. . . . . .

At precisely ten o'clock the next morning, Ward appears at the door of the lab, and Simmons stands to greet him, smiling. She's wearing workout clothes of some kind—loose-fitting black pants and a close-fitted shirt—which Fitz has been gaping at all morning because he didn't even know that she owned workout clothes.

"You all right in here without me for a while?" she asks Fitz.

"Of course," he answers automatically, but before the door has slid shut, leaving him alone in the lab, he wishes he'd said No, I need you in here to help me. But he would never have said it, not really; he might not be the most self-aware person in the world, but he does recognize how selfish that would sound.

Through the glass doors he watches as Ward leads Simmons to the wall where the parachutes hang, pulls one down, and starts explaining the various parts to her. The walls block a lot of sound so he can't hear them speak, but still, somehow, knowing they're out there bothers him. He turns his back so he can't even see them, but still, like an itch in the back of his mind that he can't scratch, the knowledge that she's out there wasting time with parachutes instead of in there focusing on her work (what happened to that virus you were so enamored of? he thinks irritably) annoys him until he can barely stand it anymore.

He focuses on his machinery, ignoring the figures behind him, as long as possible. Finally, he glances at the clock and sees it's 11:45—close enough to lunchtime for it to look like he's going upstairs because he's hungry, not because he's annoyed. With a sigh of relief, he leaves the lab and jogs up the stairs, steadfastly ignoring the scene behind him, where Ward is teaching Simmons how to fold and pack a parachute and she's laughing at something he said.

Upstairs he finds that Skye has had the same idea and is rummaging around for something to eat. "Hi," he says awkwardly, and wonders if he will ever not be awkward around her. Probably not, because he will never stop being bowled over by how beautiful she is.

"Hey," she says. "How's . . . lab work going?"

"Great," he says, because there's nothing else to say about his work that wouldn't bore her to tears. "How's training with May?"

She is still for a moment. "Great," she says cheerfully, but he caught that hesitation and now that he's noticed it he can tell that she's faking her good mood. "She's having me observe her flying the plane."

"That sounds interesting," he says sincerely, and she smiles.

"It actually is," she says, her voice growing more genuine. "Like, I'd seen it in movies and stuff but I had no idea how complicated it actually is. I will definitely not be able to fly a plane on my own for a long, long time."

"So you're . . . glad you're with May for a while?" he asks carefully.

"Of course," she says, and she's lying again.

He just looks at her, and finally she sighs and gives in. "I mean—yes, it is genuinely super cool, being with her. She knows how to do everything, and she's brilliant and cool and scary. But . . . I just wish it wasn't happening because my own SO is mad at me." She sighs. "I thought we'd worked it out after the whole Chitauri virus thing but . . . apparently it takes a long time for him to forgive people." She laughs mirthlessly. "And then knowing that he just immediately ran out and got a new padawan . . ."

Fitz shifts uncomfortably. "If it helps, I don't think that it's that he's moved on to a new student—I think he's mostly training Jemma to get back at you or something."

She makes a face. "I don't know if that helps or not." She takes a long drink from her glass, and he looks down at his hands, marveling. This is the longest conversation they have ever had; they usually get interrupted or he says something stupid and awkward and ruins it. "How are you doing down in your lab without your other half?"

"Fine," he says quickly, but she clearly hears something in his tone because she looks at him more closely.

"Really? It doesn't bother you at all that Simmons is downstairs right now, getting all pal-y with Ward?"

"No," he says as convincingly as he can. "She's my lab partner, yes, but we don't even work in the same disciplines. The stuff I'm working on right now, I don't need her for."

"That's it?" Skye asks skeptically. "That is genuinely all she is to you?"

"Genuinely," he confirms, though he doesn't quite genuinely mean it.

She eyes him for a moment, then shakes her head. "I'm sorry, but I've always assumed you two were secretly dating. Actually pretty much everyone assumes you two are dating. Or related." She pauses. "Are you sure you guys aren't a couple?"

He was so right—Skye thinks they're dating. Of course it doesn't follow that he was right in thinking that this is the reason she's never shown any interest in him, but still, it's vindication. He sighs. "I am quite sure we are not a couple. I have never thought of her . . . that way . . . at all. I mean, she's beautiful, and brilliant, and kind, but I'm not . . . she's my friend, that's it."

She still looks skeptical as she examines him a long moment. "All right, then riddle me this, McFitz," she says, and he finds himself flattered but also a bit annoyed at the nickname. "Why does it bother you so much that she's downstairs with Ward right now?"

"Bothered?" he repeats, baffled. "I'm not—"

"Please, you're the worst liar I've ever met. You're bothered."

