Of Falling Rain and Beating Hearts.
-o-
He was different.
There was no use denying it.
Everyone kept pretending that he was the same old Fitz. Everyone kept pretending that he could take machines apart and put them back together in record time. They pretended that his hands worked just as well as they had before. They pretended that he didn't keep having trouble calling forth his memories. They pretended a lot of things.
But no one pretended more than he did.
She was tired of it.
She was tired of him pretending that his fingers were still as dexterous as always as he attempted to pull at wires and tighten bolts on tiny pieces of machinery on the table in front of him. She was tired of his frustrated sighs when things slipped from his grasp. She was tired of him flinching every time something fell on the floor. She was tired of him punching the lab table or the door when he thought no one else was paying attention.
Because she was always paying attention.
She had even been paying attention during the early days after he woke, when guilt and fear had overwhelmed her and she'd done nothing but be polite and cordial until she'd been able to work herself up to being alone with him, to sharing up his space in a way she wasn't sure she deserved.
Most of all, she was exhausted by their stilted conversations. They talked about work now. That was all. Otherwise, they were barely speaking. She didn't know how to handle that. She had worked so hard to get him back, to keep him here with her, and he kept pushing her further and further out of reach.
She felt untethered, lost without a line to hold. She didn't like it.
-o-
Fitz leaned over the table, every bit of his concentration focused on the small device in front of him, a mock bomb Triplett cobbled together for him. Nothing dangerous, just enough to create a spark if he failed in his task. Wires of all different colors were poking out from the plate he had just spent an entire two minutes removing.
Two whole minutes.
120 seconds.
It was unthinkable. Removing a metal plate like that should have only taken him 15, 30 seconds at the most. But he couldn't get his hands to stop shaking for the first 60.
He could feel Triplett's eyes on him from his seat on the other side of the table. "Now, you're gonna wanna keep your hands steady. If the tools hit anything near the ignition point, the whole thing could go up."
"Thank ye. I bloody well know tha." Fitz placed a screwdriver between his teeth to stop himself from snapping at the Ops agent again. He rolled his eyes and cautiously separated the wires, attempting to see where each of them led. Triplett was better at creating a fake bomb than he thought he would be.
"Okay, so you need to find the wire that connects the timer to the ignition point."
Fitz bit down on the screwdriver again, the metallic taste reminding him of blood, and continued to follow the path of each of the wires. Three of them went to the ignition piece. He nodded at Triplett to show he'd found them.
"When you have more than one wire that connects-"
The wire cutters slipped from his hand, their tip squarely hitting the box he was supposed to be disabling in its center, and Fitz's mouth dropped open in surprise, the screwdriver clattering to the floor. Something in the ignition sparked and Fitz's cry of "Stupid bloody wires" was drowned out by the spray of the fire extinguisher putting out his mess.
He didn't look at Triplett, who had been ready with the fire extinguisher, again. Third time in a row.
"Alright, Fitz?"
"Fine," he snapped.
His hands were shaking. Again. He walked out of the lab, not turning around to see if Triplett was handling the device alright, and strode purposefully to his room, where if he could have slammed the door behind him, he would have.
-o-
"Fitz?" Simmons called the words through the door, knowing he could hear her. She also knew that he was likely ignoring her, the knowledge that Triplett would have recounted his attempt at disabling the device to her keeping him quiet. She sighed. "I'm coming in."
"Ye jus' walk in ta anyone's room now? I migh' not 'ave been decent." He was still clad in jeans and a sweater, stretched out on the bed, his fists clenched at his sides.
She didn't care that he was upset with her for barging in because he was obviously more upset with himself right now. She would rather he yell at her than ignore her like he was doing lately. They would probably both feel better.
"You act like I haven't seen you in various states of undress before," she told him primly, arms crossed over her chest. "Who do you think took care of the majority of your wounds while you were unconscious?" Despite her perfect posture and calm demeanor, her cheeks colored and she turned her gaze to the ceiling for a moment to compose herself.
Don't think about Fitz naked. You are a scientist, for God's sake. Don't think about his skin and how it is essentially flawless. Or birth marks that no one else has seen. Or anything else –
Oh, Christ.
Now, you're thinking about all of it. Stop it! He's right there! Now he's staring at you!
During the moment of silence that followed, she could feel Fitz gaping at her, floundering for words. She didn't want to know what he was thinking.
He finally settled on, "I thanked ye for tha'."
"I'm not asking you to bloody thank me, Fitz. I was just making a point." Simmons sucked in a breath, banishing the thoughts from her head.
"Wha' did ye need, Simmons?"
His tone was too flat with her. It's enough to worry her, but she pushed through the worry to attempt to talk with him.
"Trip told me you had him helping you with physical therapy today." She paused, watching as Fitz directed his gaze to the ceiling, his ears pink, though he didn't call her out on the use of the nickname this time as he had in the past. She quickly corrected her tone to make sure she didn't rile him in the wrong direction. "Fitz, you can't just have Agent Triplett create bombs for you to diffuse so you can practice using tools. It isn't safe."
"No' safe? He was there the whole time. It barely sparked. We're fine." He unclenched one fist to wave off her concerns before realizing his fingers were still shaking and balled them all back up again. "He could 'ave said no if he didnae want ta do it."
Like Triplett was going to refuse Fitz anything at this point, Simmons mused without voicing the words. Triplett had taken to Fitz like a puppy to a small child while he was recovering. It was sweet, but also worrisome, because he was always willing to assist Fitz with activities that the engineer wasn't ready to do, whether she explained the risks to them or not. She thought it was better for Fitz to recover his faculties at a slower pace; Triplett thought he should fully immerse himself in everything he could to see what shook down.
"We agreed that you wouldn't work with equipment like that until you were cleared. You're supposed to be doing the exercises-"
"No, ye agreed. I never agreed ta anythin'."
