Chapter Text
Jemma Simmons heaved a sigh at the sight of fresh snow covering the ground as she dragged her small suitcase down the stairs of her hotel. Having snow a few days before Christmas was beautiful aesthetically. From a practical standpoint however it meant driving home to Boston would be a nightmare. At least she was able to leave in the late afternoon and make the most of the remaining light for the first half of her journey.
Though the biochemistry convention had been interesting and full of important connections she needed for her career, her mind was hundreds of miles away. And she definitely wasn’t looking forward to a five hour drive with nothing but her thoughts. It wasn’t as though she could stay in Philadelphia, so there was nothing to be done about it.
Earlier that month she had been looking forward to spending Christmas eve with her best friend, neither able to fly home to their respective countries (England for her, Scotland for him) for the holidays. A smaller, lazier, unhurried Christmas suited Jemma just fine; they had loosely planned what food to order (all being the basic consensus), what snacks to stock up on, and what films to watch. Beyond that the agenda was to simply enjoy each other’s company.
The fact that they spent as much time together as possible the rest of the year didn’t negate the need to have a special, relaxing Christmas.
Now any holiday spirit had been replaced by dread and an overwhelming desire to fast-forward to the new year. All because of a stupid, ridiculous fight three weeks ago. Jemma bit her lip as she heaved the suitcase into her trunk. She’d written about a dozen drafts of texts and almost dialed his number twice that amount; every time a small insistent voice in the back of her head told her in no uncertain terms that Leopold Fitz didn’t want to hear from her.
Not speaking in weeks only served to burrow doubt deeper and deeper into her stomach. Going from constant contact to nothing was a brutal wake-up call to just how much Jemma relied on Fitz always being in her life. She was at once surprised but not at all surprised the loss of him resulted in a physical ache.
The real surprise was that the ache didn’t fade; she just got used to pretending it didn’t exist.
Jemma sat in her car firmly in her own head for a full ten minutes before the chill of not having turned the heating on yet reached her bones. She shook her head and turned the engine on. God, it was going to be a long drive.
***
The first hour and a half passed relatively quickly. Jemma was thankful her radio picked up a wonderfully cheesy station playing the most upbeat, poppy Christmas songs she’d ever heard. It was easy enough to distract herself by belting out I Want A Hippopotamus For Christmas between sips of the white chocolate mocha she’d snagged en route.
Once the station was more static than music, it was nothing but the soft whoosh of her windshield wipers trying to keep the steady snow at bay and replaying the argument in her head for the millionth time. The next rest stop she would dig her iPod out of her purse and hook it up; she wasn’t looking forward to every song in her playlist to reminding her of Fitz, but that was surely what would happen.
Having been friends since they were sixteen meant they were well-versed in bickering (though thankfully it had mellowed with time), so when it started it certainly hadn’t set off any friendship-ending alarm bells in Jemma’s head. Certainly not something that started in their favourite coffee shop, of all places.
The dark circles underneath Fitz’s eyes worried her; the project he mentioned the other week must be taking quite the toll. Jemma watched him add only two sugars to his tea and take only one sip before letting it get what she imagined to be ice cold. She curled her fingers around a napkin.
“Bobbi said you haven’t RSVP’d to her party yet, Fitz. I’ve been asked to pester you about it on her behalf.” Jemma gave him a small smile, mentally calculating how many times she would need to mention the new years between now and December 31st. Possibly double her usual efforts considering his current attention-span.
“Yeah I saw it,” Fitz muttered, thumbs flying across his phone to type something.
“I figured we could combine our efforts and bring some Indian food to go with that IPA you like.”
She watched him chew his bottom lip, a barely audible hum his response.
“Ugh, Fitz – you’re not listening at all are you?”
“I am, I am. Party at Bobbi’s. You’re going to RSVP.”
“Clearly you aren’t listening and you haven’t even looked up from your phone for the last hour!” Jemma sighed in exasperation.
“I don’t see why I need to confirm I’m going when you’ve already said you’re going and I’m the afterthought.” He tapped his phone angrily, meeting her eyes briefly.
