The hot summer sun beat down on Fitz's back. Sweat trickled uncomfortably down his neck and underneath the collar of his shirt. A shimmer rising off the black pavement mixed with the smoke billowing from the hoods of overheated cars to create a haze that made navigation tricky. Still, he pressed on, weaving his motorbike through the surrounding morass of stalled and unmoving vehicles, tuning out the blaring horns and shouts of angry drivers. He was on a mission.

Jemma. I have to find Jemma. Where is Jemma?

But no matter where he looked, he couldn't find the girl he loved, the girl he'd risked his life to turn around and go back for. Though he saw many cars matching the red sedan that belonged to her parents-they seemed to be everywhere, in fact-unfamiliar faces looked out at him from every window. Over and over again he thought he'd finally found them, only to be disappointed. Still, he didn't give up. His heart sank, his hope dwindled, but his determination never flagged.

Just as he drove away from yet another false alarm, a deafening crack split the sky. Stopping the motorbike, Fitz looked up to see an enormous fireball streak by overhead. Dread settled heavy in his stomach. The comet he'd discovered, the chunk named after him-Fitz-had entered Earth's atmosphere. He had to hurry; time was running out.

But the comet barely had a chance to disappear over the horizon before a deep, shuddering roar made the ground tremble beneath him. Turning to look back the way he'd come, Fitz saw a colossal wave rushing towards him: impossibly high, towering over the surrounding hills, destroying everything in its path. Around him, people flung open their car doors to run away in terror, but Fitz stood his ground, the motorbike's engine idling beneath him. He knew there was no place he could go, nowhere he could reach in time to save himself. Instead, he took a deep breath as his heart splintered in two.

"I'm sorry, Jemma," he said, and screwed his eyes shut just before the wave slammed into him.

-:-

Fitz jerked awake with a gasp, his heart pounding painfully in his chest. Disoriented, he fumbled for a moment in the dark in a panic, reaching, grasping, searching for any sign of-

His hand brushed against something, and he stilled. An arm, sleep-warm and soft. Dizzy with relief, he let out a long breath as he rolled over to look at the person beside him.

It was Jemma. She was sleeping peacefully, facing him on her side, undisturbed by his nightmare. And that was all it had been-just a nightmare. But it was one that had plagued him frequently in the two months since they'd survived the end of the world, and it still had an unnerving effect on him, every time.

Slowly, lest he wake Jemma, Fitz sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed as he tried to slow the frantic beating of his heart. The clock on the bedside table read 3:02 a.m. Breathing deeply, he pressed the heels of his palms to his closed eyes. It was always difficult for him to shake off the effects of these bad dreams. They felt so real.

Failing to find Jemma before the wave hit was the most common one he had, but there were variations on the theme. Sometimes he found her, only to have the wave rip her away from him. Sometimes, the motorbike ran out of gas before they reached the mountains and they had no choice but to cling to each other as the end came. Less frequently, the larger chunk of the comet hit, too, plunging the world into darkness and making their journey back to the Ark impossible. They'd stumble through the dust for what felt like an eternity before they eventually succumbed to starvation or exposure.

The main theme threading through them all was failure. He'd fail to find Jemma, fail to get them out in time, fail to keep the promise to his mother that he'd make it back, safe and sound. It was a reminder of just how close they'd come to actually dying, and it never failed to leave Fitz with a bitter taste in his mouth.

He'd just taken a swig from the water bottle he kept on the nightstand when he felt the mattress shift behind him, and heard Jemma's sleepy voice. "Fitz?"

He twisted to look back at her; in the dim glow of the amber nightlights, he could see that her eyes were half-open, blinking groggily, and she'd reached a hand across the bed toward him. He closed his own hand over hers, giving it a brief squeeze. "Hey. I'm here."

"Another nightmare?"

Fitz hesitated before answering. "Yeah."

One of the first things they'd done after reaching the Ark was have a frank conversation about them, how they felt and where they stood, and how to proceed from there. It had been just as awkward and painful as it had been thrilling, revealing all of their feelings and misgivings and fears. One of the things they'd agreed upon was the need for honesty, in the hopes of avoiding another situation like the one where they'd each thought their love was unrequited. Sometimes Fitz found that agreement hard to honor. He'd always kept his thoughts and feelings close to his chest, and hated to feel like he was placing any sort of burden on Jemma when she already had so much on her shoulders.

