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When Jemma opened the door, she expected to find her cat on the table making a mess of her papers, maybe, or perhaps Skye home early from her awful-long shift at her deadbeat job. Days were pretty monotonous now, but not in a bad way. Days were warm and interesting as she got more and more settled with what she decidedly labeled as the After. It’d been years, after all, and so it was about time the grief had dropped its heavy cloak from her shoulders. Everything was rather content now, and as she slid the key from the lock she looked up to call hello to the cat or her roommate or maybe even just the happiness of having somewhere safe to go that didn’t remind her of the Before.
What she did, in fact, find, was her three-years deceased boyfriend eating a bowl of cereal and rambling to the cat, who was enjoying some of the milk messily splattered about the table.
The door slammed shut behind her.
And then everything stopped.
Fitz was looking up, staring at her in something between awe and reverence and there was something wrong with her eyes because everything was suddenly blurry and the world was shifting slightly and then all at once as she stumbled and caught herself on the doorframe. And then she just stared. Her brain couldn’t comprehend what was in front of her. It’s a hallucination caused by lingering grief, it’s something I’ve fabricated, it’s a cruel prank, it’s not real, it can’t be real, he can’t be real, he can’t be back, he’s dead, he can’t be dead- no alive, he can’t be alive, he’s dead, he’s-
He was standing slowly, hesitantly, stepping towards her like she was a wounded animal poised to attack or flee and he didn’t know which.
“Jemma.” His hand reached out hesitantly, gently grasping her arm just above the elbow and running his thumb back and forth over the soft skin. “Jem, love, it’s me.”
“What- it can’t- you’re dead.” Her voice was barely a whisper, eyes filling with tears as the words wobbled from between her lips.
“No, Jem- Jem, remember my job?” his voice was soft, his eyes pleading as they gazed into hers.
“Yes!” she snapped suddenly, shoving his hand off her shoulder and taking an aggressive step forward as he recoiled from the sheer ferocity in her voice. “Super-secret agent spy, always ‘classified’ and full of mystery, disappearing for weeks unexpectedly with hardly a note, and then one day disappearing for a month and-” something in Jemma’s voice broke suddenly, “-then a man dressed all in black came by- came by the house and told me-“ her voice went horse as she screamed, tears starting to run down her cheeks, “told me that you- you died- you died on a mission and you wouldn’t- you wouldn’t be coming home and you were brave and you died- you died for a good cause and-” it was full-out sobbing by now, just choking on the words she spat at him, “-and you were gone, Fitz, you weren’t- you weren’t coming home and there was nothing- nothing I could do and you were gone!” The last word was punctuated by her driving the palms of her hands into his chest and sending him stumbling backwards a step. She staggered herself, taking a step to lean heavily against the couch and try to cover her face with her free hand. Little sobs escaped from her lips as she made her way around the couch and practically collapsed onto one end, shaking with tears.
“Jemma, please, Jem, I’m back, I’m so sorry-”
“Sorry?” she gasped, anger contorting her reddened face. “I suppose sorry is supposed to cover for your disappearance? For being missing all these years? For telling me you were dead?” He opened his mouth to say something, but she cut him off with a scream.
“I buried you, Fitz!”
“Oh, god, Jem, I didn’t want to-” She had collapsed into tears again, retracting into a small form curled on the couch cushions. Slowly, he moved closer and sat a foot from her, watching her sob into her knees.
“I can’t say how sorry I am,” he whispered. “I can’t… I can’t believe I caused you so much pain, Jemma, and I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I- I understand if you never want to speak to me again.” There was a pause as he let her cry, anguish in his gaze as he watched her. “I’m so sorry, love.” The quiet stretched on as they sat there. Finally-
“…Why?” Fitz let out a long breath, half relief, half pain at the broken sound of the tear-saturated word from lips he loved.
“There was a… incident. HYDRA re-emerged from SHIELD and… everything blew up, pretty much. Someone on our team… he betrayed us and tried to kill me.” Fitz could feel Jemma’s gaze lift to watch him, but didn’t turn to look at her quite yet. He didn’t think he could face her with the tears filling his eyes. “He almost succeeded and I slipped into a coma. Coulson, my boss, decided that we needed to disappear anyways, so he made it look, publically, like we all died. I only found out when I woke up.” He looked over at her now, a tear running down his cheek, but her gaze was fixed to the floor as his gaze all but pleaded for her to forgive him. “I didn’t have a say, Jem, I swear. I never wanted to leave you.” She nodded slightly. Then, in a numb, hollow voice-
“I found the ring.”
