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He's not sure why he's surprised by Its latest strategy. He shouldn't be. Knows better than to think this is real; a young, beautiful (albeit a bit roughed up) female who appears to be struggling to survive. This has to be one of the best tactics yet; because of course he'd find her and of course the first instinct would be to go and save her.
But he resists. With the amount of time he's been on this Godforsaken planet, he's smarter, knows the dos and don'ts. But this has been the most difficult test to date, because she, no…
It.
It looks on the verge of death. Still, he remains hidden and observes.
(The small whisper of doubt in the back of his mind that it could in fact be a real human woman sparks a tiny wave of relief to flood him when she finds the water.)
Still, the overwhelming feeling he has right now is suspicion. So he'll wait.
He returns to the cave for an extended period of time; giving the specter the opportunity to either fade away or remain. If it's still there the next time he checks, he'll go with a different approach.
--
It’s still there…crouched near a small fire. He blinks hard to see if that affects the probable hallucination with no results. New tactics are required because if it is real, and human, the next step is to make sure she's unaffected by the other It, the greater It. His frustration mounts, mind warring between fear of the Thing's methods to scramble his senses, and need. Because more than sun, more than food, he desperately needs human interaction. But whatever It is out there by the fire, he knows he can't trust it, but he also can't live with ignoring it if it remains.
So he starts building the cage.
--
It's harder seeing It up close. This...supposed female illusion looks starved and haggard, her clothes (Its!) - Its clothes dirty and shredded.
Well, welcome to the club, he thinks. He's careful not to touch It as he sets up the cage, packing the stalks into the ground for stability as It sleeps on.
He fully expects the cage to be empty when he checks It next. (But he puts in a bowl of water and food...just in case).
He hears It speak in Its sleep, caught in a nightmare of some sort, and calling out about fits. He wonders what the issue is about fitting or maybe it's medical fits, like seizures. Nothing makes sense.
Once It wakes, It reacts like any animal caught in a cage, aggressive and spitting in anger. It speaks with a proper British accent (kind of a strange choice by the Thing as he has no emotional connection to Europe), venom and fear laced in Its voice.
"Who are you, what do you want?!"
He doesn't respond. What's the point? It won't be there next time he wakes.
At least that's what he keeps telling himself, valiantly trying to block out the whimpers the Thing is making.
--
"It's still here."
"Of course I'm still here. Let me out of here. Let me out of here NOW!"
He's not sure if he's relieved or even more scared. He fears the Thing is winning, that this new presence, whatever It is, will be his doom.
--
After sleeping on it, he decides that It (she) must be real, or at least flesh and not a hallucination. The threat now is that she's corrupted, that The Evil has burrowed into her mind, just like it did to the rest of his team.
She appears to have moved on from fear and is now thoroughly frustrated, expressing it through the power of sass.
"Welcome back, how was your day?" He stops walking, hesitating, watching her closely before continuing forward, dish of food in hand. It, she, whatever it is, hasn't eaten, which originally made him lean towards not real, seeing as illusions don’t have to eat. But then again, if he had awoken in a dark cave trapped inside a cage with a dirty stranger, would he have eaten the food?
"My name is Jemma Simmons, Dr. Jemma Simmons, I'm from earth, and I came here through a portal and since you speak English I suspect you might have as well. If you let me out I can help you, we can help each other.”
Her voice is soft and melodic and hits him directly in the gut. He steps up close to the cage, eyeing her intensely, finding traces of fear, desperation and earnestness in them.
It's a trick. It's a trick! His mind screams.
Anger surges through him though he reveals little in his expression. He realizes he had called It a her in his mind, giving it power, making it human. He's already felt fear, suspicion, anger with it, and now he's feeling sympathy, curiosity, and longing, such normal human emotions. But anger wins out and he jabs it with the blunt spear-like weapon it had made. It transforms, but not in the way he thought It might. It reacts like any normal human would, furious at being trapped and treated this way. Livid words are spat at him from behind the cage bars.
"You're going to eat me, is that it?! Fatten me up like a pig for slaughter!"