A frown creased Jemma's forehead at his pause, and she turned her hand around to tug on his wrist. "Come here."

Fitz went obligingly, sliding back beneath the covers and allowing her to pull him close, until their foreheads were pressed together and their limbs were tangled. As she nuzzled drowsily against his nose, stroking her palm over his cheek, he took another deep breath and let himself find comfort in her nearness, her presence.

This wasn't an unusual thing for them to do, because Jemma had nightmares, too. He would often wake up in the middle of the night to find her calling out for her parents, or for him, tears streaming down her face. He'd wrap her up in his arms the same way she was doing to him now, and he'd whisper reassurances and press soft kisses over her face until she stopped shaking and remembered she was safe. The comet had left lasting scars on both of them.

"I'm here," Jemma whispered before gently kissing him. "I'm safe." Just like he knew what she dreamed about, she knew what plagued him, too. "Which one was it this time?"

Fitz swallowed, closing his eyes. "Couldn't find you," he mumbled.

Jemma hummed, and kissed him again. "Do you want to talk about it?"

He shook his head. "Not really."

This wasn't in violation of their pact to communicate; he would just be repeating a story she'd already heard dozens of times. Besides, the solace he found in her arms was already making him relax, fatigue blurring the edges of his thoughts. If he gave in, he'd be back asleep in minutes.

"Just checking," Jemma whispered. She brushed yet another kiss over his lips. "I love you."

Fitz let her words-said so many times by now, but still new and fresh and exciting-settle over him, lighting a warmth in his heart. They were here. They were together. They were safe.

"I love you, too," he murmured, and rolled onto his back, pulling her with him until she was settled comfortably against his side. She made a soft noise, squeezing her arm around his waist, and he kissed the crown of her head. Then he let her weight and the reassuring rise and fall of her breathing lull him back to sleep. If he was lucky, there would be no more nightmares tonight.

-:-

When Fitz woke up again later in the morning, he wasn't sure how much time had passed. Living underground without windows had its drawbacks, and the lack of a visible day/night cycle was one of them. Fortunately, they didn't have an alarm set; it was Sunday, and they could sleep in as long as they liked.

They'd shifted again during the night. Jemma was still on her side but facing away from him now, and he was curled around her back, one arm thrown over her waist and his forehead pressed against the nape of her neck. It was a familiar position for him to wake up in.

He'd never been an especially tactile person, but necessity had bred habit. The effects of their shared trauma had made both Fitz and Jemma more than a bit clingy with each other, especially in those first days after arriving at the Ark. He had an irrational fear of letting her out of his sight, and she always wanted to be touching him somehow: fingers entwined, leaning into his shoulder, a hand on his knee, clutching him tightly as they slept. And while sometimes Fitz worried about what it all meant, that maybe they were being unhealthy, he couldn't deny that Jemma's near-constant presence soothed his fears of losing her again. Still, it was early days. They had plenty of time now to heal.

At first Fitz had thought that sharing a room, much less a bed, would take some adjustment, but their desire to be close and the need for reassurance had made it surprisingly easy. Already, he wondered how he'd ever managed to get a wink of sleep without Jemma by his side.

But there were some things he'd still yet to adjust to and master. One of those things was dealing with his inevitable morning erections with a cuddly bed partner thrown into the mix.

He had one now, pressing into Jemma's bum, and even though his sleep-fogged brain was screaming for him to curl a hand over her hip and grind against her, easing that ache, he resisted. Instead, he reluctantly pulled away from her as carefully as he could and rolled over onto his back, hoping she hadn't already woken up and felt him. He would be absolutely mortified if she ever did.

Because despite being married and fully in love with each other, they hadn't done much yet physically. That didn't mean they were cold; Jemma was more free with her affection than Fitz could have ever hoped for, holding his hand outside their bunk and frequently showering him with kisses when they were alone. But aside from several instances of heated snogging and one amazing makeout session on her birthday where she'd let him touch her breasts above her clothes, they hadn't done anything else.

