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Chapter Text

"Something smells just a little too good in here."

Jemma glanced up from arranging her homemade plum pudding on the table and smiled as Coulson and May entered the Bus's common area.

"Great timing, sir," Trip spoke up from near the stove. "Turkey's just about ready to go."

Coulson pointed to the assortment of dishes that were on the counter in front of Jemma. "You need us to do anything?"

"No, I think we've got it all covered," Jemma replied, pushing a strand of hair out of her face. "Actually," she corrected herself. "If you wanted to set out the plates and things, that'd be all right. I figured since we don't have a lot of table space, we could just let everyone help themselves in here and then sit wherever."

"We'll follow your lead," Coulson nodded, grabbing a large stack of plates out of the cupboard. "I gotta say, I'm impressed, you two. I mean, you usually come through with the food, but I don't think anyone expected a full Christmas dinner right now."

"Happy to be of service, sir," Trip grinned. "HYDRA ain't got nothing on Christmas cheer."

"Of course," May said as she opened the cutlery drawer. "Because the Howling Commandos defeated the Red Skull with gingerbread and mistletoe. Must've been in the part of the S.H.I.E.L.D. handbook I skipped over."

"Hey, my granddad could do some pretty serious damage with mistletoe."

Coulson briefly paused what he was doing. "Do I even I wanna know?"

But Trip didn't get a chance to elaborate, because just at that moment Skye waltzed in from the cargo hold. "Guys, you'll never believe what I found," she said excitedly. "You know that huge storage room with all the undercover stuff?"

"Skye," Trip sighed. "What did Simmons and I tell you about coming into the kitchen when we're…" His voice trailed off as he turned around. "The hell are you wearing, girl?"

Jemma had been placing a serving spoon in the roast potatoes, but she looked over at Skye, curious to see what would elicit such a comment from Trip.

"Oh, good Lord," she scoffed, rolling her eyes.

Skye was standing at the edge of the kitchen, a suggestive grin on her face as she held up a set of bagpipes. "Come on, Simmons," she teased, gesturing towards the kilt she'd slipped on over her party dress. "Don't tell me this isn't one of the greatest ideas of all time."

Jemma supposed she shouldn't have been too surprised at Skye's proposal, under the circumstances. But she also knew without a doubt that her plan was never going to work. "Skye, there's only one person in the entire world that can get Leopold Fitz to wear a kilt," she explained as she went back to putting the final touches on the pudding. "And she's over three thousand miles away."

Skye stuck her out her lower lip, her shoulders sinking in disappointment. She looked like she was about to argue with Jemma, but Hunter and Mack came into the room before she could say anything.

"Everyone can relax now," Hunter announced, holding up the cases in his hands. "I've got the drinks."

"I knew there had to be a reason we were keeping you around here," Trip muttered.

Hunter ignored him. "I'll just set 'em all down next to…" He pointed to the structure in the middle of the common area. "Is that supposed to be a tree?"

"I'm sorry," Skye replied sarcastically. "I don't remember you offering to help, so how is your opinion valid again?"

Hunter muttered something in response as he set down the cases, but Skye returned her focus to Jemma. "So that's a no then?" she asked, pointing to the kilt.

Jemma shook her head. "There isn't a single sum large enough that you could pay him in order to wear that," she grimaced apologetically.

"Wear what?" Hunter asked, looking around the counter. He raised his eyebrows, and a wistful smile spread across his face. "Oh, my ex tried to make me wear a kilt once," he chuckled. "That was an interesting night for the both of us, to say the least."

The entire room erupted in groans as nearly everyone vocalized their annoyance at him bringing up his ex-wife again. "Just, like, one day, Hunter," Skye muttered, working on getting out of the kilt. "One freaking day."

Jemma ran her eyes over the counter, double-checking to make sure that all of the food was adequately prepared. When she was satisfied that she hadn't missed anything, she turned to Mack, who was standing a safe distance away from their work area. "Did you happen to see Fitz on your way up?" she asked him. "Is he still-"

"In the same spot you left him in four hours ago?" Mack finished, giving her a sad smile. "Yup."

"Oh," Jemma said quietly, glancing away and hoping the disappointment didn't show too much on her face.

"You want me to go get him?" he offered after a pause.

"No, no," Jemma shook her head. "I can do it, it's fine." She took a deep breath as she spun around. "Trip, have you-"

"Go ahead, Simmons," Trip laughed. "I've got everything under control in here."