“What are you talking about?”
“I’m the one attached to your hip who they have to invite out of pity.”
“Fitz you know that’s complete rubbish! Bobbi loves you and Hunter considers you one of his closest friends!” Jemma reached out a hand to touch his wrist, frowning when he twisted ever so slightly to get out from under it. “I know Daisy and Trip are looking forward to seeing you.”
“Aren’t you tired of having to drag me along everywhere?” Fitz finally looked at her, eyes stormy, “Don’t you wish you were free to bring actual dates to these things?”
Jemma stared at him, confused. “I don’t-“
“I’m not someone who gets a plus one, not even asked about it. I get it, I’m not the guy.” Fitz downed his cold tea in one, wincing in disgust once it was finished. His phone buzzed and his attention splintered again, tapping to open a file.
“Fitz-“ Jemma started. She wasn’t even sure what to say to the rant that had bubbled up out of nowhere. Did Fitz feel obligated to go everywhere with her? Was she holding him back from finding his own plus one?
“If you don’t want to go to the party, you shouldn’t go. I just thought it’d be nice.” she said quietly.
“Best not then,” Fitz grumbled.
“Fine.” Jemma huffed. She looked at him in silence for another five minutes before rising to put her coat on. “Ring me when you stop acting like a massive git, will you?”
The smirk that came across his lips in response made her blood boil. He didn’t look up.
“Happy Christmas,” she said sarcastically, tight smile on her face.
***
The rest stop she pulled into was busy, especially for the time of year. Jemma went through the motions of getting gas and a few snacks, hoping her red-rimmed eyes weren’t too obvious. The snow was easing off, at least in her current location, which meant the drive should be less treacherous the rest of the way.
She fished her iPod out of her purse and plugged the aux cable into the car stereo. Sappy Christmas playlists likely wouldn’t improve her mood but she failed to see how it could get any worse. She made a point to turn her phone off, setting it to charge on the passenger seat. The temptation to check it for non-existent messages would be too strong and there was no sense in distracting from the drive.
Jemma made it through ten whole inconsequential songs before bursting into tears when Christmas TV by Slow Club came on.
“I’d like it if you made it to mine by Christmas Eve so you can hold me. And we’ll watch Christmas TV…”
All she could think about was how she did want Fitz to hold her and watch formulaic Christmas specials. She wanted him to be there for all the parties and gatherings and anywhere she was expected to bring a date. He was the one she wanted to keep close.
When the tears got too distracting, Jemma kept her blurry eyes peeled for the next rest station. She wouldn’t linger long, just a few minutes to blow her nose and find her one hit wonder playlist for maximum distraction capabilities. Ten minutes later she pulled into a rest stop just as darkness was finally falling. She flicked on her phone, she wanted to send Bobbi a message wishing her a merry Christmas as she would be on her way to Chicago shortly.
Her eyebrows danced into her hairline when she saw the blinking voicemail notification.
“Jemma, It’s me. Listen I know I should have called you weeks ago but I- well I’ve been a bloody idiot. Generally. Not just the past few weeks. Anyway I know I’ve messed everything up and I just wanted to let you know you didn’t do anything wrong. It was me. It was my fault. Remember the bit about being a massive git? Yeah. Call me when you get this or text me or whatever – I need to see you when you get home.”
Jemma laughed in relief, listening to the voicemail two more times, smile widening. She flicked through her contacts, hoping to speak to Fitz for a couple of minutes before she had to hop back on the road. The signal wouldn’t connect, dropping before the number dialled properly. She tried to send a brief “Got your message, see you soon” text but that didn’t want to work either.
Cursing her phone company under her breath, she turned the car back on and manoeuvered her way out of the small parking area, squinting at the too bright spotlights illuminating the exit.
Everything was going to work out fine. They would talk and get past it and have a nice Christmas after all. She did want to get to the bottom of why he’d said the things he’d said but she knew they were stronger together.
The smile didn’t leave her face until the first jolt of impact gave way to crumpled metal.