Hi everyone! I'm back with another AU, I promise there is not a sad ending this time, and if you haven't read my other AU, For Whatever We Lose, I suggest that you check it out. Also, unlike my last one, this is set over a period of 48 hours with multiple flashbacks throughout. Also, this will be a multi-chapter story. A version of this will be posted on my fictionpress and wattpad accounts. The links are on my profile. That version of the story will have a similar plot, but I am not sure how I will continue with it, and it will be posted on each respectable site after I am finished with it here. As a side note, the Jemma Simmons in this story is HARDLY alike the Jemma Simmons in the show. The Simmons in this story is darker, sinister, and very, very sexually advancing. As always, this story is rated T for adult themes (many mentions of sex) Enjoy!

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I woke up in somebody's arms

Strange and so familiar

Where nothing could go wrong

Barely alive or nearly dead

Somehow awake in my own bed

And there you are

Like a highway headed my way

Life is but a dream

I was shot down by your love

My angel in blue jeans – Angel In Blue Jeans – Train.

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Chapter 1: And So It Begins

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2009

The first time he saw her, he could tell that she would be the most fascinating creature that he would ever lay his eyes on.

She was dressed as if she was a queen, her peter pan collared sweater and blue jeans accenting her short brunette hair framing her face. She looked like an angel to him as he stood in line at the In-and-Out.

He bumped into her as she was leaving accidently, and as he apologized she strung out a sequence of apologies in return, shaking him to the core. For one, she was British, English to be exact, and no one had been as polite as she had been since he took a job as a deputy in the police commissioner's office.

He opened his mouth to tell her this tidbit of information, but she flashed him a smile and left before he could say a word. She would haunt him for the next two weeks, her smile a ghost as he broke down door after door during the following two weeks.

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Present Day (2015)

Sitting at his desk, police commissioner Leopold Fitz smiled wistfully at a picture of the girl on his desk, her radiant wedding gown hugging her curves as he stared into her eyes with a passion that could not be defined. He knew the risks of having this picture in his office, it took just one criminal to find her, but he was not worried about his shinning jewel, she constantly was armed with knives strapped to her upper thighs and her boots and knew how to take care of herself.

He sometimes fantasied of their first meeting, and the chemistry that would follow when they met again. Instead of continuing this trip down memory lane, he opened the classified folder in front of him, scanning it for anything he did not already know.

The case was a long string of murders connecting members of the police to ones that they were closest with, something that had worried him tremendously at first, but he was soon reassured.

"You're a bloody idiot," she had spat out as he sucked on her collarbone. "I can't believe you think I can't take care of myself."

He had responded by nibbling her neck, a slight moan escaping her lips. "I never said tha' Jem. Ye know me, always lookin' after ye."

She rolled her eyes in response and grinded him. "Well in my family, if you didn't sleep with a gun under your pillow by the time you were five, than most likely you were dead."

He groaned in ecstasy as she hit a nerve, but tried to play it off as one of disgust.

She smiled coyly and pressed as much force as she could onto him. "I know that you are worried, but I can feel you about to burst through these damn jeans, so just fuck me now okay, and we can have this conversation later."

He had complied, and even now, as he was seated at his desk, the image of the tattoo on her hipbone, the HH branded onto her as a young girl, twisted his gut.

It was no secret between the two of them that her father ran the crime organization known as Hydra, the exact organization that he had sworn to destroy. She was the only child of Daniel Whitehall and his queen Raina, naturally raising her to become the heir. She had been betrothed to her father's older, right hand man, Jasper Sitwell, and her virginity was sold when she was just eleven to an older man known as John Garrett. She had been trained as an assassin since a young age, specializing in the art of seduction. Instead of following in the murderous footsteps of her parents, she elected to study biochemistry, murdering at night when she needed the money. When she had met him, she was sent to kill him, instead falling in love with him and marrying him. Though her father had disapproved at first, surprisingly it was her mother who had talked him down, and sooner than later he was signing a peace treaty to ensure the safety of the both of them.

