing for me on Earth if you're not there with me!"
Out of the corner of his eye, he sees it: the swirling pool of blue electricity that will lead them back home. They're just a few feet away, and he wishes there was a better way than this, but it’s the best he can do.
"I love you too, Jemma," he says, and he pushes her towards the portal with all the strength he has, watching her careen through the wind until she's taken by the lightning, screaming his name. It's not until he's sure that she disappeared that he runs back towards Will.
"Will," he calls. "Will!"
It's impossible to see, and there's no time. The portal will only be open for a few seconds longer. If he can't find Will, should he just run for it? Can he risk getting trapped here without Jemma?
But no, he knows the right thing to do. They can find their way out of this, even if it's just him and Will. They can find their wa—
"Fitz!"
A mass is running towards him, and it seems to be the right shape.
"Will! The portal's open! We don't have much time!"
But Will just rushes past him, almost knocking him down, and it's not until he regains his balance that he realizes another mass is coming towards him.
"What the—"
His brain shuts off, and that's when he starts screaming. He can see it now—a lumbering corpse in a bloody spacesuit, and it's gunning for him. There's no way he can fight it off, so he runs.
He runs and he runs, and he's never run this fast before. The wind tries to knock him down, but there's a monster behind him—a real monster—and in front of him is the portal on the other side. Will must have gotten through, because he's nowhere in sight, and the monster is gaining, but the blue electricity is flickering, and it might be gone before it gets there. Something tells him that this is it, that he gets through this portal or this sandstorm will be the last thing he sees, so he slides towards the portal like he's trying to steal home base, and his only relief is that the lightning claims him.
He's felt this sensation before, but he'll never get used to it, never get used to being zapped from the inside out, for the sparks to turn the tar, for him to be thrown onto the cool floor of the containment room. He scrambles to his feet, and he's still screaming.
"LOCK IT IN! LOCK IT IN! IT'S COMING!"
He's still got sand in his eyes, so he's not sure who rushes past him, only that there are feet thundering towards the monolith's enclosure. It's airtight, he tells himself. If they get there in time, not even a grain of sand will—
Mack groans as the door slams shut, and Bobbi locks it just as It comes through the portal, and Jemma screams. He should be screaming, too, because It's right there, caked blood running down Its suit, staring at them. It lifts Its hands, and Its fingertips dissolve into sand that fills the enclosure, hitting against the doors and creating a rectangular cloud. It bangs at the doors, but Mack braces it, and when It can't break free, It lets out an unholy shriek that pierces Fitz right to his soul.
Fitz covers his ears and he's sure they're about to bleed when the monolith's tar washes over It and sucks It back in.
The sudden silence is so deafening that Fitz can hardly believe it, can hardly stand it. In fact, he can't stand, so he falls onto something soft. He tries to reach for Jemma, but as the world goes black, he thinks he hears her call his name.
He wakes up and groans, because it's unbearably bright. He spent the last four days in the darkness of that planet and now he's—in the lab?
He's in the medical wing, to be precise. In a hospital bed, if his IV is any indication. His first instinct is to rip it out, but he knows better. Also, he's not sure if he has the strength.
"Fitz."
He turns, and there she is, smiling at him from a hospital bed of her own. There's a part of him that knows it's the decrease of gravity, but most of him is sure that he's floating. He reaches towards her at the same time she reaches for him, and their fingers meet somewhere in the middle.
"I'm sorry," he says, not knowing when his throat got so dry.
She furrows her brow. "Sorry? For what?"
"Sorry if I hurt you," he says. "I didn't mean to, I just—"
"You didn't," she assures him. "I'm perfectly fine, just a little malnourished." She turns her head to look behind her, and Fitz notices a third bed, though he can only guess at its occupant.
"Will got off the worst, I think," she says, turning back to him. "He's been on that planet so long."
Fitz tries to chuckle, but the best he can do is smile. "I wasn't there that long, and I feel like I was run over by a truck."
"You were there long enough," she says. "But you'll be fine. We all will. And I think I'll ask Coulson to destroy the monolith, so we can stay that way."
He smiles at her, and he keeps thinking he can't love her anymore than he already does and keeps proving himself wrong.
"Good idea," he says.
It's strange, being back in his own room. Part of it is that he's hardly been here at all the past few months, and part of it is the absence of the fear and dread that used to follow him here and everywhere.
Now, it's more of a separation anxiety, which he'll simply have to get over. He and Jemma were released with clean bills of health just a few hours ago, but they were so weak that they basically just stumbled to the showers and back to their rooms. At least, he guesses she did the same as him, based on the relief in her eyes when the word "shower" was mentioned.
