This is my FitzSimmons Secret Santa gift for 'theboyfallsfromthesky' on Tumblr, who requested, "A series of future scenarios with Fitz that Jemma kept dreaming about while she was stranded on the alien world."
Each chapter is essentially a different one of these, "future scenarios," that Jemma thinks about whilst on the planet. I ended up doing kind of a compare/contrast type thing between these fantasies and the planet meaning there IS some Will/Jemma but, rest assured, the focus of this fic is FitzSimmons. But you can't write about a planet with two inhabitants without actually writing about both of 'em!
Also, goes without saying but I don't own any of the characters etc. etc. etc.
The silence is all consuming and Jemma can't think of anything she wants more than to simply hear. Something or someone, it doesn't matter which so long as it masks the sound of her own wheezing. She struggles atop the dunes, pulling in labored breaths as she pushes herself to make it just a little further, and realizes, not for the first time, how much lonelier life is when surrounded by silence.
She's been alone on this planet for nearly a week now, meaning she has had an abundance of time to be tortured by her thoughts and memories. Evidently that monolith was really just a conductor for self-reflection because it's all Jemma seems to be capable of doing in an attempt to distract herself from the gnawing hunger, unbearable thirst, and crushing loneliness.
She's been lonely before, that's a fact that is as undeniable to Jemma as oxygen and water being a necessity for human survival, but never quite to this degree.
Her time at Hydra had been crippling, separated by her friends and family and forced to work for some of the most monstrous beings she's ever come across. Until now that had been the loneliest she's ever been. But that was a choice, a conscience decision. She had left S.H.I.E.L.D. for Hydra. She had left Fitz to help him heal. She had decided that the best thing for everyone in that moment was for her to be far, far, away.
Now she's even further.
And it most decidedly was not her choice.
She wanted to stay at S.H.I.E.L.D. She wanted to stay with Fitz and work on healing them. She wanted the best thing for everyone to involve sticking together until the end.
Instead, the universe and its sick sense of humor decided that what Jemma Simmons wants isn't what Jemma Simmons is going to get.
So she's here, away from everything she holds dear, and finding herself slowly succumbing to the crushing silence and all-consuming loneliness.
She misses her friends, her family, her Fitz.
Each passing second makes the longing for home that much greater and Jemma reflects on all of the people and things she wishes she could be surrounded by in this moment.
Hunter and his inane chatter.
Bobbi and her sage words of wisdom.
Coulson and his orders.
Skye's unending vocalization of encouragement.
May's silence that is so different than the silence here because it's a silence that speaks all of the words that can't quite be vocalized.
Fitz.
Fitz's Scottish brogue in any way that she can hear it: yelling at her in pent-up frustration, brokenly whispering his doubts and insecurities, bantering and arguing for the sole purpose of riling her up. Laughing, crying, conversing. Anything. She wouldn't even mind hearing his horrid impression of her.
She just wants to hear him period.
-O-
"Oh honestly Fitz!"
He's cradling a beer on the other side of the couch, glaring at her in agitation while the others hide their snickers behind their own drinks of choice as they watch on with rapt attention.
"Do you have any bloody idea how close I came to eating a ruddy feline liver Simmons? It was not two inches away from my lunch! Not two inches."
Jemma releases another groan, paired with an eye roll for the others' benefit, and downs her beer under the assumption that Fitz is only just beginning this evening's ranting… meaning alcohol is a necessity at this point. The assumption is only confirmed for Jemma by the next words that leave Fitz's mouth.
"Oh Fitz!"
Jemma's eyes narrow the moment she hears her best friend's deplorable attempt at mimicry and she straightens where she's sitting on the couch to slowly turn her head to face him.
"It's perfectly fine. All materials have been properly stored and there's no risk of contamination."
The others are laughing at the falsetto he's speaking in and Jemma grits her teeth at the pleased smirk on Fitz's face as he continues his peacocking. She snatches another bottle from the coffee table as his voice manages to raise another octave and silently debates how she can possibly retaliate. She makes eye contact with Skye, the only one wise enough not to laugh at the awful vocal representation of her, and Jemma raises a brow in question as she silently asks her friend for ideas.
A sly smile works its way across Skye's face and Jemma feels a flare of excitement at the fact that her friend has an idea.
"And, just out of curiosity, what did Fitz sound like during this whole exchange?"
Jemma feels her face pale at Skye's question because the other girl knows that she can't even do a terrible Scottish accent, attempting one would just further solidify her as the butt of the joke, and she's just about to play it off when she notices the face that her friend is making unbeknownst to the others who are all staring at her.
