A/N: The fic possibilities are endless with this Framework setup. So I tried out a little something. It's a bit silly, but I hope you'll like it anyway. Personally it's a bit out of the way from me, since there's actually a plot and a story here, and not only an introspective episode tag. It's been awhile for me.
Spoilers: For 4x15 Self Control.
Disclaimer: If I lived in the Framework I'd own a lot of TV show rights. Sadly this is reality and I don't own the rights to Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D.
His life was perfect. He had everything he could possibly want. A good job, a nice car, a great woman, more money than he could use. And he was happy. Still he felt like something was missing. Some piece of the puzzle that wasn't complete, but he couldn't for the life of him figure out what it could be.
Lately at nights he had been having the same dream. It kept replying over and over again each night, and he didn't know what it meant. He was in a room, a lab from the looks of it, and someone was there with him. He couldn't see who, it was like his vision was blurred, although everything else in the room was as clear as day. The person remained a grey smudge on his vision. If his approximation wasn't totally off he could however tell from the shape and size that it had to be a woman. Now the question was; who was this mysterious female creature?
He had an unexplainable certainty that it was someone that he knew. That it wasn't just a figment of his imagination. She seemed so familiar that he almost felt ashamed that he didn't recognize her. He had already excluded many of the women in his life, due to the phantom's built and stature. The mystery intrigued him, and rightly so since solving problems was his forte as an engineer. To begin with he unconsciously eliminated the women he came into contact with during his day, and as he did so the dream evolved. Now it had a voice, and it kept repeating one word, his name; "Fitz." Like it was calling to him, demanding to be heard, a siren's call that lulled him deeper and deeper into her realm with her irresistible voice, as light as angel feathers but still strong enough to keep him under her spell.
And he was spellbound. He couldn't get her out of his head. He became preoccupied, almost obsessed, he needed to know who this was, and why she kept plaguing his dreams. Some days he thought he might be going crazy, so he told no one about this mystery lady that lived in his dreams. He was happy, right? It wasn't like him to go around fantasizing about other women. But this was different somehow. He got this distinct feeling that the woman needed him, but that he also needed her.
He didn't believe in faith. He had never seen a reason too. Where others had failed in life, he had succeeded. Which was why this odd feeling he carried around for a dream, this feeling that she was real, that he knew her and that he absolutely had to find her at all costs felt so strange to him. There was a path laid out for him, which he had to follow.
As he started concentrating on certain features the dream slightly changed, and he began to unlock its riddle. The grey blemish slowly diminished, for instance he found out that her hair color was light brown, he could see her fingers, the curve of her back, the shape of her nose. And on the day he saw her green/brown eyes, he knew he had succeeded, no grey spots left obstructing his view of her. She was beautiful, about his age, and she looked kind and warm... and familiar. But he still couldn't place her.
One mystery solved, yet he had come no further. The dream remained. The girl would appear each night. Standing there in the middle of the lab. Sometimes she said his name other times she just smiled, greeting him. One time she screamed his name, but not in an angry manner, it was more of a desperation roar. He woke up that night, shaken to the core and a bit disoriented. She needed him, he had to help her. Then he remembered he didn't know who she was or how to get to her.
When he couldn't take it any longer he hired a private investigator. He had the means to, so why not. They got a sketch artist to make a drawing from his memory on which to go on, he tried to describe her as best he could. It was all he could offer, since he didn't have a name or an age or anything else for that matter, to go on. The detective warned him that there was a pretty slim chance of him finding anything at all. But Leopold Fitz was nothing if not optimistic, and so he kept a little hope alive that one day he'd find this person who had invaded his dreams.
xXx
Time passed, and the woman had by now become a permanent fixture in his life. He went to sleep at night looking forward to seeing her. Feeling disappointed the few times other dreams forced their way in. He had tried to interact with his dream, but she was like a recording, he couldn't touch her, his arms just went straight through like a hologram, and if he talked to her she wouldn't answer. The only thing she ever said was "Fitz," like it was her favorite word.
One day the private investigator called him with some news. They met up. The detective had good and bad news for Fitz. It turned out he had managed to actually track the girl down. That was the good part. The bad part - which he repeatedly underlined, was no fault of his, so he still would get paid for his troubles - was that she was already dead. Her name was Jemma Anne Simmons. Had she lived she would have turned 30 this year. She was originally from Sheffield, England. She had apparently been somewhat of a genius. She had graduated from Shield Academy and had worked as a biochemist for Shield for a few years. Until she had been killed, it was a dangerous line of work after all. The P.I. showed him pictures of her that he had gotten from friends and family. There was no doubt in Fitz's mind that this was her. It was like looking at pictures of an old friend. The woman of his dreams, literally.