Jemma nodded, more to herself than anyone there. "Right," she murmured, removing her apron and mentally preparing herself for the task ahead. "Everything's under control."

She took her time descending into the cargo hold, knowing that despite all of their preparations, their success still hinged upon a very important factor, a factor she fervently hoped would be in one of his better moods. The lab was fairly quiet when she entered through the sliding doors, but she could still hear its only occupant cursing under his breath as he worked on installing a mock transceiver.

"Fitz?" she called out tentatively, unsure whether she would be warmly received or not.

Fitz slammed his hand down on the timer he'd set up and groaned, placing two fingers on the bridge of his nose. "What is it, Jemma?" he sighed, still keeping his back to her.

She stepped forward, taking care not to touch him or the parts on the lab bench. He was massaging his left hand, which she assumed he'd been using more frequently to practice working through the tremors. "You've been working in here all day," she said gently. "Don't you think it's time for a break?"

Fitz opened his eyes, heaving another long sigh. "Jemma, I've got to get this down," he argued. "I-I can't get the…the…I mean, I need to be able…to be able to move the…" He snapped his fingers quietly, gesturing towards the transceiver in desperation. "HYDRA-"

"Can wait another day," Jemma interrupted, lightly touching his arm and willing him to look at her. The deep sadness in his eyes nearly broke her heart, but she kept going. "It's Christmas, Fitz," she reasoned. "And you need to eat. Honestly, I never thought you'd need anyone to tell you that."

He didn't smile at her teasing remark, but she saw his gaze soften as he took in her worried expression. "All right, fine," he relented, turning away from the lab bench. "So…were you, um…were you thinking sandwiches or did you, er…did you have something else in mind?"

Jemma rolled her eyes, but she tried to give him her brightest smile. "Why don't you just come and see for yourself?" she asked, linking her arm with his before leading him out of the lab. "Sandwiches," she repeated with a scoff. "On Christmas. It's like you don't even know me at all, Fitz."

When they entered into the kitchen, Fitz froze in his tracks, his eyes widening at the huge assortment of food and people. "Merry Christmas, Fitz!" Skye grinned, walking over to where he stood and giving him a hug. Jemma was relieved to see that the kilt and bagpipes had mysteriously disappeared.

"Wh-what's all this?" Fitz stammered as Skye pulled away, and he looked over at Jemma in bewilderment.

Jemma briefly glanced at the rest of the team, her heart swelling at how much everyone had been willing to help. "We just thought it'd be nice to have a proper dinner tonight," she explained, only partially telling him the truth. "Whether we're in hiding or no, it's still Christmas."

"Yeah, but…" he murmured, his gaze traveling along the table, and she could tell that he was slowly recognizing the items she'd prepared specifically for him. She hadn't been able to make everything, since a lot of what Fitz's mum cooked on Christmas required items not found in the average American grocery store. But she'd made as much as she could. And by the way Fitz's jaw went slack, Jemma knew it was a lot more than he'd been expecting. She also knew he was probably feeling embarrassed by the attention, though, so she nudged his arm.

"Come on," she smiled, gesturing towards the food. "You must be starving."

Fitz cautiously took a step forward, but his hunger must have won over his hesitancy because he was soon leading the group as they all helped themselves to the food. When they were all seated, Hunter passed around the Christmas crackers ("I am good for more than just the drinks, you know"), and Jemma was more than a little pleased to see Fitz place the paper crown atop his head. He didn't speak much during dinner, but she was happy he was there with the rest of them, and she thought she saw the hint of a smile on his face whenever anyone said something particularly amusing. It wasn't perfect, but it gave her hope, if nothing other than that he might actually have a good Christmas.

There was still more than enough food leftover by the time everyone had had their fill. In one corner, Skye leaned back in her armchair. "Oh, God, I'm so stuffed right now," she groaned, lightly patting her stomach. Less than five seconds later, though, she sat up again, pointing to one of the dessert dishes Jemma had placed on the coffee table. "I don't think I tried that one," she said as she reached for the spoon. "What is it again, Simmons?"

Jemma swallowed the bit of food in her mouth and cleared her throat. "Oh, that's spotted dick and custard," she clarified.