Fitz attributed it to the youth of this phase of their relationship. He'd never had a girlfriend before and he barely knew what he was doing, navigating his new role as husband with careful hesitance. Jemma hadn't really given any real indication that she wanted to go further yet and he, still in awed disbelief that she even loved him to begin with, didn't dare push for more. He desperately wanted to, though. He'd already imagined what it would be like to be with her, even before they got married, and sometimes felt like he was ready. The last thing he wanted to do, however, was make her uncomfortable with the evidence of his desire, so whenever they kissed or cuddled, he made very sure to keep his hips angled well away from hers.

Most of the time he was able to cool down just fine on his own. Separating himself from her or easing down their snogging to something more tame usually did the trick. But he was only human, and sometimes it was a struggle to rein in his desire. More than once, he'd had to relieve himself of the tension while in the shower.

He always felt a vague sort of creeping shame when he did it, as if he were using Jemma without her consent. But to him, it was better than the alternative-Jemma knowing he was unable to keep himself in check.

Lying on his back in bed, making a face as he tried and failed to keep all of those pesky thoughts from taking over his mind, Fitz thought this might be another morning spent taking an extra-long shower. He sighed before looking over at the clock. It was just after 9 a.m.; he'd slept long enough. Better to get things taken care of before Jemma fully woke up.

He got out of bed and stretched for a moment, then pulled clean clothes from their dresser and grabbed his toiletry basket. As he headed for the door, he cast a look at Jemma, still sound asleep. He might struggle with the current boundaries of their physical relationship, but on the whole, he really was content just to be by her side, to know that she loved him in return. Nothing would ever change that.

-:-

Later in the afternoon, Fitz let Jemma go ahead of him into the hall outside their bunk, then shut and locked the door behind them. She adjusted the strap of her bag on her shoulder and gave him a small smile. "See you in a couple of hours?"

He nodded as he slipped his keys into his pocket. "Yep. Meeting back here before dinner, right?" At Jemma's answering nod, he pursed his lips. "Hope it goes by quick, I'm bloody starving."

She laughed quietly and trailed a light hand up his arm. "Of course you are. Why am I not surprised?" When Fitz only rolled his eyes at her teasing, she squeezed his arm before letting go. "I love you."

"Love you too." Happiness washed through him the same way it did every time she said those words, and-looking around first to make sure they were alone-he leaned in to give her a brief, but heartfelt, kiss. "Have fun."

Jemma nodded, and as one they turned to go their separate ways down the hall. Fitz only looked back to watch her go once.

Life at the Ark followed a set routine, and they had quickly settled into theirs. On weekdays, they attended classes with all of the other teenagers from their section, starting their senior year of high school on time as if their lives had never been interrupted. As students, they had their evenings and weekends mostly free, but they both had elected to volunteer for activities that would keep them occupied and contribute to the well-being of the Ark. Jemma was shadowing the scientists and gamekeepers in charge of the animals and plants being kept at the Ark, learning how to care for them and helping prepare some of them for transport back to sanctuaries and zoos on the West Coast. Fitz was interning in the technology lab, helping to keep all of the electrical and computer systems running smoothly, and contributing to the development of new support tech.

One of those projects had been keeping him quite busy for the past couple of weeks. It had been an idea he'd submitted himself not long after he'd started working in the lab; Jemma had been his inspiration, as she often was. Early on, she had lamented the lack of windows in their bunk, saying she missed the sunrise. Then, being the consummate scientist and scholar that she was, she'd cited research stating that defined circadian rhythms and day/night cycles helped to regulate moods. Fitz had been moved to suggest a pilot program to boost morale at the Ark-he could design a prototype picture window showing a digital image that could transition through day and night in real time, complete with sun and moonlight, to help simulate a set day.

His prototype was almost finished, and Fitz couldn't wait to get it back to their bunk to show Jemma. He'd kept the project a secret so he could surprise her with it, and hopefully help lift her spirits. She had been doing about as well as could be expected given what she'd been through, but he knew she was far from healed. He would do anything he could to make her smile or warm her heart.

Just as he'd hoped, working on the window made the hours pass quickly, and before he knew it, Fitz had completed all of his work on it. There was just enough time left before dinner to get it installed. The lab sent a giant of a man named Mack to help him get it back to his bunk.