It actually kind of looks like…
Jemma grins in realization, finally understanding what it is Skye is getting at, and takes a long pull from her drink before leaning back against the couch with a demure smile. "What did Fitz sound like? I think it was something along the lines of…"
She releases the highest pitch scream she can muster and watches with unrestrained glee as Hunter chokes on his beer while Bobbi's water begins to stream out of her nose. Even Mack is chuckling at her girlish scream, something that Jemma is inordinately pleased by, and she turns to smirk at Fitz over her beer bottle, reveling in the sight of his red cheeks and flaming ears.
"I don't sound like that."
He's glaring petulantly at her and Jemma just raises an eyebrow before turning to look at Skye for back up.
"You 100% sound like that Fitz."
He turns to the other girl with narrowed brows and a look that is half astonishment and half irritation, and leans forward slightly to get closer to Skye when he says, "And how the bloody hell would you know?"
Skye's own brow raises at the question and she lowers her beer from her mouth as she stares at Fitz with a knowing look. "Umm… do you not remember last year's mop-prank disaster?"
Somehow Fitz grows even redder at the reminder and Jemma begins giggling herself at the sight. He sinks lower into the couch, staring at his beer bottle and tugging at the peeling label, and Jemma decides that she's had her fun for the evening. She scoots across the couch, pressing her side against his and leaning forward to whisper conspiratorially into his ear.
"Do your Lance impression."
He turns to her slowly and Jemma suddenly realizes how close they are to each other. Two years ago she wouldn't have thought anything by their proximity, it would have been their norm, but after the past year of deliberately trying to keep their distance, Jemma is overwhelmed by how right it feels to be back within Fitz's orbit.
He blinks sluggishly at her for a few long moments, seemingly registering their nearness and coming to similar realizations as she, before a slow smile works its way across his face and he turns to the others as Jemma shifts slightly to make herself more comfortable against him.
"Well… I suppose I might have sounded a bit like that. But at least you can understand me when I talk." He turns his head and fixes a very pointed look at Hunter and the blatant implication causes the other Brit, who is already three sheets to the wind, to let out an indignant squawk as his ex-wife-turned-girlfriend begins to cackle at his side.
"Th' ruddy 'ell is 'at s'posed mean you bluh'ee wanker?!"
The question causes an uproar, all agents bowing over in laughter as Lance continues to sputter out insults and lamentations that nobody can quite decipher. Skye is throwing her own impression of him into the fray and the frankly terrible British accent causes another round of laughter.
Jemma is tucked into Fitz's side, on the cusp of tears as she cackles at Hunter's drunken rambling, and she luxuriates in the feeling of his own laughter as it reverberates through his chest where she can feel it against her cheek. She pulls away slightly, just long enough to wipe at her eyes to prevent any tears from falling, before falling back against him and sipping at her beer with a smile.
She's not even aware how plastered she is against him until she notes the way that Bobbi and Skye share a pointed look and pleased smiles. Jemma stiffens slightly at the sight because their lack of subtlety likely means that even someone as oblivious as Fitz has caught on to the fact that she's half on top of him on this squished loveseat. She feels him tense slightly and shuts her eyes tightly as she waits for him to awkwardly excuse himself in order to put more distance between them. She feels him begin to shift and shuts her eyes even tighter, now because she's worried that she might actually cry when he extracts himself.
They'd been doing so much better lately, chatting amicably and teasing each other as they would have before all of the fiascos they've faced this year, to the point where Jemma had forgotten that doing better doesn't necessarily mean they're doing well. The thought causes the constant pang of hurt and pain to flare up and Jemma knows that it'll only grow when Fitz politely increases the space between them.
Her eyes fly open in surprise when, instead of extracting himself and pulling away, Fitz merely shifts his arm and allows Jemma to fall more comfortably against his side as he continues to exchange barbs with Hunter.
She feels her heart beat wildly in her chest at the gesture, realizing that it's the physical indicator that, while they still haven't discussed his three words from the bottom of the ocean and her three words from the locker room, they will at some point. Jemma grins into her next sip and doesn't even try to hide her pleased smile when she spots Bobbi and Skye exchanging an actually subtle high-five behind Hunter's back.
She turns her head slightly to look up at Fitz, heart seemingly expanding when he shifts his own gaze to match her own. She loves talking with him, always has even when their conversations tend to be bickering more than anything, but almost prefers their silent exchanges.
The moments that Skye compares to telepathy, where everything that remains unspoken is hinted at when brown eyes meet blue.