He was just sad that he hadn't had the opportunity to meet her in person. She might have had the answer as to why she haunted his dreams. That, and she sounded like an interesting person, someone whom he might had been able to have a deep and meaningful conversation with. But that was that he guessed. He paid the man for a job well done. Now he needed to move on, to decide what to do from here, if there were anything he could do. He considered contacting the people who knew her, her friends and maybe even her family, but he thought better of it. How would they react if some stranger came by and told them he was having dreams about their daughter or their friend? It would be too weird, and it probably wouldn't accomplice anything useful for either party, except for maybe opening up old wounds. And he didn't want to do that to the people that had loved her. He did visit her grave though - hoping to put this phantom of his to rest, without success - it was a simple, inconspicuously engraved stone in a field of others. The world would keep spinning, but she would remain here, and eventually be forgotten.
The mystery was solved so far as it could be. Not that he had any new clues as to why he was dreaming about her, he still didn't know her; the detective couldn't find any link between the two of them. But now he knew her name at least. Not that that was of any help. She still didn't say anything other than "Fitz" when he called her Jemma in his dreams, he also tried with Simmons, figuring she had been an agent, and might have been on last name basis with a lot of people, but that didn't yield any results either. It was a pretty name though. It suited her. Like she was something precious, something rare, something that had to be looked after and protected. Even with all his money and means he could do nothing more. He'd just have to settle for being content with the state of affairs.
xXx
The sky was clear and blue, not a cloud covered the horizon. Leopold Fitz was on his way to work, already a little late as he stepped out of the door. It locked behind him, and as he turned he felt a presence, maybe 10 feet away. When he was standing face to face with the person he almost dropped his briefcase. It was her...
Like so many times before he heard her say his name, it came out of her mouth, but this was the real her, not his dream version of her. "Fitz." It was like a relieved sigh. But how could this be, she was supposed to be dead. Yet here she stood alive and well, right in front of him. She looked sad and hopeful at the same time, as if she wanted to run into his arms but was afraid of how he might react to it. He wasn't sure of that himself; he probably would have welcomed her though. He felt as lost in that moment as she looked.
They stood in silence for a while. Staring at each other.
She was the one to break the silence. "Fitz." She said again, "I found you. I finally found you." There was a slight pause. "Do you know who I am?"
It was a tricky question, because yes he knew who she was, but he didn't know her. And that was likely what she was asking him now. "Jemma." He said automatically, the word just slipped out before he could stop himself.
She smiled relaxing her features a little. "You remember?" She asked.
He wasn't really sure what she meant. What was he supposed to remember? Her? He didn't actually know anything real about her. "I...," he started then stopped, and tried again. "You're dead. How are you... how can you... what are you doing here?"
Her shoulders tensed once again, and she looked like she might cry. "Fitz, you have to remember me." She stepped closer to him.
He in return stepped back. "I'm sorry, I don't."
She was determined, he could see that, and she definitely didn't want to give up. "You're my best friend in the whole world. You've helped me, supported me, been beside me since we met."
"That's impossible. I've never met you before in my life." He felt bad for saying this to her, but it was the truth.
She persisted. "You have saved my life more times than I can count. You're kind and loyal and the sweetest person I've ever met."
"You must have me confused with someone else." This was the only logical response he could offer her.
"But you know my name. How can you know my name if we haven't met?" She asked.
It was a good question, but it would take some time to explain. "It's a long story." He simply said.
"Okay, then tell me honestly that you don't feel like you recognize me from somewhere, that I don't feel familiar to you somehow." She was changing her approach.
He didn't have to think about it, after all the times she had visited his dreams. "I do feel like I know you. Like we might have known each other in another lifetime."
"Yes see, that's what you need to hold on to, that feeling." There was hope in her voice again.
"But that's just crazy." This conversation was getting too weird.
"No it's not crazy at all. It's true." She kept standing on her beliefs, he'd give her that.
"It can't be." He was in denial.
"You said you thought I was dead. How else are you gonna explain this." She gestured up and down her body.
"You're a figment of my imagination. A hallucination. I must be sleep deprived, or maybe I've been drugged or drinking too much, or.. or.."
She was unfazed by his attempts to explain her existence away. "And you often have long conversations with your imaginary friends, do you?"
