Chapter Text
Jemma hadn’t been able to let go of his hand, even as it felt less and less real. Deke had laughed.
“You don’t get to cry,” he had said. “You’ll get to see me again.”
Without warning, Fitz had thrown his arms around him. “We’re really fucking proud of you, you know?”
Deke had snorted. “You better be. I saved your ass.”
And then he was nothing. Fitz and Jemma both clung at thin air.
“We broke the loop,” she said, and burst into tears.
Hours later, when they arrived back at the Lighthouse, sitting around the rec room, no one seemed to know how to speak. May and Coulson sat on the armchairs in opposite corners, taking turns staring at each other. Mack, Daisy, and Piper stood in the doorway, torn between entering the room where their team had gathered and running far, far away. Fitz and Jemma sat on the couch, closer than they had ever soberly sat in front of the team, staring anywhere but where Mack and Daisy stood in the door and anywhere except each other. Her head on Fitz’s shoulder, Jemma held tightly Elena’s hand, thankful the other woman had quickly situated herself on Jemma’s other side, aware of the secret now shared only between the three of them.
May sighed. “It’s not like he had a family here that we could contact.”
Fitz curled himself deeper into Jemma, giving up all pretense of discretion. No one seemed to notice anyway.
“I mean, he’s not technically dead, is he?” Piper asked.
Daisy scoffed and stared at her feet. “Just not born.”
Jemma pressed her fist to her mouth.
“I don’t think so,” Elena said, shocking everyone with the conviction in her voice. “He’s just not here anymore because he never needed to be. Maybe we’re going to make it where he’s born into an unbroken earth. Maybe when we’re all old and retired, we’ll see him again. Just without the lifetime of trauma.”
Fitz let out a sharp breath against Jemma’s cheek, reaching over her to hold Elena’s hand before he stood.
“Can we debrief more in the morning?” he asked Coulson. “Can we just...sleep?”
Coulson blinked and looked away from May just as she turned to look at him.
“We’ll debrief in the morning,” he said, as though the idea had just occurred to him.
Jemma stood and followed Fitz towards the door. Although Piper moved to let them through, Daisy shifted so that she and Mack blocked the way out.
“I just want to sleep,” Fitz said, his voice cracking.
Daisy swallowed and Jemma could see how hard she was fighting herself to not give in, to not let them pass. She willed her friend, for the first time, to break. But Daisy shook her head.
“You can’t be out here. You don’t get to...you can’t…”
“You can’t hate me or my actions more than I do. I will go back in the morning. Just let me talk to my wife. Let me…” He shook his head. “Please.”
“No.”
Jemma squeezed her eyes shut. “Daisy, let us through.” She took a deep breath and added, “You’re not in charge anymore.”
From his chair, Coulson said, “Let them sleep.”
Jemma watched as Daisy tried to keep her face emotionless, but when she stepped aside to let them pass, Jemma could see in her eyes that, to Daisy, she had crossed the line. To Daisy, she had joined the unforgivable.
She swallowed and told herself to mourn it in the morning. To acknowledge it now would shatter her beyond repair. She would sleep now, and mourn fresh in the morning.
They went back to their bunk and undressed in silence, not bothering to shower or find their pajamas. They undressed and crawled into bed, wrapped around each other, and waited for the perpetual exhaustion to fade into sleep.
Jemma closed her eyes, revelling in the comfort of Fitz’s breath against her forehead and waited for sleep. And waited. And waited. And felt Fitz’s breathing steady as his grip on her became less panicked. And felt his muscles relax against her as he dreamt of a world that wasn’t broken.
(It was strange, in a way, that to prevent the Earth from breaking, they had to shatter their own world)
And she continued to wait.
Some time later, she sat up, unsure if she had just awakened or if she had finally given up on trying to sleep.
“Fitz.” She didn’t bother trying to keep her voice down. She didn’t bother trying to ease him slowly into wakefulness. “Fitz.”
He scrambled to sit. “What wrong?”
“I want him to have a future.”
He moved to sit in front of her, wrapping one arm around her back and pressing his forehead to hes. “I know.”
She shook her head. “I want to make sure he gets a future. A happy one. I want him to grow up knowing his mum. Knowing us. And I want our daughter to grow up unafraid. I never want to leave her alone at night unsure if we’re coming back. I want a home with a nursery and a backyard and a swingset. And a trampoline that we’re so afraid of her getting hurt on. I want her to have a dog and siblings and know our parents. I want her to be happy and grow old, really old, and die an old lady in her sleep long, long after us.”
She took a deep breath.
“I want to leave S.H.I.E.L.D.”