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“It’s not a real lead Fitz.”
“We don’t know where it will go –“
“Danger.”
“She might not even be alive.”
His hands shake as they pack his bag, his fingers twitching, and nothing he can do will stop them. They won’t stop it, his own fingers betraying him, the tools he used everyday simply refusing to work right.
Another pair of fingers reaches out and covers his own, thin and slender, graceful and still. They’re cold, the hands, but he doesn’t mind. They stop the shaking, if only for the moment.
“You know I won’t be at the end of this journey,” she whispers into his ear, her voice light. She’s standing with her torso pressed against his back, and her short hair tickles the back of his neck. “I’m right here.”
“You don’t know that,” he answers, shaking off the hands and jerking the bag shut abruptly. His hands are shaking again.
“Yes I do,” she says, “And you do too.”
“Stop putting words into my mouth!”
She falls silent, dropping to stand against the wall, but all he can see is her eyes, glistening slightly, watching him like he’s everything. (She never looked at him like that in real life.)
“Fitz?” the voice doesn’t come from his head but instead comes from Skye, who’s stepping into the room with a sort of lost expression.
They’re all lost these days.
“Yes?” he asks impatiently, she’s probably just here to tell him off, to tell him there’s no point. It’s been three months Fitz, give it up.
“I was wondering if I could possibly come with you?” Skye asks uncertainly, , hovering like he’s going to attack her or something.
“This is good,” Jemma says from her spot on the wall, “You need the company.”
“Uh –“ he says, stumbling lightly over his words, “Uh sure.”
“Good,” Skye’s hesitating, and he can tell she wants to say something but doesn’t know how, can tell by the way she’s rocking lightly back and forth on her feet and the way her voice sounds high pitched and out of tune. “Uh – I’ll just start packing – when are we leaving?”
“As soon as you’re finished,” he tells her, slinging his bag over his shoulder, “We’re taking one of the extra cars.”
“Now that could be considered as rude,” Jemma tells him, following him out of the door. Skye turns off in the direction of her room and he sets off towards the garage.
“It’s not rude, I’m just telling her what’s happening.”
“She wants to spend time with you!” Jemma continues, a spring in her step as she accelerates her pace to keep up with him, “That’s a good thing.”
“Well I can’t keep talking to myself, can I?”
“How do you know you’re talking to yourself?” she asks crossly, frowning.
“Because it’s almost exactly like before,” he says, passing a group of scientists that look at him oddly as he talks. “You leave, and then I start seeing you in my head.”
“You saw me in your head before?” she sounds alarmed, and he can’t imagine why.
“Yes, as you bloody well know,” he snaps, pushing open the doors to the garage and heading straight for the line of cars they kept there.
“Well maybe I don’t know,” she replies coyly. He ignores her. Of course she knows, she’s his subconscious. She’s the same as before, even if she looks different. Clad in a blue plaid shirt and jeans, her hair soft and falling to her chin, her muscles harder.
He picks a vehicle and retrieves the keys, opening the trunk and stuffing his bag inside. It’s become almost routine, the research, the find, the traveling, the disappointment.
“Are you ready?” Skye’s voice startles him, he jumps about a foot in the air. She laughs, and gently nudges him with her shoulder. She’s cut her hair now, it falls to her chin now in soft gentle waves. (He wonders if she subconsciously chose it’s length because she missed Jemma.)
“Yeah,” he says quickly, daring to shoot her a smile, which immediately drops from his face because he shouldn’t be smiling while Jemma’s missing.
“Let’s hit the road!” Skye sings, and hops into the drivers seat.
“Oi!” he calls in protest, “I’m driving!”
“Says who?”
“Oh just let her drive Fitz,” Jemma says, leaning across the car in front of him, one eyebrow raised. “She used to live in a van after all.”
“Alright fine,” he warns Skye, “But it’s a long drive, and I’m going to take over at some point.”
* * *
They’ve been driving for thirty minutes on a straight road before Skye asks. He’s rather impressed with her patience, considering that her record before this was fifteen minutes.
“So,” she says casually, “Where is this lead?”
“A professor in Utah,” Fitz sighs, his eyes dancing across the highway. “When you sent our your – I dunno what they are – he was one of the ones to respond.”
“I see,” Skye says, adjusting her mirror. “And how many of these people have you been to see in these last three months?”
