Chapter Text
“Jemma…” Fitz’s ten year old self penetrated its way through her distracted mind and called her back to him. “We’ve got to get home. My Mom’s gonna kill me!” Thunder roared over the Alabama beach, engrossing the young Fitz and liberating him of his previous worries. “Wow! Did you see that?”
“One-thousand-one,” Jemma sped ahead of him, her small feet making deep imprints in the sand. “One-thousand-two.”
His heart raced trying to keep up with her as she ran down the beach. With every second that passed, Jemma moved further and further away from him.
“One-thousand-three.”
The more the distance between them increased, the more anxious the young Fitz grew. “Answer the question!”
“No!”
“No, you won’t answer?” Fitz put whatever force he had left in him into his legs to close the distance between them. “Or—No, you won’t marry me?”
“Ugh, Fitz!” Jemma managed to say in between short breaths. “I’m ten years old. I’ve got too much to live for!”
By the time Fitz caught up with her, a mere glimpse of her incredulous expression had to be enough to tide over his anxieties before lighting struck the ground three feet from them causing both to scream out in unison.
Jemma’s scream bolted her in the opposite direction. Once Fitz had recovered from the lightning strike himself, he grabbed her shirt-sleeve and tugged her back to him. “Not that way, you don’t!” he insisted, interlacing their fingers and pulling her back to the burning sand where the lightning had hit.
Fitz and Jemma crouched down to examine the burning hole in the ground. For some reason, it called out to them, almost like a spell binding them together.
As if entranced, Jemma reached out to the hot sand. “Wow,” wonderment took over her expression. “Fascinating.”
Fitz’s hand immediately returned to hers, pulling it away from the glassy hole in the ground. “It’s hot! Don’t touch it!” Jemma detangled their fingers as soon as she could. “We’ll be safe here.”
There was no mistaking Jemma’s incredulous expression now. Fitz stood while she looked up at him. “Says who?”
He shrugged, “Everybody.” Thunder continued to roar above them. Its sound cast the same spell on him that the glassy hole in the sand had moments before, his blue eyes captivated by the rolling clouds above him.
It was impossible to not to notice the effect the thunder had on him. His awe even gave the nonstop Jemma pause, realizing for the first time she’d never seen him enthralled with anything else in whole ten years’ time she’d been beside him.
“Lightning never strikes the same place twice,” he said it with such confidence, she noticed as he stood taller and squared his shoulders.
Fascinated with his knowledge and passion, Jemma slowly rose to meet his height. Placing her hands on her hips, she asked, “Why would you want to marry me, anyhow?”
Fitz turned from the sky to Jemma. Somehow the same enthralled expression was held on his face when he looked at her. He smirked to reassure her he had as much fascination with the thunderous sky as he did with her. “So I can kiss you anytime I want.”
Her eyes grew to saucers at his bold declaration. For someone who had never given kissing much thought before, an overwhelming desire took over her to share her first kiss with the boy beside her.
As if reading her mind, Fitz had already begun leaning in. When she turned further towards him and their gazes caught, Fitz hesitated for one moment before closing the distance between them. A spark ignited deep within her as their lips came together for the first time. She soon realized the fire she felt must be the same fire he felt when he looked up at the crackling sky or…at her.
The sky cracked again. The sound seemed closer now…as if right above them. She couldn’t help peering up mid-kiss to watch the lightning strike over her and down to the exact spot they were standing in…
An obnoxious answering machine beep awoke Jemma from her dream. She registered the rain pattering against her New York apartment windows and the thunder accompanying it before attuning her brain to the voice on the machine.
“Uh, Good morning.” Milton’s words scrambled through her brain as she processed her surroundings. “There’s a rose for every moment I thought of you last night. Ah, you must be exhausted. Uh, I hope I didn’t wake you—uh, either in shuffling the roses in last night or with my message now.” Jemma pulled herself up from her bed, noticing her hospital scrubs still clung to her skin. She blinked in the flower petal colors that took over every inch of her small apartment. “Anyway, I’m so proud of you." His voice sped up, as if comfortable from reading a script. "I’ll see you at the awards ceremony tonight. It’s going to be great! Knock ‘em dead. I can’t wait to see you. Bye-bye!”