"Not a bad idea," he replies to its dramatic outburst. More feelings emerge...this time amusement.
--
Fear pumps in his veins clouding his judgment. It lies moaning in pain on the ground and all rational thought leaves him, his only motivation right now to make sure he doesn't lose the only human connection he's had in much too long. He touches its waist to turn it over and something within him releases. He hasn't touched another human being in what feels like forever; he'd forgotten the significance of the sense, what it does for the human body, the heat of it, the nerve endings firing. It astounds him and he takes a second to marvel at it when suddenly all pleasant feelings are replaced by pain and black spots as it bludgeons him in the head with the food dish.
"Definitely real," He mutters as he shakes his head to refocus and give chase...because she's real, holy shit, she's real. Another human stuck on this hell planet who, so far, has not been touched by the evil that resides here and he's not about to lose her.
--
He stands close to her, too close, her eyes keep darting up to his face then away and she leans her body back as he crowds closer. He's forgotten what personal space means, but it's like his body is drawn to her without his mind's consent, the unavoidable pull of being close to another human after so long. He can feel the heat radiating off of her and the desire to touch her is mounting; but not touch in a sexual way, just to feel human skin that's not his own, feel the blood rush through another life form, to clarify that this is all real.
She's still staring at him warily but she's not backing down. They're in a sort of standoff, but here's the thing, all of his social graces are gone, all inhibitions, all manners; he now pretty much only has one mode, and that's survival mode.
So when he shoves her down into the chair to get her off her injured leg, he doesn't feel bad about it, in fact he relishes the brief moment when his skin brushed hers.
--
There's a brief debate inside him on whether he should ask the question that plagues him every time he wakes. He's terrified of the answer, but the question slips from his lips and he steals himself for her response.
"What year is it?"
"2015."
A wave of dizziness hits him and he stumbles forward and back slightly as if her voice has physically struck him in the gut. It feels like his brain is short-circuiting, misfiring, unable to grasp her answer, the numbers won't compute. 14 years, 14 years, 14 years, it chants. His feet carry him to his equipment where he gazes blindly down at it. After a moment he raises the mirrored astronaut helmet to take in his reflection, trying to spot the way 14 years has aged his face. It’s the weirdest thing, it doesn’t look like he’s aged much at all. At least that’s something, he thinks sarcastically.
She follows, her footfalls soft in the dirt of the cave. She's all gentleness, curiosity and incredulity when she hears how long he’s been here. But above all there's empathy and it overwhelms him.
--
It's incredibly strange being able to watch time pass now. He's been playing a game using Jemma's phone, trying to guess how many minutes have passed before checking, trying to memorize the passage of time (even though he knows it's useless, he'll forget, and soon she will too).
"Technology must have hit warp speed after I left."
"Yeah, it's hard to keep up sometimes. If it wasn't for Fitz, I'd be lost." Jemma replies.
"Fits?" He questions. There's that word, fits, again. He suddenly realizes it's a name. Not an adjective or verb.
"My best friend, he loves tech." She replies distracted as she unfolds the map he created. "Is this a map of the area?"
Dropping the subject of Fitz, he explains the no-fly zones and the absolute rule on not entering them; otherwise she'll face certain death.
He needn't worry about the dropped subject though; he soon discovers the weight of who Fitz is and eventually, it feels like he's a third presence in the cave.
His name is never far from Jemma's lips.
--
So she's declared herself the voice of hope and he's the voice of doom. He thinks the titles might have been misattributed.
There's little doubt in his mind that Jemma Simmons is all of his hope but will also undoubtedly be his doom.
--
"What do you miss that's not food?"
He can't help the smile that comes to his lips as she plays the video, but not because of the content, he isn’t really watching that closely; his focus is on her, on the expressions flitting across her face, from amusement, fondness, longing to the most obvious expression of love he has ever witnessed in his life.
"That's Fitz." Her tone is weighted with such tenderness that he has to look away from her. He thought he understood the depth of their relationship, understood it as best friends, partners in science. He was very much mistaken. Looking at her now, hearing the emotion in her voice he realizes she's utterly devoted to this man.
