Work Text:
The first one came two days after they left. Jemma had been walking around in a bit of a haze when the weight of everything that had transpired over the last few days finally hit her like a ton of bricks.
She was buried deep under the warm cocoon of her blankets, the ticking of the tiny clock sitting on her nightstand the only sound echoing in the small room, when she spotted it. It was small, easily missed if not looking for it, but because Jemma valued order, this out-of-place piece of paper jumped out at her right away.
Unraveling herself from the warm nest she had created, Jemma carefully plucked the scrap paper from its resting spot and slowly unwrapped it, curious to unveil its contents.
Cheer up, love. As I’ve heard before, absence makes the heart grow fonder.
Your big brother,
BS
Immediately recognizing the sloppy scrawl, she chuckled to herself and reread the obviously hastily written note. Uncertain of how he was able to get the paper to her, Jemma shrugged away the thoughts and simply smiled as she tucked the paper into a box for safekeeping, thankful for Hunter’s timely reminder.
Things around the base would never be the same without the exciting flare of Bobbi and Hunter, but at least she had this little reminder that they were safe and hopefully happy.
---
The next one came sooner than expected. It had only been a month since Bobbi and Hunter had left, and things continued to change.
The world was so different, constantly having to adjust to the news of things that had once only be confined to the cells of a comic book. As if the chaos of those events hadn’t been change enough, Jemma’s personal life was also drastically shifting.
After the events of the changing room kiss and the sudden marvel of finding The Dress, Jemma and Fitz’s relationship had slowly progressed from the awkward stages of ‘more than just friends but still not quite definable’, to finally allowing themselves the indulgence of a long overdue romantic relationship.
As excited as she had been for their first official date, with thirty minutes to spare, Jemma found herself nervously pacing the room waiting for the butterflies in her stomach to flutter away. It was in yet another lap of her room when she spotted the hastily folded piece of paper sitting on her neatly organized desk.
Walking over, a smile already forming on her face, she carefully lifted the paper and scanned its contents.
A birdie told me to tell you to ‘wear the red one.’ As for me, I’ll let you know ahead of time that you look beautiful and if he doesn’t have you home by 11 o’clock sharp, I’ll do what any good big brother should ;)
Your big brother,
BS
Jemma laughed, her nerves fading as she reread the paper once more. Walking over to her closest, her hands scanned through the various fabrics until they landed on the soft red dress. As she pulled it out of its hanger, she noticed yet another small scrap of paper pinned delicately to one of its shoulders. It simply read:
Make it 10:30.
---
From the very first holiday that she and Fitz had spent apart, Jemma learned that she did not like living in a world without Fitz. These feelings had only been exacerbated by the seemingly endless tragedies that tried again and again to pull her and Fitz apart.
It was supposed to be a simple mission: go inside the building, cut a couple of wires, use the drones if necessary, and be out in less than an hour. But as one hour and then two passed on and the communications between the separated groups had been cut off nearly fifteen minutes ago, Jemma began to bark out orders in a frenzied panic. As the crew of people under her command, including an unusually nervous looking May, began to flutter about, desperately trying to figure out what was going on, Jemma simply stared anxiously at the dark screen, willing it to come back to life and to let her know that Fitz was okay.
Hands stuffed deep into her pockets, she nearly missed it, when it occurred to her that the sharp corner she had been fiddling with was not just a part of her jacket, but rather a portion of a small scrap of paper. She still had no idea how he was able to do it, but, she supposed, it really didn’t matter.
I’m just assuming that something has gone wrong, because that sort of thing tends to happen when it’s supposed to be an easy mission. I need you to take a deep breath and repeat after me: Fitz will be okay.
Take care of yourself and remember to breathe---things will be okay.
Your big brother,
BS
Her eyes filled with tears, thankful that somewhere out in the world that always seemed to be filled with death and terror, one Lance Hunter was there to make her feel just a little bit better.
When Fitz finally came back, he was bloody and bruised, though his face still lit up when his eyes finally locked onto a completely unnerved Jemma.
As she toppled into his arms, his scent enveloping her like a warm blanket, she looked up into his brilliant blue eyes and wiped away at some of the blood that had trickled down the side of his face. With the words of Hunter echoing throughout her head and the realization of what had just happened, Jemma whispered out, “I think we should finally put the dress to use.” After a slight pause, Fitz simply smiled against her head before sealing the deal with a sweet kiss.
---
Jemma relaxed in the comforts of the small hotel bed, taking in the first few quiet moments of the morning, the light from the sunrise slowly trickling in. All those days ago when the dress jumped out at her from the little window, and Fran had waved a kind hand at her, Jemma never quite imagined the day happening like this.
