They didn't have long to get ready before leaving the space station, each of them having rushed off to their quarters to try and grab the few things they had collected over the last while as May prepped the ship. Jemma sighed, shoving her meagre belongings into a small drawstring bag as a hesitant knock sounded against the metal casing at the edge of her door. Turning, she was met with the sight of Fitz, his hands fidgeting as he looked at her before dropping his eyes to the ground.

"Can... can I talk to you for a minute?" he questioned, voice soft amidst the humming of the space station. Jemma's heart ached at the resignation in his voice and his inability to hold eye contact, his weight shifting from foot to foot as he awaited her response.

"Of course," she breathed, motioning for him to enter the room. He did so slowly, leaving space between them which only made the distance more painful. She knew he was still struggling with what had happened in the Framework. They all were, in their own way. But that didn't stop her wanting him. She wanted nothing more than to fall into his chest, to sob, to let out all the tension that had been building from the minute they managed to escape the ruined base back on earth to each horrible moment they had spent apart, a galaxy between them, before he managed to make it back to her, disheveled and exhausted. She could see the ghosts behind his eyes, his gaze never lingering for more than a few seconds before he would look back to the floor or away from her. Fitz let out a shuddering breath, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck in a gesture so familiar Jemma nearly broke down; clenching her hands on the shirt she had wrestled from the cabinet along the wall.

"I need to... give you something," he said, clearing his throat before he continued. "And... and I need you to let me explain. And to... let me finish because... I need to get it out, alright?"

"Alright," she agreed, wringing the fabric in her hands as she watched him. Fitz took a deep breath, the air rattling out of him as he reached into his pocket, pulling something out which he kept clenched in his fist. She dropped the shirt to the bed, inching towards him but letting him move the last bit of distance towards her.

"This is yours," he started, holding his empty hand out until she placed one of her hands in his, palm up. With trembling fingers he placed the small object in her hand before lifting his own off her palm, leaving her staring down at a ring. Jemma felt woozy at the sight, the light catching on the stones and making them glint like the stars just outside the window.

"Fitz –" she began, heart hammering in her chest as she felt her eyes well up.

"Don't interrupt me Jemma, please," he begged, eyes clouded with tears as he looked at her, voice breaking on the plea. She covered her mouth in reply, sucking in a breath as her own tears slid over her lashes and down her cheeks as he took a step away from her, leaving her to clutch the ring in her palm, pulling it towards her chest. Fitz blew the air out of his mouth, looking up towards the ceiling as he tried to centre himself before continuing. "I made that for you months ago," he began, unable to meet her eyes.

Jemma wanted to reach out to him, to wrap him in her arms, but she hesitated, simply because he had asked her to let him finish. To get out what he needed to say. She felt sick at the thought that he was giving her a ring now – when he couldn't look at her. When he could barely be in a room with her. Not because she worried that he hated her, but rather that he believed himself in his long voiced feeling of having killed their relationship. That it was his way of saying goodbye.

"I made that for you months ago. God... more than that," he muttered, shaking his head before swiping at a tear that had escaped. "When I wasn't looking for you like a madman while you were on Maveth I was making that." The confession rattled something loose in her, a sob ripping from behind her palm as she started crying in earnest, her knees giving out until she was sitting on the edge of the bed. "I kept telling myself that when I got you back I would tell you that I loved you. That I would take you to dinner and we would be happy, finally, and that a little while later I would come up with some stupid, romantic, grand gesture and give you that. But after Will and then starting over and Hive and everything else I just... I got nervous. I knew I loved you, and that you loved me, but I never knew if you had thought about it. Marriage." Unable to stay still, he started pacing, fidgeting with the hem of his jacket as he crossed the few feet of floor that the room had.

"I wanted to bring it up so many times. Test the waters. See if it was something you'd want to talk about or... or even maybe seem keen on. I was scared though. Always thought you'd say... well... but it didn't stop me from being nervous that you'd say no. Or that you didn't agree with such an old custom as marriage. God Jemma, I have this vision of you in this white, lace dress and it breaks my heart," he choked out, scrubbing at his face again. She felt nauseous and dizzy, her lungs struggling to draw in air as he kept talking. Fitz seemed to fight for his own oxygen, leaning over slightly as he put his hands on his knees, tears sliding off his nose until they fell onto the grated floor. "I have no right to ask anything of you now," he whispered, standing up after a few seconds.

Jemma tried to open her mouth, to get words out, to stop him from saying such a thing, but she couldn't, her throat dry and aching. Fitz crossed the floor then, kneeling down in front of her and cupping the hand that held the ring in his own, bringing them against his sternum.

"I have loved you since the day I met you. I've loved you when you were screaming at me. When you were silent. When you could barely look at me, and when you were curled in my arms at night. I have loved you every second of every day since the minute you came into my life. I love you now. And I will love you tomorrow, and every moment, until I have none left. I have no right to ask anything of you. No right to beg you to love me now or in the future. And I'm not asking you to, for that choice has to be yours and yours alone, Jemma. You are the most brilliant, compassionate, wonderful woman I have ever met and I will love you forever. This ring is yours. It was made for you and it's only right for you to have it. I don't know what's going to happen when we leave this ship. Don't know if we're going to make it back to earth or if... or if we won't. I have nothing else to give you except myself and if you ever think that is something you could want again, I will be here waiting for you. But for now I... I just needed you to have that." He met her eyes then, watching the tears slide down her cheeks as silence filled the room save for her quiet sobs and his harsh breathing.

"Can I talk now?" she asked, voice shaking as she forced the words out, desperate for him to be the one to listen.

"Yeah," he nodded, chewing at the inside of his cheek as he tried to gauge her emotions from her face.

"Ask me."

"What?"

"Ask me. Please." Jemma choked out, a fresh wave of tears rising. Fitz took a shuddering breath before he leaned forward, pressing his forehead against hers.

"Will you marry me?" he questioned, voice soft in the dim room.

"Yes," she responded, nudging at him until he slipped the ring from her palm, holding her left hand out between their bodies as he slid the band on with shaking fingers. She let out a watery laugh the moment it fell into place, a smile spreading across her face as she leaned forward, capturing Fitz's lips with hers. She felt him hesitate for only a heartbeat before his arms wrapped around her back, tugging her close until they were kissing fervently. "I love you," she managed against his lips, her hands stroking over his cheeks and into his hair.

"I love you too. Always."