Fitz closed his eyes and let out a harsh breath through his nose, his lips pursed in a thin line. He could almost feel the cogs of his brain begin to whirr again and he scrunched his forehead in an effort to stem the tide of unwanted thoughts. After a few deep breaths he opened his eyes and stared back at his reflection in his bathroom mirror. He looked pale, the shadow of his unkempt stubble in sharp contrast to his tired and insipid complexion.

"Oh my god," Fitz exhaled as he leaned forward with closed eyes to press his forehead to the cool glass, soothing the headache that had seemed ever present in the past three months since she had gone. He forced his erratic breathing to slow and rolled his shoulders to ease the tension in his tired muscles.

A soft knock roused Fitz from his stupor and he pulled the door back slowly to reveal Skye practically bouncing on her toes, a slightly manic smile camouflaging her exhausted visage.

"Fitz! What are you doing in here?! Andrew says you can see her now."

Fitz felt a jolt of panic burst through him and leant on the marble sink for support. He couldn't believe this was happening, he'd spent so long now holding onto a sliver of hope that she could be alive, that he would see her again, and then after months of searching, of sleepless nights, of dead-end missions and wrong turns she was there. He had already seen her of course; he was there when she had been pried violently from the rock's callous grasp- the sound of her anguished scream now playing on a loop in his ears. It wasn't as he'd imagined it.

Fitz had tried to avoid fantasising about their hoped for reunion, telling himself that childish fancies would not help get her back. I weaker moments, during nights when he had roamed the silent Playground alone and always somehow found himself standing in front of that cursed rock, he'd allowed himself to picture her running into his arms, both of them overcome with relief and happiness. He'd imagined kissing her the way he'd wanted to for the past year, because in his fantasy reunion no one else was there. It was just them, like it should have been.

-o-

The reality had been quite different. The room around the rock had been filled with agents, many monitoring readouts from various machines he had designed and built to monitor vital frequencies emitting from the rock. Mack had been the one appointed to open the glass case, while Bobbi and Hunter attached the recently acquired Kree artefact to the stone's surface. Skye and May stood with ICERs aimed at the ready (they had no guarantees that Jemma's would be the only soul to be exhumed), and Coulson stood at the centre barking orders. Fitz had been told to stay back; he didn't agree but he knew why. They were worried he would do something "stupid", like run to the stone as soon as the box was open. If he was honest they were probably right but he'd felt like a spare part, watching uselessly as the team seamlessly acted out his proposed plan to rescue his best friend. He felt the responsibility weigh heavy on his shoulders; this wasn't the first thing they had tried and he had seen the pitying looks sent his way but other agents. They believed he was chasing a lost cause.

It all seemed to happen at once; one minute everyone appeared frozen to the spot, waiting for something to happen, and the next the rock exploded into a liquid terror and his ears were filled with Jemma's screams. Hunter had grabbed her, his heels dragging across the floor as the molten stone protested at the forced liberation of its prisoner, trying to reclaim Jemma and anyone around her. Hunter had yelled and then Mack had been there, using his brute strength to claw the two English agents from the stone's grasp. Bobbi was shouting, pushing at the door alongside May and Skye to reseal the rock inside its glass prison. The door slammed shut causing the liquefied stone to cascade angrily up the sides of the case, appearing almost to boil in rage at being denied its prize.

Fitz had tried to move forward, but was held back forcefully by a Koenig; he didn't know or care which one. He couldn't see her; she was lying on the floor with everyone surrounding her, suffocating her. He could feel hot tears falling from his eyes as he heard her whimper in pain. Then Andrew was there at her side, a calm presence amongst the chaos. He murmured something but Fitz couldn't hear it above the frightened exclamations of his colleagues and Jemma's fitful tears, but suddenly she appeared to still and the room became quiet. He saw Andrew stand and dispose of the needle before Mack gathered the small scientist in his arms and bundled past Fitz on the way to the medical bay. Her head had hung lifelessly like a doll's, her porcelain skin and red rimmed eyes the very picture of death.

The room had emptied quickly as agents followed Dr Garner's lead until Fitz, Coulson and Skye were all who remained. Coulson had placed a comforting hand on Skye's shoulder, but the hacker quickly dashed towards Fitz as he stumbled back against the wall, his weary muscles no longer up to the task of keeping him upright. Hi vision blurred until he felt cool hands clasp his face, and then he saw frightened brown eyes probably mirroring his own expression.

"We did it Fitz. We got her back." Skye pulled his face to her neck as she crouched in front of him, rubbing soothing circles onto his back as his body was wracked with sobs.

-o-

Skye's usually warm eyes were cold, the fear he had seen earlier not entirely dissipated, but her smile spoke of relief. She moved forwards from the bathroom doorway and softly traced her fingers along Fitz's arm.