"Fitz!" Simmons threw her hands up in the air in frustration. "You know what? Get up. You are taking a break. We are taking a break. We are going for a walk."
"I'm takin' a break righ' here." He narrowed his eyes at her in suspicion.
"No, what you're doing is laying here letting your anger keep building up until it explodes all over us. You're coming with me. Now." Simmons took one step closer to his bed, feet apart, hands loose at her sides. It probably looked like she was preparing herself to spring at him. Maybe she was. She tried to relax her stance enough to not appear hostile, but it wasn't working very well. "I will drag you out of here myself if I have to."
"Ye will?" A half smile crossed his face. She wasn't sure what was so amusing. "How d'ye plan on doin' tha'? Ye think ye could jus' pull me out o' here all by yerself?"
Simmons leaned toward him. "I dragged you to the surface from the bottom of the ocean, Fitz. Try and stop me from getting you out of this room."
"Alrigh', woman." He threw his arms up in surrender and pushed off the bed. "Where are ye' takin' me?"
-o-
The closer they got to the surface level of the Playground, Fitz could hear the pinging of tiny objects hitting the roof. He furrowed his brow as he slowly followed Simmons to the hangar where the bus was still being stored, contingent upon a full run of repairs. May and Triplett had been hard at work on it for the better part of a month now, when one of them wasn't helping with his physical therapy. He flexed his fingers at the thought. He hadn't been cleared to help them with such a large task yet. There was still the possibility that he could do more harm to the plane than good.
"Where're we goin', Simmons?"
She didn't answer him as she led him into the hangar, her footsteps echoing off the expansive walls and space around them. She marched right on by their plane and towards a small doorway, one protected from the outside world by nothing more than a key pad.
"Take off your lanyard," she instructed him.
"Wha'?"
"I know Skye told you what they're really for – that they track us. Take off your lanyard." Simmons removed her own from around her neck and held out her hand for his.
Fitz swallowed and pulled the string from around his neck, getting it caught around one of his ears as he tried to remove it. He sighed in frustration, wriggling his fingers around the lanyard and tugging, but Simmons brought her hand up to his, gently pulling his fingers away and removing the lanyard herself, the tips of her own fingers grazing his ear as she did. He tried not to flinch away from her touch or lean into it, not entirely sure what it was he really wanted to do, the state of his jumbled feelings making his cheeks pink. He forced himself to remain perfectly still, his expression blank.
She didn't look him in the eye, her gaze downcast, as she took the lanyards over to a shelf in the corner and hung them on one of the hooks meant for tools. Hopefully, it wouldn't appear too strange for the two of them to be in the hangar so close together if anyone decided to check on them. This was the time they had set aside for his physical therapy, after all. She could be helping him with that for all anyone else knew. Unless they checked the video feed.
She hurriedly returned to the door, punching a series of numbers into the key pad. The door, much to Fitz's surprise, clicked open with a hiss. He had been under the impression that only their "active" team members could get out of the Playground. He, Simmons, Skye, and even Koenig had been grounded. They couldn't leave unless accompanied by an Ops agent.
"Come on," Simmons gestured to the darkness outside.
The sun had already set. Fitz didn't even know what time it was. He found he didn't much care. He hadn't been outside the Playground since he woke up several weeks ago, had been told it wasn't a good idea for him to go outside of the compound until they were sure of his abilities, and here Simmons was essentially giving him a free pass with her magic code.
It's probably Triplett's.
He shook off the thought and walked through the doorway with her, inhaling deeply, and pushing his earlier annoyances aside, grateful for the chance to get fresh air.
When did she become such a rule breaker?
The scent of damp earth reached him, and he recoiled almost immediately, but Simmons was already behind him, shutting the door, locking him outside with her.
"Wha'? Simmons, it's rainin'!"
A fine mist was falling all around them, and they were barely protected from it under the edge of the roof that jutted from the building just above their heads, feet held above the mud and muck by a small slab of concrete.
"I know."
He watched her swallow as though uncertain, reach out beyond him, her body pressing not unpleasantly into his side, and allow the rain to fall into her hand. Different circumstances and he might have enjoyed the feel of every curve of Jemma Simmons aligned against him through the fabric of their sweaters. He reached out, unthinking, and snatched her hand back, pulling her closer to the building with him.
"Fitz, it's just-"
"Water, I know." It didn't stop him from shivering just a bit, his chest tightening. He tried to appear unaffected, but the darkness of the skies, the water all around them, the near translucence of Simmons' skin in front of him, it was jogging a painful memory he would rather not think about, one that he kept pretending he didn't have when he was asked about it.
I like to think about the first law of thermodynamics.
He had allowed them all to think that there were still gaps in his recollection of the most recent events before he woke up in a hospital bed. He allowed them to believe that he had blocked much of the trauma from his mind, that there were simply black holes in place of many of his memories.
No energy is created. And none is destroyed.
There weren't. Not anymore.
He remembered everything now.
-o-
Simmons blinked. He had turned his gaze away from her, eyes darting around the field that surrounded the base with confusion, trepidation, and a healthy amount of fear. He had been doing his best to keep a blank expression up when they were alone, but right now, he couldn't appear more affected by his surroundings if he tried.
"There's no cameras out here," she explained softly. "I thought we could talk without anyone watching." She realized too late how odd that may have sounded. It was like she was doing something purposely against protocol, but the protocols were all in flux right now anyway. It wasn't like she was going to give away state's secrets or something, which was ridiculous in and of itself; they were on the same side. She just wanted a moment with her best friend when he wasn't biting her head off about work. One moment. That was all. "I mean – you – " She took a breath, seeing that he hadn't even reacted to her words. "Fitz?"
