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The first time, his question surprises her.
They sit at the edge of the pool, their feet dangling into the water. It still doesn’t seem real. To think that the entire time they spent on the Bus, Ward was playing them the entire time. Fitz wants to think Hydra brainwashed him, that somehow, Ward is still a good person. Jemma wants to agree with him, but the feeling in the gut tells her the opposite. But that’s just Fitz, of course. Always seeing the best in people.
Even if sometimes it’s a mistake.
“Tell me that you’re not Hydra.”
She turns her head in confusion. “What?” How could he think such a thing after all they’ve been through together? Everything, from the Academy, and Sci-Ops, and now all of their experiences on the Bus. Together. But after everything that’s suddenly happened, she really can’t blame him.
“I know that it’s ridiculous, but I just need to hear you say it.”
She raises her eyebrow half an inch, but realizes he’s completely serious. She turns to face him and leans in closer, looking directly into his eyes. “I’m not Hydra,” she tells him firmly.
The worry fades from his eyes. Nodding his head, he rambles on about how he’s not Hydra either and how he wouldn’t know what he would do if she ever were. This makes her heart sink. Oh Fitz. She knows, deep down, how much he cares about her. And she feels the same way. Without Fitz, none of this would have been worth it. She can’t see them moving forward without each other. The image of them not working together, side by side, it’s something she cannot comprehend.
“You’ll never have to find out.” She places her hand gently on his knee in a gesture of reassurance.
She make a silent promise to herself that whatever happens, she’ll do whatever she can to keep him from experiencing any more pain. They will figure this out, whatever this is. As long as they stick with their team and trust one another, everything should be fine. Even if the world seems to be crashing down around them, at least they still have each other.
Everything should be fine.
The second time, his question is more painful.
S.H.I.E.L.D. agents, or whatever they are, make their way in and out of the lab, escorting innocent lab technicians to God knows where. Jemma sits next to Fitz against a lab station on the floor, watching in confusion and horror. This is their lab. And just as things seemed to be settling down after Tripp’s death, the world decides to pull the rug out from under them.
She never thought they would have to go through something like this again. As if the Hydra infiltration weren’t painful enough, along with everything going on with Skye, now the very people they thought were their friends were actually working against them. Or behind their backs. Or whatever they were doing this whole time because nothing makes sense anymore.
They don’t speak to each other. They’re not really doing much of that at the moment. She knows he’s upset with her for keeping things about Skye from him. And the last time they spoke, he said some things that took her by surprise. About how she’s changed, and that she’s scared. But he’s right. She is scared. Not because of how her friends are changing, but more of simply the unknown. Of not being able to save her friends. And not knowing what’s going to happen next.
And look where we are now.
She pulls her hands up to her face in frustration.
“Tell me you’re not with them.”
His desperate words catch her off guard. It’s the first thing he’s said to her all day, but the question itself doesn’t surprise her. It pains her. She was gone for so long undercover, and was close with Bobbi, so he really can’t know for sure.
Pulling her hands down, she turns to see his face. He looks at her wearily, but she sees a small bit of hope behind his eyes. It warms her heavy heart a little, knowing he’ll always be on her side and still believes in their partnership, but the fact that he still has to ask makes this whole situation even more painful.
“Of course not,” she says softly. Looking away, she hangs her head down as she continues to process the last few hours. But as much as she thinks about how much this hurts her, she thinks of Mack, and how this must feel so much worse for Fitz.
She wants to reach out to him in some way, let him know that she’s there for him, but she can’t bring herself to make the move. She knows that would probably just bring him more pain. She’s done enough of that already. Her actions, going undercover and not telling him, were for the best. But still. She never wanted him to go through something like this again.
Her eyes follow a few men in suits heading down the hallway. She crosses her arms across her chest, annoyed by the invasion of their space. “Why does this keep happening?” she says under her breath. Her voice catches in her throat at the last word, so she swallows down hard, hoping Fitz won’t notice.
Closing his eyes, he leans his head back and exhales. “I don’t know.”
Unable to fight the urge any longer, she reaches across him and clutches onto his hand. It only takes him a few seconds before he places his other hand on top of hers.
Jemma feels her heart flutter. The joining of their hands seems like the only solidarity left in the world. God, she missed this. Him. So terribly much. Naturally, it takes the world crashing down around them to bring them back together. She feels his hand tighten his grip on hers just a touch. Maybe he misses her too.
The third time, he doesn’t need to ask the question.
He already knows she’s not an LMD; he would have figured it out in an instant. But that doesn’t stop her from wanting to reassure him of this fact.
She waits in the corridor, sitting against the wall on the floor. Fitz is finishing up locking away the Radcliffe LMD with a few other agents, working nearly in a daze after his discovery. She chose to step aside, give him his space. Let him process. But she still waits, hoping he’ll come to her when he’s ready.