Skye slowly set the spoon down. "On second thought…"

Chapter Text

Across the table, Jemma met Coulson's gaze, and after glancing around the room, gave him a subtle nod. He set aside his plate and stood up, addressing the haphazard assembly of team members. "Okay, I know I said no gifts this year," he prefaced. "One, because of all the HYDRA crap we've been dealing with. And two, because of that fiasco we had last Christmas-"

"We already told you, sir," Fitz sighed, and Jemma found herself nodding in agreement. "It wasn't supposed to explode."

Coulson shot them both an exasperated look, and even though the force of his glare wasn't nearly as strong as usual, Fitz quickly closed his mouth. "But," Coulson continued as if he hadn't been interrupted, "we all agreed it'd be okay to make one exception."

Right on cue, most of the group collectively got out of their seats in order to follow the director into the Bus's comm room. Fitz remained on the sofa, looking to Jemma in confusion. "What's going on?" he murmured.

Jemma grabbed onto his hand. "I've absolutely no idea," she said in an overly innocent voice, unable to stop herself from smiling ear to ear as she pulled him off the sofa. "Let's go and find out."

She'd originally been somewhat worried that he would resist her, but despite his confusion Fitz allowed her to drag him along without argument. They joined the others around the Holocom, which was projecting a simple bright image of the S.H.I.E.L.D. logo. Jemma released Fitz's hand once they'd taken their spots, but she stood close enough to him that their arms were just touching, and she kept trying to surreptitiously look up at his face to see his reaction as Coulson went back to his part of the presentation.

"I know a guy who's pretty good with A.I. stuff," he explained, swiping the home screen away on the Holocom. "Unfortunately, he…kind of thinks I'm dead. But I made a few calls, and May was able to meet up with a couple folks to see about getting something we could use over here."

Coulson then nodded to Skye, who changed places with him so she could finish pulling up the application. "I managed to adapt the program's coding to fit with our systems," she continued, a smirk on her face as she glanced in Fitz's direction. "So it should be compatible with the Holocom, the Holotable downstairs, the Echo Chamber. Basically any S.H.I.E.L.D. equipment that uses holographic tech? Has access to the program. But that's just for the projection feature. The A.I. itself can be accessed through your computer, tablet, phone, whatever."

She stepped a little to the side, gesturing to the screen behind her, which now displayed another logo. "This is H.E.N.R.Y., which is supposed-"

"Hold up, Skye," Trip interrupted, his lips curling upward. "You wanna share with the rest of us what that stands for?"

Skye froze in place for a few seconds, looking like she was trying to come up with a way to evade the question. Eventually she just glared at Trip before holding up a hand. "Okay, let me just…let me just say that…no one wanted to help me out with the name," she began, pointing her finger around the room. "So…just…keep that in mind."

Trip was still grinning. "Come on, let's hear it."

Skye sighed and looked down at her hand, which she was tapping absently on the surface of the Holocom. "H.E.N.R.Y. stands for…um…" Her voice continued to grow quieter with each word she spoke. "Helpful Entity Naturally Responsive to…You," she finished in a mumble.

Not everyone in the room snickered, but even Fitz seemed amused, although Jemma knew he was still baffled by what they were talking about. "Okay, I-I know it's bad," Skye insisted, momentarily closing her eyes. "It's fine, all right? It was a last-minute thing and I know it's super dumb, so I will not be offended if you wanna change it, okay?"

At this point, they were all looking at Fitz expectantly. But it took him a couple seconds to notice, and when he did Jemma felt her heart swell again. He really had no idea, did he?

"Uh…I-I don't…" he stammered quietly, his eyes scanning the room. "I'm not sure if I…I think I might have m-missed…something?" The question was aimed at Jemma, and his expression pleaded with her to take him out of the spotlight, as well as save him from the agony of not knowing what was going on.

Jemma nudged his elbow with hers. "It's for you, Fitz," she smiled, trying to push back her tears. She knew it would only alarm him further if she started crying.

He continued to stare at her with wide eyes, almost like he hadn't understood what she'd said, so she looked furtively back at the Holocom screen to show him what she meant. She saw the realization slowly click in his head. "M…me?" he finally murmured, glancing around the room again. The tips of his ears were turning pink now.

"Yep," Skye piped up from the front of the room. "We all worked together on it. May and Coulson took care of getting the program, I did the coding, Trip installed some pretty great catchphrases, Mack drew up the design specs for the projection, Hunter…" Skye paused, tilting her head to the side as she looked at one end of the table. "Remind me exactly what it was you did, Hunter?"

