"I've been thinking about it. Maybe she did notice, and she just made excuses for herself not to have to deal with it. Or she came up with ways to explain it to herself."

-Peter Bishop, Fringe 3x04 "Do Shapeshifters Dream of Electric Sheep?"

Sometimes people overlooked such obvious things. Director Coulson, for example. He thought that he would be able to keep Fitz away from the Playground if he took his lanyard and keys away. He forgot that there was a time when Fitz was bored out of his mind and his hands were still not working properly, so he had nothing better to do than look at blueprints and schematics of the base. That then he spent a whole lot of time upgrading all the security mechanisms, devoting hours to try and figure out how to make them better after yet another tragedy of a mission.

You can't take the keys from the architect. He has them imprinted in his blood and mind.

Giving himself an access point with a Mouse Hole, Fitz went through the secret entrance to the base for the first time in almost two months.

When Coulson told him he had to give up on trying to figure out the Monolith and bringing Jemma back, he just laughed at this joke of a possibility. They told him to move on, but how could he? How could he start working on anything different than finding a way to get Simmons out of this rock? What were they all thinking, that he would just forget and go back to designing weapons and robots? Back to standard S.H.I.E.L.D. missions and engineering? They couldn't understand. There was no way back.

It was hard to live when there was a hole in his world and nobody else cared. Nobody else wanted to help him with bringing her back. They gave up on her but he would be damned if he would. So he left and found another way.

Of course, there was the problem of getting around the base unnoticed. At first he thought he would do it on foot if necessary- just a long walk in a uniform made of anti-radar materials, it shouldn't be that hard to obtain and make. But he was an engineer and there was always someone needing a fix or upgrade of something. S.H.I.E.L.D. was not the only organisation with resources. There were others willing to give him a ride and allow him access to labs and whatever he needed in exchange for some of his help. After the first fiasco in negotiations (how was he supposed to know that they meant heavy artillery, all he signed for was building engines for ships. Why would the mafia pretend to be a legal business?) he chose his partners more carefully and after a while found a bank in a small country full of mountains that was more than happy to give him access to the best labs in exchange for an innovative alarm system.

And now, here he was, back in the Playground, walking down the corridors in silence with just a small suitcase in his hand and a gun at his belt.

He should have at least 15 minutes before his device would stop looping the footage from security cameras and someone would notice that they had an intruder in the base. That should be more than enough.

This might have been a desperate attempt, but he was way past desperation a long while ago. Now he had to take his chances before it was too late.

Hoping that Coulson hadn't thought about moving the Monolith, he threw the warning tape away and opened the door. There it was. The source of all this. The 'Space Rock of Doom'. Praying that his hands wouldn't shake and ruin his chances, he quickly opened the glass cage and then his suitcase, and connected his device with S.H.I.E.L.D.'s equipment and powered it all up.

12 seconds, just as calculated. He should make it in time.

There was a whizzing sound and the smell of electrostatic. Then the solid stone of the Monolith changed into fluid and disintegrated between him and his device, only to leave the body of Jemma Simmons on the floor and integrate into a solid monolith again.

It worked.

For a second he still couldn't believe that it worked, after all his failed attempts, after all he'd gone through, after everything, after three months, it finally worked.

He ran to her, checked her breathing and caught her arms, holding her up and checking for injuries.

"Jemma?" He called her, hoping that she would open her eyes. "Jemma, it's me. Can you hear me?"

"Fitz?" She murmured while opening her eyes. "What's-"

"You were inside a rock, I pulled you out," he explained, knowing that it sounded ridiculous. "Listen, we don't have much time. Can you sit?"

"I... I think so,"she said in a weak voice, trying to lift herself, her movements sloppy like she was not used to moving her muscles anymore.

"Good," he said urgently, knowing that they had less and less time left. "They will notice we are here soon, we have to move. We can go to my lab in Europe or do you want to stay with S.H.I.E.L.D.?"

"Your lab?"

"Well, yes," he said cursing that they hadn't have enough time for him to explain it all properly. "About that... I kind of don't work for S.H.I.E.L.D. anymore."

"What?" She suddenly seemed alert.

"I had to quit," he explained looking nervously at the door. "I shouldn't be here, so unless you want to stay here, we better move now, before they find us," he urged.

"I have to stay," she told him immediately. "I have to stay in here."

"Okay then," he nodded. This was the harder option, but he wouldn't argue with her, not now, not about this.

"But... Will you stay here with me?" she asked with eyes full of confusion and uncertainty.