“Five,” he says, “And that’s only because Coulson wouldn’t let me go to two of them.”
“And why’s that?”
“He thought it was a waste of airplane fuel.”
“He did not say that!”
“He implied it,” Fitz says, “And I can hear everyone saying it. They all think she’s dead.”
“I don’t,” Skye says firmly, and he can hear the same desperation in her voice that he’s had for the past three months, “And I would have – well I would have helped you more, but Coulson’s been working my ass off with this new team.”
“How did you get off time?”
Skye looks over at him sheepishly. “Who says I asked?”
“You didn’t – you didn’t ask him?”
“Nope!” Skye sang, tapping her fingers against the steering wheel. “Lincoln’s gonna cover for me.”
“You now,” Fitz says, his voice starting to crisp at the edge of a teasing tone, “I think he likes you.”
“Oh stop,” Skye says, blushing red and rolling her eyes, “We’ve barely known each other for three months.”
“Except he’s covering for you, with the boss.”
“He’s a friend! I bet you would do the same.”
“Nope,” he says, winking at her, “I would leave you out to dry.”
“Oh shut up Leopold.”
Another laugh chimes in from the back, one that he’s known for ten years and cherishes like his favorite movie. When he flicks his head back quickly, he sees that she’s sitting there in the backseat, her legs folded underneath her and her head leaning contentedly against the headrest.
“This is going to probably sound rude,” Skye begins and he groans.
“What now?”
“I was going to ask – who do you talk to?”
“I’m talking to you.”
“I meant,” Skye waves her hands around dramatically, “When your eyes get all far away and you start talking to someone else.”
“To myself you mean?” he asks, but he’s surprised to find that he’s not offended, even though he probably should be.
“Yes, but you’re not really talking to you, are you?”
He sighs. “You’re going to think I’m crazy.”
Skye looks over at him then, and her face is dead serious. “I can cause earthquakes with my mind Fitz. So no, I don’t think I’ll find you crazy. I might feel something like sympathy – but I don’t think you’re crazy. I’ll never think you’re crazy.”
“Really?”
“Never.”
“Alright, well I see – I see Jemma.”
Skye lets out a deep long breath, and he can see that her grip on the steering wheel has tightened.
“You really love her, don’t you?”
“Yeah,” he admits, “I do.”
“Well then Fitzy,” Skye says, and he pretends not to hear the tremor in her voice and she pretends not to notice how his eyes flicker to the backseat where imaginary Jemma is still sitting. “Shall we go find your girl?”
* * *
Skye insists that they take turns sleeping and driving instead of stopping at a hotel – “We need to get you two together ASAP” and so that’s how he finds himself alone at the wheel at three o’clock in the morning, with Skye stretched out and sleeping on the backseat and Jemma sitting in the passenger seat, her eyes reflecting the headlights of oncoming cars.
“It was really brave,” Jemma finally says, her voice soft and quiet in the night, “What you said to Skye earlier.”
“What, that I keep seeing hallucinations?” he muses, “I’m surprised she let you drive.”
“Skye’s a good friend,” she whispers, pulling her knees to her chest, “Unlike I ever was.”
“You were the best friend,” he says firmly, “I mean you are. Because I’m going to find you, and you’re going to be my best friend again, and we’re going to be happy.”
“It’s not that simple Fitz,” she whispers, “It’s never been that simple.”
“Well I’m going to make it that simple,” he decides, “Because that’s what we deserve Jemma. I’m going to find you.”
“I’m right here.”
“No, you’re not,” he whispers, “You’re not here and that’s the problem.”
“I hope you do find me,” she says finally, “I would like to be happy again.”
“Fitz?” Skye asks groggily from the backseat, and the Jemma in his vision flickers, another reminder that she’s not here, and that she won’t be until he finds her.
* * *
They arrive in Utah ahead of schedule, and Skye spends the trip with her nose pressed against the glass, gaping up at the Rocky Mountains, which Fitz has to admit, are pretty spectacular.
“We need to come back here someday,” Skye decides, “Look at all those rocks. Imagine the things I could do.”
“I think the people might object Skye.”
“So where are we meeting this person?”
“They wanted a secure location, so we’re actually going up into the mountains.”
“Sweet!”
“ You’re not allowed to cause any landslides.”