Hunter scoffed, seemingly offended by her sarcasm. "Provided moral support, thank you very much," he retaliated.

"Yeah, okay," Skye replied, rolling her eyes. "Anyway. Simmons was in charge of the personalization factor," she finished, sliding the application across the Holocom so it was now in front of Fitz.

Jemma pointed to the surface. "The program is specifically designed to use your fingerprint as its login feature," she explained. "But H.E.N.R.Y. is also programmed to respond exclusively to your voice. So regardless of whether or not you've unlocked the application, he won't ever speak with anyone else unless you expressly give him permission to."

Fitz still looked completely baffled by what she was telling him, but Jemma knew his confusion stemmed more from the fact that they'd all done this for him other than because he didn't understand the technology. "It's all right, Fitz," she said softly, using one of her fingers to guide his hand up onto the table. "Give it a go."

Jemma could tell he was less than enthusiastic about trying out the program in front of all of them. But he must have known that they wouldn't leave until he did, because he hesitantly placed his thumb within the small square on the Holocom. Almost immediately, the application scanned his biometrics and a projection of a capuchin monkey came up on the display. In the bottom right corner of the screen, a small notification read, "H.E.N.R.Y. program last accessed by: Agent Leo Fitz," followed by a timestamp.

"Good evening, sir," a high voice came in through the speakers. "And may I just say you're looking mighty fine tonight?" Across the table, Jemma noticed a proud grin on Trip's face. "Is there anything I can assist you with?"

Fitz was staring at the projection in open-mouthed shock. "What the hell?" he whispered.

Skye didn't seem to hear him, but she was studying Fitz's face, probably trying to gauge his reaction. "I know you're…a lot more qualified than me to modify A.I. tech," she laughed nervously. "So I left a lot of holes open for you to go in and fill on your own. Basically you can make H.E.N.R.Y. do whatever you want him to do, but we just thought we'd get…something started…for you." Skye's voice had grown quiet again, and if Jemma had to guess it was because Fitz didn't appear to be listening to what she was saying. "So, um…do-do you like it, Fitz?"

Fitz's eyes were still transfixed on H.E.N.R.Y., but hearing his name seemed to tear him out of his stupor. He opened and closed his mouth a few times, glancing around the room before lowering his gaze to the Holocom. Jemma knew Fitz well enough to know that his speechlessness was only partially derived from his injury, but his reddened cheeks and the way he was tapping his pointer finger on the screen confirmed her suspicions. She looked over at Skye, her vision somewhat blurred through her tears, and gave her an encouraging smile. The entire room seemed to collectively relax, even though some were still looking at Fitz apprehensively, like they weren't quite sure Jemma was right.

"I know it's not the real thing, Fitz," Coulson smirked. "But I thought it was a pretty good compromise, since I couldn't really have a monkey running around the Playground."

Hunter let out a quiet laugh. "Now, that sounds a bit contradictory, doesn't it?"

Coulson glared at Hunter. "Merry Christmas, Fitz," he said pointedly, giving Fitz a nod before heading out the door. "The rest of you know the drill. Trip and Simmons did the cooking, so everyone else pitches in on cleanup duty." As the room began to file out, Coulson popped his head in the doorway again. "Fitz, I'll give you a pass tonight. But that's just for tonight, okay?"

Thankfully Fitz seemed to find his voice again. "Yes, sir," he mumbled, letting out a long sigh once everyone had exited the room. He returned his attention back to H.E.N.R.Y., who was still in the corner of the Holocom, lazily swinging his tail back and forth. It'd been a very long time since Jemma had seen excitement in Fitz's eyes, and seeing the tiniest amount in there now nearly made her burst into tears. She wracked her brain for some way to excuse herself.

"Oh!" she gasped. "I almost forgot."

Before Fitz could ask, Jemma bolted across the Bus to her bunk, taking a few seconds to collect herself before grabbing the bag she'd put there earlier. When she reentered the comm room, she placed the gift on top of the Holocom.

"Jemma, wh-what…" Fitz breathed, shaking his head and letting his arm fall to his side. "First you do all that out there," he said, gesturing towards the kitchen. "And-and then this…" he pointed to the screen. "A-and now…just…don't you think you've done…I mean, don't you think it's all a bit much?"

