Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Jemma looks at Fitz and asks herself if now is the time to ask. Well, maybe it’s never the time. Maybe it means nothing. After all, it was just sleep talk. And yet …

The words still reverberate in her head. Simmons. You’re so beautiful. Uttered in a dreamy, stunned voice. But clear. Oh, so clear. She had been searching around in Fitz’s drawer quietly and carefully, wanted to steal some of his woollen socks because they were so wonderfully warm and hers were not, and right then, those words slipped from his mouth. Unbelievable loud in the silence of night.  

Breathless, she had stared at him, at his peaceful face, his slightly open mouth. It was not the first time she'd heard Fitz talking in his sleep. He does it now and then. Sometimes it’s just incoherent stammering. Or something funny, that makes her smile. But this time it was something else, something that made her stomach flutter in a certain, strange way. She went back to bed, asking herself, what those words meant.

The question is still in her mind, joining her confusing thoughts about Fitz in general.

She needs to know. What are his dreams about?

They are sitting on their couch, watching some Marvel movie. Just an ordinary Saturday evening between roommates. Friends. Ordinary and cozy, and Jemma decides now or never.

“Have you always talked in your sleep?” She asks.

The reaction to her question is immediate.

Fitz flinches and drops the bowl of popcorn in his hands. It lands on the floor, sweet and salty popcorn spreading on the carpet.

Jemma frowns.

Fitz stares at her. The expression in his eyes changes from shock to embarrassment to horror in a heartbeat. His ears turn red. “I … I don’t talk,” he stammers, picking up a popcorn, that fell into his lap.

“Yes, you do,” Jemma says. “And you are loud.”

“Loud,” Fitz repeats tonelessly. The look in his eyes gets empty.

“Yes. Loud enough that I can hear.”

Fitz grabs a pillow and presses it to his chest like a shield. “What do I talk about?” He asks hoarsely.

Jemma tilts her head. “Well. Sometimes it’s just rambling. But sometimes, you’re talking to me. You once said, Simmons, stop eating my sweets, I need them.” She hesitates. The words are burning on her lips. She needs to know. “Another time,” she says, her heart beating wildly in her chest. “You said, Simmons. You’re so beautiful.”

Fitz freezes. “Oh God,” he whispers. And he hides his face behind the pillow.

Jemma swallows. She nervously bites her lip. “Fitz?”

No answer.

“Do you really think I’m beautiful?”

Fitz’s face appears above the pillow. It’s a deep red, but his eyes are blue like an ocean on a bright sunny day and they are sincere. “Yeah,” he breathes. “I do.”

Jemma inhales sharply.

“Um,” Fitz whispers, “I’m … I mean …”

Whatever he was about to say dies in the void, because Jemma leans forward and kisses him on the mouth.

Chapter Text

Melinda wakes up abruptly, one hand already under the pillow to reach for her gun – only to discover that it isn’t there. Confused, she blinks into the darkness, her body tense and her breaths shallow. Where …

She doesn’t understand.

Her mind screams danger. Her senses are overwhelmed. A suffocating smell of smoke still in her nose and the ear-piercing sound of screams in her ears. An image in her head, so clear just a heartbeat ago but now fading into vague shadows without contours … A dream, she finally starts to understand. It was just a dream.

She isn’t surprised. She has enough pictures for endless of such dreams. Enough demons to haunt her almost every second night.

Now, that she doesn’t fear an immediate attack anymore, she concentrates on her surroundings. She can hear a faint rushing … the sound of the ocean. Calm and steady. Beside her, a warm body. Phil, a solid presence. She looks at him for a moment. The dim light of the halfmoon falls on his peaceful face, and she feels a sudden but fierce rush of desperate love.

She reaches out a hand, carefully touching his bare arm. Maybe, because some part of her still doesn’t quite believe this is real. When her fingers run over his arm, his warm skin, she exhales shakily. The tension leaves her body completely.

It’s good to be sure.

But still … This isn’t meant to last forever, is it?

Involuntarily, she tightens her grip on Phil’s arm.

He makes a noise in his sleep and shifts on the mattress.

She realizes she's waking him up. But she can’t bring herself to let go. Not now.

She watches as his eyes slip open slowly. He turns his head and blinks at her. “Mel?” His voice sounds drowsy. “Mel, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” she whispers, laying her head on his chest. “I was just dreaming … I thought I’m somewhere else.”

He hums. Even half asleep, he knows her. She can see it in his eyes. “You’re here,” he mumbles, reaching for her hand. Melinda intertwines her fingers with his and nods. 

“Yes,” she breathes. “I’m here.”

Just where I need to be, she thinks.  

Phil squeezes her hand. “I love you,” he murmurs barely audible. Soft and sincere.

Then promise me we won’t have to say goodbye, she thinks. “I love you too,” she says out loud.

He falls back asleep soon. His breaths slow and even again. Melinda listens to them and the rushing of the ocean outside and feels safe. For the moment.  

Maybe that’s enough, she thinks. Maybe.

But a voice in her head says no. And she knows deep down that it’s right. She can’t go back. She’s made her decision long ago. Enough pictures.

That’s why she won’t give up.

Eventually Melinda falls back asleep on Phil’s chest. Her last thought is

I want my family back. It’s the only family I've ever had.

Chapter Text

Robin is drawing. Of course, she is. Fitz hardly remembers a moment when he saw her without her crayons.

He watches her for a while. It's kind of soothing to be sitting next to her at the table. It's quiet and Robin's movements are a steady rhythm. She never stops looking at him. Or to ask him questions he can't answer.

She just draws.

Her fingers move quickly over the paper, soon dropping a green pencil to grab a blue one instead. Concentrated frown and the tip of her tongue between her teeth. Her eyes focused and serious.

Her mind … it’s like a puzzle, Fitz thinks. More complex and confusing, than any human being could understand. He wonders if she knows, how it feels like, to be missing a piece you desperately want to get back. Or how it feels to want to get rid of something, that’s burned into your mind and will never go away. He shudders involuntarily.

Past, present, future. It’s all inside Robin's head, Fitz knows. She has seen different versions of the person she knows. Of him. For a moment, Fitz wishes he could ask her, if every version of him would end up like the one that died while he himself was sleeping … He hopes that she doesn't only remember versions of him that were mean to her. He really hopes so ...

He startles, when he notices Robin staring right at him. She stopped drawing. Her fingers are still holding a red crayon.

“Are you alright?” Fitz asks her.  

Robin doesn’t answer. She blinks. Suddenly, she gets up from the table and walks over to her bed almost automatically. There’s a bunch of finished pictures laying on it. She searches through them, a concentrated frown on her face. Finally, she seems to find what she’s searching for, pulling out a single paper.

She turns around and hands it to Fitz.

“Thank you,” he murmurs and takes the picture, frowning.

He looks down at it and his eyes widen in surprise. The picture shows three people. Two men and a woman, standing in front of a big house with a steaming chimney, holding hands. He instantly knows who the persons are. Jemma, Deke and him. There’s no doubt. Robin drew him with blue eyes, curls and a scruff. He even sees a wedding ring on one of the drawn fingers. Robin doesn’t do that much detail often. Just for a few pictures. Maybe for the ones, that seem important to her.

Robin watches him, chewing on a finger.

“Do you think that’s going to happen?” Fitz asks her, a small smile spreading on his face.  

Robin doesn’t smile back. She gifts him one of her rare clear moments instead. “Yes,” she says. Just that.

Then, she goes back to work on her current picture.

“Thank you,” Fitz murmurs, although he doesn’t think she even hears him. He looks at the picture again. Everyone on it is smiling. And a bright yellow sun shines on them. It’s a happy picture. A little piece of hope. Exactly what he needs right now.

Chapter Text

First comes emptiness.

Sheer nothingness.

She sits on her bed, staring into the void and listens to her blank mind.

There’s heavy fog of disbelief, hiding the truth.

But with every moment that passes, with every moment she’s alone, the fog is lifting.  

And when it’s gone, when the raw truth lies in front of her, she isn’t ready.

The pain hits her out of nowhere.

It’s blinding. It’s burning. It comes in waves and forms an endless ocean inside her.

She doubles over and gags.  

~

Next comes rage.

It’s white and hot. She throws everything within her reach against the walls.

She screams at the void. She screams from the inside and the outside.  

Give him back.

Give him back.

Give him back!

~

In the end comes never-ending sadness.

It’s the point of almost acceptation.

It’s when she breaks down and cries.

She runs outside because the building is cluttered with memories. They are in every corner, lurking for her. She flees from them. She runs to the shore and sinks on her knees into the sand.

Her gasping wails and sobs drown in the heavy rushing of the indifferent waves.