"Yes," he nodded again. "Yes, of course I will stay with you," he promised and moved some loose hair from her face, "Don't worry, Coulson won't be mad for long after he sees that I was right."

"Right about what?" she asked tilting her head.

"That you are not gone."

They sat there for a moment in silence, him content that they were finally back together, her still a little dazzled and lost. A while later a team of agents found them both curled on the floor next to the Monolith.

Coulson was furious, not only because Fitz broke into the base but also because he broke into quarantine and "experimented without supervision or backup on a dangerous 0-8-4". Fitz didn't regret any of this even for a moment, which was not helping his case. After a lot of talks and way too many hours locked inside the vault, he was finally let out with a temporary S.H.I.E.L.D. lanyard and a metal bracelet on his wrist, the same kind Skye had to use a long while ago with a bonus tracker. In theory he was allowed to work in the lab but only with Mack supervising and looking at his hands. Coulson was way too sensitive about treason, even though in Fitz's opinion, it was the Director that was betraying S.H.I.E.L.D. ideas when he wrote Simmons down as MIA. Coulson soon agreed that Fitz's behaviour may not be excused, but might be understood and so he offered the engineer a second chance, which Fitz accepted hoping that this way he would not only be able to see Simmons sooner, but also to work with her again, like in good old times. Maybe this way everything would be fixed sooner rather than later.

They were working together in a lab, surrounded by a mass of people who were trying to pretend they were not spying on them. Fitz couldn't blame them, not really. He was a risk and Simmons was back to working way too soon for his comfort. That was just like her to pretend that everything was fine when she should be resting and trying to get back on track.

She didn't want to talk about the monolith. She didn't ask what he was doing during that three months they were separated. She just came to the lab every morning, working on whatever Coulson gave her with focus and effectiveness that was surprising for Fitz. Yes, he was expecting her to try to get back to working as soon as possible and pretend everything was fine, but he wasn't expecting her to actually behave like everything was fine, like this whole Rock thing never happened. But that was exactly what she did; she was so much like the old Simmons that he found it hard to believe. Even harder was accepting that she might have changed enough to lie well enough to fool even him. The only exception from her too good behaviour was when they found themselves alone in the kitchen and she was thanking him for rescuing her and he always apologising to her that it took him so long, and yet even though it was all as could be expected there was something lacking, some spark in her eyes that was too dim, words too correct and pretty, something that reminded him that there was still a topic they should stop avoiding.

He managed to hold it for two days after he was out of the vault before he asked her about their dinner.

"Dinner?" she asked a little surprised, not tearing her eyes away from her tablet when they were sitting together in the kitchen, sipping their teas.

"Yes. I thought that, well, since we... we couldn't go last time, maybe we could go somewhere now. Someday. If you want to, that is."

"Oh," she stopped looking at the screen and moved her eyes to his tea instead, tilting her head a little. "Well, that... That sounds lovely," she said finally in a voice that seemed a little flat to him. He really should keep his insecurities in check. "Today?" she proposed looking at him.

"Sure," he nodded, surprised that it could happen so fast. "If that's what you want. Are you sure you're ready to go out so fast? Maybe you want to rest for a while longer, stay in the base?" he asked, wanting to make sure that she was not pushing herself like she did every hour of every day in the lab. "Or we could make this dinner in here if you would like that better?" It was strange and so unlike them, the way he couldn't gauge her thoughts by her body language, not having a clue what her response would be.

"No, I'm perfectly fine," she assured him with a slight, calming wave of her hand. "We could go to some Italian place nearby, it doesn't have to be far away," she assured him.

He wasn't sure if that was a good idea, but since he was still unable to believe that she even agreed to their dinner three months ago, it wasn't looking so bad. Not bad at all.

It was looking pretty bad when he was fumbling in his room, first with the buttons of his shirt, then with his tie, regretting that he hadn't put one on in such a long while - he could certainly use more practice in tying it. Finally he was ready and was trying desperately to calm his nerves, knowing that they wouldn't do any good. He was pacing back and forth waiting for Jemma to appear so that he could take her for their dinner. When she finally came with a small smile on her face, her hair all curly and bright, her eyes pointed at him with curiousity, looking lovely in her dress. Her standard "first-date" dress, he noted with a sting of surprise, which in turn surprised him even more. Why would he expect her to wear something different? Jemma loved order and following rules, and when she was nervous she always escaped into routines and patterns. He smiled back at her - after all, always trying to stick to logic and reason, even in matters of the heart, sounded just like Simmons.