He turned his gaze back to her, eyes wide and bright. He seemed to notice that they were still pressed together because he took another step back, closer to the building itself, putting a few more inches of space between them. Simmons kept herself from stamping her foot in frustration like a toddler not getting what she wanted. Personal space had never been an issue with them before, but it seemed he couldn't be far enough away from her lately.
The idea pained her in a way she couldn't really explain if she tried. It only added to her feeling of disconnectedness and guilt.
She couldn't really blame him for this moment though. She remembered her first experience being out in the rain after everything that happened. With a deep breath, Simmons took another step back from him, giving him his space, and allowing the mist of the air to overtake her as her old Converse met the damp earth behind her.
"Where are ye goin'?" The words leapt from him. Even Fitz seemed startled that he said them.
"I'm not going anywhere." She halted her steps, just far enough away that he could stand in front of her in the rain if he wanted to. The toes of her shoes sank into the dirt and grass, but the moisture wasn't getting to her feet just yet. "You just," she gestured to the wall behind him, "looked like you needed some more room."
"Simmons, I don' think – ye shouldn' be –" he stammered, unable to get the words out.
"I'm okay, Fitz." She held her hands out at her sides. "See?" She even tilted her head back for good measure, catching a few raindrops on her tongue like a child reaching for snowflakes, though she wasn't entirely sure about the safety of the water content in this area. She brought her head back down and stared into his face, searching for something she wasn't finding. "We're both okay."
He didn't answer her, but his fists were opening and closing at his sides again, testing his strength, the tendons in his hands and muscles in his forearms working overtime. It was a nervous habit he had since his arm came out of its cast and his hand wouldn't cooperate with his thoughts. She knew, just like she thought she knew everything about him by this point, that it meant he was uncomfortable, frustrated, everything he had been for weeks.
"When I was a little girl," she told him, even though he already knew this about her, "I loved the rain, you know? I was never intrigued by weather patterns the way I was by chemical reactions or biological processes, but the rain always made me feel as though the world was full of possibilities. I would sit in my window and watch sheets and sheets of it fall to the ground. It was like it washed away everything and made the entire world feel brand new when it was done. When it was over and all the birds would come out of their hiding places, I would put on rain boots over my clothes and run right out and splash in even the shallowest of puddles. It was the one time I was truly able to feel like a child. I always felt like an adult."
She twisted her right hand over her left, not wanting to tell him the story that he didn't know. He didn't interrupt her though, so she kept going.
"There was a day that Coulson sent me out with Agent Triplett while you were still… asleep. We were just going to retrieve a few supplies for him. We were only supposed to be gone a few hours. It wasn't meant to be anything significant. I hadn't left the base since we got here."
She paused again and Fitz made a noise in the back of his throat to indicate she should continue.
"We were on our way back, and I felt it, that change in the air right before a summer storm. The pressure dropped and everything shifted and the wind smelled like… like water coming. I couldn't – I wouldn't even go into the wash rooms to shower then unless I knew someone else was already in another stall, Fitz. I was so afraid to be alone in the water. I think Triplett knew something was wrong before I did. I was holding onto the armrests like the car was going to float out from under me. I just – I was scared."
She shrugged as if it was all so simple, but it wasn't.
"Of being locked in a car. While the water poured down around me."
She dug her nails into her palms and forced herself to keep going and took a shuddering breath.
"He pressed the accelerator and we sped most of the way back to the base, but the rain still started before we got there. I remember not being able to breathe. I just kept feeling the glass breaking and the water rushing in and you drifting away from me over and over and over again." She cleared her throat, her resolve beginning to crumble.
"Wha' happened?" His words were barely a whisper, and if the rain had been falling at all harder than it was, she probably wouldn't have even heard his question.
"I don't – " Her expression twisted in frustration. She imagined she probably looked a lot like he did when they asked him questions about an old event he couldn't quite grasp. "I don't remember a lot of it. I know he pulled over and he was trying to talk to me, get me to calm down, and I must have been trying not to cry or catch my breath or something by the time I could actually hear what he was saying to me. He asked me if I wanted him to call Skye, if I would feel better if I could talk to her." Simmons laughed humorlessly. "It's funny, isn't it? Out of everyone on this team, we all seem to think Skye's the only one equipped to deal with everyone else's emotions. Everything she's probably been through, and she has to make us feel better. It's a wonder she's not sick of all of us."
"Did she help calm ye down?" She could see it, the fear in his face gradually changing into concern for her, muscles relaxing, though his eyes were still anxious. She had managed to distract him from his current predicament, though that hadn't really been her intention. She had wanted him to understand.
"No. I told him no. I didn't need him to call her. We sat there for a few minutes letting the rain fall, me trying not to faint and him trying to figure out a way to help. He told me something his grandmother used to say to him though… She told Triplett when he was a boy and things were difficult, that rainy days were the universe's way of giving us an excuse to cry. When you walk in the rain without an umbrella, no one can tell that you're crying; all they see is rain on your skin."
She stood still, clamping her mouth shut, dropping her hands to her sides, waiting for him to say something else. Her finger nails started to pick at the fabric of her jeans while she waited, and she tried not to allow something as trivial as the fact that she was going to be tracking mud all through the hangar bother her while she was trying to get through to Fitz.
"Ye sayin' ye think I need a good cry?" Fitz crossed his arms in front of him, going into his favorite defensive posture. It was stupid for him to be embarrassed, she reasoned, he had never been worried about crying before. "I'm no' sad, Simmons. I'm angry."
She scoffed without realizing she was doing it, then bit down on her own tongue in annoyance with herself.
"Wha' was tha' for?"
"What?" She tried to play it off as innocent, but her lying wasn't that accomplished, even if she was much better at it than she had been a year ago.
"Tha' noise. Wha' was tha' supposed ta mean?"
"Nothing, Fitz," she snapped in exasperation, hands throwing themselves into the air as they always did every time the two of them tried to have a real conversation these days. She couldn't understand why talking to him had become so difficult for her. It was like every little thing either of them said or did got under the other's skin.
