Tears stung in her eyes as Simmons rewound the footage of Fitz collapsing to his knees in front of the Monolith; she watched helplessly as he smashed his hands repeatedly against it before being dragged away by Mack just moments before it opened. There was no audio but there didn't need to be, the pain etched on his face was clear to see and the way his body shuddered as he released his rage gave a voice to his silent shouts. The sight of him, shotgun in hand, storming towards the Monolith not knowing if it meant his own death, broke her heart. Her breath hitched in her throat at the realisation that like her he must have given up as well: except where she had turned away from him to survive he had given up on surviving without her. She knew he thought it was a portal even when he walked into the chamber but the knowledge that he would risk everything to see her again made her feel sick with guilt. She had read through everything – every report and scrap of information he had gathered about the portal and her whereabouts – she understood the hell he had been through to get back to her; even though he had been surrounded by people, she was sure he had felt as alone as she had – if not more so since she had met Will.

Even before she had been pulled into the portal Fitz had set up the cameras in containment to record every instance of the Monolith opening with twenty seconds either side; six and a half months of largely identical footage was stored and meticulously scrubbed for any changes from the moment she was sucked in to the moment Mack and Daisy had the portal carted out and loaded onto Zephyr One. Most of the clips differed to such a small extent only the computers could detect variations but every so often members of the team – usually Fitz – would appear, sometimes taking readings from the other side of the glass, sometimes pacing in front of it as though she would come bursting through at any moment but the worst times were when he simply sat cross-legged in front of it and stared. The glimpse into his life was devastating – to have the answer to his questions right in front of him but to be utterly unable to reach a solution without taking that extra step into the case. In the early recordings it wasn't uncommon to find Coulson or Daisy standing in front of the case as well but soon Fitz was the only one left to keep coming, by the third month even he stopped – she guessed it must have hurt him too much to be there. The day he burst in with the shotgun was the first time he had been there in weeks.

Watching the recordings was the last thing she had to do before she was up to date on all of his findings. His research was extensive and thorough, as only Fitz's research could be: it was the culmination of a six month desperate search to find answers to an impossible problem. Every thought, every angle she could've imagined – and a fair few besides – had been taken as far as it could go. Initially the documents were set out neatly, Fitz's messier than usual handwriting the only real sign that anything was wrong, but as she had delved further into his notes she could see the true toll the search was taking on him. She guessed that in the early days Fitz's scientific mind kept him as grounded as hers had on the planet, it was only after he had flown out to New Mexico, San Francisco and London that the nature of his observations began to change. His ideas were no longer laid out formally but hastily scrawled on the back of whatever appeared close to hand; some of it she understood, some of it she didn't.

Amongst his scribblings she found reports and files, some handwritten some official – most notable of them Eric Selvig had supplied close to thirty pages of information on the composition of the portals in New Mexico and in London but other documents detailed events she hadn't heard of including continued references to the Pym Technologies disaster. The more she read through the harder she found it to continue; sometime after the third month he had switched from approaching the problem scientifically and began to trace the Monolith's history instead. She had to wonder at how he had uncovered much of what she was seeing: carefully annotated maps and chronologies of Germanic tribes in Ancient Gaul from the archives of the Faculty of Classics, Cambridge University were stacked next to copies of missing persons reports and children's stories written first in Latin and then in early French. Barely legible copies of shipping records from the late 17th century suggested Fitz believed the Monolith to have been transported to England but she couldn't make much sense of them herself. She knew from where he had crossed over to find her that it must have spent time in Gloucestershire but she couldn't find anything in his notes that would have led her to that conclusion.

It was when she had seen self-bought plane tickets to Mosul Iraq and Tangier Morocco as well as careful research on critical members of Islamic State – including one Yusef Hadad – that she realised how much danger Fitz had put himself through for her sake. He had travelled to meet known terrorists without backup at the risk of being kidnapped or killed just to find a scrap of papyrus that told him what he must have been beginning to think – that she was dead. Her stomach lurched at the idea of what he must have been going through, isolated from her and the rest of the team while she played house with Will worlds away. As she watched the footage of him smashing his hands on the Monolith she could hardly believe that he was the same shy boy she had met at the Academy so many years ago, and that this was the world they lived in now. She didn't know how long she had been sitting staring at the same looping clip but the tears that had at first fallen freely had stopped, dried and left her cheeks feeling raw.