Jemma scoffed, trying to find a way to deny him in a manner that he would actually believe. "No," she protested, already knowing she was failing. "Of course not, Fitz, it's…this is just…" She held her hands out towards the bag and shrugged. "I mean, these are all practical things, really. Nothing to get worked up over. Honestly, I don't even know why I put them in a bag," she laughed. "Trust me, it's…it's nothing."

Fitz's expressionless face told Jemma that he didn't believe her one bit, but he weakly rolled his eyes before digging into the bag. "See? You needed some new jumpers," she reasoned as he removed the items. "And I know you haven't been wearing ties recently, but I just figured maybe if you had a few more you might want to give that a go again. And…oh."

Fitz had given her a weary look at her tie comment, but his exasperation immediately intensified once he saw what was near the bottom of the bag. "Oh, for the love of..." he began, closing his eyes.

Almost at once, Jemma started speaking over him. "Your mum told me-"

"What in God's name-"

"To make sure you had plenty of-"

"How many times do I have to tell you-"

"I wasn't just going to say no to your mum, Fitz. Besides-"

"You do know I'm capable of buying my own underthings, yeah?"

Jemma rolled her eyes. "Of course I do, Fitz," she sighed. "But I've just saved you a trip now, haven't I?"

Fitz looked like he was about to retaliate, but he met her gaze just then, and even though Jemma couldn't quite read the expression on his face, his arguments faded as he saw her teasing grin. It only lasted for a moment, though, and then he returned his focus back to the bag. "And I suppose this is practical, too?" he asked sarcastically, pulling out the last object.

"Oh, but that's just tradition," Jemma smiled, remembering how difficult it had been to find one she hadn't already gotten him in the last decade of Christmases and birthdays together.

Fitz turned a few of the rows on the Rubik's Cube and avoided her eyes. "You know I haven't solved one since-"

"I know, Fitz," Jemma replied gently. "But I think you could do it again. You know, if…if you wanted to."

Fitz sighed, placing the Cube on the Holocom. "Well, it looks like you've gone and made me…made me look bad again," he murmured.

"What?" Jemma asked in confusion. "I don't-"

He turned his head to look at her, and Jemma suddenly understood. Somehow she always managed to forget how much she hated this part. "Oh," she said, waving her hand dismissively. "Oh, Fitz, I didn't…you didn't have to-"

"Jemma," Fitz interrupted, raising his eyebrows at her. "It's tradition. Did you honestly think I wasn't gonna get you anything?"

"But Fitz, it doesn't matter," Jemma insisted, shaking her head. "I just wanted to-"

"I mean, yeah, you've gone and left me in the dust. Once again, might I add-"

"Make sure you had a good Christmas, because of everything that's been going on-"

"And i-it's not…I-I didn't get to…"

Jemma fell silent, alarmed at Fitz's shift in tone. He was still avoiding her eyes, choosing instead to stare at his hands, which were fidgeting with the Holocom controls. "It's not how I wanted it to be," he said quietly. "All right? I-I tried to get the…the…well, the point is I couldn't. So don't, um…don't get your hopes up. But, er…well, it's just…come on, then," he finished, vaguely motioning for her to follow him. "It's downstairs."

Jemma hadn't understood any of what he'd said, but she figured it would be best to follow him down into the lab. She wanted to tell him that she didn't care about the gifts, that she'd never cared about the gifts. She wanted to tell him that she'd done everything that day so that he would know how much he meant to her, that his affliction didn't diminish his worth to her or to the team, that she would be damned if she didn't do everything in her power to ensure that this Christmas didn't go by uncelebrated. It was hard to believe that she and Fitz had reached a point in their lives where things like Christmases and birthdays were no longer givens but luxuries. And even though Jemma was fully aware of her own mortality, it was hard for her to believe that she and Fitz lived in a situation that didn't guarantee the next Christmas.

Even before joining Coulson's team, Jemma had never cared about the gifts. She tended to go a little overboard with the celebrations, true, but that was only because it was in her naturally enthusiastic nature to do so. But no matter how much she told him otherwise, Fitz always seemed to think his gifts were no match for hers. He'd never understood that having her best friend by her side day in and day out was greater than any gift Jemma could've asked for. That's how it'd always been, really, ever since the first Christmas they'd spent together all those years ago. And this year was no exception.