The ocean in front of her is like a cruel reminder of how far they’ve gone, only to end up like this.

She sits in the sand until it gets dark.

The stars appear above her.

And Daisy finds her.

She wraps her arms around Jemma and rocks her.

There are no words.

Because no words could explain things or lessen her pain.

The time passes around them.

And the world keeps on turning, although a piece is missing.

~

After the end, she goes through Fitz’s things, frantically collecting everything that is a piece of him.

She buries her nose in his jumpers and looks at his sketches and notes, hastily drawn on crumpled papers. She soaks his belongings with new tears.

She eventually finds his postcard from the future.

Working on it. Fitz.

She stares at the words.  

And that’s when it hits her.  

Paradox. Anomaly.

Her eyes well up again, when she gets it.

Fitz is still sleeping. Frozen in space. On his way to save them.  

She only has to find him.

It’s a bit of hope in her ocean of pain.

But it doesn’t change what she’s feeling.

Because her husband is dead. That happened. He’s gone. And she’s going to mourn him forever.

Chapter Text

Jemma Simmons opens the door, lifting a heavy rubbish bag with an annoyed groan.

She’s just about to leave her flat, when a reddish shadow dashes past her through the door.

“No!” Jemma yells angrily. She knows exactly what happened. One of her cats decided to explore the hallway again. And it’s not a big surprise when she realizes the specific misbehaving cat is Maisy, her little troublemaker.

Jemma has a lot of cats. They’re all from the regional pet shelter. When she has some time, she works there as a volunteer and sometimes it happens, that she just can’t leave a cat there. If she could, she would take them all with her. By now, she has five cats and more don’t fit into her flat. Her mum already calls her a crazy cat lady.

Her cats all have their own character and need special care. Some are disabled, blind or deaf, others are traumatized by past abuse. She loves them all to the moon.

Maisy is a very restless cat. She had to change her home a few times in her short life already. Jemma guesses her previous owners didn’t like her quirks. She scratches at doors and demands attention in a very clear loud way. And she’s quick. Unstoppable, when she wants to explore something. Like the hallway, now. Maisy knows exactly Jemma doesn’t want her to run out of the flat, but well, when did Maisy ever truly listen …

“Maisy!” Jemma calls sternly and the cat looks back at her over the shoulder with wide eyes. “Come back!”

But right in that moment, a door opposite opens, and a man steps out.

Immediately, Maisy runs towards him, tail raised high in the air. She rubs her head against his legs a few times and the man makes a surprised noise, looking down on her. Finally, Maisy runs into his flat with a happy meow.

“Oh no. I’m so sorry!” Jemma calls and walks towards her neighbour.

The man looks at her with a puzzled look and she realizes, he’s about her age.

He holds a rubbish bag in his hand, so obviously he had the same plan as Jemma.

Jemma knows she has seen him briefly from time to time, but now, that she’s standing right in front of him, she sees blue eyes and fluffy curls and a warm smile. He’s attractive.

“It’s al … al …,” he starts, but a sneeze cuts off his words and he mumbles an apology while fumbling around for a tissue. “I’m allergic to cats,” he explains.

“Oh. I’m so sorry,” Jemma says again. She starts to feel guilty when she realizes he will have to get rid of all the cat hairs in his flat later. 

The man shakes his head. “It’s okay,” he sniffles. His eyes are watery now. He sneezes again, holding the tissue in front of his nose.

It looks kind of adorable.

Jemma searches for something to say and decides to introduce herself. Being polite surely is a good idea. After all, her cat is exploring his flat.

“Jemma,” she says, reaching out the hand that’s not holding the rubbish bag.  

He smiles and takes it. “Fitz," he says.

There’s a dull noise coming from inside his flat. It sounds like Maisy found something to throw off a table. She likes that.

Jemma sighs. “I’m really really sorry. She’s just so curious.”

“It’s alright. I love cats. If it wasn’t for that bloody allergy, I would have one too.”

“You still could have a dog,” Jemma says. “Some cats, like Maisy, aren’t that different from them.”

“I don’t know if dogs are allowed here,” Fitz says.

Jemma don’t know what to say to that, so she just shrugs.

There’s a moment of slightly awkward silence between them.

Maisy finally decides that she has seen enough of Fitz’s flat. She comes out of it, looking up at them with wide green eyes, sparkling in innocence.

Jemma shakes her head at her and goes to open the door to her flat for the naughty cat, who disappears inside immediately. Jemma closes the door before another cat can stick a curious nose out and walks back to Fitz.

“Are you about to take the trash out too?”

“Yeah.”

“Then we have the same way.”

He chuckles. “Looks like it. Can I help you with that rubbish bag?”

“Thanks.” She smiles at him and hands it to him. 

They go downstairs together, and she asks him, “Well Fitz, what are you doing here in this city of barely-any-sunshine and lots-of-depressing-rain showers?”

He laughs. “I’m studying engineering. You?”

“Biochemistry.”

“Ah, interesting.”

Just like that, they start talking and can’t stop, even after they got rid of their rubbish bags.

Chapter Text

It’s inevitable.

She knows it now.

She has to protect everyone else. Has to protect them from her. She is dangerous.

The wind is strong. It makes her stumble and she looks down into the clouds floating under her sadly.

“Jemma!” Fitz screams behind the glass that’s separating them.

She turns around to look at him one more time. Tries to memorize his face for eternitie. It's a mask of disbelief and horror. His eyes scream at her to stop.

I'm sorry, she thinks.

And falls.

She falls endlessly …

I wish there would have been another way …

She closes her eyes, ready for the impact.

But suddenly, hands reach for her. They grab her under her shoulders and lift her up. Solid. Strong. Something touches her face volatilely, soft and tickling. She catches a glimpse of clean blank whiteness. Feathers …

She is pulled up and hears a rushing even sound around her, tuning out the wind.

What’s happening …

Eventually, she’s dropped and she lands on her knees hard. On solid ground.

Jemma looks around confused.  

She’s back in the bus.

The floor around her is covered with shattered glass.

Fitz is crouching in front of her, breathing heavily.

When she looks at him, her heart seems to miss a beat. Her eyes widen in shock. That … that can’t be. He … he has … Wings. He has wings.  

They’re pure white and huge, spread out around his body, barely fitting inside the space.

Jemma stares at them. Her mind is blank.

Fitz notices her gaze and he murmurs a curse. “You weren’t supposed to see this. I ... I lost control for a moment,” he says startled.  

He closes his eyes and furrows his brow. The next moment, the wings disappear, as if they’ve never been there.

Jemma can’t help but pinch herself. Firmly.

It … it can’t be real.

It must be a dream.

But she doesn’t wake up.

Fitz seems to sense her confusion. He smiles weakly. “This is real, Jemma. Trust me.”

Jemma swallows. “You … Why … How ..." She can't find the words for the questions in her mind, that come all at once.

Fitz sighs resignedly. “I’m your Guardian Angel. I was sent to protect you. I’m sorry … But I wasn’t allowed to tell you. You should have never found out ...”  

Guardian Angel.

Her Guardian Angel.

Jemma blinks. Her best friend. Who was with her all the time, in college, in academy, is an angel? Involuntarily, she pinches the back of her hand again. And, of course, doesn’t wake up. Because she’s not dreaming.

“I’m sorry,” Fitz murmurs again, avoiding her eyes.

“So, all this time … you were protecting me from dangers?” Jemma asks puzzled.

She remembers that one time when she almost walked right on a busy street, focused on the textbook in her hands – and suddenly Fitz had been behind her, like out of nowhere, laying a hand on her shoulder to hold her back.

“You have to be more careful, Jemma,” he’d said softly.  

That wasn’t just great timing, she realizes now.

And Fitz nods. “Yes.”

Jemma exhales shakily. “Does everyone have a Guardian Angel?”

“No.”

“Why me?” Jemma asks curiously.

“You’re special,” he states. “You’re going to do something very important in the future.”

“Oh.” Jemma swallows. “Um. What exactly am I going to do?”

“You’re going to save the world.”

Jemma’s breath hitches. Her eyes widen. “Are you serious?” She asks stunned.

“Yeah. And by the way, your cure is effective. You can use it now.” He looks at her pleadingly. “And please … don’t do something like that again.”

Something in his voice tells her that he doesn’t say this only because he had to reveal himself to her …

*

Jemma can’t believe she’s best friends with a Guardian Angel.

And no one beside her knows.

Everyone around them treats Fitz completely normal.

But when they’re finally alone in the lab, she asks him careful questions.

“How did you become a Guardian Angel?” She asks.

“I died,” Fitz says matter of factly, while handing her a tool.