"Jemma." His voice was soft behind her, his concern shining through it. She couldn't look at him, not after seeing the pain he'd been through once on her count and the additional hurt she'd inflicted every second since she got back. After a few more seconds of silence he put his hand on her shoulder and she instinctively grabbed it.

"I…" She started but try as she might she couldn't think of anything to say. She could almost have laughed if she wasn't so exhausted.

"It's okay," he said and she wished she believed him. "We'll get him back."

She had to fight to hold her composure. "I've missed you Fitz… so much…" She said in little more than a whisper as if afraid her voice would break if she spoke any louder. She was squeezing his fingers like a lifeline but still not daring to turn around to look at him, afraid of what she'd see when she did. She didn't think she could stand to see the mask he wore to hide his pain – the one he'd worn around her for years before she'd even noticed and that had hardened since HYDRA and everything since.

"I missed you too Jem." He answered but his words felt restrained, divorced from emotion as though coldly recited to a stranger. It was too much.

"I'm so sorry Fitz." She finally blurted out and pressed her cheek into his hand, tears once again flowing freely. She felt him tense behind her as she brought his palm to her face.

"Jemma." He said softly enough though there was an underlying hardness to his tone. He moved forwards slightly and she found herself aching to be closer to him, wishing the back of the chair would vanish so she could press into him, that he would bring his arms around her chest and tell her it would all be alright, to feel his jaw on her shoulder and his breath against her neck. She wished he would tell her despite everything that he still loved her or even that there was a chance he could come to love her again, because how could he now after all she'd put him through?

The embrace never came though and, disappointed, she turned to steal a glimpse at him, trying to ignore the way the stubble on his jaw made him look older and less boyish. His eyes were staring past her and it was all she could do not to sob when she saw how haunted he looked; he was watching the footage of him breaking down in front of the Monolith. For a few moments he didn't do anything at all and then all too quickly he pulled his hand away from her and turned around to leave.

"Fitz." She said, panicked and standing up to follow him.

"Did you mean it?" He answered coldly, his back to her.

"Mean what?" She asked, her mind practically begging him to turn around and face her.

"At the restaurant…" Her heart froze, "When you thanked me for rescuing you… W-Would you rather have stayed?" With him. The words went unsaid.

Before she knew what was happening she was surging forwards and stepping in front of him, she grabbed his shirt tightly and he jumped back slightly in surprise. "Every word Fitz, I don't want to go back… I-"

"You have to." He finished, his voice offering none of its usual warmth. After a couple of moments the tension between relaxed slightly and he slumped his shoulders, "I didn't – I didn't mean for you to see… that." He gestured at the computer screen still looping him pounding the Portal with his fists. "I'm sorry."

"Fitz you have nothing to be sorry for." She said, her stomach twisting uncomfortably as he looked anywhere but her eyes. "You rescued me…" Unable to keep looking at him she pushed her head into his chest and stared at the deep blue of his shirt, "On the Bus, under the ocean, from the portal… I'd be dead if it wasn't for you."

"You don't owe me anything Jem, if that's what y-" Fitz began but she thumped him hard on his chest.

"You're such an idiot." She admonished him, incredulous. When he said nothing she melted into the warmth from his chest and added quietly, "I thought I'd never see you again."

"Me too Jem," He answered cautiously, she could practically hear the cracks in his calm façade slipping into his voice. "I'm glad you're back."

"Are you?" The words slipped out without her thinking them. He flinched.

She waited for him to protest, to tell her she was being silly – to say of course he was happy she was back, but he said nothing. A pained silence fell between them; their physical proximity giving no comfort to the enormous rift that ripped them apart. He had never been closer and further away from her – than in this moment, somehow it hurt less than when he woke up unable to remember who she was. She had no idea how long they were standing next to each other before he finally spoke.

"We should talk about… after." The words came through his gritted teeth as though each syllable pained him.

Her heart plummeted. "What do you want to say?" Her best attempt at keeping the tone light did nothing to hide the terror in her voice at where this conversation would go.