"I'm—" He stops, hesitates, looks at her expectant expression, and sighs. "I don't know. I'm just—I'm a little bothered that she did this without asking me."

Skye raises an eyebrow. "So she needs your permission now? You know that she's a rational adult human being capable of making her own choices, right?"

"That's not what I meant!" It is what he meant, a little. "Look, Jemma and I . . . we have done everything together since we were eighteen years old. Every decision that either of us has made since then, we've talked about. So for her to suddenly just run off and start doing all this secret agent stuff—yeah, it bothers me, all right?"

"But you have to know that someday there won't be a Fitzsimmons, right?" Skye counters. "Someday, one of you guys is going to get a job offer that the other person doesn't get. One of you is going to get tired of SHIELD before the other one does."

"I . . . prefer not to think about that."

"And what does it matter?" Skye asks with a carefully casual shrug. "After all, like you said, she's just a lab partner. You can find another lab partner."

No, he can't.

He's being melodramatic, of course he can. But he doesn't want someone else. He wants Jemma.

"Well," she continues when he doesn't answer, "I'm proud of her. I mean, I'm mad she stole my SO. But she's expanding her horizons and trying something new and that's cool of her. And considering how often you guys end up in the line of fire, it's probably pretty smart of her too." She smiles cheekily at him and he has the uncomfortable feeling that he's not sure of her motives in this conversation. "And maybe someday she'll be a field agent and leave the lab behind."

"Please," he scoffs, "Simmons couldn't be a field agent."

Skye stops, considers, and then laughs. "Yeah, probably not."

But the damage is done; the seed of worry has been planted, and he knows he'll be wondering if Simmons is trying to leave the lab behind for a long time to come.

. . . . . .

They're parked at a SHIELD base in Arizona for a few days, and Ward takes Simmons on another tandem jump, then a solo one. When they walk back onto the bus after the solo jump, Simmons is exhilarated and laughing, and beside her Ward looks pleased. "Oh Skye, it was marvelous," she tells the hacker who meets them at the ramp with Fitz. "You've got to try it some time." At this Skye and Ward glance at each other, then glance away, and Fitz has again the feeling that everything is out of order.

He hopes that this means that Simmons is back in the lab with him full-time, but now that skydiving is sorted out Ward decides to teach Simmons self-defense, which she failed dismally at in SHIELD basic training.

"Aren't you a little worried about this cutting into your lab time?" Fitz asks her when he hears.

"Don't be silly, Fitz," she laughs. "It's only two hours a day, and you know perfectly well we have more downtime than that on any given day in the lab."

So for the next week she doesn't come into the lab until eleven each morning, and in the evenings, which she used to spend watching movies with Fitz, she practices downstairs or goes to sleep early, claiming that all this physical work is tiring her out.

Ward avoids the common areas too, and since May and Coulson are always off doing their own things, that means that Fitz and Skye are each other's company most evenings. A month ago that would have thrilled him, would have been the best turn of events he could have hoped for. But now that he's actually experiencing it, he finds it to be . . . not as thrilling as expected.

That's not to say that Skye isn't a fun companion. The more he knows her the better he likes her, and they bond over a shared love of Knight Rider. It's just to say that as she becomes a real person to him, not a mysterious beautiful unknown, the sight of her no longer makes his heartbeat race.

Not to mention that at least once a day she probes him about whether he misses Simmons, and it's making him crazy.

. . . . . .

"It's fun," Simmons shrugs, her focus on her microscope. "And it's good exercise. You know hanging out in this lab doesn't really encourage exercise."

"Who needs exercise," Fitz mutters, tapping his pen on the lab table.

"We do, Fitz," Simmons laughs. "I know you never wanted to do field work, but it looks like as long as we're on this team we're going to keep getting thrown into it. Wouldn't you rather be prepared?"

"Yeah," said Skye, who out of boredom has joined them in the lab this afternoon. "Why don't you go with her tomorrow morning? I'm sure Ward wouldn't mind another student."

"That's an excellent idea, Skye," says Simmons. "Fitz?"

No, it's a terrible idea, but as he looks at Simmons' smiling face, he finds himself agreeing.

It turns out he was right: it's a terrible idea. Ward is trying to teach them what to do if someone comes at them with a knife, and Fitz cannot for the life of him get the movements down. Simmons isn't much ahead of him in terms of physical strength or skill, but there's a certain grace to her movements—always has been—that helps her, and after a few tries she manages to disarm Ward.

"Well done," says Ward, and Simmons smiles at him, both of them ignoring Fitz who is behind them nursing his foot that Ward just stepped on.

