The room was dimly lit, soft light casting shadows on the patchy grey concrete. The walls were bare and there were no windows, no way out but a single, crooked-stepped wooden staircase that led to the heavy door above. Only the centipedes passed freely, crawling in and out of cracks in the walls, and the room smelled of must and mould and death.

In the centre of it, bound to a dingy wooden chair with thick bands of duct tape around his wrists and ankles and a strip of silver sealing his mouth lest he let out a scream, sat a man with wide, terrified eyes.

Another man sat across from him, his serene, relaxed face a sharp contrast, touching his index fingers to his prisoner's temples.

"From the beginning," he instructed softly. "I want to see it all- no. No, no, no, don't skip ahead," he scolded lightly. His mouth curved up in a small smile while the other man let out a low, frightened whimper. "Show me the first time you met… her."

The man in the chair stared back at him, cheeks wet with tears that dripped down past his chin. He tried to shake his head but his captor held it firmly in place, fingers anchored to his temples. So instead he spoke with his eyes, a question desperate enough that it must have floated between them for his captor to see.

"Why?" he guessed, mocking now as he leaned forward, his smile widening. "Because you don't deserve it any more than I do, so why should it only be yours?"

Again, the prisoner tried to shake his head, but he'd grown weaker and this attempt was even more futile than the first. Eventually his struggling faltered and he grew still, watery blood beginning to drip from his nose and his captor sighed, leaning back.

"That's it. I knew you would share," he murmured. "Everyone does eventually,"

After that it was silent, the free man fading into bliss while the other's eyes dimmed until they fell shut, his head still held up between his captor's hands but his chest having stilled its feeble attempts to raise and fall.

Alone now, the living man opened his eyes, moving his hands away from the dead man's temples and, as he did, long white tendrils oozed their way out of the punctures they'd left on either side, anchored to his hands like roots coated in blood. He pulled several centimeters of the white, root-like extensions of his fingers out of the dead man's head and the more he pulled out the more branched it became, spread out and tangled like a net.

When all of it was out, he flexed his hands, sighing contently as it slowly sank back in through the tips of his fingers, leaving them to appear as if they were nothing more than ordinary digits. Then, still smiling to himself, he made his way to the sink and proceeded to wash off the blood.

/-/-/

The soft white lights cast shadows on the smooth walls surrounding the dance floor and a loud, upbeat song roared from the speakers over the laughing, chattering crowd of dancers. It smelled of cake and new clothes and the air was buzzing with excited joy.

"What are you doing?" Jemma's tinkering laughter made Fitz pause mid dance step, turning towards her with only the slightest indignation.

It was difficult for him to focus on being annoyed with her criticism when her sleek blue bridesmaid dress made his heart kick up a gear whenever he caught sight of her, his stomach crinkling at the smoothness of her bare arms and the way her hair had been left loose to frame her sparkling smile. It was more than the dress though, he realized, it was the joy that shone around her that caught his eye. It was the way her grin stretched wide so easily as she'd danced with her father, laughing with glee at one of those jokes only dads seemed to get away with. It was the lightness in her limbs when she lifted her little niece to twirl her around to the music, their giggles overlapping in a thrilled duet.

For Fitz, Jemma was always a wonder, but tonight her happiness, badly needed rain in a drought of sorrow, seemed to fill up the universe and he wondered if he should tell her, how beautiful she looked under the swirling lights.

Maybe after he was finished defending his dancing skills.

"I was doing the time-warp," he told her, folding his arms when her eyebrows rose, though his tone was teasing as he nodded his head towards her metronome-like arm movements. "I'm not sure what you're doing."

"I'm doing the same thing as everyone else," she objected, grinning widely and playfully bumping their shoulders together. "Look around Fitz, you're the one who's off-beat."

Fitz swivelled his head to take in the crowd of dancers, Simmons of all ages along with several unfamiliar faces he guessed belonged to the groom's side. Jemma's sister and her new husband, grandma and grandpa Simmons, even little Kira Simmons, Jemma's six year old niece, were all waving their arms in the same completely incorrect pattern of movements as his giggling girlfriend.

"I think our sample population may be a little biased," he objected.

Jemma rolled her eyes. "If you'd like to continue dancing your way-"

"The correct way," he added swiftly.