"We'll get him back," He started, then swallowed as he tried to find the right words – not that there were any right words in the circumstances, "We'll get him back, and then I'm leaving Jem."

Her head felt light and her breathing came in short sharp breaths; she couldn't imagine her future without Fitz in it – not after she had only just got him back. She had played house on the alien planet to survive; she cared for Will, loved him even, but that was what it took to survive. On earth, with him in front of her – feeling his racing heart under her fingers – she couldn't let go of Fitz, not now that she could start living again. Even yet, she couldn't ask him to stay – she had already asked far too much of him, more than was right to ask anybody. In the end she managed one small word, "Forever?"

He exhaled deeply and took a step back, the physical void that opened between them made her feel cold, alone and desperately isolated. Fitz ran his hand through his hair and said simply, "I don't know… I hope not but I… I-"

"You have to." Jemma said in understanding. For potentially the first time in years she simply spoke her mind, "Fitz, I will always want you to be in my life… always… but I won't ask you to stay." She couldn't ask him to stay, because she knew he would if she did. In the far corner of the lab she could see the footage repeating and somehow she just knew he would give everything for her – he already had. Even now, this was as much for him as it was for her: he was giving her Will and the freedom to love him without the guilt. As he turned to walk past her she called out "Where will you go?"

"Home, probably." He admitted and somehow he had never looked so defeated and shattered as he had then. The walls seemed that bit closer at the idea of him being thousands of miles from her – back on the other planet that would have given her comfort; even now he would be only a phone call away, but somehow this was worse – because it was his choice. They were both in the same room there and then, they would still be working with each other for weeks to come and yet this felt like a permanent goodbye. "And then, who knows?" He added with an attempt to lighten the mood.

"Have you spoken to Coulson?" She asked, some part of her hoping that Coulson would forbid him from leaving because of how valuable he was.

"No, but I think he knows…" Fitz said and gestured to the two of them with his hands, "This, whatever this is between us Jemma, if we keep going - it'll break us. I'm sure Will will help out once he's back – and I'll probably still consult on cases, I just-"

"Won't be here." Jemma finished for him. She would have smiled at that if the meaning wasn't so heart breaking. She let her shoulders slump and leaned against the nearest lab bench for support, instinctively he put a hand on her shoulder, squeezing it lightly.

"Get some rest Jemma, you're exhausted." She almost protested at his words but he was right, she needed sleep – not that she suspected she'd be able to get any. The man she loved had effectively said his goodbyes to her, she'd lost him.

Nodding slowly she walked to the doors of the lab and headed towards her room, her head spinning and ears pounding. She'd lost him. She'd lost him… but she didn't have to lose him. Just before she left she turned around, one more time, and faced him – taking the phone that had weighed down her pocket for so long and putting it on the nearest lab surface. "You're not the only one with footage, Fitz. You kept me alive out there until you couldn't; you kept me alive until the thought of losing you was so hard that I would've died if I didn't try to move on. What I feel for Will, it was real – on that planet it was real, because that is what I had to do to survive, because you've given up so much to make sure that I lived. Living was the last thing I could do for you and I'm sorry, I'm so sorry that I wasn't strong enough to survive without trying to move on." As she spoke his eyes were impassive, lighting up only briefly when she put the phone in front of him, "Just, watch it… please."

Her words hung heavy between them and, when it was clear he wasn't going to say anything – that he had so utterly retreated inside himself as to make her unsure he had even heard a thing she had said – she turned and left. By the time she threw herself onto her bunk the rough grasp of sleep gripped her almost instantly. Pausing for only a second to mutter her evening mantra of "Goodnight Fitz, Goodnight Will," she knew that whatever happened when they rescued Will, her heart belonged and would always belong to her Fitz, and she would do everything she could to let him know convince him to stay, or let her go with him.

Author's Note:

I'm back! (part-time) Long term followers of my works will know I have, at various points, suffered from extended periods of serious illness and will be thrilled to know I am recovering well and can finally begin to update and complete my previous works. The final chapters of "Hero" and "Different Now" have been begun as well as significant progress towards the next part of "A Thousand Leagues."

I've been out of the game a while and fear my writing's a little rusty so please review, not only does it make my day (which given my current hospital-ridden state means so much to me) but it also helps me improve. Enjoy the second part tomorrow.