“Oh.” Jemma’s stomach drops. “I’m sorry.”

“Well. You don’t have to be. At least it wasn't meaningless. In my earlier life I've been a firefighter. I've died while saving someone out of a destroyed building. Got hit and buried by debris,” he says. "My body was completely destroyed. There wasn't anything they could do." He shrugs. But his voice sounds haunted.

“And … you’re automatically a Guardian Angel for someone, after you die?” She asks on.

Fitz shakes his head. “Not everyone gets to be an angel. I guess I became one, because of how I died. And when you're about to be an angel, you actually have a choice. Either you’re a Warrior or a Guardian Angel.” He snorts. “That choice was rather simple for me. I don’t want to fight bloody demons. They're pests. I hope you never have to meet one.”

Demons … Oh my.

“So … Heaven does really exist, right?” Jemma asks stunned. And God too? This is crazy. She’s a scientist. She always wanted to only believe in what she can see with her own eyes. But then, she saw Fitz’s wings. They were real.

Fitz nods. “Yes. Heaven is as real as I am. But most people imagine it wrong. It’s like a city. Everyone has like, uh, their own apartment. Everyone has their own little heaven. I can’t tell you more,” he says, shaking his head. “Already told you way too much.”

“Wow,” Jemma murmurs. “I … this is crazy.”

Fitz smiles at her. “I know. It must be overwhelming for you.” He turns away from her and a bitter expression ghosts over his face.

Suddenly, she realizes he thinks she’s going to treat him differently from now on. She hurries to lay her hand on his arm and he looks down at it with wide eyes.

“This … it changes nothing, Fitz. You’re still my best friend,” she says softly. It's true. He's Fitz, who watches movies with her and eats snacks at midnight. Fitz, who studied with her and fell asleep on her bed, his mouth slightly open and snoring softly, which always made her giggle. He's Fitz.

He looks into her eyes and nods slowly. “Alright. And you … you’re my best friend too …”

“Yes. Always.”

"Always," Fitz echoes, but still, there's a faint shadow in his eyes.

*

They’re in a pod on the bottom of the ocean.

Fitz did something very human. He blames the great amount of time he has spent back on earth by now. 

He trusted someone and wanted to be their friend.

When the betrayal happened, he was just as hurt as Jemma and now he’s desperate, because they’re in a situation, that he can’t get them out of. Because of various reasons. All of which he's to blame for ...

His arm is broken and it hurts. It is supposed to heal, but nothing happens. He knows what that means. 

He's useless ... 

But he’s going to save Jemma’s life one last time. Because she has to live. Not only because she's going to save the world. Not only because of his mission. No. 

“I’m going to give you the oxygen Jemma.”

“Why would you do this to me?” She asks, tears filling her eyes. “You’re my best friend in the world!”

Fitz, her angel, looks at her with an adoring expression in his bright blue eyes. “Yeah, but you’re more than that, Jemma,” he says softly, with pain and sadness in his cracking voice.

Her breath hitches.

He smiles sadly. Then he cups her face in his hands. “Guardian Angels aren’t allowed to fall in love with mortals. You didn’t notice it, but I was already being punished for it. I lost a lot of my powers over the last months. My healing abilities and strength. And my wings … they are quite broken. I'm losing my feathers. I’m going to die again and return to heaven, to face the consequences. Guess I'm not getting to be an angel any longer. But it’s alright. It was worth it. I would do it all again. Remember. You’re special. I know now why. Not only because you’re going to save the world one time. But also, because you’re kind and pure. Take care of yourself, Jemma. You mean so much to me …”

“I can’t lose you,” Jemma sobs, pressing her face to his chest, soaking his shirt with her tears. “I can’t … I need you!”

“I will always be here,” he says, tapping a finger on her chest, where her heart is beating, and wraps his arms around her. “This body is just a shell I’m leaving behind. Maybe I’ll come back. I don’t know."

Her tears soak his shirt and she begs him not to leave.

But it’s inevitable.

He presses the button and her startled desperate scream is interrupted by water, consuming her world and senses.

In the end she takes his body with her.

She can’t leave him behind. She can’t.

*

Nine days.

This is how long Jemma’s sitting beside Fitz’s bed, staring at his motionless figure.

He’s still there. For some reason. At least his human form is. His heart is beating and there's some brain activity. She doesn't know how that is possible. But she doesn't really care. All she wants is to have him back with her.

Where is he right now? She wonders.

Is his soul in heaven? Is he punished for falling in love with her?

It isn't fair.

She fell in love with him too. Silently, slowly. She knows now. And it's tearing her apart.

On the ninth day, when she’s almost about to lose hope, his eyes flutter open.

The familiar blue in them sparkles, when he sees her.

A weak smile spreads on his face. “Hey.”

Jemma smiles back under tears, taking his hand. “Hey,” she breathes.

“I’m back,” he murmurs in wonder. “I got … a second chance. Because of my selfless actions, they said. And because, somehow, we’re bonded now. It’s some kind of old magic you know … Something you can't really reverse."

She laughs. “You know, I've always thought we’re somehow bonded anyway.”

He smiles up at her weakly. "Are you going to take me back? Even if I'm a quite useless Guardian Angel?"

"You're not useless. You mean everything to me," she says quietly and reaches out for him.

They hug and he makes a surprised noise. He's warm around her, as human as one could be.

Maybe they were always supposed to save the world together. 

Chapter Text

„You have to sleep.”

Jemma’s voice is soft and urging at the same time.

It rips Fitz out of his jumbled, confusing thoughts about time and dimensions and he sighs annoyed, squeezing his eyes shut tightly.

“You need rest,” Jemma tells him now.

Fitz knows exactly how her face would look while saying those words. He can imagine the combination of affection and mild worry in her eyes just fine. And he knows she would lay a hand on his shoulder. A warm soft hand.

But that’s just wishful thinking. Jemma’s voice is only in his head right now.

Because she’s gone. The whole team is gone.

They disappeared without a trace. Like someone had cut them out of this world. They disappeared and Fitz remained. That he is the only one who was left behind somehow feels like the punishment he thinks he’s deserving after what happened in the Framework.

Now he’s sitting in a prison cell and tries to find out what happened to her, them.

And with every hour that passes, he gets more desperate.

“You can continue working tomorrow,” Jemma says.

Fitz opens his eyes again. He stares at the void in front of him and blinks repeatedly. His eyes are teary. They burn. “You’re not here. So quit telling me what to do,” he murmurs.

There’s no answer.

Fitz sighs and looks back down on the book he was reading. The letters blur in front of his eyes. He suppresses a yawn.

He’s tired.

So tired.

Not only physically.

He’s tired of seeing the same four walls every day and of going through the ever-same rhythm the days are following now. He's tired of the voices in his head and the nightmares that are haunting him every time he manages to sleep for a few hours.

He doesn’t even know whether it’s day or night. It’s always cold and always dim in here.

He’s close to beg for some sunlight. Just a few minutes outside.

A wave of sudden dizziness makes everything sway around him and he groans, rubbing his temples. It’s true. He should sleep and continue working later.

But … he can’t. He forces himself to focus back on his task.

A solution.

He has to find a solution for this. Has to answer their questions. Hale’s questions.

Maybe, when he finds the solution, they will bring Jemma back to him. Maybe, they will allow them a moment together. He just needs that. A moment. He needs to see that she’s alright. Unharmed and safe. He just wants that moment. He doesn’t intend to ask for more.

The thoughts are racing in his head and he finally loses battle against sleep. He dozes off, his forehead resting on his unstable heap of books.

Time goes on. Weeks become months.

Fitz starts to lose hope.

He isn’t making any progress. The solution is hidden in the dark.

The voices in his head get louder in the meantime.
Jemma, The Doctor, Ward, sometimes even his father. They’re alternating and it’s getting more and more difficult to ignore them. Fitz tries meditation. May once taught him some. But he can’t shut his mind off. It’s useless. He is useless.

Fitz throws the books against the walls and screams.

Jemma tells him to calm down.

He screams at her too.

Hale begins to lose hope too, apparently.

She looks at him with a combination of anger and reluctant pity. Fitz hates that look. It’s only confirming what he already suspects.

He’s losing his mind for good.

He will go mad in this cell.

There’s a crack in his mind and it’s just a matter of time, until it’s going to make his walls crumble down.

When The Doctor starts to appear in front of his eyes, now a voice with a body, Fitz starts to think for the first time, that it’s maybe for the better, if Jemma’s far away from him.

The thought hurts. A lot.

This time he doesn’t throw books against the walls. He bangs his head against it and the pain is a sharp white raging wildfire in his head. It makes the Doctor blur and flicker.

Fitz feels grim triumph.