Now, he assumes, they'll go back to their normal lives, where they have plenty to eat and they're not trapped in the same room together. Why does it feel like such a loss?
He finds himself sitting on the edge of his bed, ready to go to sleep but too distressed to try, when there's a knock at his door. It's a chore to stand up, but he does it anyway, stumbling to the door to find no one else but her. Jemma offers him a timid smile.
"I know we're back home, and there are rules about these things," she says. "Well, not actual rules, but there are social norms, and I should probably just grow up, but I miss you." She looks up at him through her eyelashes, and he can see that she shares his exhaustion. "There it is: I miss you."
"It's been two hours," he teases. She gives him a wry smile and he folds, letting her into the room and locking the door behind her. She hesitates, but he simply goes over to the bed, slides under the covers, and pats the mattress next to him. She climbs into the bed and pulls the covers over their heads.
"It's strange, isn't it?" she asks, so conspiratorially that he almost looks around to see who could overhear.
"What?"
"Never wanting to be without someone," she says.
She manages to be so sincere, yet so simultaneously coy that Fitz finds himself absolutely speechless. Pleased with herself, she shuffles forward until their noses are touching, and if it weren't for the crushing exhaustion, he'd kiss her senseless right there. He yawns instead, and she laughs.
"Goodnight Fitz," she says, settling into her place on his chest. "We'll see the sunrise in the morning."
He scrambles down the hallway like he's running from a fire, but he's never seen her more serene. She stands in front of the window with her hands clasped behind her back, and he has to force himself to calm down. She eyes him warily.
"Everything alright?"
"You weren't there when I woke up," he gasps. "I thought—I was so worried that I—"
She stops him with two hands on his chest, and he's so shocked that he almost forgets what he was saying.
"I'm sorry," she says. "I told you where I was going last night, and I wanted to check on Will first."
He takes her hands in his, holding them against himself like she's the most precious thing in the world. They've been closer than this, but not standing up, not where someone can walk in and see them.
"How, uh," he stammers, "how is he?"
"Fine," she tells him. "Coulson contacted his parents; they're beside themselves with joy. Bobbi and Hunter are going to fly him back to Texas tomorrow."
Fitz's eyebrows shoot towards the ceiling. "So soon? Isn't he too weak for that?"
"That's why Bobbi's going. They're transferring him to a hospital in his hometown. I think his parents were told that he was shot down over Afghanistan or something, kept as a prisoner."
"Close enough to the truth," he says.
He expects her to smile, but she frowns instead, studying him. "What happened after I went through the portal? I thought Will was going to go through last."
Fitz opens his mouth, then closes it, not sure of the best way to explain it. "We were both running from the monster," he says. "Will was just . . . faster."
"Well, there was a moment where I thought I was never going to see you again." Her frown deepens. "You can't do that to me, Fitz."
He looks down at the hands he's holding, and lifts them to his mouth to kiss them.
"I know," he says, "but I wouldn't. I heard what you said."
"So," she says, "what do you think we should do about it?"
He answers her by crushing his lips against hers, by dropping her hands so he can pull her closer and kiss her the way he's always wanted. She responds in kind, reaching up to his face and cupping his jaw with her hands. He deepens the kiss, and he can feel her smiling against him, and when she pulls back, he tries to follow. He is chastened by a finger pressed against his lips.
"Fitz," she whispers, "look!"
He follows her gaze and sees a spark of red at the horizon. He's forgotten how much he misses the sun, but Jemma is absolutely enraptured. He puts his arm around her waist as they watch, and she does the same, leaning her head on his shoulder. Slowly, the red turns to orange, then to yellow as the whole world fills with light. It's amazing to him that something this miraculous happens every day, that he has the privilege of watching it with the one he loves most. They stand there until the night has turned into day, and even when the sun has finished its grand entrance, she can't tear her eyes away from it.
"Thank you, Fitz," she says.
"For what?"
"For saving me."
He's the one who rolls his eyes for a change, even though he knows she's not looking.
"Seems to me that you saved me just as much as I saved you." He smiles like he's the king of the world, and he might as well be. "By the way, we were talking about dinner before."
Jemma smiles against his shoulder. "So I recall."
"I know we're probably not up to it just yet, but should we plan it for next week sometime? So we have something to look forward to?"
She smiles when she turns to him, reaching in to kiss him once, twice, three times. She holds him in place with one hand as she looks into his eyes.
"We have so much to look forward to," she says, leaning in for another kiss. "But that will do for a start."
He smiles and draws her in for a proper kiss, so grateful to have her back and have her here, so hopeful for their future that he's sure they were always meant to be.