Chapter 1: It's Science, Fitz. I have to dissect something!
The warm smile Jemma had plastered on her face felt suddenly, utterly brittle. She didn't dare let it break until she was safely hidden behind the slim, less than soundproof walls of her mini-cabin.
Her mind had a tendency to file away odd bits of information for future use, and this time was no exception. The summer after her scoliosis surgery, she had been desperate for anything to get her mind off the silence. The older woman in the room next to her took pity and had given her the only book she'd had on hand. The bible wasn't exactly prime reading material for someone so enamoured with science, and truth be told, she hadn't gotten far into the book before setting it aside. But a few of the parables had managed to stand the test of time and memory.
Lot's wife, fleeing the wake of destruction, had dared to look back for one, fleeting moment and turned to a pillar of salt.
She had dared—for one fleeting instant—to look back over her shoulder at him and saw how his face fell. Jemma knew him all too well, knew that he doubted his own worth to her. Her stomach felt as if she were still trapped in that awful free fall.
Jemma slammed her eyes shut, trying to blink back and will away the tears that were welling.
As a specialist, Ward did that plane jumping sort of thing on any given Tuesday. She was sure that sort of thing was exciting, if it was your particular cup of tea. And Ward, of course, had been quite dashing in his rescue.
Jemma dipped her chin down to rest on her knees, her arms hugging her knees a bit tighter. Fitz risked himself to help her. He had stepped willingly out of his comfort zone and into a quarantined zone to come to her rescue. He had that much faith in her—in them, really—that he had willingly put his life into her hands.
The same Fitz who hated the slightest change from routine. The same Fitz who had grumbled for nearly a semester and half when she enforced a more semi-professional overhaul of his closet or spent hours griping when she snuck a bag of baked crisps into his stash of snacks. The same boy who hated her when they first met, but who also felt strangely like home with their similar academic history and a sense of homesickness that warred with the sheer joys of scientific discovery. The same man who challenged her to new, shared heights and accomplishments, and somehow also managed to keep her grounded and level. Her friend and academic turned professional partner.
Her...Fitz.
Her relationship with Fitz was so complex and nuanced. That very kindred sense of history in the experiences that had shaped the time before they met. He was her equal partner in the sacredness of science in every respect that mattered. It was so rare a thing that professor after professor had made a special point to pull her aside and remark on it.
Skye had been insistent just earlier today that she knew married couples who knew less about each other than she and Fitz did. So, how was it that he could not believe her, especially after all this time?
Jemma could so easily roll her eyes at that exact moment. If Fitz had been interested, surely she would have known long ago. But somewhere between the thrill of solving the mystery and the normal rush of working with Fitz, she'd felt something. Her brain, usually so adept at classification, struggled to identify it. It was nearly chemical, an elusive spark that had hit her like a punch to the gut. But objectively, she couldn't be sure. Her brain was literally ramping up to deliver the electrical surge that had already felled three men. Her body was operating with a cocktail of adrenaline as she and Fitz waged war against xenobiological systems and time to save her—to save them all. What if she was mis-reading? Could she really trust her analytical frame of mind under that pressure of hormones and neurotransmitters exerting a biological demand for survival?
Her relationship with Fitz was such a precious and rare thing. Besides, in the near decade of their friendship, he'd never truly indicated that he had considered her more than a friend.
But now? Jemma bit her lip. She couldn't just let him think that she thought less of him than she did of Grant Ward, even if her own interest in Fitz was never anything she could pursue.
Fitz's hope truly had saved her more than anything else. Without him and his optimism in an otherwise hopeless case, she would not have taken the risks that allowed her to be alive right now, terrifying free fall notwithstanding.
She tugged the blanket closer to her to ward off the growing wave of cutis anserina and the tremors that now kept her in near-perpetual motion. Jemma rolled her eyes at her body's own foolish reactions, as if the blanket might actually quiet the fears that were setting off her fight or flight response. She turned to her desk, meeting her own eyes in the mirror.
She had proven to herself that she was made of stronger stuff than most people would credit her. Coulson had given her grudging respect, although his censure at her making the decision without consulting him was understandable in retrospect. That decision had been easy, even if the ramifications to herself were in all probability fatal. But it had taken nearly everything she had to make sure Fitz would not be able to follow her, to see him screaming when she took that fateful step from the plane ramp.
Physically, it would take far less to march back over to Fitz's door and knock. Her desire to keep her walls up and not show how she was starting to suffer the fear-filled ill effects of her brush with death was at war with her concern for Fitz.
But he had seen her at the bad times. He was the one who had been there then and he was there today in every way that mattered to her.
She was unable to fight like Agent May, but she could out stubborn nearly everyone. She would fight in her own way.
Besides, she thought as her fingers met the metal of the door frame, flight was far less appealing a term to consider right now.
For the second time today, she looked back at him. The first time to let him go. The risk to her life had been a foregone conclusion. She couldn't justify the risk to him and to the others.
But he and Ward both told her he had suited up to jump. Fitz was far more of a hero than he clearly believed.
The second time she would help save him from himself and the gnawing self doubt that showed so clearly on his face.
Jemma set her jaw. They would fix this together.
They always had.
Author's Notes: For bookishandbossy.
The FitzSimmons Network Secret Santa gift for BookishandBossy. I hope you like it! Her prompt was: The road you didn't take.
All three chapters will be uploaded today.
Many, many thanks to AGL03 for early content checks and Dilkirani for her excellent beta work.