"Are you sure you don't need any help getting it set up?" Mack asked, giving both Fitz and the window a dubious once-over. "I don't mind."

Fitz bristled slightly at what he took to be the other man's clear dismissal of his capabilities. He might be slight, but he wasn't weak. "No, no, I've got it...I'll be fine," he said. He chewed on his lip as he stood, hands on his hips, looking from the window frame to the wall and trying to gauge the best way to get it installed on his own. "I'll figure it out."

Mack raised his eyebrows. "So you plan on getting it lifted and placed against the wall and drilling in the bolts all by yourself?" When Fitz glared at him, he lifted his hands in a placating gesture. "Look, I'm just saying, this is at least a two-man job. I don't want you to hurt yourself or damage it."

Sighing, Fitz forced himself to take a mental step back. He could almost hear both Jemma and his mother chiding him, telling him not to be so difficult and prideful. Realistically, it would be hard-nigh impossible-for him to get the window accurately positioned on the wall and bolted down himself. And it wasn't that he disliked Mack; he was perfectly friendly, didn't act starstruck, and had always been polite and helpful whenever they'd crossed paths in the tech lab. It was just that Fitz had always been deeply wary of people he didn't know well. It was a trait left over from his unhappy childhood, exacerbated by his sudden thrust into the spotlight following his discovery of the comet.

Fitz briefly closed his eyes and let his shoulders slump. "Alright, I-I guess I could use the help. Yeah." He rubbed at the back of his neck before looking up at Mack. "Think you can hold it steady while I get the bolts drilled?"

"Absolutely," Mack said, grinning, and stepped forward to pick up the window.

They worked quickly, in a comfortable silence. Mack didn't try to chat him up beyond what was necessary in order to complete their job, and Fitz was grateful for it. As he held the drill Mack had brought with both hands, getting the window secured to the wall, his mind flashed back to a similar situation, only one where the roles had been reversed: helping Jemma's father put bars over the windows of their house back in Richmond. That had been the day he'd asked Jemma to marry him.

The memories mixed bittersweet in his head, the warmth of Jemma's reaction to his proposal butting up against the guilt that he'd blown off Mr. Simmons so quickly. He wished he'd spent more time talking to him, and to Jemma's mother. He knew his guilt was misplaced, that he hadn't done anything wrong and there was no way he could have known then how things would ultimately play out, but it was still there. Hindsight was always smarter and filled with regret and should-haves.

Fitz made a satisfied grunt as he drilled in the last bolt. Once they were certain the window was secure, both he and Mack stood back to admire it.

"Hold on," Fitz said, digging his phone out of the back pocket of his jeans. "Let me just-"

His fingers moved swiftly over the screen, bringing up the app he'd designed to control the window. After a few taps, the window display lit up with its default view, a crystal clear ocean and a tropical beach. Syncing the display to run in time with the atomic clock the Ark used, the artificial sun moved to sink low on the horizon, casting orange and pink hues across the digital clouds and bathing the room in warm light.

"Looks good," Mack said, crossing his arms with a pleased smile. "I bet Jemma will love it."

"You think so?" Fitz asked hopefully.

Mack nodded. "Yeah. It's a great idea you've got here, and I hope the lab approves it for production. Wouldn't mind having one myself."

Fitz nodded, smiling a bit as he looked back down at his phone. "I hope so, too."

Mack gathered up his tools and said goodbye, leaving to head back to the lab. Fitz was still standing there, fiddling with the app controls on his phone, when he heard a key turn in the door lock a few minutes later.

He looked up to see Jemma opening the door, looking tired but happy. "Oh, good, you're already here," she said, smiling at him as she came inside. "I might actually be hungrier than you right now-" Her eyes tracked past him to the window, and her words faltered. "What's this?" she asked. The door clicked shut behind her.

Smiling a bit nervously, Fitz took a step back so she could better see the display. "Surprise?"