But then Jemma says softly, “Don’t do that, Fitz. Hurting yourself is not a solution.”

And the thought of her face, her pleading eyes, make him feel guilty. He doesn’t hurt his head another time, although sometimes he feels like he should bang it against the wall until everything is quiet.

When Hunter appears sometime after six months, like out of nowhere, Fitz first thinks he’s a hallucination too.

He doesn’t allow himself to feel relieved or even hopeful. He has learned to be suspicious of everything he sees.

But when they hug and he feels Hunter’s presence  – warm, solid, real – he almost starts to cry.

Later, when they’re driving through a lonely countryside, Fitz stares outside and feels overwhelmed by all the bright colours. By the endlessness of the world.

Eventually Hunter asks, “You had a rough time in there, didn’t you, mate?”

Fitz sighs and closes his eyes. “You have no idea.”

Chapter Text

It’s almost 4 am.

Fitz is still awake.

He’s sitting on the bed in his small bunk and stares on the screen of his laptop, absently eating Smarties.

He actually likes this. Being awake when no one else around him is.

It’s wonderfully quiet.

There’s barely any noise beside the soft humming of the Bus’ engines, the clattering of the keyboard and his own breath.

In the middle of the night, when the sky outside is the darkest, there’s no stress. There’s no one asking him to solve a problem in under 30 seconds. No one is shouting his name repeatedly or is shouting at each other because they are on the verge of a disaster - Again.

Sometimes Fitz has doubts. Actually he has them all the time now.

He wouldn’t tell Jemma, because he knows she would feel even more guilty then …

After all, it was her idea. Of course he would follow her anywhere, but still … he isn’t entirely sure he is made for this.

Only two missions and they have already been in a firefight AND a kidnapping. And they lost their former professor to a way too powerful rare element.

Fitz guesses he’s kind of overwhelmed and he really hopes, no one noticed he has already vomited two times.

He’s interrupted in his quite downing thoughts, when he hears a soft "No" from the other side of the wall.

Skye.

Fitz frowns and stops eating, listening closely.

“No …” Again.

It sounds distressed.

Next comes a gasp and a moan.

She probably has a nightmare.

Fitz sighs. He’s familiar with night terrors. They aren’t pleasant but well, they are only dreams and are going to stop. At least they can’t hurt you.

After a few seconds, he hears bedsprings creaking.

Maybe she woke up. 

Fitz swallows. He should check if she’s alright, right? But … He doesn’t know her. Not really.

And she doesn’t know him.

Judging by the looks she’s given him and Jemma sometimes, she maybe even thinks they are some weird aloof creatures. It’s nothing new to him. He knows these looks from his school time.

Still.

She’s kind of nice and new here. He should definitely at least ask her, if she’s okay.

Hesitantly, Fitz gets up and leaves his bunk, knocking at Skye’s carefully. “Skye?”

For a moment, nothing happens. But then, the door opens and Skye stands in front of him, her hair a mess and her eyes reddish. “Fitz,” she says surprised.

“Um. Just wanted to ask if you’re alright … I heard you … I mean … You were having a nightmare?” He stammers and calls himself an idiot for not being able to talk coherent with someone new for once.

“Uh. Yes. Nightmare.” Skye chuckles nervously. “Well. It’s over now.”

“And you’re okay?” Fitz asks.

Skye blinks. She opens her mouth and he thinks she’s going to say yes, to make him go away. But instead, her eyes well up and she breathes, “No.”

“Oh.” Fitz scratches the back of his head. “Um. Well. I could …”

“Do you want to come in?" Skye asks and it sounds almost hopeful.

“Of course,” he says surprised and follows her inside her bunk.

She drops on her bed and after some hesitance, he sits beside her, keeping a decent amount of distance.

Skye looks at him attentively. “Why are you still awake?” She asks.

Fitz shrugs. “I’m used to staying up late and sleeping little. Since academy. And I like it. It’s calmer at night.”

Skye nods understandingly. She sighs and fumbles with the buttons on her blue pyjamas restlessly.

Fitz tries to figure out his next words, but then he has an idea. “Here.” He hands Skye his half empty pack of Smarties, which he had put into the pocket of his cardigan when left his bunk. “You want some?”

“Oh my gosh, chocolate!” Skye laughs and grabs a handful, throwing it in her mouth. “Thanks. Chocolate is like always-helping medicine … Even for such stupid nightmares,” she says, sighing.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Fitz asks.

Skye hesitates. Finally, she nods and draws in a deep breath. “It’s just … What Quinn said to me, stirred up a few, uh, unwelcome memories.” Her eyes narrow and she shifts on the bed nervously. “You know … I’m an orphan. I had some foster families. When I met them, I always tried my best. I always wanted to please them, so I could stay. But they still sent me back. I’m dreaming about the moment I’m standing in front of the orphanage, holding the hand of a nun, while the foster parents drive away again. In those dreams I relive the feeling of being left behind. And it hurts. It hurts damn much.”

Skye stops talking. There’s a distant expression in her eyes.

Fitz swallows. The feeling of being left behind.

A memory stirs in the corner of his mind. His mother, sitting at the table, her head in her hands.  When Fitz – but he was Leo back then. He was Leo and he was only ten years old … - asks her what’s wrong, she tells him his father has left. But, she says, we’re going to be fine, darling. We’re a team and we’re going to be fine … And she was right. But still, the certain kind of pain in his heart has never really faded, no matter how hard he wanted the feeling to go away …

“My father left,” Fitz blurts out. “When I was ten.”

“Oh.” Skye throws him a shocked glance. “I’m sorry.”

Fitz shakes his head and sighs. “No. Don’t be. It probably was for the best …” He doesn’t say more about this, but Skye looks at him, as if she senses what he means.

They sit there in silence for a moment, now knowing, that they share some certain kind of feeling. The feeling of being not good enough for someone.

Eventually, Skye yawns and stretches, groaning.

“Do you want to sleep?” Fitz asks.

“No. I don’t think so.” She sighs. “I don’t feel like I would be able to fall back asleep now …”

“We could play some computer game. Like an Ego Shooter. It sometimes helps to get rid of the pent up anger,“ Fitz suggests. Playing Computer Games has helped him a lot in the past. It’s a good distraction.

Skye’s eyes lit up. “That would be awesome! Didn’t think you would play Computer games.”

Fitz raises an eyebrow. “Why?”

“Well … You’re a genius. And Simmons is too. I’ve never known a genius before,” Skye says, blushing a bit.

Fitz laughs. “Trust me. We’re not that, uh, different. Besides, you’re kind of a genius too.”

Skye looks at him surprised. “I am?”

“Yeah. What're able to do with a computer … it’s marvellous!”

Skye’s mouth drops open. She looks stunned.

Maybe, Fitz thinks, maybe she barely gets any compliments.

“Thanks,” Skye finally breathes and smiles timidly.  

They play games the rest of the night.

“You know,” Fitz eventually says, “These foster parents. They were stupid for not seeing your value. But see, the life you were living led you here, and maybe this is your family now. Shield. We.”

“Maybe,” Skye says, and she doesn’t unfix her gaze from the screen, but there’s a smile lingering on her face.

Maybe some of these stressful situations he didn't think he would experience, are worth such moments that feel like making a friend, Fitz muses.

Chapter Text

Chapter Text

It's six in the morning and Jemma comes walking into the living room yawning.

When Fitz looks at her from where he's already sitting on the couch surrounded by heaps of papers - they have an important test soon and spend every minute studying together - he freezes and his eyes widen. Is she really wearing ... "Is that my shirt?" He asks, stunned.

Jemma stops dead, blinking and rubbing at her eyes. "Yes?" She says carefully. She's wearing one of his most favourite blue shirts. The sleeves are a bit too long for her, her hands disappearing in them. It looks adorable. She's adorable. And beautiful. And she's wearing his shirt. Fitz finds he can barley deal with this amount of information and he rubs the back of his head, thinking about something to say. but all that comes out of his mouth is: "Ah."

Jemma starts to look uncertain. She bites her lip. "Uhm. Because of the test I forgot to do the laundry. And I didn't find anything clean to sleep in. But somehow your shirt found its way into my drawer and ... You don't mind, do you?"

"No," Fitz says quickly. "No. I don't. Keep it. Uh. As long as you want to." He blushes.

Jemma smiles at him. "Thank you! I rather like it. It feels nice on my skin and it smells good." Now she blushes too.

And Fitz is still trying to process the last bit of information - if she likes the smell of his shirt that means she likes how he smells, right?! - when she's flopping on the couch beside him, her shoulder bumping against him. "So ... Where did we stop?" She asks brightly.

Fitz swallows heavily and shows her the right paper.

