Author's Note: I didn't forget, I promise! I just didn't have time to post yesterday. The next chapter will just be an epilogue-type thing, to tie up some loose ends. Thanks to everyone for sticking with this story and leaving reviews and favoriting and following - you guys are the best! And special thanks to HangInAround - I was on the fence about adding this part until I read your comment :) Enjoy!
Fitz didn't remember falling asleep, and he didn't remember Simmons leaving, but he knew both must have occurred because he found himself alone in his room the next morning, well-rested and full of plans for the Night-Night gun.
Those plans were derailed quickly, though, for when he stumbled blearily into the kitchen for his cup of tea as per morning ritual, he found the house silent and empty.
"Hello?" he called out as he attempted to find Simmons' stash of Earl Grey while still cradling the Night-Night gun in his left hand. "Anyone home?"
"They're all outside – it snowed last night. And Jems loves the snow."
Fitz turned, dropping the small box of teabags into the sink as his still-sleepy mind processed Adam's words.
"Why aren't you with them?" he asked, furiously thinking of a way to make the dropped tea look intentional. He hated to seem like such a fool in front of Adam – in front of an actor, for goodness' sake.
"See, I thought it was about time I had a bit of a chat with you." Adam slowly rounded the counter, not stopping until he was uncomfortably close to Fitz's personal bubble. Fitz fought the primitive urge for fight or flight, reminding himself that this bloke was, in some way, a friend of Simmons. And if there was one thing he knew about Simmons, she was an impeccable judge of character. After all, she'd been the first to recognize his unappreciated genius in teaching monkeys to hack computers (even if that particular endeavor hadn't gone as he'd imagined).
"I saw Simmons come out of your room pretty early this morning. I don't care what you were doing," Adam added as Fitz opened his mouth to explain. "I just want you to know this. Jems and me have been engaged practically since we were born."
"Jems and I," Fitz corrected automatically.
"No, you were never part of the picture." Adam frowned, looking confused, but apparently he recovered his few wits, as he continued rather quickly. "Anyway, she's having her little rebellion now, running off to America and sowing her wild oats and whatnot, but when she comes to her senses and decides to settle down, I'll still be here waiting. Surely a scientist like you must admit how perfect we'd be, genetically? With my personality and looks, I need someone like Jems to keep from diluting my gene pool too much."
Fitz was enraged. Sure, Simmons was gorgeous, he'd have to be daft not to notice, but for this…heathen to completely overlook her best features – her optimism, her determination, her sharp mind – it made him want to punch Adam in his smarmy face. Or at least deliver a strongly worded retort.
"Now, listen – "
"No, you listen. Whatever you and Jems might think you have now, I'm always going to be her mum's favorite. Jems is a people-pleaser, always has been, and in the end, she'll make the right call. Are we clear?"
Adam stepped forward then, and Fitz tensed instinctively.
It wasn't his fault, not really; simple muscle memory was to blame for how his body clenched when approached by a hostile creature twice his size. More importantly, muscle memory was what caused his hand to twitch and tighten, and really, it was muscle memory that pulled the Night-Night gun's trigger while it was facing Adam (because that's just proper weapons protocol, one should never point a weapon towards oneself, especially when loaded).
So, in reality, thought Fitz with a kind of detached horror as Adam swayed and hit the floor, it wasn't his fault at all.
The car ride home was more than a little awkward. Mr. Simmons had declined going to the hospital, as he said he had some work to catch up on. Simmons drove Adam back to his house in Charlie, leaving Fitz to a stonily silent drive with Eleanor.
"I'm sorry," Fitz offered again, realizing that he'd spent more time apologizing to Mrs. Simmons than to Adam. But then, he supposed he just liked Eleanor more.
Mrs. Simmons sighed. "It's not your fault, dear. Well, actually, it is, and why you brought a weapon on holiday, I'll never know. But it's not you I'm so disappointed with."
That was a surprise. "Are you – d'you mean – I don't – Simmons?"
Mrs. Simmons glanced at him and shook her head sadly. "I don't know where I went wrong with her, honestly. I always tried to do right by her, make sure she had everything, and all it's done is make her resent me."
Fitz shifted uncomfortably in his seat. This wasn't at all how he thought this conversation would go. "I don't think she resents you. She's just…confused…why you don't approve of her choices."
"Are you familiar with Aesop's fables, Leo?"
Fitz wasn't, but he was afraid to admit it, in case it brought on a reaction of Elvis proportions. "Of course."
"The one about the dog, dropping his bone to bark at his reflection…all I wanted was to make sure Jemma didn't chase after impossible dreams. I just wanted to make sure she had a bone at the end of the day."
The story actually did ring a bell, and Fitz, as much as he detested figurative language (the world would be so much more efficient if people just said what they met, dammit), he thought he understood her point.
"Well, Jem – uh, Simmons, is a big dog – I mean girl. And she wouldn't really be happy with any…bone…unless she earned it herself. The only thing she's ever wanted from you – the only thing any child ever wants – is for you to be proud of her. And with all due respect, ma'am, if you can't appreciate Jemma for how she is – brilliant and strong and independent – then maybe you should let her go. Because I can damn well be proud enough for the two of us."
There was such a horribly long pause that Fitz was absolutely certain he'd end up hitchhiking the rest of the way to Simmons' house – no, the rest of the way to Scotland. But then Eleanor spoke again, her eyes glued to the road and her voice a little watery as she said, "I'm glad she met you, Leo."
When they returned to the house, Fitz went straight to Simmons' room and waited for her to return from Adam's.
"I've just had a call from my parents," he told her point-blank as she entered the room. "They've had some technical difficulties on their cruise and are coming home early. If it's not too much trouble, can you drop me back at Embra tomorrow?"
Simmons protested instantly, but Fitz held up a hand. "You don't need me as a buffer anymore, and besides, I think it's time you talked to your parents about SHIELD. That's a conversation best held without an audience."
Simmons nodded reluctantly, before a sly smile stole across her face. "On one condition."
"What's that?" asked Fitz warily; the last time he'd heard those words, he'd ended up scraping pig guts off the lab floor for a week.
"You can't leave until you help me build the perfect snowman. I didn't get a chance to earlier, what with being in the hospital and all."
Fitz grinned, grabbing his gloves out of his coat pocket. "It's simple, really, you just need to multiply the circumference of each sphere by a factor of one-third to ensure even distribution – "
He continued to babble as they skipped out the living room, as eager as children to play in the snow; there was, after all, something magical about the first snowfall of the season.
And as Fitz added the (perfectly symmetrical) head to the (mathematically proportional) body, he saw Eleanor peeking out the kitchen window at them.
She was smiling.