Jemma's eyes were wide as she came slowly forward, barely paying attention to her bag as she dropped it to the floor next to the desk. "Is this...is it because I-"

"You said you missed the sunrise, yeah," Fitz said. "Or just the sun." He was drinking in her reactions, from the way her mouth hung slightly open to the brightness of her eyes as she took in the tropical sunset before them. "I thought that maybe-um, maybe it might help cheer you up a bit."

Jemma tore her gaze away from the window to look up at him, her eyes glassy. "You did this just for me?" she breathed.

Fitz felt himself flush a bit at the naked emotion writ across her face, and he ducked his head slightly. "Well-not-not just for you, I, uh, I submitted it as a pilot program-I thought maybe it could help other people, too-and this is just a prototype-" Realizing he was downplaying her importance to the project, and possibly making himself look thoughtless, he swallowed quickly and rushed to add, "But you were the inspiration for it, yeah."

She smiled and reached up to rest a hand against his arm, leaning into him, her head on his shoulder. "Is this the only view it has?"

"Hmm? Oh, no, not at all." Fitz held up his phone. "I made an app to control all the different functions, like image, brightness, even some atmospheric conditions like clouds or rain or snow. And since I wrote it, I can do a fair bit of customization for us." He gave her a sidelong glance. "One option is that we could set it to look like back home, if you wanted, like the skyline of Richmond or our old neighborhood."

The light in Jemma's eyes dimmed slightly as she frowned and her hand went slack on his arm.

Having anticipated that reaction-it was still too soon for her to deal with many reminders of their old life-Fitz nudged her gently with his elbow. "But! I've got another option that I think you'll really like." He tapped a button on the phone app, and the image before them changed. Now it showed a long, narrow lake in a pastoral valley, nestled between green, forested hills, the sun just disappearing behind the tallest of them. The sunset was brilliant, shot through with deep oranges and golds, fading into the inky blues and purples of twilight.

Next to him, Jemma gasped, her head lifting from his shoulder, and her hold on his arm tightened again. "That's...that's Perthshire, isn't it?" she asked, her voice tinged with wonder.

"Yep." Before, back home in Richmond, she had frequently mentioned the Scottish countryside as a place she had enjoyed visiting with her parents as a child before they moved to the States. It was only after they'd made it to the Ark that she'd told him, quiet and tangled together one night beneath the blankets of their bed, that it had been a place she'd always envisioned them settling down in one day. Looking at her face now, Fitz knew he'd made the right decision. "Do you like it?"

Jemma took in a deep, shaky breath. "Oh, Fitz-" She turned into him, winding her arms tightly around his waist and burying her face in his neck. "It's perfect. I love it. I love you."

Her voice sounded watery, and Fitz twisted slightly to toss his phone onto the end of the bed before properly wrapping his arms around her, settling his cheek against her hair. He was glad she couldn't see his face; he was blinking rapidly, feeling a bit more emotional than the situation probably warranted. Sometimes he still struggled with accepting the depth of Jemma's love for him; he'd been so sure she didn't return his feelings for such a long time, and it was a hard thing to unlearn.

"I'm glad you like it," he said quietly after a moment. "I can put the app on your phone, too, so you can change it to whatever you like, whenever you like."

"I think this will do for now," Jemma murmured back. "We can almost pretend that we're actually there." Then she tightened her arms around him before leaning back just enough to press a kiss to the underside of his jaw. "But can it wait until after dinner? If we don't hurry, the canteen will close before we get there."

Fitz laughed as he let go of her. "I can't believe you're having to convince me to eat food. Or that you want it more than I do. This is a landmark day, you should make a note of it in your journal."

Jemma laughed, too. "Oh, shut up," she said as she gave him a light shove, but there was no heat behind it. "The real landmark day will be the one where your unnatural metabolism finally gives out. You're lucky they're not too strict with the rations here. I can't imagine how awful you'd become if you had to severely limit your caloric intake."

"Why," said Fitz as he pocketed his phone and headed for the door, "are you always so cruel to me like this?" But he was still grinning as Jemma followed him out into the hall and he locked the door behind them again.

"Because it's true," she replied, and Fitz's heart leapt to see a spark of her old mischievous light return to her eyes. "A hungry Fitz is an unbearable Fitz."

"Is not," he grumbled good-naturedly as Jemma took his hand and they started off toward the canteen together.