-o-
"Ye never do anything' without it meanin' somethin', Simmons."
She rolled her eyes, and a part of him wanted to step forward, grab her arms, and give her a shake. But he wasn't doing that. First, he would never shake Simmons; he could hurt her and he wasn't about to do that. Second, he wasn't stepping out into the rain. Wasn't it Simmons who told him a mere centimeter of water in the lungs was enough to drown a full grown man all those years ago at the Academy? He wasn't risking it. Not unless he was having to pull her from a mud slide or something. He wasn't going out there.
"I know you're angry. Of course you are. Who wouldn't be? But… maybe… there's other feelings too?"
He didn't respond. He didn't want to talk about his feelings. He had never been particularly good at talking about his feelings. The last time he had attempted to talk about his feelings, she'd screamed and he'd wound up in a bloody coma. But it appeared that was exactly what Simmons had dragged him out here for, and considering he didn't have any access codes to punch into the key pad, he was likely going to be stuck out here until she decided to let him back inside.
She wrung her hands in front of her again, fingers twisting over one another, picking at her own nails, her wrists, never keeping still. She was nervous. He wasn't sure if it was being out here in the rain or if it was being out here with him. A few months ago he would have been able to read her perfectly. Now, he had no idea.
"Do you," Simmons hesitated, clasping her hands so tightly together that Fitz saw the tips of her fingers flush deep red as her knuckles paled, "want to go home, stop working for SHIELD?"
He didn't know what topics he had been expecting from this conversation, but it certainly hadn't been that. He hadn't considered that she would think he wanted to give up. He never gave up.
"Wha'? No!" Fitz shook his head vehemently and took a step forward, but stopped just short of entering the misting rain.
"No one would blame you if you did, Fitz." She hesitated again. "I wouldn't." She swallowed down whatever else she was going to say. Fitz didn't ask her what it was she was holding back, though his mind jumped about five steps ahead in the conversation at the possibilities.
"Do ye think I cannae do this job anymore?" What he was feeling now wasn't the anger he felt every time he stepped into the lab and had difficulty using the equipment. This was – his shoulders dropped - disappointment. Defeat even.
"Of course not. That's not what I'm saying at all, Fitz. You are the most brilliant person I know. I just didn't know if that was what you wanted. SHIELD saved us from boring lives in research companies, but there's a lot of risk involved. And you're not… you're not happy here."
She had that look on her face like he's just told her she couldn't keep the stray puppy she found. It's the one that's full of regret and resignation and hurt. He hated to be the one who put that expression on her face. He had only seen it a handful of times, but it cut somewhere way deep down that he had tried unsuccessfully to bury.
"We're livin' in a bloody bunker in the middle o' nowhere, Simmons. We dunnae know how many o' our friends from the Academy are even alive. We're cut off from everythin' here. I never get ta go outside." He paused, rolling his eyes. "Other tha' now, o' course. I jus' feel like I'm no' helpin' wi' anythin'. I jus' need time." He spread his hands out in front of him, wanting her to understand the frustration. It was just frustration. That didn't mean he wanted to leave. Drops of water landed on his shaking fingers, and he had to force himself not to pull his hands back, even though everything in him was telling him it was dangerous, that he should flatten his body against the wall and avoid all contact. "It migh' no' be the same, but I'm no' goin' anywhere, Simmons."
"Okay."
"Okay? Ye drag me out here in tha rain ta fin' out if I want ta leave, and tha's it?" Fitz shook his head in disbelief, the hands that had been held out in surrender went back to his hips, safe out of the rain.
"I didn't!" She protested, shaking her head as well.
The faint light from key pad behind them made the water dotting her hair sparkle like diamonds or bits of glass. He closed his eyes and attempted to shut out thoughts of Simmons and screams and shattering glass.
You're my best friend in the world.
"Then wha' is it, Simmons?" He asked her, blowing the air in his lungs out in a long sigh before opening his eyes.
"It's like you're gone," she burst out, crossing her arms, hugging her sweater close to herself, like she was physically trying to hold herself together. "Since you woke up, you do your therapy with May and with Triplett, and you do work for Coulson and you play games with Skye, but when it's me, you're just… not there. I don't even remember the last time we watched a film together. I know – we're agents for a secret organization that doesn't technically exist anymore, and I'm worried about watching movies with my – friend. It's stupid."
She gave a strangled cry when he opened his mouth to respond, and he knew better than to interrupt her this time. Where he would normally be able to talk while she spoke, her brain keeping up with her steady stream of words and his arguments all at the same time, let his thoughts bleed into, over, and under hers, this was one time where he knew that wasn't going to work. He had to listen before he said anything else. There was something desperate in her eyes.
"I already dealt with you not being here, Fitz. The water pulled you away from me, and I pulled you back." She leaned forward, her eyes red in the rain, but he couldn't tell if the drops on her face were the result of the weather or her crying, just like she had said. "When you were… asleep… I worked without you. It was difficult. And I felt horrible that it was you in there and not me. But I did the work. I got through it. But I can't anymore. It's like we're still out there in the middle of the ocean and you're drifting away from me on purpose. I can't handle you pulling away from me. Not now. Please."
"I'm no'," he started to protest, then realized that had been exactly what he had been doing. He took another deep breath. "'s not on purpose." He shook his head again. "I dinnae mean ta make ye feel tha' way. You're my best friend in tha world, Simmons."
-o-
Simmons watched in surprise as he crossed the small piece of concrete again, his sneaker clad feet falling on the grass just in front of hers, his hands at his sides. Small dots from the mist appeared on his eyelashes, the hair on the crown of his head, the collar of his shirt. They beaded down the skin of his face, sliding down his neck to where she couldn't follow them.
