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“Do I need to worry?” Skye asked, watching Jemma pull on a sweater as she walked to the door. It wasn’t the first time she’d asked, and it probably wouldn’t be the last, but Jemma shrugged it off. She could deal, she’d been dealing, this was a normal weekend, just like all the others for the past four years.
“It’s not me you should worry about, your brother is the one going out. I’m just the one taking up space on his couch because our heater is rubbish. “ Jemma replied, opening the door to their shared apartment, and pointing across the hall.
“Yeah, I know. That’s what worries me. At least him I’ll hear when he comes back. You, you’re way too quiet.” Skye grumped, curling up in an enormous blanket and pulling up the Netflix feed on their tv.
“I’ll be back in a few hours, or whenever His Highness decides he wants to make himself known.”
“And if he has someone with him?” Skye asked, knowing Grant wouldn’t ever do that but saying it anyway. She hated being in the middle of this but she was far past the point where she could have stopped it.
“He’ll let me know. That’s what friends do, honestly Skye. I will be okay.” With that, Jemma closed the door and walked across the hall to the apartment Skye’s older brother Grant owned.
“I’m coming in!” Jemma yelled, pulling out the key she had never gotten rid of and unlocking the door, heaving a sigh of relief as she stepped into the beautifully warm room.
“And I’m going out.” Grant said, smiling at her as he shrugged on his jacket. The ever present hole in Jemma’s chest opened just a little bit wider as he did. Too charming, too sweet, and still around.
“If you wrap yourself around a tree, let me know so I can take the stuff I want before Skye or Fitz get ahold of it.” Jemma teased, making herself at home on his painfully familiar couch.
“Will do.” He said, waving as he left.
The relationship she had with her roommate’s brother was a complicated one, technically she’d known him first. They’d been friends, they’d been more, she met Skye, things fell apart, they broke up, but neither of them moved out. Jemma and Skye always stayed across the hall, Jemma dreading weekends at home because any female laughter in the hall could be going into the place she should be. They stayed friends, Jemma even ensuring that she stayed in contact when she went overseas to work on treatment options for rare blood disorders found in far flung parts of Eastern Europe.
Three months no contact, and another six with daily but still spotty contact with everyone, Grant being the most important. It wasn’t Skye, Fitz, or anyone else she had missed the most, just him. He still knew her best, and she hated it. She hated him when she came home and he hadn’t changed, still there, still happy to see her. Even the short-lived girlfriend hadn’t changed things between them, Jemma’s jealousy notwithstanding, and certainly causing arguments.
She’d been home well over a year now, and things were changing, she spent more time in her ex-boyfriend’s apartment than she did in her own. More time with him, than with her roommate. Finding more reasons to smile at, flirt with, and tease him than anybody else she’d tried to move on with. They weren’t changing into something knew, they were falling back into something old, and sweet as it was, it hurt like nothing else.
This was how they spent their time, he goes out, she waits up, sometimes Skye comes over, or she orders dinner, sometimes it’s just her. Sometimes he’s reasonably sober, and sometimes he isn’t. When he isn’t, that’s when Jemma is angriest, because a little part of her always wonders if he’ll say it again, get mad enough, feel confident enough, to just tell her how he feels. He’s done it once before, Skye ensuring that it didn’t happen again, as neither of them would ever forgive themselves for that being the start to their relationship.
Another Friday, another night on Grant’s couch, perusing his dvd collection, waiting for him to come home. She took the opportunity to pour herself a drink, finding that she usually needed at least one. The warm air, the familiar scent of cologne on the couch cushions, and the carpet she’d helped pick out all making her a little nauseous.
He texted her once. –Home soon. Little drunk. Taking cab.- It was enough, she never really asked him to keep her updated, she wasn’t his girlfriend anymore, but he did anyway.
He made his way back in, his two best friends from college helping him to his door. Trip, one of Jemma’s favorite people handing Grant off to her with a smile, and Bobbi, Jemma’s second lifeline, giving her a very strange look before they said their goodbyes.