The restaurant wasn't far - he didn't want it to be, not when Jemma was back only for a few days and there was still way too many questions without answers about what happened to her. For her safety it would be better if they stay close to the base. Just in case. It was just a small place where they could sit and spend a little time together in peace. It was not posh or romantic or stylish, it was like none of the places on the list he'd prepared months ago, but it had to do for now. They were sitting there, eating food that was not as great as he wished it was, talking mostly about work and science that somehow was incapable of bringing the spark it usually did in Jemma's eyes, not when she was obviously still tired. Tired or bored. He was trying not to let bad thoughts ruin the evening but he still couldn't help the occasional thought that if it was not for his stuttering, the conversation would be going much more smoothly and that Jemma was deserving of something better than that, better than his trembling hands and tangled mind. They didn't stay for long, and the ride back was full of silence and secret glances full of mystery and hidden meaning that they were both stealing. Somehow this only made him more uncertain about what was going on and whether things were going smoothly between them. It used to be so easy. Even when they were at odds, he was still able to read her enough, but somehow now, with the dinner and date setting, she transformed into a pure enigma

Back in the Playgroud they walked through the silent corridors, Fitz escorting Simmons back to her room, having no idea what to do when they got there. He was hoping for the whole evening that Jemma would give him a clue to whatever she was expecting, or maybe they would talk about it, but nothing like that happened and now here he was, getting closer and closer, and soon he would have to make a decision and take some action.

The door was there and they both stopped and stared at the wood for a second. Finally Simmons turned back to him.

"It was a really nice and lovely evening," she said with a pleasant smile, tilting her head a little to the left.

He couldn't see her eyes hidden behind hair and driven by an impulse he reached and moved it away, hoping they would add some meaning and context to her words. She smiled at him even more and he decided that that was it, the moment when everything would become clear. Win or lose. He moved closer and bent a little, slow enough for her to move her head and decide where his lips would land - on her cheek or lips. She moved her head abruptly away from him so fast that she hit the door frame.

"Sorry," he mumbled while moving away, angry at himself for ruining everything. He should have been more careful, he should have kept it slow, he should have been more patient with these delicate threads that just begun to reconnect them both. "I'm so-sorry, I shouldn't have... I should..." he stuttered trying to find the right words, something that would fix this, but he couldn't find anything so he was just stepping back, away from her. "I better just go." He gave up and turned away, going through the corridor in fast steps, back to his room, cursing himself in his mind over and over for being so stupid and ruining everything. Again.

"Fitz!" He heard her calling him and running after him. A few seconds later there was her hand at his arm tugging him to turnand look at her. He complied. "I... I need more time," she said with a sad and lost look in her eyes. "Please. It's not about me changing my mind or anything, it's... this rock and everything is happening so fast, I... I just need some more time. Please wait for me just a little while longer," she pleaded. "Give me... two weeks to.. to come back to myself. Please."

He was staring at her, not really understanding the reasons and implications, but she was asking and so he agreed. He would give her all the time she needed.

It was getting harder and harder to deal with Simmons behaving like everything was fine and even harder to deal with his own helplessness. He wanted to help her, he wanted to make it easier for her, but he couldn't find anything in which he could make himself useful. He was going through her tests results over and over hoping to find something in them that would help him understand what happened during the last three months,trying to figure out what he missed and what else he could do, asking for another fruitless test like checking her eyes or comparing her DNA to the previous one. All of them indicated the same things: Simmons was completely healthy and perfectly normal. She still hadn't said a thing and he wouldn't dare to push, only hoping that she knew what she was doing. He could see Coulson watching her with distrust, May handling her gently like she might explode any second and Skye stubbornly trying to be cheerful. He wondered if he was treating Simmons differently and his constant looking after her was irritating her too. It was impossible for him to stop though. There was this tiny part of him screaming louder and louder that something was wrong, something had to be wrong because people don't just emerge from rocks feeling better than before.

It was a few days after their awkward first date when he couldn't silence his doubt anymore. They were walking back to their rooms from the lab, Simmons once again saying that a movie night sounded lovely but she was too tired for one now. It was acceptable, sure, but somehow it was another drop in the "things that seemed reasonable but still strange" cup, and he saw her eyes smiling without any of the warmth he got so used to over the years and for once instead of pushing his doubts away he saw the whole picture and just said what he was afraid of this whole time.

"You're not Jemma."

She looked at him, suddenly pale, and for once instead of doing as expected and denying it, she stared at him, her eyes clearly saying that he caught her.