Work Text:
Jemma sat on the sofa looking up at the photographs sitting on the bookshelf in the living area. As much as she tried to predict what Fitz’s home would be like, actually sitting in the cozy warmth of his childhood home brought her so much more joy and comfort than she could have ever imagined. It was a modest home, with simple decorating choices, but it was the vast collection of framed photographs scattered around the house that brought Jemma the most happiness. Getting up to admire the photographs more closely, she smiled, imagining Mrs. Fitz’s insistence of capturing every moment of her son’s life.
Among the photographs were some shots of Fitz in his early days – one as a small tot of him attempting, but mostly failing, to stand on his own wobbly feet, another from a few years later, propped up in a field of tall grass, a carefree grin across his face. Jemma’s favorite, which she picked off the shelf, was a shot for what she assumed was a three or four-year-old Fitz sitting on his mother’s hip, their similar curly hair flying freely in the breeze.
Jemma placed the frame back on the shelf when Fitz’s mother entered the room carrying two steaming mugs. Handing Jemma the one with milk, Mrs. Fitz took a long sip from her own before reaching out for the frame Jemma just placed back on the shelf.
Jemma’s lips curled into a smile. “I like that one. It’s sweet.”
“He’s so photogenic, isn’t he? Especially at an early age. Later, I’ll show you the truly embarrassing ones.”
“Looking forward to it.” They giggled together quietly, not wanting Fitz to overhear from the kitchen where he washed up after their afternoon meal.
“He was such a curious child. So clever. I never thought he’d ever meet someone to keep up with him. So I’m glad you both found each other.”
Jemma smiled sheepishly, tilting her head to the side. “Me too.”
After another sip of her tea, Fitz’s mother continued. “I’m always so worried about him. It doesn’t help that I don’t understand what he’s doing half the time. But I know he’ll be okay. Having you with him helps.” She reached out and gently took hold of Jemma’s wrist. “I know he’s in good hands.”
Jemma rubbed her lips together and contemplated whether she should ask the question on her mind. Feeling suddenly bold, she carried on. “May I ask you something?”
“Of course, dear.”
Jemma peered down into her mug. It wasn’t a topic she wanted to approach lightly. But considering how much her relationship with Fitz had grown since their first days together at the Academy, and the fact that he actually invited her to Scotland with him once they finally got to take some time off, the curiosity about her best friend was getting the better of her.
Swallowing hard, she looked up to meet the woman’s waiting eyes. “I don’t mean to pry. And you don’t have to tell me anything if you don’t want to, but I noticed…it’s just you and Fitz in the pictures, no one else.” She whispered the last words, figuring Mrs. Fitz would catch on to their meaning.
Suddenly, a nervous chill traveled through Jemma and forced her to move her eyes back down to her tea. She didn’t want to offend this woman by inquiring about the details of her son’s upbringing, but this was also a potentially troubling subject for the woman herself. Jemma didn’t know their history, if she was even married when she had Fitz. But her worries subsided when she looked back up to see a content, maybe even an understanding, smile on the woman’s face.
“It’s been this way since he was ten.”
Jemma didn't respond, but maintained eye contact to encourage Mrs. Fitz to keep going.
“His father left us. It was horrific at the time, and for most of the time before he left, but we got through it. I like to think it made Fitz who he is today. Kind. Caring. Completely selfless and full of heart.” She reached out to take Jemma’s hand, squeezing it lightly. “I’ll spare you most of the details. I’m sure he’ll tell you about him. Eventually.”
---
He did tell her. Exactly one year after their last visit, on a bench on the streets of Glasgow, they sat together in silence, staring off into different directions.
It was their last day in Scotland, and Jemma was determined to spend their last day visiting the places where Fitz grew up. When they suddenly came across a road that led to a small café, instead of mimicking her enthusiasm at resting their legs for a while over a meal and a fresh cup of tea, he shut down completely, saying he was too tired and didn’t want to go any further.
“But Fitz, aren’t you hungry? By the time we get to the train and back home, it will be well over an hour before we’ll get to eat.”
“I said, I don’t want to go,” he nearly shouted.
His tone startled her. She’d heard him upset before, from miscalculating in the lab or that one rare occurrence when he forgot his report before class, but this. This was something else entirely. He was more heated, emotional.
After taking a few deep breaths, his hands resting on his hips, he mumbled an apology, and then gestured for her to follow him while he sought out a bench to cool off for a bit. Once they found one half a block down from the place of his outburst, they sat in silence for a few minutes, Jemma doing her best to focus on her friend’s breathing.
At last, he spoke in a fairly even tone, turning his body to face her. “I don’t like coming this way.”
“Why not?” she asked quietly, hesitantly meeting his eyes.
“It was the way he used to travel to work.”
“Who, Fitz?” She asked the question, but she already knew.
“My dad.”
She sat quietly, staring into his eyes intently as she waited patiently for him to continue.
“He wasn’t…well, he wasn’t a lot of things. He was never supportive, or a good role model. I was pretty quiet as a kid, didn’t have many friends or like a lot of the typical hobbies of most kids my age, so he didn’t think I would accomplish anything. And he didn’t just think this. He made sure I believed it myself.”