She continued to use her status in Hydra as a tactical advantage during the missions she accompanied him on, the words "Hail Hydra," an international code that informed other cults of her status in the leading crime organization in the world.

He sighed, staring once more at the papers in front of him. She may know how to hold her own, but he still worried for her. They may have been ridiculously wealthy, this was the only time he thought that filthy rich would apply, and he could of hired bodyguards for her but she refused. She had always been a tricky little devil, preferring to do things on her own terms. When they first started dating he was never sure if she was going to kiss him or kill him, something that he soon realized he would never have to worry about again.

He was brought back again from his musings by his phone.

"This is Commissioner Fitz," he said automatically. "How may I be o' service?"

"Do you know how sexy you sound when you say that?" The chirpy voice of his wife asked.

"Jemma!" he exclaimed, quickly losing all formality. "What are ye doin' lass?"

He could envision her roll her eyes at him.

"I have a job tonight, love. I'm going to the bank to get my gold earrings. I just wanted you to know so that way you won't freak out when I come home with a hickey on my collarbone."

"Jemma I thought ye said tha' ye weren' takin' any more o' those jobs," he said with a growl.

"Calm down Fitzy, I'm not actually sleeping with him, I would never do that. I have to lead him into a bathroom to inject the drug, you should be happy that I'll be nice and wet for you tonight," she said cunningly.

He bit his tongue to stifle a groan.

"Dear God woman! Ye need ta learn when it's a good time. Work would no' coun' as one!"

She laughed melodically. "I know, love. I'm only teasing. Do you want anything from the grocery? I'm thinking about lasagna tonight. I'm going to get bread for tomorrow's lunch. What do you want?"

He grinned. "Prosciutto, buffalo mozzarella, and pesto aioli. Oh! Can ye ge' some o' tha' cookie dough?"

She pursed her lips on her side of the phone, carefully browsing the isle for any triple chocolate chip cookie dough. "I don't think they have any, love. I can get the ingredients to make it if you'd like."

His face lit up. "Yes please! I love ye, lass."

She chuckled. "I love you too, Fitz. I got to go, love. I'm almost done here and then it's just the bank."

His eyes widened in alarm. "Do ye have ta transmitter I designed on ye?"

"Of course Fitz!" she lowered her voice considerably. "You know that they wouldn't let a woman with knives strapped to her thighs in a grocery store otherwise, yeah?"

He rolled his eyes. "O' course Jem! I'm jus' makin' sure, ye know?"

She smiled. "Okay. I love you!"

"I love ye too, Jem," he replied.

She hung up a second later.

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2009

He never really liked clubs. His best friend Mack had dragged him to a club in the Upper East Side, swearing all over that he would have the time of his life. Women and men dancing seductively surrounded by people getting black out drunk was not his idea of fun.

This all changed however, when he laid his eyes upon her. It was the same girl he had seen in the In-and-Out, and he felt his chest flutter at the sight of her. She was clothed in a curvy gold dress; short hair in an up do and four inch heals paving a way for her tiny clutch. The dress was backless, and when she turned around he saw the top of a tattoo on her tailbone. The thing that intrigued him the most, however, were the gold earrings that dangled from her ears, the tips brushing against her cleavage when she bent over. They looked like they cost at least a thousand dollars, and he was not exaggerating.

When she came over to the bar to take a shot, he grabbed her hand in a bold move, signaling the bar tender to look him in the eye.

"I'll pay," he said simply.

She smiled gratefully at him. "Have I met you before?" she asked, her dark eyelashes batting rapidly.

His smile turned into a frown. "I ran into ye by accident, at ta In-and-Out two weeks ago."

Her face immediately contorted into one of apology. "I'm so sorry about that the other day! I was really in a rush."

He shook his head. "It's no problem. It was my fault anyway, really."

She nodded. "I'm Jemma. Jemma Simmons."

He smiled. "I'm Leo Fitz. Though mos' people call me Fitz."

The bartender interrupted him. "One shot of Tequila, yes?"

Fitz smirked. "Make it two."