She beams at him and runs a hand through her hair, crossing her legs.

They continue to study and Fitz has troubles concentrating, but he tries hard to not show it too much.

He likes Jemma wearing his clothes a lot. It makes him feel warm inside. If she wants, she can have everything. Including his heart. But he might never tell her, because he's too afraid he's going to destroy what they have. What they have is more than he ever dared to dream of when he first saw her at the academy. He wasn't even able to talk to her. But now, it feels natural to have her with him, to have her sitting on his bed, eating take-away on the couch with her and watching movies, or seeing her in the bathroom, her hair dishevelled from sleep and her eyes heavy. All these moments make him incredibly happy and he would do anything to keep it like this. He couldn't stand if she'd look at him differently.

her wearing his shirt is not that much of a big deal. They're best friend and best friends do share things. It's normal.

That's what Fitz tells himself when Jemma also starts to use his comb. Or his socks. Because, she says, her things magically disappears. Fitz doesn't mind. He shares. Like a good best friend.

Chapter Text

Jemma walks through the narrow hallways in the local pet shelter and with every passing minute, she feels more desperate. Everywhere she looks, there’s another cat, looking up at her with wide curious eyes. Another cat with another sad backstory. Abandoned, left in a box on a parking place, saved from abuse … Cats with only one eye, cats with diseases, old cats … It never ends.

If Jemma could, she would take them all.  

When she comes to a halt in front of a larger room with a glass front, she looks at a surprising lovely scene. A young man is sitting on the floor. He’s leaning against the wall and his legs are outstretched. Two cats lay on them, curled into balls. He  has another sleeping cat in his arms and is whispering to it softly. In front of her eyes, he presses a gentle kiss on the cat’s head and Jemma feels like her heart is melting. She’s aware she’s staring at him, but she can’t avert her eyes.

She doesn’t know how much time passes, until he looks up and notices her. His eyes meet hers for a short moment. They are of a deep blue and she still can’t look away. He does, when the cat in his arms moves. He looks down at it, and his long messy curls hide his face.

The next moment, a young woman working at the shelter appears beside Jemma, asking her if she already has discovered an animal she wants to adopt. Jemma just shakes her head, still looking at the scene in front of her. “Do you want to see the kittens too?” The worker asks, smiling.

Kittens. Oh God. Yes. Just what Jemma needs right now. A few tiny balls of fur wanting someone who loved them. Jemma swallows. But she nods, following the young woman, feeling a hint of regret. She wouldn’t have minded to watch the man with the cats draped all over him a little while longer. There is something about him, that calls out to her, it seems.

The kittens are painfully cute. Jemma has to leave after a few minutes, not even daring to touch one of them like the worker suggests, because she feels like she would never let them go again. But she just can’t take more than two cats into her small flat. Later, when she’s done studying and can afford something bigger, she will adopt as many animals as possible. Not only cats. Also a dog. And maybe some parrots, because almost no one seems to know or wants to understand, how to treat them properly.

With these thoughts in her head, Jemma returns to the hallway with the other cats. She walks right into the man from before. He’s carrying a few bowls which clearly hold cat food and when she appears in front of him all of a sudden, he yelps and almost drops them. Jemma apologizes frantically and reaches out to take two bowls of him. “Thanks,” the man says in a Scottish accent and smiles sheepishly. “Uhm, are you here to adopt a cat?”

Jemma sighs. “Yes. Well. I’m trying. I’m a bit … Uh.” She shrugs.

“Overwhelmed?” He asks, and she hears the understanding in his voice. She nods.

He hums, his eyes filling with a combination of sadness and fondness. “I get that. They are great. Every single one of them deserves a forever home. And more love I can give them.”

“You … Are you working here?”

“Uh, it’s kind of a part time job. I’m studying engineering and whenever I have some time to spare, I spend it here,” he explains, blushing. “I’m … uh, not exactly great with humans. Have never been the social type. I don’t like parties and such things. The animals here are quiet and love you no matter what you do, and … I’m oversharing again, sorry.” He’s blushing harder, looking down at the cat food that smells of fish rather penetrant.  

Jemma shakes her head. “No, I liked to hear you talking. I’m not that social too. I’m studying Biochemistry and I’m basically learning all the time. I want to have pets because I think they would help me to be … a bit more patient with myself. And of course, they are great company. I think you’re doing a wonderful thing here. Giving love to those who don’t get enough of it,” she says, smiling at him.

He shrugs and suddenly his eyes widen. “Oh. I’m sorry. I didn’t even introduce myself. I’m Fitz. And … I don’t have a free hand for you to shake, sorry.” He grins.

She laughs. “Jemma. Jemma Simmons. And I can’t offer you a hand as well, unfortunately.”

“Uhm, just give them back to me. You’re not working here and it wouldn’t be right to ask you …”

“No. Please, show me where you bring them? I don’t mind helping,” Jemma says quickly. In fact, she already asks herself, if the shelter maybe could need a new worker.

Fitz’s eyes lighten up. “If you wish. I can show you everything. And tell you everything about the cats. I’m sure we will find some for you. Or rather, the cats will find you.”

Jemma chuckles. “That would be nice.”

She follows Fitz down the hallway, feeling warm inside.

Chapter Text

Jemma's soulmate lies a lot.

She watches the words appearing on her arm and shakes her head. Why does it have to be lies? Why can't it be like ... the first words he says to her? Or some of his nice thoughts? She really has no luck at all. With a sigh, she reads the words. "I'm fine." She frowns. This is a lie? Why does he have to lie about being fine? A hint of worry starts to nag at her. The next words that appear are "I tripped on the stairs".

Jemma's heart starts beating faster. She closes her book and rolls over on her back, raising her arm and staring at the words. Where is her soulmate now? Who hears his lies? If those are lies, what is the truth?

She won't know until she finds her soulmate. It could take forever. Her whole life. She is only eleven now.

Jemma sighs and closes her eyes. She knows her soulmate barely gets words from her on his arms. She doesn't lie a lot. If she does, it's because of an emergency. Well. At least most of the times. The last lie she told was to protect someone else in school. She took the blame, because Susan already has enough trouble and she doesn't have any trouble at all. She got her first hour of detention. It was bearable.

The words are already fading. Thankfully, they don't stay forever. Otherwise, she would have rows of "I'm fine" or "I'm just tired" on her arms.

Jemma reaches for her book again. She can't do anything to help him. Not without knowing where he is. And that makes her sad. What if he's actually really close? He could live in her city. Could go to her school. The thought is thrilling. But how is she supposed to know. There are so many people around her. He could be anyone.

Wherever her soulmate is now, Jemma hopes he's going to be fine.

It's summer and the air in the lecture hall is barely breathable.

Fitz is late. He sinks on his place beside Jemma with a heavy sigh. Jemma looks up at him and frowns. "Are you alright?" She asks.

Fitz nods, reaching for his books. "I'm fine."

Jemma feels a familiar prickling on the skin of her arm. She flinches and looks at it. Her eyes widen when the words appear. "I'm fine."

Oh.

Fitz. Fitz is her soulmate? It ... makes sense. Kind of. He's her best friend in the world after all. And she often wished they would have found each other sooner.

Jemma doesn't know what to feel. Or to say. She's still staring at her arm, when she hears Fitz's voice, calling her. "Jemma? Are you even listening?"

She looks at him, blinking.

Fitz frowns. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Jemma says quickly.

Fitz hums, but the next moment, he gasps and looks at his arm. Jemma does too. Words appear on Fitz's pale skin. "Nothing."

"Uh," Fitz says and his ears are red.

Jemma swallows. "Do you want to get some ice-cream?" She asks softly. She has never missed a class before. But this ... this has to be an exception. She won't be able to listen now.

Fitz hesitates. But finally, he nods. "Okay."

Jemma insctinctively reaches for his hands and pulls him towards the door. Fitz stares at their intertwined hands, his eyes wide and disbelieving.

There's going to be a lot of talking. And fortunately, they are going to know, if the other one is telling the truth.

Chapter Text

Hunter buys doughnuts at a petrol station in the middle of nowhere. Fitz eats them like he’s starving. 

Hunter watches Fitz licking the sugar off his fingers and wonders. Wonders how long Fitz has been in his cell all alone and how fast he's lost hope.

  
Hunter wishes he could have been here months sooner. 

Hunter says, “I’m sorry.”

Fitz looks at him. He doesn’t say anything. But he shrugs, smiles it off and his blue eyes sparkle. God, Hunter missed him. His chest is heavy. His thoughts are light and hopelessly hopeful.

I’m here now, Hunter thinks. I’ll stay. 

Chapter Text

„No,“ Daisy says. „Absolutely not.”