“Milton!” Jemma squirmed in her excitement, both at his reminder of her big award ceremony tonight and at his classic romantic gesture. In her squirming she managed to kick off the one blanket she had managed to pull over herself during her zombie-like walk to her bed after coming home from the graveyard shift at the hospital.
She watched the blanket fall from the bed with envy. She’d give anything to curl up in a ball, sink to floor, and return to whatever pleasant dream she was having.
Dream. Thunder.
Bolting from the bed, her gaze snapped the the raindrops on a window. The young face of Leo Fitz filled her vision before the adult one took over her thoughts. She walked to a window that looked out on Manhattan’s dreary day, picked a single rose from multitude of vases, and smelled it as she rested upon the window sill.
Surely the rose’s sweet perfume and the man who had filled her apartment with them would be a more welcomed reality than the dreamlike memory she was reliving…
It had to be…right?
“Milton!” Jemma’s particular exclamation for his name whenever his actions took her by surprise burst from her. According to Milton, no one else in the universe pronounced his name better. Currently standing in the middle of New York’s empty Tiffany store, Jemma couldn’t think of a more appropriate time for her special exclamation. “…What do you think you are doing?”
He answered her question with hand squeeze before bending down on one knee. “Dr. Jemma Smooter, will you marry me?”
For the second time today, Fitz’s face appeared in Jemma's mind. She had done her best to bury the image deep within the folds of her mind, making it through a second nap, another hospital shift, and an awards ceremony successfully without thinking of her morning’s dream once. Now, however, as she drank in the sight of Milton on one knee before her, she couldn’t help replaying the first marriage proposal she’d ever received all those years ago, down on a stormy beach.
“A-are you sure?” The words rolled from Jemma’s tongue, her mind reeling. “It’s only been five months, Milton.”
“Jemma—Jemma.” Milton stood and glanced around the Tiffany store, shifting his weight between two feet. “Of course I’m sure. These last five months…Uh, you’ve been a role model—made me believe I could finish my internship at the hospital. I’m a better doctor because of you and a better person. You made me believe in myself and the power of love and in the future. And with you receiving the Pearl Hurwitz Humanism in Healthcare Award tonight, I knew tonight would be perfect. So, uh…at the risk at being rejected twice,” Milton took a deep breath and bent down on one knee again. “Will you marry me?”
Recent memories flooded Jemma's senses; the loud clapping as her name was called for the humanism award, Milton’s warm lips giving her a congratulatory kiss, his smile of encouragement when stage fright caused her stumble her words. “Yes!” She nodded at him and he lifted her up to spin her in celebration. “Yes, yes, yes!”
Alabama’s humidity greeted Jemma the moment she walked off the plane. It now filled her car, making its leather seats stick to her skin. While most people disliked the South’s humidity, Jemma welcomed it. Nothing reminded her more of home than the warm, sticky blanket that humidity brought…well, nothing except for him…
The rented car rolled over loose dirt as she turned into Fitz’s property. Old tires still rested against tree trunks and the flying contraption they had built as teenagers leaned against a rusted boat they had once taken for a ride in the middle of the night, searching for the best view of a meteor shower. She scowled at the otherwise broken down state of things in the time passed; window shutters hanging lopsided off hinges, wheelbarrows turned upside down, unkempt plants latching onto chairs that hadn’t been sat in for years…
If Jemma had any remaining doubts about her decision, the mess that greeted her when she stepped out of the car cleared them all up.
A monkey’s screeching clamored in her ears and she winced at the noise. By the time her eyes widened again, the monkey had walked down the two steps from Fitz’s porch to greet her.
The monkey tugged twice on her skirt, giving him a chance to smell her legs, before offering his hand as a ‘hello.’ After she took it, he resumed his screeching.
“Oh, he’s loud,” Fitz’s familiar voice redirected her attention. “But he won’t bite. He’s a good little monkey.” The animal tilted his head in a quizzical motion towards Fitz, and he mirrored his pet’s actions. “Aren’t you, Henry?”
The monkey sprinted back up to him, climbing up his legs until he found his usual spot on Fitz’s shoulder. “Now,” Fitz readjusted his position. “How can I help you?”
Jemma shook her head at the scene before her. Somewhere deep inside of her, the sight of Fitz with a monkey gave her great joy…but all she could focus on at present was the changeless state of the house and man in front of her.
