Chapter Text
“Hey Deke.” Deke had been looking around the bunk that Enoch had told him was his while everyone else finished getting dressed in their 1930s clothing, noticing the fully stocked bookshelf, when Jemma walked in.
“Did you guys pick these books out for me?” He knew it was more likely that Enoch had done it, since Jemma and Fitz were busy redesigning the plane and inventing time travel, but Deke couldn’t help the note of hope that crept into his voice.
“Yeah, Fitz and I—well Daisy told me once that you were trying to read books back at the Lighthouse to catch up on the time period, and I know you’ve been out in the world and could’ve Googled anything, but Fitz and I wanted to give you some of our favorite books, if you’re still interested in learning about things. There’s plenty of science stuff in there, of course, but we also included books like the Percy Jackson books in case you want something a little bit lighter.” Jemma bit her lip nervously, clearly unsure about how he’d react. Deke still had the words from the argument he’d had with his grandparents no more than an hour ago ringing in his ears, but he realized that for Jemma, that could’ve been weeks or months or even years ago.
“I...I don’t think anyone’s ever done something this thoughtful for me before.” Deke couldn’t meet her eyes as he said it, still looking at the books. He wanted his grandparents to like him so much, it felt like a physical ache in his chest. Was this their way of apologizing? Did this mean he wasn’t a disappointment? He was almost afraid to hope. Some of this must have shown on his face, because seconds later, he felt warm arms wrapping around him. Against his will, Deke felt his eyes filling with tears, so he buried his face in his grandmother’s shoulder, hugging her back just as tightly. When she pulled back, Jemma wiped one of the escaping tears with her thumb. Deke wondered if this overwhelming warmth in his chest was the love that all of those books he’d read on family had been talking about.
“Look, I know it’s been about an hour since our fight for you, but Fitz and I had a lot of time to talk about it. When you see him again you guys will have to talk, but you should know that although you made some mistakes, he does love you. We both do.”
“Y-you love me? Really? Even after—”
“Of course we do, Deke. You’re family. We all make mistakes sometimes, but you are a good kid.” She smiled softly at him, and he wanted to smile back. Deke wasn’t sure if he’d ever smiled softly at anyone before. “Fitz gets a little testy about people taking his work because of some awful past experiences, particularly concerning The Framework, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t care about you. You were willing to risk us being mad at you just so you could show us the jump drive, and then you went and used it yourself — you’ve made some mistakes, but we know you’re a good person. And a smart person too— even if you stole a lot of ideas, you’d still have to be pretty smart to successfully replicate them like you did. Sometimes, people say things in the heat of an argument that they don’t totally mean.” Hearing her call him smart definitely didn’t make his throat feel a bit tight and his eyes prickle a little. Definitely not.
“But if you do care about me then how come you didn’t tell me that Fitz died?” At this, Jemma looks down at her hands, twisting her fingers together.
“That has a lot more to do with me than it has to do with you.” She let out a long, slow breath before continuing. “You know the first time Fitz saw me cry, we’d been friends for 3 years, and living together for 2. I’d been up for 30 hours straight in the lab, trying to meet a deadline. Fitz had tried to stay up with me but he was falling asleep, so I sent him home for the night. When he found me the next morning, carrying breakfast and clean clothes because he’s always been so thoughtful, it was right after our boss had come in to check on my progress and yell at me for not being done yet. When I saw him standing there, being sweet and looking worried, I was so tired that I couldn’t help myself. I basically threw myself into his arms and started crying. I’m still not great with my emotions, but I have cried in front of more people since then, at least. I suppose I’ve cried in front of a lot of people ever since we went out into the field, actually, but it has been an insane couple of years.”
When Jemma paused, carefully looking up at his face to see his reaction, Deke took it as an opportunity to respond. It was clear that she was nervous, probably not used to being this vulnerable with anyone besides Fitz, or maybe Daisy too. Deke didn’t think he’d been truly emotionally vulnerable with anyone in his life, so he could relate. He was trying to shake off his old apocalyptic future mentality, so perhaps trying to let himself be vulnerable with his family would be good for him. Then again, maybe he’d already started doing that with his earlier outburst to his grandparents.
“I don’t think I’ve cried in front of anyone besides my parents, you know. I don’t think I’ve even cried at all since my parents died.” At this, Jemma gives him a small smile.
“Maybe being bad with emotions runs in the family.” Deke smiles back, a little, but there’s one more thing he wants to say. He pressed his lips together, unsure if he should continue, but he was trying to be open and honest, so—
“I think I would’ve cried if I knew Fitz died when it happened, instead of finding out after you’d already found him in space.” Deke feels a little bad for saying it when he sees the guilt on her face, but it needed to be said.
“In general, I prefer to lock my bad emotions away in a little box in my head, which I’ve learned is not a great strategy, but it’s hard to let them out in front of people when it’s about something that really matters. And nothing—” Here, she stumbled for the first time, as if most of her words were pre-rehearsed but she lost the script for this part. “I don’t think anything matters to me more than Fitz. The only time I cried was the day he died, and I never had to actually tell anyone that he died either — Mack did it for me. It’s not your fault that I’m not good at going to others for emotional support. I really did want to spare you the pain, because I don’t know how to share things like that by choice. I didn’t let others see me break down by choice, but they just happened to be there and you weren’t.” Deke feels a twinge of guilt at that, because it is his fault that he wasn’t there. He did choose to leave, after all.
“I’m sorry I left before making sure you were all okay. I should’ve—”
“No, Deke, you have nothing to apologize for. There’s nothing wrong with wanting to go out and see the world when you had a chance to do so, especially since it was a world you’d seen so little of. I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you then, and that we haven’t been able to be there for you in general. We know that you’re a smart guy, truly, but you just needed some better guidance and we should’ve been there for you.”
“It’s okay — you were busy looking for your husband. I’m sure deep space didn’t have great cell service.” She laughed a little bit at his bad joke, as he hoped she would, lightening the mood a little bit.
“Despite the fact that we’re currently time traveling, we can’t change our own past. So all we can offer now is a place with us, now and forever. I can’t know what’s going to happen on or after this mission, but we just want you to know that you’ll always have a home with us. You can work with us or just hang out with us, but you’ll always be our family.” And there was his throat tightening again. After a conversation about the importance of emotional vulnerability, maybe Deke shouldn’t be passionately shoving that feeling back, but they did have a job to do, after all.
So instead, he stepped forward to hug her again, holding on until Mack’s voice crackled through the speakers a few moments later, calling them all together to talk strategy. That was the life of a SHIELD agent, always struggling to find the time to have important conversations while in the middle of saving the world. He didn’t mind it, most of the time, and he actually didn’t now either. Because this was a beginning for him, not an ending. A “to be continued,” not a “happily ever after.” He didn’t mind having to wait for his fairytale ending to eventually play out, because somehow, he knew it would. He had a family who loved him, and so it would all be okay.