"Well, I'm not quite Milly Dermount yet," Simmons says, and this makes Ward smirk. Fitz has no idea who Milly Dermount is or what that means, but based on the amusement on both their faces, he assumes it's an inside joke, and that bothers him worse than his hurt foot.

He suffers through the rest of the training session, but when he leaves it's with the resolution that he's never coming back.

. . . . . .

"She's allowed to have inside jokes with other people, you know," Skye points out over ice cream that night. "You don't own her."

"I know I don't," he retorts.

She looks at him thoughtfully, her spoon tapping against her lips, then shakes her head. "I think you know that, but you don't know it, you know?"

He blinks. "No, I don't . . . know."

"I think that this is the first time you've had to share Simmons with anyone, and I don't think you know how to do it." She points her spoon at him. "So even though you may know, like, intellectually that you don't own her, emotionally you can't keep yourself from feeling threatened by her growing in a way that you feel like you can't follow."

"What? Where are you getting this stuff?" he asks.

"I've been watching a lot of daytime talk shows," she shrugs. "But I think I'm onto something here. I think you're threatened by her friendship with Ward."

"Aren't you threatened by it?" he retorts, then immediately wishes he hadn't. They haven't really talked about Skye's relationship with Ward in a while, and it seems better that way—it makes both of them happier to ignore it, though for different reasons.

She looks down and fiddles with the cuffs of her sleeves. "Yeah," she admits after a moment. "I am. I keep telling myself that he hasn't officially transferred me over to another SO, so until then we still at least have that, but every time Coulson wants to talk to me I'm afraid he's about to tell me that my being with May is permanent."

"What does he say instead?"

"That I'm doing good work. And every now and then that I need to work things out with Ward."

"Easier said than done," Fitz commiserates. "That guy doesn't forgive easily."

"Or ever." She leans back in her chair and Fitz is surprised to see the sheen of tears in her eyes. "I think asking May to train me for a while was a mistake. I thought it would give him time to work past this but instead it's just driven us even farther apart. I never see him anymore. He hasn't said a word to me in four days."

She hangs her head and he thinks she might be crying and his brain goes into panic mode. This happens whenever he's confronted with a crying girl; his immediate response is to try to fix the problem and if he can't do that he just falls apart.

No, he tells himself, he can do this. What do people normally do in a situation like this? What would Simmons do? And he knows the answer to that question; he saw it when a fellow classmate failed a test and burst into tears in the corridor. Simmons comforted that girl and Fitz can comfort Skye now.

Standing and moving to the bench next to Skye, he carefully puts his arm around her shoulders. And apparently that was the right thing because Skye curls into him, her head on his shoulder, and lets a single tear roll down her cheek. Fitz stiffly rubs her arm and thinks that he wouldn't mind crying a little too.

. . . . . .

"Have you seen Simmons?"

Coulson looks up from some paperwork on his desk—leave it to Coulson to be in the most technologically advanced organization on earth but still like reading things on actual paper. "She and Ward took advantage of us being parked here and went to use the shooting range on base. Apparently Ward finished up her self-defense training and moved on to firearms."

Oh, well that is just perfect. Fitz nods his thanks and turns to leave, but Coulson's voice stops him. "Something wrong between the two of you, Fitz?"

"Not at all," Fitz lies. "Why would you think that?"

Coulson fixes him with that special look only Coulson can give, the one that says I admire you and respect your choices but I think you're full of crap right now. "Because I never thought I'd see the day when I'm more in touch with Simmons than you are."

"She's working on other things right now and why shouldn't she—I mean, she's allowed to have interests outside of me. I mean outside of our lab." He wishes he sounded more convincing.

Coulson looks at him a long moment, then goes back to his paperwork. Fitz wishes it weren't so obvious that Coulson still thinks he's right.

Back down in the lab, Fitz flops into a chair with a scowl. Simmons knew that he was testing and recalibrating the equipment and the DWARFs today—he told her last night. And yes, technically as the engineer it's his job, not hers, but she's always helped him. Every month since they joined SHIELD, she's helped him. And yes, he can do it himself, but without her it will take twice as long—at least the rest of the day, if not longer. He'd told her and she knows he expects her and needs her help, and she blew him off to go pal around with Ward, just because Ward is so handsome and such a good agent.

He opens the DWARF case and looks down at the robots, but when he reaches for them his hands are shaking, he's so upset. You know what? he tells himself as he slams the lid closed again. This isn't happening today. If she's going to slack off all day, so is he. He folds his arms over his chest and glares at nothing, and he is incredibly glad when Coulson's voice comes over the intercom.

"Come upstairs," he says. "We've got an 0-8-4."