Jemma squeezed his hand. "Is so."

Fitz stayed in high spirits as they walked through the halls of their section. He was looking forward to a good dinner-the food at the Ark wasn't exactly gourmet, but it was definitely passable-and then maybe visiting his mother for a little while, followed by spending the rest of the evening with Jemma. They could fiddle with the picture window more, or watch TV, or find interesting things to read to each other online, or even just cuddle. He wouldn't mind cuddling. Cuddling was nice; relaxing with Jemma in his arms always felt like the perfect end to a day and soothed his irrational need to keep her within arm's reach.

However, that good mood disappeared as soon as they approached the canteen and saw someone unfamiliar lurking near the entrance, whose face lit up as she saw them coming. Fitz averted his eyes and sped up, trying to make it through the door first, but the woman was already blocking his path, her face set with purpose. "Excuse me, Leo Fitz?" she asked in accented English. "Can I have a moment of your time?"

Fitz had hoped that the circumstances of life at the Ark would dim his celebrity, or make people less interested in his life now that the world was focused on rebuilding and recovering. Much to his dismay, he was wrong. If anything, he found himself harassed and bothered by reporters, journalists, photographers, and regular civilians just as much as he had when the news of the comet had first gone public. He considered it a blessing they didn't have land lines in their bunks, so he didn't have to worry about a constantly ringing phone. That didn't stop the more persistent people from finding out their bunk number and knocking on the door, or staking out the entrances to the lab or his school classrooms or the canteen, like this woman had done.

Unable to dodge her, he stopped and pressed his mouth down into a thin line, refusing to make eye contact. "Yeah. A moment," he said shortly.

The woman didn't seem fazed by his attitude. "Thank you. I'm Elena Rodriguez," she said. It was only when he felt Jemma nudge him with her shoulder that Fitz took Elena's proffered hand, giving it one firm pump before quickly letting go. "I was a photojournalist with the Miami Herald before Impact Day; now I work for the Los Angeles Times as a sort of embedded reporter here at the Ark." She smiled winsomely, but it did little to endear her to him. "I wanted to ask if you would be interested in sitting down with me for an hour or so to discuss everything that's happened since the impact. The world is still very much interested in your story."

Fitz fought the urge to roll his eyes. Her plea was typical of all the other ones he'd received. "Not interested, thanks," he muttered, and moved to walk past her, pulling Jemma along with him, but Elena stepped back in his path.

"Wait," she said. "You've had a lot of interview and appearance requests, yes? And you've turned them all down."

He gave a terse nod.

Elena smiled again. "I know you value your privacy, Fitz. Consider this: if you grant me an exclusive, I can use my pull with the other journalists here to get them to leave you alone, at least for a little while."

The idea was tempting, he wouldn't deny that. But it wasn't really anything he hadn't heard from any of the others. Picking up on his reticence, Elena looked past him to Jemma, who was still standing next to him, tightly holding his hand. "Is this your wife?" she asked, nodding at her. "Jemma, isn't it?"

Frowning even deeper and feeling more than a bit protective-they'd never made a formal announcement regarding their marriage, so Elena had obviously done her homework-Fitz took a small step to the side, as if to block Jemma from view, but she squeezed his hand hard and lifted her chin. "Yes," she replied evenly. "Jemma Simmons."

This time, when Elena smiled, it was softer and gentler. "You don't have to talk to me. But consider doing it with someone, anyone. Everyone lost something that day, whether it was a home, a job, family…" Her mouth twisted sadly, and Fitz briefly wondered what it was she had lost. "I think we could all use a little hope right now, and your story would be perfect." She pulled a folded piece of paper from her pocket and handed it to him. "Here's where you can find me if you reconsider."

She gave them one last smile before turning and walking away down the corridor. Sighing, Fitz opened up her note to see what it said. Elena Rodriguez, Yellow 173, followed by a phone number. He read it over twice before folding it back up and shoving it in his pocket, then pulled Jemma toward the canteen entrance. He could feel her eyes on him and knew she wanted to say something, but he was determined to put the whole thing out of his mind. He wasn't going to let another invasive reporter ruin his entire evening. Fortunately, Jemma followed him inside without saying anything about it.