Of course. Of course the only human connection he has in 14 fucking years, who happens to be a young, beautiful, genius, female, is profoundly in love with someone. The hits never stop.
He'll bear it though, just like he does everything else. He's good at it, an expert even. He adapts. He survives.
He drops his head down, breathing out a small laugh which seems to shake her from her brief trance.
"That's Fitz there," she says all business again, concealing the emotions this man elicits as if she hadn't wanted him to see.
"Yeah, I figured," he deadpans but not unkindly. "You talk about him a lot. His name is like your favorite word. I mean, that's a little bit more than a friend." He says it because he wonders if she'll define it, define what she really has with Fitz. He's honestly curious about the nature of what it is these two have.
"We're inseparable...well we were…”
--
Over the next few months (he's still blown by the ability to keep time again) his new roommate regales him with colorful stories and experiences that kind of blow his mind. Stories of modern technology, modern social life, new advances, heroes, villains, Avengers, Asgardians! There is only one constant in the variety of tales told. Him.
"Then Fitz had the brilliant idea to..."
"Poor Fitz was punched in the face by Coulson..."
"And then Fitz engineered a device called the mouse hole..."
After explaining the "selfie" and making him partake in one she looks at the screen, pleased with the result. She'd gotten so close for it and he was completely wrapped up in her, heat suffuses his whole body but he's quickly doused cold again when she speaks.
"It’s tough to make Fitz smile in selfies, Skye and I like to try and catch him unawares. We have a bit of a friendly competition going. I'm winning....well...I was..."
"Fit and I went with naming the drones after the seven dwarves because..."
"Fitz has a particular affinity for monkeys…"
Even when she isn't talking about Fitz, she’s talking to him. In her mind she’s figuring out the portal problem with him, they are still working together, universes apart. He's never witnessed anything like it.
"Damnit, Fitz, what are we missing..."
Frustration is getting to her; he's watched it steadily build as the weeks passed. Denial can only take you so far.
She storms out and he doesn't follow immediately, figuring it's best to let her decompress. He went through the same thing; the belief that there's a way back, a way to figure it all out, find some sense. It fades. It all fades away.
--
She's breathing fast and hard, excitement and anticipation thrumming through her and he knows what he's about to say will completely deflate this moment, but he has to say it, has to remind her of what she stands to lose. Voice of doom and all that.
"If we use that up, and this doesn't work, that's the end of Fitz. And all your friends."
He says it because sometimes he thinks he knows how she feels about Fitz better than she does. There seems to be an element of ambiguity she inadvertently demonstrates when talking about him. Maybe it's just the relationship is so profound that there is no real category for it. He's more than a best friend; he's more than a lover, more than a boyfriend, partner, husband, etc. He's Fitz.
She tries to hide how devastating this realization is but he can see through it, so he leaves her standing there and busies himself in the cave, trying to keep his mind from focusing on her. She shuffles away and he hears the creak of the metal ladder as she climbs out.
When she returns an hour or so later (he counted the seconds), she's full mission mode. All he can do is follow her lead. She's got a plan and he'll do what he can to help her see it through but he won't tell her about the hopeless pit that still remains.
(But when that computer turns on and she hugs him in glee he can't help but let the pit shrink and he hesitantly brings his hands up around her, giving her a friendly pat, feeling just a little more alive.)
--
When the bottle smashes it's as if Jemma's soul shatters as well. She's silent the entire hike back.
Overall, he remains unaffected by the failure to reach the portal. He's used to it. Used to the crippling disappointment this planet brings; but her, she had put all of her hope into this and now she looks absolutely broken and that's what makes him feel something.
So he lies. He tells her he didn't have hope until she showed up. Well, it's really more of a half lie. She did spark things in him he hasn't felt in 13 years, but he still knew deep down that they weren't getting off this planet. So he tells her she's his hope and he can see the desperation in her eyes, pleading with him to give her a reason to remain alive, so he lets her kiss him and yes he kisses back with all the love he feels, giving her whatever pieces of his soul he has left in order for her to survive.