"Fitz…"
He was breathing hard, like no matter how deep of a breath he took, he couldn't fill his lungs. She knew that feeling well. She wanted to reach out and take his hand, but she was worried that would have him running back to the safety of the building again, so she kept her arms crossed and fisted her hands into the fabric of her sweater, her muscles trembling with the effort of standing still, finger nails snagging on loose threads, likely ruining the sleeves of the sweater.
"'s not on purpose," he repeated stubbornly, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides again.
"I know Fitz, just… talk to me, okay?"
He nodded his head, his eyes boring into hers. She tried not to notice the tremors in him, but she had spent so much time paying extra attention to him since he opened his eyes and confusion had crossed his face at where he was that she couldn't help but notice it now. His muscles were pulled taught, adrenaline having kicked in because of the water and the darkness, but he was standing in the middle of it with her, and she really couldn't have been more proud of him. He didn't need to have full use of all of his skills yet, even if he didn't believe that. What he was doing right now was more than she would have been able to do in his position. It was more than she had been able to do when she first got to the base. She bent her knees slightly, rocking toward him, then groaned in frustration. When his brow furrowed, she shook her head apologetically and made a decision.
"Erm – I'm sorry, but I'm going to hug you now."
She didn't give him time to process what she told him, just unfolded her arms and launched herself at him before he could register his own surprise or protest it. She wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing herself into him, not willing to let go for anything, a small gasp of air escaping her lungs when she felt, after a brief hesitation on his part, his shoulders tense and then move as he brought his arms around her waist.
She had only hugged him once after he woke, when the doctor had asked him to identify the members of the team on sight. She had been last in line, and when the word Simmons left him while he was propped up in bed, he had smiled at her gratefully and she had run to him without even thinking about it. She hadn't cared what anyone else thought, including the doctor, when she did it. She just couldn't hold back her relief. Since then, he had placed the distance between them and she had tried very hard to respect it.
Now, she expected him to only hug her briefly, then disentangle himself as quickly as he put his arms around her. He didn't. When she shifted against him, leaning her cheek into his shoulder and steeling herself for having to pull away again, he tightened his arms around her almost instinctively, his fists unclenching against her back, his shaking fingers pressing into her, fingertips curling to hold her hips just so. She sighed with relief, her breath ghosting over his neck and raising gooseflesh on his skin. Trying not to grin at that, Simmons relaxed into him. Hugs had been a rare enough part of their friendship to begin with. She had missed them.
-o-
Fitz might not have been purposely shutting Simmons out, but he had been doing his best to hold himself back from her, to guard himself against any kind of temptation or further admissions, trying to keep the both of them from getting hurt. She hadn't said anything to him about what he told her when they were at the bottom of the ocean, not since he told everyone that his memories of that day were all mixed up in his head not long after regaining consciousness. He hadn't wanted to talk about it when he couldn't quite recall everything that had gone on. And once he had remembered everything, waking up in the middle of the night, gasping for air, thinking that he and Simmons were still trapped, he realized that it was probably better to wait. He could see now that had been a mistake. Even though it was difficult, they were going to have to address it.
But maybe not right now.
"I heard ye, ye know." He spoke the words into her hair, staring off into the darkness around them.
"What?"
"I heard ye. When I was in a coma." The words tasted wrong in his mouth. He understood now why she always acted as though he had just been sleeping when she talked about that time. A slight intake of breath, her chest rising and falling against his, was the only response she gave him. "Probably no' all o' wha' ye said. But I heard ye readin' ta me an' talkin' ta me… Please donnae ever let Triplett read any o' tha classics ta me again. They're horrible." He paused when he felt her smile against him. "Ye yelled at me." Another quick breath and the press of her hands made him think that she was going to pull back, but he didn't let go. "Ye were spittin' mad a' me." He grinned into her hair at the memory.
"I-" she cut herself off, seemingly at a loss for words, and rubbed her cheek against the fabric of the sweater on his shoulder like a cat. It was like she was relishing the softness of the fabric on her skin, the sharpness of his bones underneath. It made his pulse quicken.
"I think ye said somethin' abou' wantin' ta get Skye ta find a real telepath so ye could get in my head." He dipped his head a little bit further, breathing in the smell of her shampoo. "Ye dunnae believe in telepathy. Tha's how I knew ye were really pissed off."
"I was upset because you were asleep for a very long time," Simmons spoke into his sweater, her voice muffled against him. "I was trying to think outside the box to get you to wake up." A bark of laughter escaped her and rippled through him.
Being able to feel her laughter in his own chest, the warmth it made spread through him, reminded him of just why he had been pushing her away. Since she couldn't see his face, he closed his eyes and made himself as still as possible, memorizing the feel of her right palm on the back of his neck, fingers likely unconsciously slipping into his hair, the heat from her forehead sliding against his throat when she leaned closer to him, her left hand gripping the back of his sweater so tightly she was surely stretching the fabric beyond salvation, the way her hips lined perfectly with his. He paid special attention to the way her lips curved when she smiled just on the other side of the fabric. He was actually grateful for the cool moisture in the air helping to control the temperature of his overheated skin.
"Fitz?"
She must have noticed his stillness. He gulped in a breath and tried to focus.
"So ye don' believe in telepaths now, then?"
"No."
He sighed against her hair and stopped himself from dropping a kiss there, afraid that was crossing the invisible line he'd put in place. He started to pull back when she shivered against him.
"I won't diffuse anymore o' Triplett's bombs, alrigh'?" He held her awkwardly at arm's length. Considering it was what had prompted her to drag him outside in the first place, it seemed like the right thing to say. "I'll do tha exercises."
"Alright." Simmons peered up at him in confusion though. Again, it was as though she wanted to say something else to him, but she stopped and waited while he dropped his arms from her.
"We should, er, head back in. Don' wan' ye getting' pneumonia or anythin'."