She pulls her legs up, wrapping her arms around them and rests her chin on her knees. Somehow, this time feels so much worse. She remembers how excited Fitz was the first time Radcliffe invited him to his apartment to talk science and watch the football match. Seeing the light finally return to his eyes after grieving the loss of Lincoln, and accepting Daisy’s departure from the team helped Jemma feel as if things were finally going to be okay. She doesn’t want to think about when the shift occurred, when Radcliffe turned from being a friend and mentor to Fitz to someone else entirely.
A few moments pass and Fitz suddenly rounds the corner, his hands in his pockets. She looks up at him with questioning eyes.
“It’s done. He’s all locked up.” He pauses, bites his lip. “It. It’s all locked up.”
Stretching her legs out in front of her, she breathes a sigh of relief. “Good. We’ll find him. Wherever he’s hiding. He won’t get away with this.”
He doesn’t respond, but the expression on his face tells her everything she needs to know. He’s hurting, much more than he’ll ever care to admit. Through a drawn out sigh, he slides down the wall until he’s sitting next to her hip to hip. She immediately pulls his hand into her lap, cradling it between her own.
She leans her head on his shoulder, squeezing his hand. “I’m not one, you know. An LMD.”
“Yeah, I know.” His defeated tone makes her heart sink, a feeling that’s all too familiar to her. “Jemma, I—”
“You don’t have to say anything.” She sits back up to look at him. “If you don’t want to.”
His lips part. She can see it in his eyes, the processing. But she can tell that keeping his feelings buried isn’t an option anymore. It takes him a few moments before he speaks. “I’m sorry I lied. I just…I just wanted to be sure.”
“I know. I understand. I didn’t…before, but I do now. And you wanted to be wrong.”
“Yeah.”
She brings his hand up to her lips. “I’m sorry you were right. But I want you to come to me, okay? Even if you’re not sure. Even if you’re afraid of what you’ll discover.”
He looks down at their hands. “I will. I promise. I know I’ve been…distant. I think part of me felt like if I told you, it would be real.”
“I’m sorry I yelled at you.”
“No, it’s okay—”
“No, really. I was upset. Not at you, just at…everything, I guess. You just happened to be the target.”
He nods in understanding, and then looks back up to meet her eyes, his own more serious. “Why does this keep happening to us? We keep putting our trust in the wrong people.”
Tilting her head slightly, she lets out a sigh. “I think it comes with the territory. It’s S.H.I.E.L.D. Everyone has secrets. But that definitely doesn’t say anything about who you are as a person. Quite the opposite, actually. You always want to see the good in people, and that’s noble and just, and it’s part of who you are. And you should never try to change that.”
His eyes suddenly go much darker.
“What is it?” she asks, gripping his arm.
He hesitates, looking anywhere but her eyes, but another squeeze from her hand brings his focus back to her. “I’m scared. I’m scared of why he’s doing this. Something’s missing. Some piece of this puzzle and it doesn’t make sense. I don’t understand. And it’s making me sick. Because the last time we were betrayed, things got worse before they got better.” He swallows hard, struggling to continue on. “I’m scared of what’s coming.”
This is the most he’s admitted to her in a long time. He tends to hide his fear, to protect her, probably. When it seems like something catastrophic is about to happen, he’s always the one to reassure her that they’ll figure it out. But not this time. When he says the words, they hit her hard, reviving old fears still simmering within her. As much as she tries to bury those memories as deep as her mind allows, they always manage to find a way to haunt her. And it doesn’t hit her until now how similarly the events of the last few years played out. A heavy blow, and then so much more.
They were so naïve that night by the pool. They didn’t anticipate Ward’s next move. Or being kidnapped. Or everything else.
And when everything finally settled the second time, and they made plans, they didn’t anticipate how a split second later, a mysterious rock would swallow her up into oblivion. Or how he wouldn’t get her back for six months. Or all the pain they would encounter when he finally did get her back.
He’s right. It’s always so much worse than they can ever imagine.
She shudders, the weight of his words sinking in. “Me too,” she tells him gently.
They stare at each other then, and watch as their eyes fill with matching anguish. Before the weight seems to bring them both down, she pulls him closer, letting him rest his head against her shoulder, and wraps her arms around him, holding on for dear life. For them, it’s usually the other way around, her head fitting perfectly underneath his chin. The moments blend together now, countless times he’s comforted her in times of sorrow. But today, it’s her turn to hold them together.
As they sit in near silence, she feels fresh tears trailing against her neck. His tears. She shifts to press her lips to the top of his head as tears collect in her own eyes.
“Me too,” she whispers again. “Me too.”