“Fitz.”
“He left us when I was ten,” he continued on despite her response, probably wanting to get his story out a quickly as possible. “Haven’t heard from him since. He probably doesn’t even work there anymore, but I still don’t want to risk running into him. I don’t know what I’d say. Or do.”
Jemma nodded, giving him her best look of understanding.
“I know it’s childish. It’s just a stupid road.”
“No, it’s not childish. There’s nothing wrong with avoiding something that brings you that much pain. You’re just taking care of yourself.”
He didn’t respond. Instead, he shifted his gaze down to his hands sitting in his lap.
After a few moments in silence, she shifted closer to him on the bench. “I’m glad you told me.”
He looked back up to meet her eyes again. “My mum told you, though. I figured she would after she showed you all those pictures.”
“Not very much. Just that he wasn’t around. I figured you would tell me when you were ready.”
“I thought I would be over it by now. It’s been over a decade. I should be able to walk down that road, but I can’t.”
“There’s no right way to experience something like this. You’re allowed to process in whatever way works for you. And if that’s avoiding a damn road, then by all means, avoid. Maybe one day, you’ll move past it, but for now, it’s okay.”
Reaching over to take his hand, she suddenly felt the urge to launch into a full-blown embrace, but considering his state at the moment, she didn’t want to startle him. If what he needed was space, she would give it to him. But the small squeeze she felt from his hand told her that this much contact, a reassurance established by their joined hands, was enough for him.
---
Jemma sat up in their shared bed with a book balanced in her lap, attempting to concentrate on something other than the phone conversation currently taking place in their bathroom between Fitz and his mother. Once they returned to their bunk after burning the LMDs and they changed into their sleepwear, she encouraged him to call his mother even if the time zone difference would probably wake her. He didn’t hesitate to take her advice, moving to their bathroom for a bit more privacy.
As she turned to a new page, finally finishing the previous one after about three attempts, she heard his voice grow a bit louder and assumed he was reaching the end of his conversation. Through the door, she heard his muffled voice. I’ll talk to you soon. Yeah, I love you, too. When she heard him open the door, she looked up with a hopeful expression. Luckily, she was met with a pleased look on his face.
“Feel better?” she asked.
“Much.” He moved to his side of the bed and plugged his phone into its charger on the nightstand, and then pulled back their blanket and climbed into bed, lying closely next to her on his side. “I didn’t tell her what happened. With Radcliffe and all that. Didn’t want her to get distraught over it. Still, it was nice to hear her voice. I miss her.”
“I miss her, too. Honestly, as much as I want a vacation for just the two of us, I’d really just like to see her again. I miss our talks, your cottage. It’s so lovely there.”
“I’m sure she would love that. All she does is talk about you.”
“What?” she asked. Closing her book, she shifted in the bed to lean on her side to look at him directly.
“It’s true. She just wants to know how you’re doing, ever since I told her about your promotion.”
Jemma smiled. She always liked that woman. Turning onto her back, she reached over to their nightstand to grab the small photo album he was looking through earlier that day. Flipping through it, she stopped on her favorite, a copy of the framed photograph that sat on the bookshelf in Mrs. Fitz’s home, and pulled it out of its protective sleeve.
She held it between her fingers, angling it toward Fitz. “I’m going to get a frame for this one. It doesn’t deserve to be tucked away out of sight.”
“Yeah, that’s one of the less embarrassing ones. But I’m sure you’ve seen those as well.”
“Oh, I’ve seen them. That mum of yours doesn’t mind showing those off in the slightest.”
Fitz smiled back warmly. “When we visit her, maybe we can finally check out that café you wanted to go to a while back.”
Biting her lip, she looked away. Of course he remembers. “We don’t have to.”
“No, I want to.” He moved closer to her on the bed and laid his arm across her waist. “I refuse to let him control any of my actions after all these years. It’s my narrative, not his. I’m not going to let what he did define what I do for the rest of my life. Because I did let him, for a while. No matter how hard I told myself that I was more than the words he used to insult me, it didn’t matter. I still felt like part of it had to be true because it came from him. But I know he was wrong. And even if I’ve been betrayed countless times already, I still have a lot of people in my life that care about me. I’m lucky that way.”
She turned back on her side and moved her hand to cup his cheek. “I’m really proud of you. You’re just so strong and how you’re handling all of this is just so…” She shook her head, unable to put her thoughts into words.
“It’s not all me. You helped.”
“Maybe. But you did most of this on your own.”
He pulled on her waist to allow her to curl into him. Pressing herself as close to him as possible, she placed her hand on his heart. It was no longer racing like it was earlier today in the lab. Instead, it was a steady beat, as well as a comforting reminder that he was alive, he was safe, and he was okay. Soon, their breathing synced and they fell into a heavy slumber, neglecting to turn off their bedside lamps. It wasn’t their most pleasant night of sleep, their dreams still scattered with images of LMDs, artificial brains, and a few blurred images of Fitz’s father, but every time one of them woke in the middle of the night, they would pull each other closer, knowing that they were stronger, braver, and cleverer as a team. And that was enough.