. . . . . .

"So has your aim improved?" He doesn't know what's provoking him to speak, especially not in that tone—he'd rather intended to ignore her.

Simmons looks over at him and smiles, but it seems uncertain—maybe she read the irritation in his voice. "I think so, yes. I've still got a lot to learn but Ward says I have a very steady hand."

"Isn't that nice," he says snidely, poking at his tablet. In response, the robots shift position, examining the glowing box from the side.

Simmons opens her mouth as though to speak, then hesitates and looks around her. But no one is nearby. The field is nearly empty; May and Ward are examining the surrounding forest, and Skye and Coulson are at the edge of the field, talking to another SHIELD agent, the setting sun casting their shadows long and lean on the grass. So she does speak. "Is there something you want to get off your chest, Fitz?" she asks quietly.

He pulls his gaze up from his tablet to look at her incredulously. "Really? You have no clue why I'd be annoyed?"

"Uh . . ." She shakes her head and shrugs.

"Equipment calibration today? I told you last night."

"Equipment calibration?" she repeats, looking baffled. "You're the engineer. That's your job. It always has been."

He steps closer to her. "Well, yes, but you've always helped me, because you know what a pain it is." He finds his voice getting louder without his meaning it to. "It would take hours without you! I think it was very rude of you to leave me in the lurch like that." He doesn't mean to be picking a fight with her, but sometimes this is what he does when he's stressed, and now it's like all the tension of the last few weeks is pouring out of him. "I thought friends helped each other out."

And Simmons just stares at him, incredulous, and a frown mars her lovely features. "Oh, because you're such a shining example of friendship, Fitz?"

"What do you mean?" he demands. "I have always been a good friend to you."

"Oh really, have you been? Because I seem to recall that you have been blowing me off for weeks. Since Skye joined the team, actually."

He blinks, startled. "I haven't—"

"I'm not an idiot, Fitz. I've noticed how every time she walks into a room, you drop your conversation with me and go fawn over her. I've heard you downplaying our friendship when she's listening. And I've noticed that you've been very deliberately pushing me away for weeks now. Since the whole virus thing, I think."

Somehow it never occurred to him that she would notice these things. "I—well, I—"

"You know what? It's fine." She sets her tablet down on the pile of cases they're using as an impromptu lab table. "She's a nice girl, and you should be dating people, you know. I just didn't realize until now that you would turn out to be one of those people who blow their friends off when they're interested in someone. So go ahead and push me away if you think that will somehow increase your chances with Skye, but don't turn around and expect me to help you with your personal duties."

"That's not what I . . ." But his voice trails off, because as he thinks about it, he realizes it is what he was doing.

"You don't get to have it both ways, Fitz. You don't get to be my friend when it's beneficial to you and then brush me aside when it isn't." Her face is tense and he can't remember her ever speaking in such a harsh tone with him. "And you don't get to then turn around and get upset with me for not being at your beck and call. Especially when I'm away doing job-related things."

Her expression softens, just a little. "I'm sorry, I'm just . . . tired of you treating me this way."

They stand there in silence a moment, Fitz shellshocked, Simmons wiping a tear away. "Well, my analysis here is done," she says quietly. "I think I would like to return to the car."

She gathers her things and walks away through the tall grass, and Fitz watches her go helplessly. It's only after she's out of sight in the trees that Fitz turns back and realizes that Skye is standing a few feet away, staring at him in wide-eyed astonishment.

He winces. "How much did you hear?" he asks warily.

"Pretty much all of it," she confirms.

He sighs and rubs his neck, trying to think, trying to fight out the blankness in his mind that settled there when the most important person in the world to him informed him he'd been treating her badly.

"Are you okay?" she asks.

He looks at the ground. "No," he admits quietly. And in that moment the blankness in his head is filled by one thought, one shocking and wonderful and terrifying and true thought that fills his mind like ripples spread across a lake. The enormity of it nearly knocks him off his feet, and he slowly looks up at Skye as though seeing her for the first time.

Skye looks around hesitantly. "Look, Fitz, is what she said true? Because . . . I mean, you're a nice guy, but I am . . . just not interested in you."

He's still staring at her with that surprised expression. "I don't think I'm interested in you anymore either," he says slowly, trying out each word as it comes out.

Skye looks surprised but pleased. "Oh, really?"

He nods, still trying to make sense of this new revelation. "Actually, I think I might . . ." He finds he can't say the words, though, not when they're so new and frightening. But his gaze is fixed out over the field where Simmons just walked away.

"Really?" Skye grins. "Good. Because I've been on Team FitzSimmons from the beginning."

. . . . . .