In fact, after everything they'd been through, Jemma was fairly certain this year was more important than all the rest. She shuddered to think about what this Christmas would've been like if Fitz hadn't…

She was mercifully jarred out of her thoughts as she suddenly became aware of where Fitz had taken her. They were in the lab, but something felt off, like she'd been asked to compare two nearly identical photographs and spot the differences. It wasn't until Fitz paused near one of the back lab benches that she noticed the old microscope. Or, rather, that she remembered why it shouldn't have been there.

"Oh," she breathed, her voice catching in her throat as she reached a hand out to run her fingers over the base. There wasn't even a scratch in the surface. "Oh, Fitz, how did you…"

But Fitz still refused to look at her. "I, um…I came back in here after that whole mess at the Hub," he explained, absently playing with one of the focusing knobs.

Jemma remembered a lot about that day, but even though it'd hurt to see her old microscope destroyed in the aftermath, she couldn't have said it had been among her priorities. In fact, she'd just assumed the cleaning crew had tossed it out with the rest of the wreckage, and she hadn't blamed them. The microscope had been nearly twenty years old, after all, something her parents had given her one year for her birthday. It'd hardly have ever been placed in the same category as some of the other tech S.H.I.E.L.D. had at its disposal. And yet, Jemma had never trusted another microscope more, no matter how many newer models came through their lab. She'd shed a few tears for it after the attack at the Hub, but so many things had happened afterwards that Jemma had honestly forgotten about it.

Until now.

Jemma had always trusted her eyes, having had perfect vision for as long as she could remember. But she was having a very hard time believing the sight before her. The microscope had been shattered, absolutely shattered, the last time she'd seen it. Even at the time, Fitz had reluctantly agreed that it'd been beyond repair. The one in front of her, though, was completely intact, nothing in its appearance to suggest the amount of destruction it'd suffered.

"I couldn't save all the parts," Fitz continued, seemingly oblivious to Jemma's shock. "But I, um…I managed to make the missing ones from…from some old stuff I had." He cleared his throat, tapping the eyepiece. "And I wanted to give it, er…I wanted to give it…give it more…" He was fidgeting again, probably irritated with himself that he couldn't find the word. Jemma was only slightly thankful that she was too choked up to talk at the moment, because she knew that she needed to let him finish his sentence on his own.

"I wanted to give it more m…magni…power," he sighed, looking like he was regretting trying to explain at all. "But I couldn't get the, uh…I couldn't get the field of view down to where I wanted it to be. I know you'd probably like it at around point two millimeters, but the smallest diameter I could get it to was point five three seven, so the power's not as strong as I would've liked because…well, because my hands, I-I couldn't-"

"Fitz," Jemma finally managed to say. She couldn't bear to hear him talk like that, like what he'd done had been anything short of what she considered it to be. "It's perfect."

Fitz glanced up at her for a moment. "You don't have to lie to me, Jemma," he muttered, moving away to return to his work on the mock transceiver.

Jemma's mouth hung open. "I…I'm not lying," she insisted, knowing that even though it was the truth he'd never believe her. She walked over to him and placed a hand on his arm. "Fitz-"

"You don't think I know what that was all about up there?" he cried, yanking his arm away from her so suddenly that Jemma involuntarily flinched. "Okay? I-I can see the way they all look at me, I can see the way…" He took a deep breath, briefly closing his eyes, like he hadn't meant to say that much but knew he had to finish. "I see the way you look at me," he said quietly, his voice fading to a near whisper. "Like I'm…"

"Like you're what?" Jemma replied, surprising herself with how angry she sounded. Fitz met her gaze again, probably equally as surprised, but he didn't say anything. He didn't have to. The answer was written plainly on his face for Jemma to read.

Broken.

He thought he was broken.

He thought they thought he was broken.

Jemma had suspected as much for some time, but seeing the truth of it in his eyes made her wish she'd done something about it sooner. "Fitz…" she began, pushing back her tears for the thousandth time that day.

"Jemma, don't…" Fitz interrupted gently. "Don't pretend it's not true. Look, it's all right. I…I know that I'm…I'm different now, that I'm…d-" He paused, and Jemma knew it wasn't because he couldn't find the word this time. "Damaged," he murmured. "It's fine, I just…I just wish everyone would stop acting like I'm still…like I'm not…" He groaned, placing his hands out in front of him. "I just wish they didn't pretend I wasn't…" He began snapping his fingers again, but Jemma wasn't going to help him. She wasn't even going to look at him. She stubbornly stared at the lab bench, unwilling to give him the satisfaction of seeing the understanding on her face. He would have to say it out loud. "Pretend I wasn't…useless."