In fact, in those rare moments when she allowed herself to indulge in the fantasy of marriage, she imagined it much more in the realms of fairytales. Perhaps her parents would be there along with all of her closest friends mixed in with a few old ones long since forgotten, all celebrating as the day passed by in a blur of happiness, laughter, and love
Those, however, were the dreams of someone not tied to a secret organization, someone who could wonder outside and be comforted in the notion that the only possible dangers were life’s mundane obstacles.
Jemma, however, lived in a world where giant rocks could transport you to other planets, inhumans were both friends and foe, and the people closest to you were either leaving or watching as you left them behind.
It was supposed to be a happy day, and for the most part it definitely would be, but Jemma couldn’t help the hollow feeling left in the pit of her stomach, the longing for her missing friends an unfair dampening to the happy feelings that electrified her entire body whenever she thought about what was soon to happen.
Willing herself to move out of the bed, she carefully slipped her feet into the soft shoes at the base and was just about to stand when she noticed the small slip of paper tucked carefully under her pillow.
Simmons (since that’ll be the last time I’m able to address you as such),
Look, I may not have the best track record in the love department, but I’m also no fool. Call it a cosmic love story, but you and Fitz were destined to be. You two have been through so much, have given so little—you deserve this bit of happiness. Try to enjoy yourself, yeah?
Have a drink on us and know that the bird and I wish we could be there more than anything.
Your big brother,
BS
P.S. The little birdie told me to tell you to ‘look in the middle drawer.’ She went off about a blue something or other.
Jemma rose and quickly pulled open the middle drawer. In the midst of all of the haphazardly strewn pamphlets and the lone bible, lay a small blue pendant strung delicately through a silver chain. Bobbi, despite being on the run, had so selflessly found the time to give Jemma her something blue.
And later, when she and Fitz along with their small remaining group of friends, gathered in the little building in some tiny town they had been working in, she could have sworn she saw a tall blonde woman and a shorter brunette man walk past the window just before her eyes fluttered close and her lips pressed to Fitz’s.
---
She never could break the habit of making lists. They calmed her when things became too chaotic, when the world was spinning just a little too fast; they allowed her to control just a small piece of it, enough to bring her some comfort that not everything was completely impossible.
For the pasts few days, lists were all that Jemma could seem to do. You could always tell where she had been, little notes filled with her smooth scrawl leaving a trail like Hansel and Gretel.
Unlike the past few days, however, today’s assortment of lists were tinged with a note of nervousness, fear, and sadness. When she woke up from her spot on the bed, one that she had become quite accustomed to in the past few weeks, she knew something was different.
Even so, she gingerly moved herself from the awkward position she had been in all night, hoping not to wake the sleeping body next to hers. She was, however, unsuccessful as Fitz, always a heavy sleeper until recently, woke with a start and turned towards Jemma.
“No,” she assured him “the baby is not coming. Yes, I am fine.” Though this, Jemma admitted to herself, was a complete lie.
At some point during the morning the contractions had started, nothing to fret over at first (all the books said so), before they gradually started getting more intense. Still, several hours later, much to the displeasure of Fitz and to the concern of everyone on the base, Jemma tried not to let her face give away the intense pressure she was feeling, stubbornly refusing to go to the delivery room. Jemma was always prepared, and according to her lists, this baby should not be arriving for at least two more days. So what if her water had broken, or the contractions were coming faster and faster? Jemma was not about to let her body betray her carefully constructed plans.
Finally, after an embarrassing confession that “no, I am not okay, I don’t think I can do this,” along with several reassuring words from Fitz, Jemma was able to admit that it was time to have the baby.
Just a couple of hours later, a loud cry erupted as the little thing that was half Fitz and half Simmons arrived triumphantly into the world.
People came and went, pictures were taken, and plenty of gifts were given. It was everything she could have imagined—exhausting, wonderful, scary—tinged with just a hint of sadness. They had been surrounded by so many of the people near and dear to them, but not everyone was here to celebrate this rare moment of joy. Her heart aching for the absence of her dear friends, she realized that her child would never get to meet its brilliant aunt and uncle.
Their room had since grown quiet, the bustle of the in and out traffic finally dying down, allowing them some time to bask in the moment. As Jemma opened her eyes and rolled her head over to look at the wonderful scene of father and child, Fitz and their best work yet, she spotted a new gift and note on the bedside table.
Delicately reaching over, her body sore from the day’s events, she picked up the soft material and tugged open the note.
I never doubted your and Fitz’s work, but this one sure tops them all.
Good job, Jemma. We love and miss you.
Your big brother,
BS
Jemma quickly wiped a stray tear away and gestured for Fitz to bring the small bundle her way. Carefully draping the soft blanket over the sleeping baby, she murmured a soft, “this one’s from your aunt and uncle,” looked up at Fitz, their foreheads resting against one another before they turned to stare down at the wondrous little person they had created.
Baa, Baa, brown sheep,
Have you any wool?
Yes sir, yes sir, three bags full.
One for the mammy,
One for the daddy.
And one for the little baby
Who lives down the lane.