"Right."
-o-
Simmons very reluctantly let him go, smoothing out his sweater where she had wrinkled and bunched it as she moved. She didn't look him in the eye, walking around him to the key pad, lost in thought. She didn't know what she had done, but she felt it, the moment when he started to close off again. She wished she knew exactly what it was that was bothering him. It couldn't just be his hands. There had to be something else or he wouldn't have suddenly shut down. It wasn't like there was even anyone else out here to embarrass him.
"Hey, Fitz?" she asked as she punched in the numbers that would let them back in.
"Hmmm?"
He was close enough behind her that he could probably read the numbers on the key pad as she entered them. She would have to let Koenig know to block that access code. It was unfair, but she knew it was likely for the best.
"You know I'm here, whatever you need, right? No matter what?"
His hand landed on her shoulder and he squeezed briefly before dropping it.
"I know, Simmons."
With a sigh, she hit the final button in the sequence and the door clicked open.
Walking into the bright light of the hangar was like waking up from a very odd dream. Standing outside in the rain and the darkness it had been easy to think that she and Fitz were alone in the middle of nowhere, but there was May, in a pair of SHIELD coveralls, something Simmons didn't even know existed, hair back, a smudge of oil on her cheek. She raised an eyebrow at them, but didn't open her mouth.
"Therapy," Simmons informed her weakly.
The eyebrow raised even further.
"Yes, Simmons was beratin' me for tryin' ta dismantle Agent Triplett's fake bomb," Fitz added offhand.
"Berating?" she echoed, wheeling on him. "I was not-" But then she saw the look on his face and realized he was giving them a plausible out. May didn't need to know that they had been talking about, of all things, her worries that they weren't close enough anymore. That probably wasn't something they needed to be discussing with the rest of the team considering that historically, SHIELD considered closeness a problem. "Well, maybe you should do the approved physical therapy activities first then."
"I'll do tha'." He pushed his hands into his pockets and rocked on his heels for a moment before nodding his head at her and leaving the hangar with quick small steps, never once glancing in May's direction, likely because she would be able to tell that he was lying.
"Whose code did you use," May asked once Fitz was through the door and back inside the compound.
"Yours. I'm sorry." Simmons hurriedly scraped her shoes along a rubberized matt by the door, trying to get as much of the dirt and mud off her as she could. The bottoms of her jeans were still wet, but it would have to do.
"It's alright." The scrape of metal on metal made Simmons turn her attention back to her. "Koenig likes to change them."
Simmons nodded her head. "Speaking of Koenig," she muttered to herself, reaching out to the rack where she had hung their lanyards, "he'll have kittens if he catches Fitz without this."
She left May to the plane, letting her footsteps take her back to the lab, where she hoped Fitz was calmed down enough to at least try the PT activities he hated. She halted in the doorway, seeing him seated at one of the tables across from Triplett. Triplett was hard at work rewiring his mock bomb while Fitz had a pile of tangled electronic cables in front of him that he was slowly unknotting from one another. She smiled. He wasn't working on the bomb. He was actually doing one of the dexterity exercises that had been recommended.
She cleared her throat, causing both of them to look up from the table.
"I just wanted to give this back. You left it." She held the lanyard out to him, and Fitz took it from her with an inclination of his head, but he didn't say anything.
Triplett looked back and forth between them, his eyes Simmons noticed, taking in their wet hair and water spots on their sweaters. He shook his head, possibly in something akin to amusement, but didn't say anything. She smiled at both of them and turned on her heel, wanting to get out of there as soon as possible, not usually something she wanted when she was standing in the lab with Fitz.
Something was still off. And awkward. And it just didn't feel like something she could fix. She didn't know what to do. If she pushed him too hard, she was just going to make things worse. She walked carefully down the hall, Fitz's face in the rain filling her thoughts. She was supposed to be helping Skye with dinner, and she was late. She was just going to have to worry about this later. About half way down the hall, bits of conversation from the lab floated through the open door to her.
Fitz's voice said something about energy and reincarnation, the circle of life, but Simmons couldn't make it all out. Triplett barked out a laugh.
"Man, of course you wanna come back as a monkey," Trip's voice boomed.
At least he and Agent Triplett didn't appear to have any problems anymore.
-o-
"Koenig and I started without you," Skye teased when she stepped into the kitchen. "I have no idea what half of this stuff is, but he assures me it's all delicious." She bumped her hip into Simmons and they both laughed, though Simmons wasn't quite as boisterous as Skye this time.
"Sorry, I was talking to Fitz," Simmons smile turned apologetic.
Skye gave her the once over. "In the shower?" She quirked an eyebrow up in a scarily May-like fashion.
"What?" Simmons looked down at herself and saw the splotches of water all over her. Skye pointedly looked down at Simmons jeans where the mud had begun to dry, then nodded at Koenig at the far end of the room. Simmons did her best to keep her expression blank and shrugged her shoulders.
Skye shrugged too and began chattering on about the different dehydrated packages Koenig had pulled out, the Playground's keeper chiming in every so often from the position he took up at the stove.
Simmons nodded politely and smiled in all the right places, taking the spoon Skye pushed at her and stirring something in the bowl in front of her, the gears in her mind turning over and over.
I like to think about the first law of thermodynamics. That no energy is created. And none is destroyed.
Simmons paused, tapping the spoon in the bowl, not realizing that Skye was giggling at something Koenig was saying. She absent mindedly drew a line with the spoon through the contents.
That means that every bit of energy inside us, every particle, will go on to be a part of something else-
She dropped the spoon with a clatter, the liquid in the bowl splashing over the counter top. He had explicitly stated that he didn't remember what had happened that day. He remembered his arm hurting. He remembered darkness. That was what he had told Coulson. But –
-maybe live as a dragonfish, a microbe, maybe burn in a supernova. And every part of us now was once a part of some other thing - a moon, a storm cloud, a mammoth. A monkey.