All of Fitz’s breath left him in one swoop.
“It was when I was moving out of our apartment to live with Skye, maybe six months… six months After.” She glanced over at him. “That’s when it really hit me you were dead. You wouldn’t have picked up and disappeared on some mission and just leave something like that behind. And if you were- if you were planning to ask me, then- then- then-” her breaths were coming in little gasps again and tears were starting afresh, but she bit her lip and kept them down. “-then you wouldn’t have left me. That was when I really, honestly knew you were dead.” Her eyes stared into his. “But you weren’t. You’re not.”
“Jem, I-”
“You didn’t leave willingly. I know. But you could have done… something, anything, Fitz! A- a secret message, or- or something that would just let me know you were alive,” she rambled, then cut herself off and put her head in her hands.
“I’m sorry. I can’t do this right now. Just- just let me have some time,” she said softly, standing up on shaky feet. He stood as well, reaching out to steady her, to touch and comfort her, but she waved him away and walked towards her room. “If- if you don’t have a place to stay, you can stay on the couch. I just- I just need time,” Jemma repeated, hand on the doorknob. Turning to look back one more time, she saw Skye open the front door and her roommate’s jaw drop to the floor.
It was when she opened her own door and stepped inside she heard the resounding smack and closed it behind her to muffle the shrill screaming that followed.
And so with that, Jemma collapsed into bed and clutched at the chain around her neck, fingers running around the edge of the beautiful ring strung there and crying to mourn something she couldn’t name.
The next morning, she stepped out of her room to find Fitz holding an icepack to a blemish on his cheek, letting the cat drink the leftover cereal milk in his bowl. As she walked across the kitchen to make tea, she noted the bruise was about the same size as Skye’s fist and let a tiny smirk cross over her face. Of course she would. Mug clenched in her fist, she set it down a little too hard on the counter and it shattered, shards flying everywhere. Biting back tears- tears? Why am I- she shook her head and began sweeping the shards into a pile.
“Hey, Jemma.” He was standing a bit behind her now, off to her right side and she was really biting back tears now, not looking at him for fear of breaking down once more. “Jem, are you… are you mad at me?” Lighten the situation. Don’t cry. Lighten it. Don’t cry. Don’t cry.
"Who wouldn’t be angry- you ate all of my cereal and faked your death for three years!" She cringed as soon as the words were out- bit harsher than intended. But she saw him nod from her peripheral vision and give a weak smile.
“Maybe I can start by buying you a new box?” he offered, and she let out something that was supposed to be a laugh but came out mangled, half-choke, half-cry. “Hey, Jemma, Jem.” She was pressing her lips together now, biting back the tears burning at her eyes when she felt his arms encircle her from behind, settling around her waist in a heart-achingly familiar way. His chin was settled on her shoulder, lips next to her ear as he murmured, “Hey, please don’t cry. I’m so sorry. I’m here. I won’t leave unless you want me to.” Fully breaking down now, she turned to wrap her arms around his middle and buried her face in his shirt. Oh god. It was so familiar- she knew every movement he made like she had choreographed it herself.
“Fitz, I- I don’t think you understand.” He pulled back just enough to get a good look at her and that was when she realized he had tears streaming down his cheeks as well. “I- You- You left me. There was n-n-nothing to even tell me you were still- still alive. You abandoned me, Fitz, a-and I’m still mad as hell.” Something hurt flashed through his eyes, but at the same time, they were filled with a resignation that told her he expected this.
“Y-yeah,” he managed, starting to pull back. “I’ll just- I’ll just go then.” No- oh, no, no, no-
“N-no, Fitz, no, you don’t understand.” His brow knotted in confusion. “Fitz, I’m mad, b-but I… I missed you. I missed you so much,” she whispered. “So while I’m not going to forgive you right away or- or anything like that and- well, you still need to make this one up to me, but p-please- oh, god, please don’t leave me again.” His eyes softened, as did the hard lines his mouth had stiffened into, and almost immediately he was wrapped around her again, tears from his cheeks dampening her hair.
“Never again, Jemma. Never.” She clung to him like a lifeline, fists balled in the fabric of his shirt as he tightened his arms around her and pressed kisses to her hair.