It caught him off guard. "No, but..."
"No buts, this is real... well for you it is... right now... but not really real." Now it sounded like she didn't exactly know what she was talking about either.
"Okay, now you're not making any sense at all. And... and I need to get to work." He was done with this insane discussion.
"No you don't. You need to listen to me." She had moved close enough to grab his sleeve. "This is not reality. This is like a Matrix kind of world. And you're trapped in here, along with May, Mack and Coulson. You have to wake up, and come back to me!" She was getting desperate.
"Who? What?" He sighed heavily. "You've got to be kidding me. I've been using all my energy searching for a crazy lady."
"I'm not crazy! You need to break out of this illusion, Fitz. This world is not real." He could feel her fingers clinging to him through his jacket.
"Oh I can't wait for what you are gonna say next. Do aliens exist? Are we being invaded by killer robots? Or an army of super smart monkeys?" He was mocking her now.
"Yes, yes and no." She said as a matter of fact.
"I don't believe this. You need to leave now."
"Fitz, please just remember me." She was begging now, a last attempt at making him believe. "You once said you couldn't live in a world that doesn't have me in it. Well that's what you're doing now. This. This life. This is not you. It's programming. You need to fight this!"
"No! You need to leave, and never contact me again, okay. Or I'll get a restraining order. Do you hear me!" He pushed her away, not hard or anything, and left her standing as he went towards his car, mumbling to himself about how stupid he had been and that he was going to be seriously late, and if he got fired he could blame it only on himself and on the stupid, crazy dream that he just had to chase until it came back and bit him in the ass.
He opened the door and heard her say one last thing before he got in. "I love you Fitz."
xXx
He felt bad for the way he had dismissed her. Maybe if she hadn't surprised him like that they could have had a normal conversation. It was too late now; he had scared her off and would probably never see her again.
That night his dream changed. Jemma was still there, but she now participated in a series of memory like flashes. A few other people he didn't know either had now joined them. But mostly it was visions of the two of them together. He was flooded with memories. Air, water, snow, death, betrayal, distant planets, and love. He could feel the hold she had on him and likewise how much he meant to her. He loved her. That was the feeling he woke up with. He was actually in love with this nutjob. Did he believe her? He still wasn't quite sure. But he had to find her again. To talk to her properly.
He had no idea where she would go, so he went to the only place he could think of; her grave.
"You found me." Her voice flowed over him from behind, and he felt a wave of relief hit him.
She walked up to stand beside him. "You found yourself it seems." He gestured to the grave.
She nodded. "You kept telling me I was dead, so I did some research and found this place."
He turned to look at her. "So tell me everything."
"Are you sure you're ready to listen this time?" She asked.
He nodded.
When she was done he figured he had two options; not believe her and move on with his life, or believe her and follow her down the rabbit hole. Take the blue or the red pill.
She looked at him and in that moment he knew there was really only one choice. He was going to follow her wherever she went.
xXx
When they figured out a way and he finally woke up it felt like years had passed for him, but really it had only been a few months. Although that was bad enough as it was. The rescue party had been small and he had understandably been disoriented. When he was clearheaded enough to comprehend what he had gone through and put Jemma through in the process he felt ashamed and determined at the same time. And before they were finally reunited he had prepared a whole speech about how sorry he was and how much he'd missed her and that he'd do everything he could to fix this whole mess.
But when she collided into his arms, his words failed him, instead Jemma with tears slowly rolling down her cheeks said to him: "When you ask I'm going to say, yes." For a split-second he didn't know what she was talking about, but then it dawned on him and he understood; she knew. Tears found their way down his cheeks as well as he looked at her, she smiled knowingly and he smiled back brightly, silently communicating the immense joy they both felt. They still had a future together. He was about to ask how she knew, when she anticipated it and said: "It was all very surreal, like us in the Framework, only real, it was you, but it wasn't, like it all happened in a dream."
"It must have been a nightmare." He concluded. He knew now the power of dreams, and however the LMD had broken his secret to her, he wouldn't want that to equate to his only saving grace in the Framework. That which had kept him from completely buying into the party line; his dreams of Jemma.
A/N: That's it.
Hey we got a middle name for Jemma.
Seriously I did not think this through, it was this little idea that Framework Fitz dreams of Simmons, who's dead in the Framework and then she shows up. But the story just spun out of control. It's been ages since I've written this much for one story. And as per usual when this happens I don't know how to end it, so sorry if it felt rushed or forced or just plain stupid.