“Just a tiny one?”
His mouth crooks upwards, “Since Jemma nor May is here, unfortunately that means I’ve gotta be the responsible one.”
“Why can’t I be the responsible one?”
“And technically, I am here,” Jemma points out from the backseat. He ignores her.
“Because you want to cause a rockslide in the Rocky Mountains.”
“Touché.”
The drive up the canyon (which Fitz has to double check is the right one) is beautiful. The mountains form two protective walls around them, the tips still capped with snow, the pine trees rustling in the faint breeze, the serenity of being so close to nature coming over him for a moment – and his hands aren’t shaking. A quick glance back shows that Jemma is staring out the window as well, craning her head to get a look at the peaks.
“I wish you were really seeing this,” he whispers to her, and she looks at him with her sad brown eyes.
“I am.”
“Do you see that one?” Skye asks, and he’s glad that she’s pretending he wasn’t just talking to himself, or just choosing to ignore it, and instead rolling down her window and sticking her head outside of it to get a better view. Jemma copies her, but her whole upper body goes out the window (he supposes that since she’s a hallucination, she has nothing to fear.)
He can see her hair blowing around her face, can practically feel her pleased smile. If only she was really here.
* * *
They automatically know who the man they’re supposed to meet is, he’s the only standing by the trailhead and not actually hiking, and he visibly looks nervous.
“Because that’s not obvious at all,” Skye mutters to Fitz, stepping out of the car. He watches her nervously push up her sleeves, and is once again grateful that he has someone with superpowers with him. They were most likely going to make it out of this one okay.
“Let me do the talking,” he mutters to her.
“Why?”
“Because you’re obviously the muscle, and I’m the brains.”
“Should I take offense at that?”
“Plus, you’ve done this a million times before,” Jemma says lightly, bouncing up next to him.
“Right,” he says, straightening his shirt and making a beeline for the man. The man seems to relax slightly at the sight of him.
“Are you Mr. Smith?” he asked eagerly as Fitz steps forward. Skye looks confused but Fitz answers before she can say anything.
“Yeah, I am.” Lesson number one: use a fake name.
“And you wanted information about –“
“The stone, yes.”
“Well,” the man bounces slightly on his heels, “I know quite a bit about that.”
“You do?” Skye asks eagerly.
“I do,” the man nods, “My Granddad dedicated his life to studying objects like it. The research in our family goes back centuries,” he says this proudly.
“Yes – and what is the information?”
“Oh please,” Jemma says over his shoulder.
“You really say – someone close to you has been taken by the stone?” the man asks, putting emphasis on the word close.
“Yes,” Skye says, “Our friend, she was taken. Why?”
“Well have either of you –“ the man nervously wrings his hands, “Have anyone that’s close to her, have they been seeing visions of her?”
“Visions?”
“Oh thank god!” Jemma crows, clapping her hands.
“What do you mean?” Fitz asks slowly.
“I mean, that the rock only kills inhumans. Mistakenly, if someone looks like an inhuman, it might pick up a human. It doesn’t like keeping humans though, but can’t get the normal person out on it’s own. So the person who was captured appears in someone – er – someone they love’s mind, trying to guide them through it.”
“Why didn’t you say something?” Fitz demands, whirling around to stare at Jemma. She’s standing in front of him, her hands in her pockets and a smile beginning at the corners of her mouth.
“I tried to Fitz,” she says, “But you wouldn’t listen.”
“Jemma?” Skye asks, staring at a point a few feet away from Jemma. “Can you tell us – can you tell us how to get you back out?”
“I think I can,” Jemma says, “We’re going to need your powers Skye – and Fitz of course.” She smiles at him, and he steps forward, reaching out a hand to brush against her cheek. It’s cold, and to everyone else it probably looks like he’s brushing against empty air, but to him it’s Jemma.
“I can bring you back home?” he practically whimpers.
“Yes,” she breathes, “Fitz –“ she bites her lip, looking worried.
“What?”
“Can we really have that?” she finally stutters, “That happiness?”
“I’m going to find you,” he says slowly and surely, “And then we’ll figure it out together.” He reaches down to entwine their fingers, her’s ghostly, his real, but they’re both there.
“Together,” she agrees.
“Um,” the guy interrupts from behind them, “Am I gonna get paid for this?”