"-I'm sure no one would object," she continued, clearly amused.

Fitz was searching for a reply, wondering if this was an appropriate time to bring up the Boiler Room dance-off of 2005, when the song ended, flowing easily into the next one thanks to the skills of the DJ. The new song was slower, certainly not dance-off material, and a few of the dancers took the time to sit down at the tables near the buffet, grabbing a snack while they rested their feet.

"Um…" He paused, uncertain for a couple anxious heartbeats until he caught Jemma's gaze and saw that her features had softened, eyes shining as she watched him, waiting.

It wasn't expectant, not exactly, but more… wanting. For all the times they'd misread each other, there were still moments when he felt as if they could read others minds and right then he was certain that she was silently asking him to stay. He could see the question floating just behind her eyes.

So he held out his hand, wings fluttering under his throat. "May I have this dance?" he offered softly.

Glowing, she reached out to take it, her smile stretching out between her ears. "You may," she answered, bright and quiet like fresh snow.

They'd danced together before, but not like this. Even though it had been over a year since they'd agreed to their first date- a reservation that had been held for six months followed by a dinner that was far more about giving his friend a glimmer of hope than anything romantic- the things that had followed that agreement had sliced away at anything that would have led to a moment like this.

However real their feelings for each other were, the past year had been more about keeping each other alive and happy than about exploring them. It hadn't been until very recently that they'd gone on their first real date, not until only a few months ago that he'd first truly started to feel like Jemma's boyfriend.

This type of dance, slow and intimate, was uncharted waters for the both of them, so it surprised him how naturally they fell into step with each other, the ease with which Jemma rested her wrists on his shoulders, her face alight as she wordlessly matched his movements. It sent warm waves of love washing over his body, pulling at his heart like the tide on the sand and dragging tiny pieces of him into her. When she moved forward to rest her head against his chest, sighing happily as they continued to sway, he was reminded of just how completely hers he really was. And in that room, under the gentle white lights, with her cheek over his heartbeat, it didn't scare him the way it had in the past. For just a moment, all of the fear and doubt that still chased him like snarling hounds, faded away, leaving him a heavenly state of bliss.

However it was only about a minute before his buzzing phone snapped them both out of the pleasant haze that had fallen on them, dissipating it like a leaf blower.

"I wonder who that could be," she muttered tartly, her arms remaining locked in place even as their feet had stilled and her head had lifted.

"They wouldn't call if it wasn't important," he reasoned grudgingly, although he didn't want to let go either.

'Now?' he thought grouchily. 'Of all the times there could have been a problem during our vacation, now is when it happens?'

Some days he was almost certain that there was some force out there in the universe conspiring against them, pushing them away from each other for its own sick amusement. It made him just a little smug to think that it hadn't won out in the end.

Jemma's phone chimed from the little round table off to the side of the dance floor where she'd left it earlier that evening and she let out a long sigh before reluctantly pulling away.

"At least we were able to stay for the wedding," she conceded, half-heartedly optimistic. Then her smile returned in earnest, eyes narrowing with affection. "I'm glad you asked me to dance."

'Really, you asked me,' he thought fondly. He smiled back at her, allowing them a few more seconds in their sweet bubble world. "Yeah, me too."

This time their phones sounded at the same time, snagging the attention of a few other guests whose heads turned towards the chime of Jemma's, probably wondering when whoever it belonged to was going to get it.

"I'd better get that before my mum decides to answer it," she chuckled, giving his nose a quick peck that left him blushing and flustered as she skipped away.

His own phone buzzed insistently in his pocket and he couldn't stop himself from grumbling as he fumbled to get it out.

'This had better be important.'

/-/-/


Some Notes

The story is loosely based off of 2 episodes of the science fiction series Fringe. The episode that share's the stories title and another episode called One Night In October. It's not that short a story (11 chapters done and maybe 12 total) but it IS about love :P

I will not admit to knowing how to do the time warp. I just remember we did it at my dad's wedding.

Super thanks to notapepper for betaing this story! It wouldn't be half as neat and tidy without you :) And you always have great input.

Thanks to agI03 and Aretsuna for letting me talk their ears off (sounded better than write their eyes out...) about this story, and for helping me work out the details :)