“Jemmaaa, I think I’m drunk.” Grant informed her, a brilliant smile on his truly inebriated face. He stumbled a little pulling his jacket off, and she hovered close by, ready to steady him.
“Really? I couldn’t tell.” Jemma said, smiling a little, and pretending she didn’t notice exactly how stinking drunk he was. She couldn’t blame him, his job wasn’t easy, and his life was stressful. She could blame him for his mouth though, and later on she would.
Before she could say anything else to the effect of giving him a hard time, he dashed into the bathroom and shut the door. Wretching, groaning, and the thud of knees hitting the tile floor alerting Jemma to just how much fun he’d had. Shooting Skye a quick message, and receiving nothing back, she knocked on the bathroom door, finding it unlocked, and Grant sitting on the floor, looking like he’d recently died.
“Got sick.” He said, looking a little ashamed, brown eyes soft and staring up at her in a way that made her breath hitch.
“I’ve noticed. Just stay there, and I’ll get you some water, okay?” Jemma insisted, hating herself for being so predictable.
“’kay.” He mumbled, turning over to get sick again.
Jemma returned with the water, Grant appearing to be done with his expulsions for the evening. He took a few sips, swallowed, frowned, and did something he hadn’t done for quite a while. He apologized.
“I’m sorry.” He said flatly, weaving a little even as he sat.
“You have nothing to apologize for, finish that and get to bed.” Jemma muttered, her heart now slamming an uneven beat against the logical thoughts screaming in her brain.
“I love you.” He said, still miserable, clearly still drunk, and looking straight at her, the same way he had four years ago. Sincere, angry with himself for not being able to properly express his feelings, and seemingly fine with completely knocking her neatly spinning proverbial planet out of orbit.
“I know.” Jemma replied, wishing with everything in her that he didn’t mean what he said. Hating him so much more for still being himself, someone she loved, someone she missed, and someone she could never seem to let go of. She did her best to shrug it off, turning to leave .
“I still love you.”
“Alright. You’re clearly not sound, but we’ll talk in the morning. Okay?” Jemma lied, hoping she could make it back to her room before losing it.
“’kay.”
When she got back to her apartment, Skye looked absolutely furious. She knew, of course she knew, Trip and Bobbi must have stopped by after dropping her brother off.
“If you leave again, I won’t blame you. None of us will. That said, I’m still going to go over there and kill him.” She said, a look of disgust fired over at her brother’s door strong enough that it should have been set ablaze.
“I doubt he’ll remember anything. It’s fine. Just leave it be for now. I’m going to bed, I really just don’t want to be awake right now.” Jemma said, almost happy to feel the cold again. She said goodnight, and slammed the door to her room. Angry at herself, angry at Grant, and angry at everyone else because it never felt like anything moved forward. It was always them, their friends, their apartments, and the mess Grant and Jemma’s breakup had left behind.
Finally, Jemma let herself cry. Tears boiling as they slid down her face. It wasn’t fair. She left to go fix things, give herself space, tried to move on. She had gone through her first major emotional hardship, and was picking up the pieces. All that work for nothing.
A knock on her door came soon after 10, Skye looking nervous as Jemma invited her him. Skye’s brother, looking about as awful as he had a few hours earlier was standing behind her.
“And how are we feeling this morning?” Jemma asked brightly, the worlds leaving her lips and sounding like they’d shatter in the air, shards of glass tinkling to the floor.
“Fine, mostly. I think getting sick helped.” Grant mumbled, Skye taking her leave, no doubt a few feet away in the kitchen, waiting for her chance to intervene.
“Good to hear.”
“Can we talk?” Grant asked, sitting down on the chair at Jemma’s desk, moving a sweatshirt she’d stolen from him out of the way.
“What about?” Jemma asked, angrier than ever and struggling to stay level.
“I remember what I said last night.” Grant replied, looking like he’d stand more willingly in front of a firing squad than face her.
“I was so hoping that was an exhaustion induced hallucination.” Jemma sighed, her heart plummeting into her stomach.
“Not so much. I really am sorry.” He said, his eyes meeting hers and looking genuinely repentant. Jemma wasn’t going to deal with that, not when he’d just given her the opening to finally let him know exactly how difficult things had been.