Three rounds later they were on the dance floor, the pair dancing seductively. She was grinding the bulge in his pants like a professional, legs wrapped around his waist as he bucked his hips forward, dark clouds of lust circling in the pair's eyes. He leaned downward to capture her lips with his, hands pushing up her dress, her hand freeing him of his tight jeans. She wrapped her legs tightly around his hips, guiding him to her core with her hand. The first time they fucked each other was in a room full of people, their moans and groans drowned out by the pounding of the music.

Hours later, when the club was closing and Mack was calling for him, he slipped his number in her clutch, unaware that she had also written her number on a napkin and shoved it in his coat. They kissed a passionate goodbye, and returned to their solitary lives.

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Present Day

She had been in the car when the flashback had hit her; she was still amazed that she remembered that day, even if she had been intoxicated. She was supposed to kill him then, but couldn't bring herself to do so, instead going back to the mansion her father owned and getting in bed with Sitwell. She shuddered as the light turned green, desperately trying to banish those poisonous thoughts from her mind. It would cause her no good now.

She pulled in front of the bank, it was a huge building with safe deposit boxes, where she kept most of her valuables, seeing that she was in fact the heir to a trillionaire. If her house were to be robbed… well, she would still have the majority of her fortune.

She parked her car, quickly grabbing her purse before entering the building. Stalking up to the teller, she placed her handbag on the marble counter, flashing the concierge a grin.

"How may I help you?" The woman was Asian, her narrow eyes doing nothing to help her bland expression.

"I'm here to visit a safe deposit box of mine!" she exclaimed, allowing her annoyingly bubbly personality to come into play. She rolled her eyes. "See, my husband and I are have our sixth anniversary, and I just adore these gold earrings that my mother gave me. Since they are so expensive, I tend to keep them here." She winked. "It tends to spice things up when I wear them seeing as it's a real treat."

"Of course," the Asian woman deadpanned. "I'll just need your name and identification."

Jemma flashed her another smile. "Jemma Fitz. That's J-e-m-m-a F-i-t-z. I bet you already knew how to spell the last name though." She gave the woman a disbelieving look. "Although my husband had an intern who couldn't spell Fitz. Isn't that repulsive?"

She grinned internally. The woman had clearly become annoyed with her, and as she gave the woman her identification, she couldn't help the small smile that toyed at her lips.

"When was your birthday?"

She internally groaned. "September 11th 1987."

The woman eyed her warily. "Husband's full name."

Jemma pursed her lips. "Leopold Fitz."

She raised an eyebrow. "No middle name?"

Jemma smiled. "His mother thought Leopold was enough."

"And your full name?"

She inhaled. "Jemma Frances Fitz nee Simmons."

The woman glanced at her card once more. "I'll just need your thumb print please."

"Gladly." She pressed her left thumb in a pad of ink and carefully pressed it to a pad of paper. "You know, the last time I was here the security wasn't this… demanding."

At this the woman seemed to gain interest in the conversation.

"There have been a handful of robberies in this area, nothing on too large of a scale. We are just being precautious. I'm sure your husband is working on it as we speak."

Jemma nodded in understanding as the woman scanned her fingerprint for any differences from the one programmed in her computer.

"I hate having everything branded in technology these days," she grumbled. "I used to love the books."

Jemma was not sure if that comment was directed at her, naturally keeping her self quiet. According to her father, she had always been good at holding her tongue. Which was a compliment coming from someone who spewed nothing but nonsense throughout his career.

The woman motioned her to follow. She committed the pathway to memory; analyzing every corner and crevice that separated one hall from the next. The woman reached towards a vault, swiftly unlocking it and leading her inside. She led her to a box on the left, unlocking it and handing Jemma the gold earrings.

The ringing of her phone caught her off guard.

"This is Jemma Fitz, how can I help you?"

"Jems," the gruff voice of her husband barked.

"Leo?"

"Ye need ta get out o' there now."

Her eyebrows creased in alarm. "Why?"
Before he could respond, the flames swept into the room.

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Yay! Chapter one down! It would be great if you guys gave me some feedback; it's been a very long time since I have written a multi-chapter fic. Thank you all for reading and see you next chapter! – thetideisrising