Fitz's heart lurched. He'd seen the image in his head multiple times; it was practically burned into his brain. Jemma kneeling before him, tears in her eyes as he pressed the barrel of a gun against her head. But nothing could prepare him for actually seeing himself, clad in a white shirt and waistcoat, his arm clamped around Jemma's neck, gun pressed against her head. He was going to hurt her again.

The Doctor had appeared while they were trying to set up a device to close the rift. They'd been so close to closing it: all they had to do was wait for Daisy to give them the signal that the device was fully calibrated, and they'd be good to go.

Minutes before the device was ready, he'd strolled straight out into the rift room, looking straight at Fitz with eyes that were cold and dead, before his gaze flickered over to Jemma, and he pulled her into a headlock, pressing a gun to her temple.

"Daisy," Jemma mumbled into her earpiece with a strangled breath, her eyes locking with Fitz, filled with fear.

They heard Daisy swear loudly on the other end. "Five minutes until the device is ready. Hold on. Just hold on."

Fitz barely heard her, he was too focused on the twisted version of himself that had the love of his life held at gunpoint. Something sunk in his stomach, his hands quivering.

This is it, he thought. This is the universe demanding its money back.

"Don't," Fitz said, weakly, his heart pounding in his chest. "Don't hurt her."

"Why shouldn't I hurt her?" the Doctor said. "She's the one that took Ophelia away from us. She's the one that killed our father. She's the one—"

"—Stop. Stop saying us," Fitz said. "We're not the same."

The Doctor looked straight at him, a half-twisted smile curling at his lips. Fitz felt something break loose in his chest. Had his eyes ever looked that cold?

"We are the same," the Doctor said, "don't you remember how it feels?" His arm clamped harder around Jemma's neck. Her hands scrabbled at his arm, struggling to get him off her, but he held her tight. "How good it feels to hurt?"

Fitz's hands shook. "That wasn't real," he said. "It was a simulation, created to manipulate me to become something I'm not."

"You think this isn't you?" The Doctor let out a loud, twisted laugh. "You mean, you haven't felt it before? The darkness inside of you?"

Fitz swallowed. The lump inside his throat felt like it was choking him.

"What about Ward, Fitz? You'd have killed him if you had the chance. Remember those Kree you killed mercilessly?"

Fitz squeezed his eyes shut, trying to block it out. "You're not real. You're just a manifestation of fear."

Framework Fitz tutted. "You know better than that. I'm part of you whether you like it or not," he snarled. "And if I'm not real, how can I do this?"

He moved his hand down and dug his fingers into Jemma's throat. She cried out, a horrible, hoarse sound coming from her throat.

Fitz let out an agonized yell. "Please," he begged, "please, stop hurting her."

"Don't listen to him, Fitz," Jemma said. Her voice was weak, barely a scratch. "He's not you. You're not him."

The Doctor pressed his hand flat on Jemma's neck and pulled her close, pressing their cheeks together. "This is why you're weak," he said. "She makes you weak."

Jemma struggled to get away, but again it was to no avail. "We've all got darkness inside of us, Fitz," she gabbled, desperately. "It's how we use it that counts."

"Shut up," the Doctor snapped, striking her across the head with the gun.

She slipped from his grasp, limp and unmoving on the floor. Fitz dove across the floor, one arm wrapping around her, one hand brushing across her cheek.

"Jemma?" he said, desperately. "C'mon, Jemma, wake up."

The Doctor stood over them, staring down with those same cold eyes.

"She's holding you back, Fitz," he said. "Without her, you could be great. Think of all the things that you could achieve. Think of the person you could be without her."

"No," Fitz said, quietly, holding tight onto Jemma's body.

"No?"

"No," he said, this time louder and firmer. "I don't want to think about who I am without her. I like who I am with her."

"Then you're weak."

Daisy's voice filtered through his earpiece. "It's done. It's ready. Get the hell out of there!"

"I'm not weak," Fitz said, anger burning in his bones. "I'm not weak because I choose love over hate. I'm not weak because I choose to be good. And I'm definitely not weak because I'm not you."