"You doing ok?" she scrunched her nose at the absurdity of her own question, but the normality of it brought a low chuckle from his chest.

"Truthfully? No," he offered a weak smile.

"Good," she quipped. "Shows you're human. Now go and see her, she'll need her best friend."

Fitz felt his knees wobble gain but forced himself to stand upright. He again closed his eyes and exhaled slowly before starting on his short journey. His feet felt like lead as he made his way along the gloomy corridor. He could feel his muscles straining, working hard to get him to his destination quickly, but it seemed to be taking forever. He wondered briefly if forcefully opening the stone had created some kind of time paradox but then shook his head quickly, acknowledging the far more likely explanation that his own apprehension was causing his perception of time to slow.

Suddenly he was at the door. He could hear murmured words in a soothing tone he recognised as May's, but he couldn't hear Jemma. He steeled himself, crossing his arms around his chest before stepping cautiously into the room.

Jemma was propped up on several pillows, the white hospital sheets accenting her pale skin although whereas her face had appeared drained of blood when he had seen her in Mack's arms, there was now a bloom of soft pink high on her cheeks. She had been smiling at May when he entered, the older woman squeezing her hand affectionately, but suddenly her hazel eyes found his and her familiar smile was for him alone.

"I'll leave you two to it," May stood slowly and uncharacteristically placed her hand softly on Jemma's head before moving towards Fitz. She nodded to him and squeezed his arm gently as she passed.

For a few seconds Fitz stood in the doorway, barely daring to believe that Jemma was really there in the bed in front of him. It wasn't until she spoke softly, her voice slightly rough, that he edged forward and perched on her bed.

"Hi Fitz."

"Hi," he breathed. His hand twitched with the urge to stroke her cheek but instead he rubbed at the back of his neck. "How are you feeling?"

"I've been better," she bit at the inside of her cheek and lowered her gaze to her hands, which were twisted into the sheet on her lap. "Thank you for... getting me out."

"Oh, it wasn't me, I..."

"Fitz you're the only one who could have designed all those machines. Besides, Coulson already told me it was your plan that worked." Jemma's voice was laced with exasperation as she interrupted him and he knew it was pointless to argue. False modesty would get him nowhere, and she'd always said it didn't suit him.

"Er... yes."

She raised her eyes and levelled her gaze at him. "Thank you for not giving up on me. Dr Gar-Andrew said I'd been away... for a while."

"Yeah." It was Fitz's turn to lower his gaze. He began to fiddle with a loose thread on the cotton sheet close to where Jemma's own hands lay, he could almost feel the familiar cool touch of her skin. They sat like that for a few seconds before he spoke again. "I'd never give up on you Jem."

Jemma bobbed her head in acknowledgement, tears suddenly filling her eyes. She grabbed his hand and squeezed until he felt a dam break inside him. He leaned forward and gathered her head into his chest, rocking slowly as she cried. She sniffed and let out a hushed snigger.

"Eugh, I'm disgusting."

"No, you're not." He dropped a quick kiss to the top of her head and her hair tickled his nose as she snuggled closer into him.

"You're biased."

Fitz couldn't help but laugh and pulled back slightly to see her face, "Oh, am I?"

Jemma nibbled at her lip as the colour in her cheeks deepened. "I hope so. Fitz... if this has shown me nothing else, it has at least taught me that we never know what will happen from one day to the next. Especially in our line of work..."

"If you didn't know that already then I'm not sure you're as bright as you like to make out Jemma," Fitz felt his heart start to race despite his flippant tone.

"Shh. This is... important. What I am trying to say is that none of us really know how long we'll have until... well until we're not here anymore... for one reason or another. There are no guarantees. And I just... I think it's important that we say everything that we want to say everything that we want to say before that happens."

Fitz opened his mouth to speak but found his tongue suddenly felt too large, and too dry. He also suspected he was incapable of forming a coherent sentence for reasons entirely separate to his remaining difficulties with aphasia. He felt another squeeze on his hand and ran his thumb gently over Jemma's knuckles.

"We have a lot to talk about," Jemma spoke for him and he nodded dumbly. She raised her hand to his face and swept a thumb over his cheek, before he turned his face into her palm and kissed her soft skin without breaking their mutual gaze. He could feel his heart pounding a staccato rhythm as he leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to her chapped lips. It wasn't the passionate, tearful kiss he had imagined for their reunion, but it was somehow more. It held the promise of whispered words and honest declarations, of wakeful nights spent on kisses and affirmations rather than worry and fear, and of laughter filled days beside the one person he'd always known he could never live without.

Fitz pulled back gently and revelled in the affection seared on Jemma's pink face. There was so much he needed to tell her, but there would be plenty of time for that. Instead he smiled and pulled her into another tight hug and whispered, "So... are we still on for dinner?"

end