Jemma's bare feet padded across the cold floor of the Lamppost as she slipped into the room Fitz had voluntarily locked himself into. She liked the feeling of the concrete against her skin, it helped her feel grounded somehow as she steeled herself for what came next. He was turned away from her, sleeping lightly on his side – the shallow rise and fall of his chest was almost mesmorising to behold. She could almost forget the brokenness, the volatility and the fragile grip her Fitz had on the world around him. For the briefest moment she could believe he had just fallen asleep after a long night in the lab – but things had changed. They had crossed the event horizon.

He stirred and turned to look at her, some part of him must've known he was being watched. His eyes held that same mix of torment, love, fear, guilt – it's how she knew he wasn't the Doctor, the Doctor had none of the insecurity that plagued her husband… but that didn't mean he wasn't dangerous. She still remembered him pointing the gun at her, pulling the trigger – time hadn't dulled the hurt. She smiled at him but even as she did she knew it wouldn't reach her watery eyes. She sat on the bed next to him and rested her hand on his leg; he looked so vulnerable and afraid, like he could shatter at any moment.

"Jemma…" He breathed out somewhere between a warning and a plea.

She didn't say anything, just looked at him and reflected on the boy he was and the man he'd become. Her awkwardly shy Scottish friend at the Academy who gave up his air for her, the man who had crossed space and time for her, her hero and world. Jemma's other hand reached into her pocket for two little pills she had taken from storage, two pills that would break the loop, that would end their pain and save the world and their friends – two little pills that would erase all of this.

His eyes dropped down to see what she was holding and comprehension dawned on his face. He recoiled and drew away for a moment before his expression hardened in true understanding – there was the unflinching gaze of the Doctor. Of all the things she expected of the man that had once tried to murder her, the man who had traumatised his friends, what she couldn't predict was the small nod he gave. The Doctor understood, and then he was gone and her husband was back. Any fight in Fitz left with the Doctor, he had the air of quiet acceptance and resignation around him.

She wasn't sure why she said it, perhaps because she didn't want their last words to be Fitz's uncertain declaration on their relationship, but she said suddenly, "Deke's our grandson."

Fitz's brow furrowed in shock as he looked back at the pills in her hand, "But–" They both knew what the pills would truly mean now.

"This will break the loop," she said quietly but her voice echoed in the small space, "This is the hard choice."

"We won't build the machine that sends us into the future, our children won't tell Virgil or Deke about SHIELD, Deke won't exist to save us…" Fitz spoke softly, trying to reconcile his understanding of 4th dimensional time with this new solution. The Doctor had put at least part of her intentions together the moment she walked in and agreed, Fitz was playing catch up.

"None of it will happen – none of it can happen; the modifications to the BUS, the Lighthouse – they're your designs." She squeezed his leg lightly as he wrestled with what she was offering for them both.

"Jemma we can't, you can't." He asked, anxiety plaguing his voice. "How do we even know it would work?"

"We didn't," she answered confidently, "until Deke told me we were his grandparents. It's one of the reasons why we do this together, but not the most important reason."

He was silent for a few moments as he turned the information over, "What happens to us?"

She smiled, "Maybe we survive this – if the world resets or something, but if not… I like to think of the first law of thermodynamics."

For the first proper time since their wedding he smiled back, a true smile that made him look older than his years. It was true the first few greys were visible around his temples and lines had formed around the edges of his mouth and eyes, but it was the weight of years of pain and betrayal and a fractured mind that set him apart from the teenager she had met so long ago.

"I love you Leopold James Simmons-Fitz," she told him with such conviction her voice cracked as she said the words, "You are my world, but I can't save you this time… and you can't save me."

He sat up to face her fully until their heads were almost touching, "Jemma Anne Simmons-Fitz," his lips quirked up at what he had little doubt would have become an in-joke if they had more time together, "I… I love you, I'm sorry."

"Don't be," she answered him soothingly before straightening up and speaking with as much gusto as the two tear soaked agents could muster, "We can save the world, we can save our friends." She saw him swallow nervously as she said it, thoughts of Daisy and Mack clearly worrying him. "Hey, none of it will have happened… none of it's real, nobody will remember anything – it's already less real than the Framework."

"What are we doing Jemma?" He asked nervously, voice wracked with dry sobs, "What have I done?"

"Shhh…" She whispered into his ear, pressing her forehead against his, "You're still my hero, my husband, the most important person I have ever met and, despite everything, I would do it all again to be with you… Cosmos be damned."

He half-laughed, "The cosmos can't stop us."

"Nothing can stop us Fitz."

…

Nobody found them, there was nothing to find. The loop was broken. Seven friends ate dinner at an American diner near a secret military installation. The Lamppost was never discovered, SHIELD was hesitantly reinstated after several months of questioning and inquiries and in time the wounds of the tough lives led by the mismatched family at the Playground were healed. Mr. and Mrs. Simmons-Fitz slept peacefully side by side.