"Simmons? You okay?" Skye picked up the spoon as Simmons backed away from the counter.
You're my best friend in the world.
Yeah, and you're more than that.
She had spent weeks agonizing about what he had said, she had spent weeks agonizing about what she felt; she had practically allowed the guilt for him giving her the only oxygen available at the bottom of the bloody ocean to consume her. She had agonized about what she would say to him if he remembered, and now, she didn't even recognize it when he was quoting her words from that day back to her. He was talking about the first law of thermodynamics with Triplett for goodness sake!
"How could I have been so stupid?" she muttered to herself.
"Uh, Simmons? It's fine. You didn't over mix it or anything." Skye stepped around her, tilting the bowl and watching the liquid move around. She showed it to Koenig for confirmation.
"What?" Simmons eyes met Skye's, confused. "I'm sorry. I just realized something else I need to speak with Fitz about. You don't really need my help, right?"
Simmons didn't actually wait for a response, nearly running from the kitchen in her haste to speak with him.
"Hrmph." Skye smiled to herself. "About damn time. For a couple of geniuses, they can be so stupid."
-o-
Fitz found that he didn't so much mind working in the same room as Triplett these days. Triplett knew when to distract him with small talk, take his mind off the way his hands were (or were not) working. He also knew when to leave him to his thoughts. He knew better than to tell him to be patient, to let things happen, that his work would pay off. He also did not look or smell like Simmons, which was a definite tally in the plus column.
Right now, while his hands were pulling pieces of cable over and under and attempting to untangle cords without seizing up or devolving into tremors, Triplett was distracting him with a steady stream of conversation, theorizing what the energy of the other team members would come back to the world as in the future, their next life cycle for the karmicly inclined.
"What about Simmons?" Triplett asked him after they had decided that May would be something fearsome and strong, like lightning cracking from the sky, before moving on to something else.
"You lied to me!"
Both men's hands stilled over their respective projects. Fitz met Triplett's gaze. He recognized the voice from the doorway (how could he not), but he was not entirely sure whom she was directing her anger at. Considering she had never, at least to his knowledge, used that tone with Triplett before, he was fairly worried that she was talking to him. It was Triplett who responded to her though, his eyes staying on Fitz, amusement dancing in them.
"About what?" One side of his mouth twitched and Fitz was certain the other man was trying not to laugh.
"Not you," Simmons snapped in a way that sounded almost nothing like her. It actually reminded him of one of the professors they had at the Academy. Scary.
There was another twitch. Yes. He was definitely trying not to laugh. Bloody Triplett. Why had they become friends again?
"Well, I'll just leave you two alone then." Triplett set his screwdriver on the table and stood up, ignoring the panic that must have been radiating from Fitz at this point. Fitz placed the cables that had been clutched in his hands on the surface of the table as well.
"We don' lie ta each other," Fitz tried telling her calmly, turning to face her as Triplett walked around the table, clapping one hand on his shoulder in some sort of attempt at comfort. It didn't really do the job.
"We didn't, but apparently we do now, because you lied to me. What was it you were just talking with Triplett about? You'd like your energy to come back as a monkey after you're gone? Not a dragonfish, maybe? Be part of a supernova?" She put her hands on her hips, hurt and anger pouring from her in waves, and Triplett flew through the doorway.
Fitz almost wished he would stay. Simmons wouldn't kill him if Triplett was in the room. He hoped. There were several ways he knew of off the top of his head that she could kill him and leave no evidence. A witness would be good.
The again, this was not a conversation he wanted to have in front of Triplett.
"Simmons-"
"Don't you 'Simmons' me right now." She hissed and turned around, making sure Triplett was gone, shutting the door behind him. He watched her back as she took a breath, steadying herself before facing him again. "You said you didn't remember anything except breaking your arm, that it was dark, that the water was cold, and that it hurt." Her voice was shaking.
"I didn't. Not at first. I'm sorry-"
"You're sorry!?" She exploded on him. "God, Fitz! Do you not understand how difficult it was for me? Do you really not understand how hard it was to deal with you being in a coma? I couldn't work with you. I couldn't talk to you. I couldn't-" She broke off, her face darkening to an odd shade of pink. "You remember everything, don't you?"
He nodded his head uncertainly, climbing to his feet.
"Simmons," he tried again, keeping his voice low, "I really didn't at first."
"How long?" He didn't answer her. "How long, Fitz?" Her voice rose every time she asked him a question, and he couldn't remember her ever being this loud with him before.
"'bout a month." He hung his head guiltily.
"A month?" She took a few steps closer to him, her hands twisting in front of her. "You've known what you said to me this entire time and you didn't think to mention it?" She began to babble almost incoherently about how they were supposed to tell each other everything, how she hadn't said anything because she thought he really didn't remember and she didn't want to make him uncomfortable, and he rose his voice over hers to speak.
"I didnae want to say anythin' cause ye don'-"
"I don't what Fitz?"
"I'm your bes' friend, but I don' have ta be more than tha'. 'S fine."
"It is not fine, Fitz!"
The two of them reverted back to old habits from the Academy, their voices beginning to roll over one another, neither of them stopping to take a breath as their arguments gathered steam, hands flailing in front of them as they gestured while they spoke.
"Well, I'm sorry tha' I cannae control how I feel-"
"You are my best friend but-"
"'s no' like I wanted it ta be this way-"
"You never even let me respond, you just pushed the bloody button without even thinking-"
"I didnae wan' ta change anythin' between us-"
"And then you spent this whole time letting me think you didn't even remember it-"
"I like us bein' friends, Jemma. You dunnae know how importan' it is-"
"God, if you would just stop and think about how I feel instead of just deciding everything for me-"
"But now everythin' is differen'-"
"I've had so much longer to think about it, and I couldn't even tell you-"
"I am sorry. Ye can just' forge' I said it."
