Chapter Text
Fitz risked a look across the lab where Jemma was buried in a stack of old books, each of them full of tabs of paper stuck between the pages and flipped open to some passage or another relevant to the mystery they were trying to solve. His jaw clenched involuntarily and he turned back to the schematic rotating on a screen in front of him. It was his design, something he'd been working on for Coulson for a week or more, but it might as well have been the first time he was seeing it for all it made sense to him. All he'd been able to think about since the moment he'd impulsively grabbed Jemma and kissed her was how much he wished things were different and how much he knew they couldn't be. He couldn't focus, couldn't think, could hardly breathe, and he suddenly felt the need to get out.
His hands scrabbled over the explosion of items scattered haphazardly over his work table, looking for something to aid his escape. By the time he found a spare tablet under a sheaf of papers, his fingers were trembling almost too much to control them at all. He struggled to transfer the design from the workstation, the tablet rattling against the table as he stabbed at it with the pad of his index finger. The sound echoed in the darkness of the lab and he flinched, staring harder at his hand as though that would somehow end the tremor.
"Fitz?" her voice came to him, uncertain and small.
He hated this feeling of having so little control over his own body, reminding him of the state he'd been in during the earliest days of his rehabilitation after nearly drowning. It was as though he'd had to trade every inch of progress he'd made in his recovery over the last two years to win the strength he'd needed to survive through this ordeal with the monolith and Simmons.
"I'm knackered, heading to my bunk," he said, the words rushing out as he scrambled to put together everything he needed to take with him and retreat.
"See you tomorrow morning? I found a few—"
"I'll be working outside the lab. Mack needs help on a few things. I'll have some time later to work on...what we've been working on, but I may not do it here," he called over his shoulder, moving faster and trying to get out before she could answer again.
"You never broke for dinner, Fitz," she said, the words tumbling out quickly. He stopped walking despite himself, just at the troubled sound in her voice. "You should get something before you rest. Or...I could...I wouldn't mind bringing you something if you're not feeling well. Perhaps we could talk."
"I really just need to—"
"Not about the...what we're working on. Not about any of that, if you don't want to."
He wanted to say yes. He wanted more than anything else in the world right then to just say yes, but it wasn't all he wanted and certainly wasn't all he needed. He wanted things to be bearable between them again. He wanted to forget what her lips felt like under his and how the heat from her skin radiated through her clothes when he'd kissed her. He wanted to shut his eyes without seeing visions of everything he'd lost by forever being in the wrong place, the wrong time, the wrong frame of mind, or on the wrong side of courage.
"I'm sorry, Simmons. Too tired, I'll get something in the morning." He could feel Jemma about to follow him out of the lab. He'd already heard her chair scrape backward as she stood up, and he had to stop her. "If you find something, just digitize it and send it to me. I'll look at it as soon as I see the message."
"Fitz—"
His name wasn't the last thing thing he heard before he finally made himself walk away. What truly rang in his ears as he moved was the almost inaudible, hurt-sounding gasp she made as she watched him leave.