He'll resign himself to this tragedy. Besides, like he told her, he can't resist doing something, even if the odds are stacked against him. And this scene is soaked in the impossible. Because she will never love him the way she loves Fitz.
They break apart from the kiss and she clings to him, burying her face in his shoulder and sobs harder than before. The sound of her pain like a knife twisting in his gut and he holds her gently shushing her, attempting to calm her tremors.
She falls asleep due to exhaustion some time later and he carries her to the cot, jostling her slightly when he lays her down, a small trembling sound escapes her lips.
"Fitz."
He bites his lip as her eyebrows furrow and few more tears leak out but then her face smoothes away and she remains asleep.
When she wakes, she remains in 'her' part of the cave, cocooned in the sleeping bag. He doesn't say a word to her, simply leaves a tin of food and canteen of water by the cot and leaves.
The next time he wakes he checks she's still there then leaves the cave to do some root hunting. When he returns, Jemma's up and arranging her cot alongside his, a stoic look on her face.
He says nothing, doesn't really have any words of comfort, they'd all feel disingenuous now anyway; he just nods at her when she meets his eyes with a question in hers. When she sees his response she walks up to him and hugs him tightly. All he can do is clutch her to himself, resigned to the fate of loving this girl, trapped on a hellish planet, knowing she would never have been his otherwise.
She has already dedicated her heart and soul to another and although she doesn't speak his name aloud when they're awake, at night she still calls for him.
He never mentions it to her. Let's her commit to this life they've been condemned to. It's in her dreams that she's allowed to return to the place - to the person she so desperately wants to be with. There are numerous times she's woken him from sleep with a desperately whispered, "Fitz," breaking from her lips.
He's not fooling himself when it comes to what they are, what this is. But he does know it's all they have, all he's going to get, so he lets himself feel it all, lets her become his whole universe. "Adapt to survive" has always been a sort of life motto for him but this has been the easiest adjustment by far. And it's a fucked up sort of paradise for a while, he'd count the days but time is sort of irrelevant here. She readjusts, adapts and moves on; focusing on surviving the life she's been forced to live. She laughs, offers suggestions on activities, she still tells stories but keeps them brief and she mentions names less and less (never saying his name). She's not living so much as surviving. But then again, he's the same.
It's still a punch to the gut when he sees her smile because although it’s still beautiful and breathtaking, it's not a real one. He remembers the smile when she showed him the video, remembers her gaze fixed on her friends and the most precious person in her life.
Now, she smiles, but he can see it every time, the pain in her eyes, the loss. It's never going to be a full smile anymore. And he gets it. Sometimes he feels like he died along with the rest of the team shortly after they arrived on the planet, or maybe they were all dead the second the dark matter of the monolith touched them. He's absolutely certain at least part of him is dead, that even if he were to return to earth, he wouldn't be like he was before. The evil here has changed him, even if it's never truly gotten to him physically, it still feels like It's burrowed into his mind and implanted itself there eternally. A forever dark part of him.
Still, they try, they survive. They have each other and it works. They work. Even with the specter of his ghost hovering over them when they sleep.
When they're awake, it feels like she's his. He allows himself to embrace the delusion sometimes, especially now, as she smiles (still not a true one) at him with care and devotion, telling him her father would have liked him.
Yet he's not surprised when the moment she sees the flare, the first sign of other life on this planet since her own arrival, that she immediately says his name; knowing with absolute certainty it's him. She's already running before he's even stood up, singularly focused on getting to the flare, to Fitz.
He pretends it doesn't kind of kill him inside.
When the sandstorm starts, he knows what's coming, so he makes a decision. There is no moment of consideration, no hesitation.
Because loving Jemma Simmons is easy, losing Jemma Simmons is not a survivable option (he briefly wonders how Fitz managed to cope, guess in the end it doesn't matter, since he found a way back to her).
To die for Jemma Simmons is the simplest choice he's ever had to make.
"Run, Jemma, go, you can make it, go!"
The last thing he hears before everything goes dark is Jemma screaming his name.
"Fitz!"