Jemma chuckles and takes her girlfriend’s hand, squeezing lightly.

Hunter pats Daisy’s back and grins. “Come on. It’ll be fun.”

Daisy wants to laugh, but it’s stuck in her throat. Fun. Of course.

Daisy and Jemma are at the fair with Fitz and Hunter and everything has been great so far. Daisy had a lot of pink cotton candy. Her lips still taste sugar-sweet. She rode a way too wild carousel with Jemma, hugging her girlfriend close and watching her scream and laugh with a certain fluttery feeling in her stomach. Hunter won a giant plush unicorn at the shooting stand and Fitz is carrying it in his arms with the giddy look of someone who’s both slightly embarrassed and happy. Daisy bets he would be happier if it was a monkey though. She won a bracelet with little colorful stones for Jemma and Jemma's already wearing it. Yes. It really has been a great day so far.

But now, they are standing in front of a roller coaster – with loops. Three loops! – and everyone but Daisy seems determined to ride it. Even Fitz, although he looks paler than usual and is clinging to his unicorn. Daisy frowns. When everyone goes on the ride, she doesn’t want to stay behind. She can do this, right? It’s just a stupid rollercoaster.

She looks up and swallows. A cart is just now moving up the track slowly. Up and up. The rollercoaster looks so damn high. Why does it have to be that high?!

People are screaming when the cart tips over and races down into the first loop. Daisy’s stomach starts to feel funny. All of a sudden, she remembers a certain moment in her childhood. Something scary. Something she buried under other memories a long time ago … Daisy grimaces and turns away from the rollercoaster. “Sorry. I can’t do this,” she murmurs, her heart pounding. Her face burns with shame and confusion.

Jemma and Fitz look at each other, having one of their silent talks. Finally, Fitz grabs Hunter’s hand pulling him away. “We’re over there, getting some burnt almonds,” he says. Hunter looks mildly surprised and is about to say, “But what about the roller-“ when Fitz pinches his side and makes him shut up.

Jemma takes Daisy’s hand and leads her to the side, making her sit on a bench. “You’re alright?” She asks, stroking Daisy’s arm.

Daisy sighs. She feels angry at herself for how uncomfortable the rollercoaster is making her. She’s not a child anymore … “It’s stupid,” she murmurs. “I’ve been fighting aliens and I can fly if I want. But … I’m scared of riding a rollercoaster. Damn.”

Jemma shakes her head. “Fear is not rational, Daisy. You don’t have to be angry or ashamed or anything. It’s okay to not want to do things. You know me and Fitz still avoid swimming pools or lakes, don’t you?”

Daisy nods. “It’s just … It’s not that I don’t want to. I don’t want to spoil the fun. However, … it’s not only the rollercoaster.” She takes a deep breath. “When I was ten, I went to a fair with my foster parents. They wanted to ride a rollercoaster with me, and it really wasn’t bad, it was child friendly, but … When we were at the top the second time, the cart stopped. It just stopped, and I was pressed against the buckle and it hurt and scared me. We didn’t move. There was a technical problem. I started to cry and scream, and no one could calm me down … Someone had to go up the steps beside the track, to get me out.” Daisy sighs. “I guess, I’m connecting this experience to every rollercoaster I see. Which … aren’t many? I’ve been on no fair since that day. This is my first one. And I already mess it up.”

“Oh Daisy,” Jemma says. Her eyes are filled with emotions. She leans over to hug her girlfriend. “What you went through as a child must have been so scary. Of course, such scary experiences shape our perception of things. You really don’t have to ride the rollercoaster. If you don't want to, I'm not going to ride too. We can do so many other fun things together. But … if you want to try it, if you want to beat that fear with a positive experience, I’m right there. I’m going to be at your side the whole time. And when we’re at the tip, I’m going to kiss you.”

Daisy chuckles. She already feels much better. Jemma's always making her feel better about things. About herself. “Now this is some motivation," she winks.

Jemma smiles. “So, what do you think?”

Daisy thinks. She looks at the rollercoaster, hears people screaming – but not only. She also hears laughter. She looks back at Jemma, into her sparkling honey eyes and feels the love overwhelming her, blinding out the fear. “I think, I can do it if you’re with me,” Daisy says quietly, and Jemma beams. “You’re safe,” she promises, cupping Daisy’s face in her hands. “You’re safe with me.”

When Daisy actually sits in the cart, her heart is pounding, and her mouth is dry. But Jemma’s beside her, holding her hand firmly in hers. She’s smiling and Daisy draws strength out of this smile.

The cart moves up and Daisy marvels at the sight laying in front of her. They are high. And the sun is just settling down in the distance, bathing everything in golden light. “This is beautiful,” Daisy murmurs. Jemma looks at her and smiles. When they arrive at the top, she lays a hand on Daisy’s cheek and kisses her passionately. Daisy sinks into this kiss, not breaking it, when the cart starts to move down. But when they go into the first loop she has to back away, to hold on to something, laughing as the wind is pulling her hair back.

It’s not that bad. Not with Jemma beside her.

And when it’s over, Daisy feels proud.  

Chapter Text

“I’m tired,” Daisy announces.

She’s with Fitz and Jemma, two people who know her – who know exactly what she means. She’s not tired like “I have to go to bed because it’s late or I haven’t slept much last night” – tired, but tired as in “I’m done with this life and want to escape it”.

They’re sitting in a bar in a village not far from the Lighthouse, drinking some proper non-alien cocktails decorated with cherries on little wooden pins and paper umbrellas.

Since it’s the middle of the week, the bar isn’t too crowded. There are only a few groups of young people, spending their evening like normal people do, talking about normal things, like how boring the lecture today was, who the lecturer is dating secretly or what’s off about this one new student who always comes to university barefooted.

The radio plays the newest pop songs. The kind of simple happy uncomplicated music that you automatically connect to images of a beach, the ocean and people wearing sunglasses. Holiday music.

“We should go on vacation,” Daisy murmurs absently and Fitz makes an approving noise. “We deserve a vacation.” She points her straw at Jemma. “Where do we go, Jems? The Seychelles? Egypt? Or Mallorca? I don’t care as long as I don’t have to do anything at all the whole day.”

“Can we go somewhere where the sun isn’t going to roast me?” Fitz murmurs.

“Fitz, sun blocker exists you know?” Daisy says, grinning. “And you have two girlfriends who would love to apply you with it.”

“Oh,” Fitz says and Daisy sees how his mind starts to develop some images. “Alright. I guess beach is fine,” he finally murmurs.

“Oh, I don’t know. What about vacation in space?” Jemma asks, her lips twitching.

Both Fitz and Daisy almost spit out their drinks. “Oh God. No. Never again. I have been trying to forget space exists,” Fitz croaks.

“Same,” Daisy says dryly. “That was a joke, right?” She asks slightly alarmed.

Jemma chuckles. “It was a joke. But come on. There are so many amazing places we haven’t seen yet. Not some wasted planet, but beautiful places. And some things about space weren’t all that bad, right? Like,” she giggles and nudges Daisy, “Kitson?”

Daisy grins. “Well. I have to admit, that was crazy. Crazy in a not almost getting killed way, so yeah. We put getting high on an alien planet to things that were bearable about space. But still. Nope. Hard nope Jemma.”

Fitz stares at them bewildered, “Excuse me - what?!”

“We were high on alien sweets,” Jemma says, giggling again.  

Daisy just now realizes Fitz doesn’t know this story yet. How did they not tell him? But well. Some things got lost in the mess they had to deal with before and after they found Fitz. Pain nags at her at the memories trying to rise up to the surface. All the pain … the breaking apart. The missed reunions.

But enough of that. They’re here now. The past is in the past. Now the future lays ahead. Of course, there are things to process. Things to deal with. But not now. They have time.

“Everything was sparkling,” Jemma says in a dreamy voice, stirring her cocktail. “Everything … And oh, you were a monkey, Fitz.”

Fitz blinks. “What?”

“A monkey. Dancing on my straw.” Jemma smiles, her eyes sparkling as she’s diving into the memory. “But you tripped. And I searched for you, but I only found Daisy.” There’s a hint of past sadness in her voice now, and Daisy reaches over to put her hand on Jemma’s arm comfortingly.

Fitz shakes his head. “Oh. Wow. So you two went all trippy and had fun together, while the most fun I had was when I had to eat one of these horrible alien snails and almost vomited on one of my co-workers – who was an alien. Of course.”

„You did what?!“ Both Jemma and Daisy gasp, their eyes widening.

Fitz shrugs. „I had to! There was nothing else. I was basically starving. Everyone ate these horrible things, because they were everywhere! So I decided to try. It wasn’t a good idea, obviously.” He grimaces.