In the end, that was Jemma's breaking point. "Useless?" she repeated, the word tasting like acid on her tongue. Fitz turned to face her, but all of his features appeared blurred now as she failed to keep her tears back.

"Jemma…"

"Fitz, I…" She shook her head, trying to get her thoughts in order but unable to focus on anything but that terrible word. "Useless? Fitz, I-I wouldn't even be here right now if…if it weren't for you."

"Jemma, s-stop, please, all right? I didn't mean to-"

"Don't you dare talk to me about feeling useless," she said angrily. "Don't you dare, not when I had to sit by your bed for nine days, wondering if you would even wake up, or what would happen if you didn't, or-"

"Jemma," Fitz whispered again. And maybe it was the pleading in his voice or the terror on his face or the fact that she hadn't said any of this out loud before, but it was somehow enough for her to calm down. A little.

"Fitz," she said evenly, stepping closer to him so he could see how serious she was. "I don't know what lies you've managed to tell yourself, but I can assure you that that is all they are."

Jemma fleetingly considered grabbing onto his hand, but Fitz was turned away from her now, his fingers holding onto the edge of the lab bench so tightly that his knuckles had turned white. Besides, Jemma wasn't entirely keen on having him flinch away from her again, so she settled for lightly touching his arm. "You're a very important part of this team, Fitz," she told him, trying to convey as much sincerity in her voice as she could. "We didn't do all of that upstairs because…because we felt sorry for you or something daft like that. We all know how brilliant you are." He didn't respond, or give her any indication that he'd heard what she'd said. But she saw his grip loosen slightly on the table, and decided to take her chances by moving a little closer. "We just thought you could use a little reminding."

In a bizarre way, it was funny that he'd chosen the word "useless" earlier. Because useless was exactly how Jemma felt in her attempts to convince Fitz that he was not. Useless was how she felt at talking to his profile, knowing that whatever words she said would fail to be enough. Useless was the feeling that'd been threatening to swallow her whole ever since he'd given her the oxygen at the bottom of the sea. Useless was having two PhDs and only being able to scream before the water had come.

The word "useless" meant a lot of things to Jemma. But not once had any of those things been the person next to her. Ever.

And even though she knew her attempts were useless, it wasn't enough to stop her from trying.

"Fitz, I know you can't see it right now," Jemma continued in a quiet voice. "But you really have improved so much over the past few months." He was still staring down at the lab bench, but Jemma could see the disbelief on his face. "For God's sake, you couldn't even speak when you first woke up," she scoffed. "And now-"

"Oh, now I'm just fantastic with my words, is that right?" he muttered.

"Compared to the beginning of your recovery, yes," she retorted, trying not to sound too irritated by his sarcasm. "But that's not the only thing, Fitz. You also managed to get the cloaking developed for the Bus-"

"Took me about two months longer than it should've-"

"You figured out how to stop Creel with the Overkill Device-"

"Pretty sure that was you, actually-"

"And you saved my life."

Jemma stared down the side of his face, willing him to argue with her or look at her or do something other than fall silent again. But she supposed she shouldn't have expected anything else. It was Fitz. She'd told him he was the hero once before, and those words hadn't resonated with him either.

She summoned up her last ounce of courage before placing her hand on his shoulder. "Whether you see it or not, you're getting better, Fitz," she said firmly. "Every single day. So stop selling yourself short. It doesn't do anyone any favors, least of all yourself."

Fitz didn't respond right away, but Jemma thought she felt his shoulder relax slightly under her touch. It turned out she had a little bit of confidence left in her, because before she could stop herself she leaned over and gave him a soft kiss on the cheek.

It was something she'd done countless times before, something she'd never really given much thought to. But somewhere in the back of her head, Jemma knew this time was different. Perhaps it was the way she lingered just a bit longer than she was normally inclined to. Perhaps it was the small amount of stubble on his face, reminding her of just another thing he struggled with because of her. Perhaps it was the fact that they hadn't talked about what he'd told her in the med pod, partly because Jemma had wanted him to focus on recovering and partly because she didn't know what she would say anyway. Perhaps she still didn't know. Perhaps all Jemma Simmons knew was that Fitz was her best friend in the world and she couldn't imagine her life without him and that he'd been beside her the whole damn time and that she wouldn't want it any other way.

Perhaps that was all she needed to know.

