Fitz was awake long before he heard the bed springs creak through the darkness and Jemma's feet padding across the cold tile floor.
He understood all too well the thoughts that must be plaguing her mind tonight. This exact fear had kept him up these many nights, ever since Radcliffe had unveiled AIDA. He hadn't exactly had a decent night's sleep since even with her comforting warmth right beside him.
Ever since, Fitz had spent far too many of his nights with his nose buried into her hair, letting her sleep in blissful ignorance, relishing every hard won bit of closeness, and fearing that it all might be torn away if he didn't work to correct the issues fast enough.
His relationship with Jemma was never stronger. Neither of them was in doubt of their feelings. For the first few months after finally falling quite literally into each other's arms, it seemed that their only struggle was finding a way to help re-assemble the team and finding enough time after hours to spend time together.
Fitz raked his nails through his scruff anxiously, betraying the fact that he was awake to the darkness. Now, it could all slip away so easily.
He shifted under the covers, slipping his hand over to the now empty space on the mattress and tracing his fingers over the warm light indentation that still remained after these first few minutes.
Radcliffe's technology needed to be flawless. Although AIDA - and tech just like her - had the potential to save countless lives, SHIELD would not hesitate to quash the program without a clear picture of the merits. Radcliffe would likely be hauled into prison in violation of the terms of his agreement. AIDA would be decommissioned and dropped into a high security storage vault. As for himself, Fitz had run through the possibilities in his head for what would happen to him over and over again. At best, he would lose clearance. At worst, he would be dropped from the agency or tossed into jail himself. In either instance, the risk of Jemma being ripped away from him was far too high.
Director Mace and his new SHIELD didn't put absolute trust in science, excepting of course their state of the art polygraph system. They put their faith in politicians and bureaucracy. It was all well and good before the fall, where decision making was decentralized and every fellow Agent had put their life on the line before. For the sake of the team. For the sake of the world and all mankind. But Mace didn't come from that. He was all buzzwords and teamwork poster cliches and other nonsense that didn't necessarily inspire confidence that the agency would support the best intentions of the agents.
Jemma always had a stronger stomach for this sort of distasteful work. She had taken the position for the sake of the Team. She would assume the challenge and prepare for the inevitable point where the team would need her power or her knowledge.
Likewise, he had kept that knowledge from her for the sake of the team. The threat of Jemma in pain and the threat of separation from her could keep him in line. He had known fear and sheer desperation-all for her sake-countless since the first set foot on the bus.
Radcliffe's reckless actions in creating AIDA and then revealing her to the May and then the team could put it all in jeopardy. Jemma's deniability was a necessary thing. She needed her sharp focus to keep the quite literal monsters at bay. Her capacity to lie was far better now than it had ever been, but perhaps not so well enough to defeat the polygraph. If she was caught in a lie, her position, her role within the agency, her capability to protect everyone - all of it would likely be gone. And so would she.
Worse, there was no guarantee that if they both were exposed and were dropped from SHIELD.
The whoosh of water through the pipes signaled that Jemma would return to bed soon, drawing his eyes to the sliver of light beneath the door
They really only had tonight with any certainty. Everything after would depend on her polygraph, and neither of them could know what the morning may bring.
He sighed, furrowing his brow as he dug further into his pillow resolutely. Jemma needed to sleep. It was critical to both of their futures that she have her wits about her.
"Fitz?"
Her voice was the barest whisper from across the room, but he was far too attuned to her after so long. Dragging in a gravely breath, he felt his resolve cracking in tandem with his voice. "Yeah?"
"You can't sleep either?" she whispered, tugging back the covers on her side.
"Not really." He turned onto his side, watching her in the darkness.
"I did try a bit of tea to help me relax, but it seems it wasn't enough. I need to settle down, but-"
As Jemma started to ramble, Fitz's hand sought hers out, linking their fingers together. She echoed that closeness by leaning back into his arms.
He pressed his lips to the back of her neck. "How can I help?"
"You already are." He could almost see her smile even in the near darkness, but he recognized the slight shaking in her hands. He could smell the light air of sweat and the dampness of water where she had tried to wash that evidence away.
He frowned. "I was thinking…"
She turned her upper body to look back at him as much as the low light would allow. "About?"
He hesitated, uncertain what might help them both at this point. His mind reeled through the possibilities before settling on one. "The framework."
Jemma bit her lip, brow furrowed as she met his eyes in the darkness. "You're thinking of what exactly?"
It seemed like they both needed something to keep them positive. Tomorrow when she headed to the polygraph, he could distract himself with work on a little virtual cottage from the pictures she'd sent, while he waited for her to return. "About what place to build for us to get away."
Fitz wasn't entirely sure it was the best answer in this circumstance, until Jemma's lips closed the the short distance between them and melded to his. When she wove her free hand behind his own neck to tug him ever closer, it chased those darker thoughts - and nearly everything else - from his mind. His entire focus was on her, in this bed they shared, and the near electric connection at their every point of contact.
At least if only for these precious few hours, they could distract each other and stave off the dread of what the morning may bring.