“How did it taste?” Daisy asks, feeling a kind of disgusted fascination at the thought of actually eating one of these things.  

Fitz shudders. “It felt so wrong in my mouth. It was like jelly, but it wasn’t sweet. I can’t even describe the taste. The aftertaste was like … like cheese. But not the good kind of cheese. It certainly was disgusting. My stomach didn’t like it, so it tried to get rid of it and I had to drink a ton of water, to get the taste out of my mouth.” He gags at the memory and quickly takes a sip of his cocktail. “Please let me forget everything that has to do with space and snails,” he grumbles.

“Ugh,” Jemma makes, laying a hand on his. “I’m so sorry you had to do this, Fitz. Don’t worry. In the future, there aren’t going to be any snails.”

Daisy nods. “Only good things from now on. We deserve them. So, who wants some nachos?”

Jemma and Fitz cheer.

It’s a good evening after all.

There’s some more vacation planning and maybe – maybe – they are going to get there some time. In the future.

Chapter Text

“Oh come on!” Hunter calls out when he lands on an expensive street again, where Jemma built four hotels already. He hands over the money with a grumpy expression on his face. Jemma takes it and makes a big show of counting the fake bank notes. She looks very satisfied. Fitz chuckles and reaches for the popcorn. Bobbi beside him yawns. It’s getting late. They have been playing Monopoly for a few hours. 

Hunter hasn’t had any luck at all. He either lands in prison, or pays rent, or gets the worst cards. Fitz thinks he’s almost broke. Jemma and Bobbi are clearly leading. They have the most hotels and the most money. Fitz is somewhere in the middle, with his train stations and a decent row of streets. He’s fine with that. Everything he’s doing with his lovers is fine. Especially now, with everything going on. It’s all a bit scary now. 

The virus and everything around it got way worse than they had anticipated. Now, almost every shop is closed and they weren’t supposed to leave their home for at least two weeks, because Bobbi and Hunter had contact to some people who were tested positive. Fitz is not really scared of getting the virus because they’re all young and healthy, but still. He would feel horrible if he passed it on to someone who is at risk.

They had planned a vacation in Spain but it’s supposed to be in three weeks and by now, Fitz can’t imagine it will be over then. It’s sad to think about cancelling the flight and hotel room,. Fitz has really looked forward to that vacation. bBut being here, all together and having fun and good food, is making it better. They have a huge heap of board games in the living room. Their cats Lucy and Smokey are sitting on top of it, watching them with half-lidded eyes. 

“Should I give you one of my hotels?” Jemma asks, side-eyeing Hunter’s very small heap of bank notes. 

Hunter shakes his head. “No it’s alright. I’m tired anyway. But wait until we play Ludo. That is my game.”

“But it’s based on luck,” Jemma says, her lips twitching. 

“Are you sure? I think it’s based on spite,” Hunter says, grinning. He curses when he lands on another one of Bobbi’s streets and sighs, counting his leftover money. “I think that’s it. I’m done. I’ll go to bed.”

“I’m coming with you,” Bobbi says, suppressing another yawn. 

“Same,” Fitz says, putting his money into the box. He could use some cuddling now. 

“So we all agree that I won?” Jemma asks and smirks, when everyone nods dutifully. 

They put the game away and fall into bed only minutes later, reaching for each other. Fitz puts his head on Hunter’s chest and hums contently when Hunter starts to play with his curls. So far, quarantine hasn’t been so bad. It’s going to pass and they’re going to be alright, Fitz thinks. He closes his eyes and falls asleep, listening to the symphony of even breaths around him.

Chapter Text

It is the first day of spring.

The sun is shining. The birds are singing and chasing each other across the sky boisterously.

Prince Kasius is outside for the first time in weeks. He hates the cold. It doesn’t do his skin any good. It gets dry and cracks. But today, the first really warm beams of the sun feel pleasant on his face.

Kasius walks around in the park in front of the castle and looks at the flowers blooming there. But secretly, from the corners of his eyes, he pays much more attention to another sight.

Sinara, the leader of his Life Guard, is standing not far away, watching over the park with a concentrated calm expression on her face. Her eyes are sparkling in the sun and when she blinks, Kasius gaze is focused on her long lashes. She’s beautiful. He keeps himself from letting his eyes roam over her lean body. Instead, he lowers his head and looks at the flowers instead.

His father and brother are already making fun of him for choosing a lanky thin female warrior over a bulky man with bulging muscles. If only they knew. Sinara fights like the fire. She’s fast and fierce and unpredictable. Just like the fire, she destroys everything in her path.

Kasius remembers how he saw her fighting the first time. The pictures are in his mind, clear and fresh, as if it had happened only yesterday.

She was fighting men for money. Money, she needed to survive. She was no royalty. Oh no. She was from the gutter. Kasius saw her knocking down a man much taller and broader than her, in only a few seconds. He was transfixed. She looked up at him, where he was sitting on his horse flanked by two warriors, her gaze firm and Kasius shuddered happily when he saw the hint of disgust and defiance in them.

“What’s your name?” He asked.

“Sinara,” she said reluctantly.

“Sinara …” Kasius repeated. The name sounded strange and sweet on his tongue at the same time. “Sinara. Do you want to fight for me?”

She looked surprised for a moment. But she nodded.

“Where did you learn to fight like that?” Kasius asked her.

A shadow flicked over Sinara’s face. “I had to survive,” she said curtly.

Kasius admired her.

Now, he admires her even more.

He watches her look up at the sky and quickly averts his gaze when her eyes flicked over to him.

His heart is pounding.

Kasius wishes he could ask Sinara to dinner or even to a walk in the park with him, without risking rumours. Without having his father appear here to ask him not to bring shame to the family’s name. His father who will undoubtedly bring another princess soon. Kasius sighs.

Later, when Sinara disappears inside the castle and another warrior is taking her place, Kasius goes to find some flowers. He puts them into a vase and leaves them in Sinara’s room. It’s sparse. The walls are grey and the flowers shine bright there.

Later, Sinara will wonder who put it there, he knows.

Will she smell at them later? Will she close her eyes – the eyes with the long dark lashes … - and will she realize they are from the park?

Maybe.

Sinara might never know. Or … She already does know. Kasius doesn’t know which option might hurt more. 

Chapter Text

It’s a mild summer day and Lance takes Fitz home with him after school.

The two teenagers are walking there instead of taking the bus, although it’s far. But the sun is shining properly for the first time in ages, and they both enjoy the warmth on their faces. They are walking close together and sometimes, their shoulders bump together in a friendly way.

Fitz knows the way well. He could find the apartment Lance lives in with his mother easily on his own. He followed Lance there often enough. 

Lance knows Fitz doesn’t like to go home. It’s quite obvious. Fitz is always the one staying at school as long as possible, doing his homeworks in the empty classroom. He also doesn’t take the bus home. He walks. The longest way possible.

Lance hates Fitz’s father without knowing him. Sometimes, he wants to pay him a visit, just to tell him what an amazing son he has. Lance knows he has a terrible crush on Fitz. He’s kind, smart and his eyes are a different shade of blue almost every day. Hunter loves to count them. 

Maybe he could find the courage to tell Fitz, someday, he thinks when he unlocks the door and lets Fitz into the apartment first.  

At the moment, Lance is all alone at home. His mother is visiting her sister in Alabama for a few days. That’s awfully far away and Lance is looking forward to a week of playing computer games the whole day, eating pizza out the box without someone complaining and only watching what he wants to see on tv. 

His mother never minds that he brings Fitz along a lot. She likes him. Still, it feels very different when they are alone at the flat. When they are all alone in Hunter’s - way too messy … - bedroom. When Fitz sits on his unmade bed and smiles up at him, his eyes sparkling. Lance’s heart seems to fall. Feels strange.

“You want to play some shooter?” He asks. Fitz nods. “Sure.”

They are playing for quite a while and the familiarity of this, of feeling Fitz beside him while they are trying not to get shot by assassins, is calming Lance’s nerves. But his heart is still pounding.

It’s early evening, when Fitz’s stomach grumbles. Fitz blushes. Lance grins. “You’re hungry?” Fitz nods and Lance thinks. He could order pizza. But … Somehow, he wants to do better. They are alone. He could do anything. Suddenly, an idea sparks and his eyes light up. Fitz frowns at him, when he jumps off the bed. “Stay here,” Lance says, and leaves the room.

He hurries to the kitchen and hopes everything he’s going to need, is there. It is. He smiles, rubs his hands and begins.

When Fitz comes into the living room, his eyes widen. He looks at the laid table. “You made Spaghetti?” He asks, surprise in his voice.