“No. You don’t get to apologize. Not for this. Four years, six thousand miles, Grant. I spent the past four years trying to move on. I left to go change the world, I left to make sure I could still be a whole person without you. I can, but you’re still here. “ Jemma spat, feeling herself begin to shake, incensed that he had the nerve to try feeling any regret.
“You moved on, you found someone else. You got to do that when I never stopped loving you. You don’t get to apologize for that at all. I deserve better, I know I do, but better has never been what I wanted.” Jemma felt completely defeated, but derived a little satisfaction from the expression on Grant’s face. He looked at her like she had torn out his spine, rendering him completely powerless.
“I know. I didn’t stop living you, I really didn’t. I just compartmentalized it. I couldn’t be what you needed. “ Grant said, faltering and sounding weaker than she’d ever heard him.
“I only ever needed you. I recall being very clear on that.” And she was, Jemma told him when they started their relationship that she didn’t want any promises, no complications, just him. It was already complicated, and his line of work automatically took an axe to any promises he would want to make. He was enough.
“I-“
“Stop talking. Please, just stop talking. You’re only going to make it worse.”
“I’m going to make it worse? Jemma, you’re the one that left. You had to put a continent between us in order to feel okay again. Do you think I want to keep hurting you? I saw what ending it last time did and I don’t want to break your heart again. But you left, and I stayed. I guess I’m selfish that way, I still needed you.” Weakness giving way to anger, Grant was almost yelling now, pale with exhaustion, and misery but fury, and regret in every word.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry I couldn’t keep it to myself. You know things are changing. Everyone else saw it too. If I could have left, I would have. I have a life here too, and if I thought I could leave it, and you behind I would have. Skye is here, Bobbi, Fitz, Trip, and everyone else are here.”
“I gave you an out. Nine months in which you could have left, moved out of this bloody apartment, and gone across town to be by the station. Nobody would have said a word.” Jemma fumed, tears spilling down her face again. She had stood up, still barely taller than his seated form.
“This is how you want to start the fight? You gave me an out? Really?” Grant asked incredulously, still somehow able to stay seated even when Jemma could see how angry she was making him.
“You clearly had no trouble finding someone else while I was gone, did you?”
“See, the problem with that, the one you keep missing Jemma, is that she wasn’t you. If there’s something I can’t tell Skye about, I talk to you. I have a problem with a case at work, it’s you I talk to. If there’s something only Bobbi and Trip know, but can’t help with, guess who’s there? You. It has always been you. So excuse me for not wanting to give that up.”
“I hate that you stayed, I hate that you care, I hate that you never changed the locks, I hate that your sister doesn’t hate me, I hate all of this. “ Jemma said, weary, and finally feeling as though the fire raging through her was abating.
“Do you hate me?” Grant asked, looking up, eyes full of the same strangeness that had kept Jemma at his side even when she should have run.
“Yes, I think I might. Not that it should surprise you.”
“Alright. I have to go shower, and head in for a while. I just wanted to apologize. “ Grant said, standing up, and looking as though he’d move to kiss her on the forehead as he’d always done after they’d had it out. He didn’t, and that hurt more than anything else because Jemma wanted him to, and she let him leave.
Showering would definitely be a better official start to her day, peeking out the door to see Skye dragging her idiot brother out into the hall to start screaming at him, Jemma grabbed a towel and did what she could to scrub herself clean. This was clearly a fight they’d keep having, and she didn’t know how she felt about it yet. A chill shot down her spine as she recalled how broken he looked as she ripped into him. He had just taken it, he took the punishment, and he let her say her piece.
This would go on for the long run, gloves off, nine innings, four quarters, and they’d drag everyone else into it through gravity alone. Jemma had been so careful with her heart, loving someone who fought so fiercely to pretend he didn’t have one had wrecked them both.
Maybe they’d come out of it okay this time, maybe this was the end. If not, if they got back together, and their loved ones could breathe a sigh of relief, Jemma was tossing the couch, and changing the locks. He’d probably be okay with that.