“Well, for starters,” Jemma surprised even herself with the amount of attitude that accompanied her words. Finding confidence in her audacity, she took off her sunglasses. “You can get you stubborn ass down here and give me a divorce.”
It was then that their eyes met. His piercing blue met her soft brown and her attitude evaporated. Fitz dropped his shoulders and gaped at her, causing Henry to scurry off in the opposite direction.
Jemma breath caught at the intensity of his stare. She had forgotten, although she couldn’t imagine how, the spell his blue eyes cast. As if involuntarily drawn to them, Jemma took a single step closer towards him.
No, she stopped herself, her flat palms finding the back of the car to rest on. She came here for a reason, and one reason only. “Ugh, Fitz! It’s been ten years. We can’t waste any more time. Let’s finish this.”
“Really?” His gaze lost its magic when he narrowed his eyes at her. He scoffed in disbelief and began to make his way down the porch stairs. “And where do you get off? You show up here after ten years without so much as a text message or flare in the sky—”
Jemma mirrored his narrowed eyes. “You expect a flare in the sky every time we announce our presence to one another? Is that what happened each time you sent the papers back? There wasn’t enough of a grand gesture attached to them?”
“You’d like to think that, wouldn’t you?” Fitz spurred back. “I've grown out of my grand gestures phase. It’s easier for you to blame them than admit I’ve changed.”
Jemma scoffed, “You were hoping I’d noticed you’ve changed?” She threw her hands in the air. “Nothing has changed around here from that old rusted boat to the dirt on your shirt!”
There was fire in his eyes by the time Jemma paused to look at them. Both chests heaving from the argument, they took a single moment to recover. In the momentary calm, they scanned each other, noticing the changes ten years had brought to the other.
Fitz broke first. Leaning his weight back on the foot furthest from her, he shook his head and then turned his back to walk away.
“What are you doing?”
“Leaving,” with his back still facing her, he threw his arm in the air. “You’ve done it! You should recognize the gesture!”
Jemma noticed the familiar wiggle of his butt cheeks as he walked away; another thing she couldn’t believe she’d forgotten over the years. Wincing, she shook her head, forcing the thought from her mind. “Fitz!” She clamped her fists together and then trotted up the stairs after him. “Can we try to keep this as mature as possible? We’re not sixteen anymore!”
“Not sixteen anymore?” He spun back to meet her. “Honey, everything about your appearance out of the blue proves that we are, indeed, still sixteen—”
“Don’t you honey me, honey!” She raised a pointed finger at him.
“—Why don’t you rediscover what home is and then maybe we’ll talk!”
Fitz then took two final steps over his threshold and slammed the screen door in her face. She winced at the noise and clamped further down on her fists.
“Fitz! I came down here for the sole purpose of signing these papers together. What more of a grand gesture do you want?”
“I just said I’m done with grand gestures!” He defended himself through the screen, “And if you think your coming all the way down here was the grand gesture I wanted to sign your damn papers, I assure you—you’re gravely mistaken!” He yelled the end of his sentence, giving himself enough momentum to slam the door in her face.
He heard another, more impassioned, “Ugh, Fitz!” from outside once space was put between them and he had his house to himself. Not knowing what to do first with his new freedom, he glanced around the house until a beer called to him from within the fridge. He strutted over, yanked the fridge door open, twisted open the beer lid, and begun to nurse the beer—letting its refreshing taste take over his senses.
Monkey chattering soon disrupted Fitz’s peace. He glanced over to see Henry on all fours scampering to his favorite spot on the couch.
“What the…hell?”
“Hey, Genius!” Jemma’s perky voice answered what was meant to be a rhetorical question. “Next time you want to lock somebody out…make sure they don’t know where the hide-a-key is.”
Smirking, Fitz turned to her and placed his thumb in his pocket. “Well, see, that’s the thing about hide-a-keys. It’d be great if your wife told you where it was,” he retorted.
“I’m not your wife, Fitz. I’m just…” her hand absent-mindedly went to her forehead in thought. “I’m just the only girl who was entertained with your science experiments.” Fitz crossed his arms at her. She reached for the divorce papers in her purse. “I don’t know that girl anymore.”
“Well, then,” other than a brief glance down to the papers, he did nothing to acknowledge their existence. “Allow me to remind you.”