He slammed his hand down on the machine switch and dove over Jemma's body to cover them both from the blast, as the device omitted a bright, white light, sealing the rift shut. With one last yell, the Framework version of himself disappeared into dust.

Fitz barely let himself take a breath before he looked down at his wife, soft fingers going to the wound on her head.

"Jemma," he whispered. "Jemma, please."

He kept saying her name in a breathy whisper until, miraculously, her eyes slid open.

"Fitz?"

"Oh, thank God," Fitz said, finally letting relief flood through him as he pulled Jemma close.

He stayed by her side all the way through the debrief.

Not that it was much of a debrief – they'd made their way back to the command centre only for Coulson to sharply tell Jemma to go straight to medical and ordering both of them to take the rest of the day off. Jemma had tried to complain – "the world hasn't stopped ending yet, Sir, I can still be of use!" – only for Coulson to insist that she get some rest.

She didn't protest too much. She and Fitz needed some time alone, anyway.

He'd been hovering beside her since the incident, halfway between touching her and not touching her, like he desperately wanted to make sure that she was real but didn't want to invade her privacy.

She made it easier for him by burying her head into the crook of his neck as soon as they were alone. His arms wound around her, pulling her close to his chest.

Then she felt his fingers in her hair again.

"Fitz," she chided, taking his hand in hers, "I told you, I'm fine. You don't have to worry about me."

"Symptoms of serious head injuries don't often show themselves for 48 hours," Fitz mumbled.

Jemma rolled her eyes. "I know that," she said, "but I'm fine. No bleeding. No nausea. A mild headache, but that's it."

"Are you sure?"

Jemma gave him a look.

Fitz sighed, and sank down onto the bed, his hands rubbing across his eyes. "Sorry, don't mean to fuss over you. I just..."

She sat down next to him and laced her fingers through his while he tried to find the words he needed.

"Sometimes it feels like everything I do leads to you getting hurt," he said, swallowing the lump in his throat. "AIDA, the framework – I did it all to try and protect you, to keep you from harm, and what happened? I stabbed you in the leg—"

"—Your LMD stabbed me."

"And I shot you!"

"You didn't shoot me. It was a version of yourself that was manipulated into doing terrible things in a fabricated world," Jemma said, her hand finding her way to his heart.

"A world that was built using technology I created," Fitz said. "The LMDs too. AIDA would have killed you if we hadn't used your LMD as a decoy." He bent his head, his hands carding through his hair. "I don't ever want to lose you. But I don't want to be the man that hurts you, either."

Jemma tilted his chin and turned his face to look at her, and, for the hundredth time since she first met him, she was struck by the emotion shining behind his eyes. "Remember what I told you before the framework? Just because someone used your creations for evil does not make you evil," she said. "And as for your actions leading to my demise, think about all of the times you've saved me. Without you, I'd be dead from a Chitauri virus. Or stuck at the bottom of the ocean. Or lost on an alien planet. You've done so many good things in your life, Fitz. Don't let a few mistakes outweigh that."

"There's something else," Fitz said, staring at his hands. "I know that the Doctor... I know that I'm not him. But – he still feels like a part of me. That darkness he was talking about? That's there. It's deep inside me, and I'm terrified that one day it's going to take over."

"It won't," Jemma said, with conviction. "You know how I know that?"

He looked up at her.

"I know that because we're having this conversation," she said, looking him straight in the eye. "You're not a bad person because there's darkness inside of you. You're a good person because, against all odds, you choose to be good. Every single time."

He stared at her, eyes shining, like she'd hung the universe. "I don't understand how you always manage to say the right thing."

"Because I've got that darkness too, and I'm not going to let it control me," Jemma said. She took both of his hands in hers. "Fitz, I know we can't just forget about what happened in the framework. We can't erase what happened in the past. But I can promise you that I'll always be with you, no matter what happens, and we'll fight that darkness together. I did marry you for a reason, you know."

Fitz smiled, the first real smile she'd seen from him all day.

"Still can't believe we're married," he mumbled.

"Still not used to it?"

He pulled her in for a kiss. "Never."