"I love you."
They both stopped speaking, mouths open in surprise. Simmons hands hovered in front of her, and she abruptly shut her mouth, eyes wide as she looked at him.
"Ye what?" Fitz was almost positive he had imagined that last bit. The expression on her face indicated that she had in no way intended to just blurt that out. His brain was playing tricks on him, punishing him for something. It had to be.
"Erm, well." Simmons clenched her hands together in front of her, squeezing tight, for the first time in this conversation appearing utterly terrified instead of angry. She was probably very glad the cameras had no audio capabilities in the lab.
"Simmons." He shook his head. "Jemma." He took a step forward, but as he did, she took a step back from him. "Jemma, I'm goin' ta need ye to say tha' again. I need ta know I'm no' hallucinatin', tha' this isnae some sort of side effect."
"You're not. It's not." She breathed out slowly, closing her eyes, and he watched her unfurl her fingers from one another, wiping her palms on her jeans. She took another breath and opened her eyes. "I… love you," she said hoarsely. She shrugged as though her words were not possibly changing the entire foundation of their relationship. "When you told me how you felt, I hadn't thought that was a real possibility before. I didn't know you felt that way. We've been working together since we were 18, Fitz. You never said anything."
"I didnae know how I felt before either. I-"
"When did you know? How you felt? …Feel?"
Fitz smiled again. He couldn't tell if this was the analytical Jemma who needed to know everything about the things she was interested in, or if this was the competitive Jemma who always wanted to get to the answers before him. "Feel," he affirmed. "I think I knew on our secon' mission, when we were leavin' Peru an' Camilla's men trapped us in tha lab. Firs' time I really thought I could lose ye. I didnae wan' ta admit it though."
She swallowed and smiled shyly at him. "I guess it took me a bit longer to catch up this time."
"Ye cannae always come in firs'… Jemma." He said her name slowly, allowing the letters to roll across his tongue. It was still strange to use her first name. He wasn't used to it. It gave him an odd sort of thrill every time he said it aloud. He didn't think he was going to be able to stop saying it now.
Nodding, Simmons seemed to brace herself for whatever was going to happen next.
-o-
She understood now, why he had been keeping his distance, standing so far apart from her when they were both in the lab, choosing a seat on the opposite end of the table at dinner. It was exciting and scary and… tempting once your feelings were in full display. Just standing in the lab with him right now, everything out in the open, she felt like her entire world could combust and she wasn't about to reach for the fire extinguisher.
Simmons slid one foot forward along the floor, not lifting it, then brought the other even with it, effectively taking a step toward Fitz, her heart pounded against her ribs, her breath caught in her throat.
"So… what do we do now?" She looked at him expectantly. This was foreign territory for her. She hadn't exactly been a social butterfly growing up. Her experience in this particular area was definitely limited.
Fitz opened his mouth to respond, but closed it again just as quickly, his cheeks a bright red, the color spreading down his neck. He shrugged his shoulders and held his hands out. His hands were shaking again. He didn't ball them into fists this time, just slowly put them back down.
"I dunnae either."
They stood there staring at one another, not saying anything while the clock on the wall ticked the seconds away.
"Well… what if we… start out slow?" Simmons let out a shuddering breath after the question.
"How slow?"
She grinned at him now. Fitz had been shy and scared and her best friend, but Fitz was still a guy. "Skye and Koenig are making dinner." Fitz nodded at her, not seeing where she was going with this. "You could come with me to the kitchen and we could help finish." She waited while he nodded again, agreeing to that. "And when everyone comes in to eat, I'm going to sit by you, and you are not going to move to the other side of the table to avoid me." The grin on his face was as wide as her own now. "And after dinner, you are going to watch a movie with me."
"Dinner an' a movie then?" He let out a short chuckle. "Do I get ta pick tha movie since ye have everythin' else planned ou'?"
"Hmm… maybe we should see how dinner goes first," she teased him.
-o-
Four hours later, Coulson entered one of the common areas to pick up a stack of files left on one of the tables. He paused though when the sound of giggling reached him. Camped out on the couch, a laptop playing a forgotten movie sitting on the table in front of them, were Fitz and Simmons, appearing much more relaxed than they had in a very long time. He paused in the entry way, as silent as he had trained May to be so many years ago.
Simmons had her legs draped over Fitz's lap, a tangled pile of cables on top of her legs, Fitz's hands holding one of the cables carefully as he twisted it in and out of a particularly nasty knot.
Coulson's eyes widened in surprise. Apparently, Fitz had finally decided to work at his physical therapy the way he was supposed to be. Coulson wondered what had changed his mind. He had spent most of the last month sulking and acting like he didn't need to listen to the doctor.
"Jemma," Fitz groaned. "This is bloody impossible. I cannae get this apar'. My fingers donnae wan' ta work anymore."
"It's okay, Fitz," Simmons told him soothingly, leaning even closer to him and plucking the cords from his hands to drop them on the table. "We can work on it tomorrow. And the day after that. And the day after that." She tucked her head against his shoulder and kissed him on the corner of his mouth, allowing her lips to linger longer than a friend usually would.
Ah. Of course.
Coulson didn't bother to hide his smile in the darkness of the hall when Fitz turned to Simmons, a determined expression on his face and said, "give me the bloody cords again."
-o-
This was written for my first ever Big Bang, the aos_bigbang over at livejournal. Definitely a fun experience.
I have to give a huge thanks to notapepper for being my beta and general voice of wisdom on this one. She rocks. Seriously. I'm kind of wondering how I was writing Fitz and Simmons before all of her help.
Also, a huge thanks to macpye, who created the artwork for my story. Can't post it here, but I will have a link in my profile so you guys can see it.