Lance swallows and rubs the back of his head. “Uh, yeah. I can’t really do anything more complicated. I hope you like it.” That’s it, he thinks with a sudden calm clarity. He hates spaghetti. Why didn’t you order pizza. Or Chinese. Or … 

Fitz grins. “I love Spaghetti,” he says and sits down. 

“Oh. Great!” Lance sits down as well and starts to put Spaghetti on Fitz’s plate, who watches him with an unreadable expression on his face.

Later, they are sated and Fitz offers to help with the dishes, but Lance shakes his head and they sit on the couch together. 

Lance looks at Fitz and sees a little splotch of red on the other boy’s cheek. He clears his throat. “You have a bit sauce there …” Almost unconsciously, he  reaches out to wipe the sauce away with a finger.

Fitz’s breath hitches.

Lance’s finger lingers a bit longer than it should, probably. He pulls it back and licks the sauce off. Fitz stares at him with wide open eyes. Just when Lance starts to feel uncomfortable, Fitz exhales shakily, leans over and presses a kiss on Lance’s lips. It’s shy. Soft and volatile. Gone almost as fast as it came. But it happens. And when Fitz pulls back, he looks worried. So Lance hurries to return the kiss. Fitz makes a noise into his mouth, that sounds relieved and happy at the same time.

I was an oblivious idiot, Lance realizes in wonder.

He will never forget that his first kiss tasted like tomato sauce.

Chapter Text

"I like your lips."

Fitz frowns. He glances at Simmons who looks up at him with shiny wide eyes. She's clutchinig at his arm and hiccups, swaying slightly. "What?" Fitz asks.

"Lips. Your lips. They're nice. Want to touch them." And Simmons raises a shaky hand, trying to touch Fitz's lips with her fingers. But she ends up touching his nose instead, giggling breathlessly. "Nice."

Fitz smiles carefully. He's a bit worried. Simmons came into his room in the middle of the night, rambling about a party and stupid Milton and break up and Susan making her drink too much. The anger Fitz feels towards Simmon's so called friend and Milton, who is the absolute worst like always, fades into more worry when she sways against, making a surprised noise.

He tries to get her to sit on his bed, because he really doesn't want her to fall. His floor is covered with heaps of books. Falling into one of them wouldn't be very pleasant. He rather wants her to fall on the soft bed. So he guides her over, while she's still giggling, murmuring something about his lips. 

They make it through the room without stumbling and Fitz exhales a relieved sigh when she finally sits. Simmons pouts when he lets go of her arm and reaches for him, making grabby movements with her hands. "Come here."

Fitz hesitates. But then he sits down beside her, keeping a bit of a distance. He thinks he won't manage leading Simmons to her own dorm. She looks incredibly sleepy now. He's proven right, when she suddenly sags against him, sighing. "You're ... warm. Comfortable," she murmurs.

Fitz smiles. "And you're really drunk."

Simmons hums. She closes her eyes, slumping a bit more. She yawns and murmurs, "Tired." When Fitz slowly backs away, Simmons lies on the bed on her side and starts to snore softly. Fitz grins and rubs the back of his head. She looks adorable like this. He carefully takes off her shoes, covers her with the blanket and looks around with a frown. Where is he supposed to sleep now? He looks at Simmons and swallows. He's so tired ... Would Simmons be angry if he'd lie down beside her? They're best friends after all. They already sit so close together on the couch when they watch a movie, their shoulders brush against each other. She never complained about that so far. Fitz yawns and shrugs. He doesn't want to sleep on his books.

He carefully lifts the blanket and slips under it, positioning himself so that his feet are beside Simmon's head and his head beside her feet. That way, there's more space. He keeps his eyes open for another moment, listening to Jemma's soft even breaths. She radiates warmth. He could get used to this, Fitz thinks drowsily, his eyes slipping shut. Yeah. He could definitely getting used to it.

He sleeps like a rock.

Chapter Text

“Jemma,” Fitz says, pleads . “Jemma …” 

“Stop,” she hisses, her fingers tightening around the trigger of the gun she’s pointing right at his head. “Stop saying my name like that. You have no right. You will call me Doctor.”

Fitz sighs and he can’t help but smile weakly. “ Doctor Simmons. Please. Just … Give me another chance to prove I’m right about this world.”

Jemma glares at him. And, oh, she’s beautiful in her rage. Her forest-floor coloured eyes are shooting arrows. “I don’t want your lies. I don’t want your world.” 

“I love you,” Fitz says softly. 

Jemma blinks. Momentary surprise makes the gun twitch in her hand. But in the blink of an eye, she's steady again. “You don’t know me,” she says. “I don’t know you. And you mean nothing to me.” She takes some steps forward. She comes closer until he can smell her strange new heady perfume, until he can see all the sharp edges of her suit, until the gun touches his temple, solid and cold. It feels too real. “Say that. Say I mean nothing to you.” 

“No,” Fitz says. “I won’t lie like that. You mean everything to me. And together, we’re stronger than this, Jemma. The universe couldn’t stop us. The Framework is just a pebble compared to what we’ve been through together before.” 

Jemma stares at him. Her eyes fill with a hint of confusion. And maybe, Fitz thinks, maybe she will start to listen again. Maybe, she feels he’s right. Maybe …

Pain interrupts every coherent thoughts. White raging pain, coming from his shattered knee. Fitz sinks to the floor with a pained groan. Jemma shot him. The truth of that almost hurts more than the wound does.

The gun is spitting smoke.

Jemma looks down at him, with hard eyes and tight lips. She puts the gun back to his head and now, the steel feels too hot on his skin. “Liar,” she says. Liar.

Fitz closes his eyes. It hurts too much to look at her. He can feel the Framework aching around him. It’s going to collapse. Maybe, it will collapse with both of them still here. Maybe, he will collapse before the system does, like a puppet with cut strings, killed by the woman he loves. I’m sorry, Jemma. 

“You mean everything to me,” he says, because it feels right. It’s the antidote to what the system wants him to say. “Everything.” 

Jemma makes a noise. The gun pushes and Fitz’s breath hitches. He waits. 

Chapter Text

Fitz falls asleep soon after Hunter drives them away from the military prison.

He falls asleep with his face leaning against the cool windowpane and his arms wrapped around himself. His breaths even out and the lines of worry on his forehead flatten as his face relaxes. 

Hunter throws occasional glances at Fitz and something inside him is beyond relieved. He got Fitz out. Late, yes, but he got him out. Out of this cell, in which he had to spend six long months all alone. The thought alone is enough to send a rush of anger through Hunter. Fitz has been through enough already. He should be allowed to catch a damn break. 

He throws glances at Fitz and something inside him - something awakening with their reunion - wonders how it would feel like, to wrap his own arms around Fitz. To shelter him. To hold him while the world around them keeps on turning towards the inevitable mess. His chest warms with the mental image. 

But Fitz doesn’t know. Hunter never told him about his crush. It is probably stupid. Like a lot of things he thinks, does or wishes. 

Hunter drives on and when the road gets bumpy, Fitz startles awake. He jerks and looks around, his eyes still hazy from sleep. When they fall on Hunter, they widen slightly. Fitz looks confused. Maybe, Hunter thinks, he dreamt about the past and now it is mingled with the present. 

“Morning, sleeping beauty,” he says and chuckles. 

Fitz swallows. “How long was I asleep?” he asks, wiping his eyes. He sounds hoarse. 

“Not that long,” Hunter says. “But long enough to get a proper distance between us and that hellhole.” 

“Good,” Fitz says and looks out of the window. Nothing more. There has been a time, Hunter thinks, when Fitz rambled and laughed and his eyes sparkled. Now, he just looks serious and haunted and … like he is far away with his thoughts. 

“I have to get the team back,” Fitz murmurs. His frustrated exhale fogs the window pane. “I have to.” 

“I am going to help you,” Hunter tells him. “You are not alone with this anymore. We will pull through this somehow. Like we always do, right?” 

Fitz throws him a look and smiles timidly. It is something. “Right,” he repeats. “Thank you, Hunter.”

Hunter just nods. For a moment, his chest tenses and there seems to be a stone in his throat, preventing him from talking. He has the sudden premonition that soon, Fitz will be gone again. Soon, they will say goodbye again. Soon, Hunter will look after him again. And he will think again, that maybe, he should have said something . 

Bobbi told him once, he shouldn’t wait too long. Shouldn’t wait so long to say the words ghosting around in his mind. And she was right. Like almost always. But it is so hard, because words change things. And things aren’t bad like they are now, with Fitz smiling at his jokes and even laughing a little. It is not so bad.

So Hunter stays silent again.

Chapter Text

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