A/N: The lock screen on my phone is of an image of the monolith and the caption "This is not a FitzSimmons shipper." When I looked at it this morning, this story popped into my head. Not sure if I'll continue it, but if more inspiration strikes I might. For now it's merely a drabble based on that image and some spec that I've read on tumblr over the past few weeks. I hope you enjoy!
He stares at the alien rock, challenging it, daring it to move. He hates to leave it for even a second, perpetually afraid that in that second it will be the moment it decides to move. But it seems to know. He can almost feel its hollow eyes staring back at him, taunting him. He wants to kick it, punch it, break it apart and demand that what it took from him be returned.
Fitz did try once. In a fit of anger he opened the door and screamed at the damn thing, begging it to take him too. He bloodied his fist beating against it and he didn't even hear the pulse of the alarm that called for reinforcements. It had been Hunter that had pulled him, kicking and screaming like a petulant child from the monolith's specially designed cage. Mack, like the many times before, stayed nearest to the door and called out directions with his booming voice.
But in spite of everything that Fitz has tried, the monolith doesn't move, doesn't quiver. Doesn't return what it has taken.
He knows that it reacts when an Inhuman is near. He's watched the video footage from the Iliad a thousand times and knows that it's possible. He's compiled and presented his findings; begged, pleaded and even demanded that Coulson help him. He just needs Skye or Lincoln to be nearby, even just a sampling of their blood could be enough. They didn't even need to be in the room...
Coulson is adamant; he will not sacrifice another team member. He urges Fitz to move on, reminds him that months have passed with no indication that she's still alive, but Fitz has long learned to ignore the naysayers. Somehow he knows that she's still alive even if there's no empirical evidence to support it.
He practically spends every waking moment in the company of the monolith. He knows that Coulson is frustrated by it, but Fitz is stubborn and unrelenting. He refuses to give Coulson a reason to dismiss him; he continues to build and improve the base's arsenal and he begrudgingly allows Mack to act as an intermediary between him and the new biochemist.
The space where the monolith lives is his home now too.
He can barely bring himself to leave when he has to go on mission. He chooses instead to bribe Hunter or Mack or one of the technicians to stay with it as though the 15 cameras and sensory program he's wired the room with isn't enough.
But it's not. Something fails when he leaves it for a just a moment.
He'd needed his radial tool kit that was stuffed deep under his bed. He could have asked an intern to fetch it, but he's keenly aware that under his bed is also where he keeps most of Jemma's things. He doesn't want some random intern touching any of it, wants it to remain exactly as it was the day she'd been taken from him.
So he makes the choice to leave the monolith unattended. For just a moment.
He unlocks the latch before he leaves- just in case -knowing full well that Coulson would have his head if he ever found out.
It's just for a moment, anyway. It's not as if anyone comes into the room and it's not as if it has moved in over a year.
But it's in that moment that it shifts, changing from one state to another and then back again.
The alarms don't sound and the video feed mysteriously shorts out. He'll never know how she returned in that moment. But she does.
She's there when he returns with the radial tool kit in hand and she's obviously disoriented and confused, pushing herself to a seated position on the floor. She tucks a strand of mussed hair behind her ear and looks up at him, smiling.
"Did you forget something?" She asks almost teasingly, and the words stall in his brain. His cognition seems to short circuit.
She's wearing the same shirt and same dark trousers from the video feed he's watched over a million times combing for an answer. Her hair isn't any longer and her face is bright; she's exactly as he remembers her.
"You know, I was thinking we could grab some Italian…"
He gapes at her like a fish seeking the sanctuary of the water.
"Is it you?" He manages to spit out, his voice just barely above a whisper, his fingers twisting at his stomach anxiously, the radial tool kit having long fallen to the floor. He's afraid she's a hallucination.
She laughs and pulls herself to her feet, her palms causually dusting her knees. "Of course! Who else would it be?"
He covers the distance between them quickly, taking her by surprise. His arms wrap around her slender body, pulling her close. He can feel her heartbeat quicken against his chest and he knows then, for certain, that she is not a hallucination. She is very real.
Jemma Simmons has returned.
It takes her a moment to respond, she seems startled and uncertain. But she eventually relents, her hands running the length of his back.
"Is everything okay?"
He responds by pulling her tighter against him.
"Really, Fitz. What's going on?"
He selfishly takes another moment, savouring the feel of her breath hot against his skin, before he reluctantly releases her. He doesn't let his hand drop from her arm though, he's afraid that if he does, in that moment the monstrosity behind her will swallow her back up.
He's not sure how to explain everything to her and even if he could, his words are failing him. Instead, he takes her arm and pulls her from the room in search of Hunter or Mack or even Coulson.
She laughs oblivious as he leads her panicked, down the hall and into Coulson's office. He doesn't bother to knock, choosing instead to barge in and startle the director.
Coulson opens his mouth to chastise him but when he sees who stands at his side, he thinks the better of it.
"I'll call you back." He presses a button on his phone and stands, buttoning his suit jacket. "Simmons…" Coulson says, almost as if he's asking a question. He seems to share in Fitz's uncertainty.
"Sir, is everything okay?"
Coulson is as stoic as ever, but his gaze flits briefly between the two scientists. He's measuring the situation, evaluating the threat and Fitz knows that he's suspicious of the woman that stands before them.
"Have a seat, Simmons." He motions toward a chair in his office. "We have a lot to discuss."
She nervously looks at Fitz and he nods encouragingly, still unable to muster the words he's positive she wants to hear. Jemma takes the seat and Fitz sits next to her, knowing she'd want him close once Coulson reveals the truth. Her fingers twist anxiously in her lap and it takes Fitz a moment to muster his courage and take her hand in his. It's something he's spent a year longing to do.
Her eyes almost seem to smile at him, even though her lips are pressed in a fine line, nervous with anticipation.
It's just a moment, a flash that he's almost certain he imagined. In one second her eyes are kind and familiar and in the next they blacken, inky like the night's sky. He opens his mouth to say something in warning, but closes it just as quickly. She blinks and her soft hazel eyes return.
He turns toward Coulson, silent about his discovery and holds tight to Jemma's hand. His mind spins and he knows that if he speaks up now she'll be immediately quarantined and taken from him.
He's desperate to hold on to every moment with her and he tries to pretend that what he'd seen was just his imagination. Once they're alone, he'll tell her and they'll work on fixing it together.
They'll figure it out, he knows they will. If they can't he'll make certain that the moment lasts as long as it can.
.:Fin:.
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