"You're far from useless, Fitz," she whispered as she pulled away. "Please don't ever think that, all right?"

Jemma was well aware that Fitz still didn't believe a word she'd said, but the absent nod and small smile he managed to drudge up was enough to satisfy her for the time being. "You know," she grinned. "We've still got a bit of Christmas left."

Fitz glanced down at his watch, looking more than a little relieved by the change in subject. "It's about time, isn't it?"

"Did you want to, then?" Jemma asked, unsure if maybe he'd had a bit too much of her company for one night. "I mean, it's quite all right if-"

"No, no, well…that is, if you don't want to, I suppose we don't have to, but it is a bit of a…"

"Tradition?" she supplied.

The smile he gave her this time was genuine, although she thought his ears still looked a little red. "Yeah."

Jemma pointed up the staircase. "Did you want me to go pull it up? I think I've still got the-"

"Actually," Fitz interrupted, briefly scratching the back of his head before walking to one side of the lab. "I was, um…I was thinking that maybe we could try using the Echo Chamber," he explained, holding up a couple objects. "Only that might hurt our heads a bit, so I thought instead of using the four poles, we could just use-"

"Two," Jemma finished, finding herself astounded that they hadn't tried it before. "Of course, Fitz. That's genius."

While Fitz worked on setting up the Echo Chamber, Jemma raced upstairs to grab as many blankets as she could find, as well as two large cushions from one of the sofas.

"That better be for science."

Jemma froze in place, turning on her heel to see Coulson in the kitchen looking at her with raised eyebrows. Beside him, Skye was trying and failing to keep her laughter to herself as she worked on drying the dishes she'd been stuck with.

Jemma felt her cheeks burning. "It…is absolutely for science, sir," she stated as calmly as she could before hurrying back downstairs.

She placed the cushions and blankets in front of the new lab doors, making sure to lock them so they wouldn't slide open unexpectedly. These doors weren't as efficient as the old ones, mostly because Jemma and Fitz had had to make do with the limited resources S.H.I.E.L.D. currently possessed, but they managed. (At one point, Coulson had actually made the absurd proposition of forgoing repairs on the Bus lab in favor of turning it into a garage. Jemma had quickly shut down that idea.) Sure, the Playground's lab was much larger than this one, and provided equipment that they wouldn't have been able to keep on the plane for logistical or safety reasons. But it was nice to have another place to work, another place more familiar to them in which they could try to answer the millions of questions they were plagued with every day. It was nice to have a place that was just theirs.

Fitz finished setting up the last pole and shut the lights off in the lab, eventually joining Jemma on the cushions she'd arranged. "Let's hope this works," he murmured as he opened up his tablet and turned on the Echo Chamber.

"Hey, why don't you try…"

"Oh, that's right, isn't it?" he smirked, probably only just remembering. "Uh…" he cleared his throat, looking at the large holographic screen questioningly. "H.E.N.R.Y.?"

Almost at once, the monkey hovered in front of them. "Yes, sir?" he asked.

Fitz shook his head in disbelief, but he was still grinning. "Could you, uh…could you bring up BBC for us…please?"

"Of course, sir," H.E.N.R.Y. replied, and the screen was immediately displaying an advert on the American version of the channel. "Are we watching the Doctor Who Christmas special tonight?"

"That we are, H.E.N.R.Y.," Fitz nodded. "That we are."

"Fantastic choice, sir. And your timing is impeccable. It should begin in less than a minute, so I'll get out of your hair." The monkey dove off the screen. "Allons-y!"

Jemma laughed. "You know, I think I'm going to quite like having H.E.N.R.Y. around, actually," she mused, moving over on the cushion a little so she could lean her head against Fitz's shoulder. She was thankful when he didn't flinch away.

There was a comfortable pause before Fitz spoke again. "Hey, H.E.N.R.Y.?" he called out.

A tiny head popped up in the bottom corner of the screen. "Yes, sir?"

Jemma saw that Fitz was fiddling with the tablet in his hands, but his voice was confident. "Listen to Jemma too, all right?"

"Absolutely, sir," H.E.N.R.Y. responded before disappearing once more. And right in the corner where the monkey's head had been, a small notification appeared for a split second. Jemma's eyes had filled with tears again, but she still managed to read the small print. "H.E.N.R.Y. program access granted to: Agent Jemma Simmons."

"See?" Fitz murmured as the opening scene of Doctor Who began. "He likes you, too."