Sorry, had some formatting issues. I hope everyone enjoys the update! This story keeps growing, it's looking like twenty odd chapters at this stage. Please comment if you are enjoying! Comments equal motivation! Thank you everyone for reading/following.


Fitz heaves the large acrylic unit onto its base and, once again, laments the fact that he's forced to set up the containment unit for the Splinter bomb here in the lab. The Bus just isn't equipped to handle the power requirements and he needs the greater resources on offer here for the experimentation they will have to do.

The height of tech wrapped in a cocoon of grandma's kitchen, the new lab had never felt like home to him—not like their lab had. Unfortunately, there's just no way around working here within sight of Jemma and he had to consider that he might end up needing her help. She is the biochemist, and he doesn't know what he might find once he examines the Splinter device.

Fitz is still staggered by Coulson's accusation against her. He doesn't know how they can think that Jemma could be a Hydra spy. Ward had said that their brainwashing techniques were unreliable. He didn't think it was even possible to brainwash Jemma, she's too stubborn. Her thanks had surprised him though, after all, he'd only told Coulson the truth.

He sees Hanna walk in, her arm held by a sling, and he can't stop a genuine smile from spreading over his face.

He still can't get over the fact that she's okay. The color is even back in her cheeks now. With the mad route that Bobbi had been forced to take to avoid Hydra detection, at first it'd looked like she would bleed out before they could ever hope to make it back. Halfway through the return trip though she'd simply gone to sleep and the bleeding had stopped. He'd been sure she was going to die with all that blood, but it seems it had just been a flesh wound after all.

"Hi," he blurts reflexively, when she stops in front of him smiling shyly. "Should you be out of bed? I mean…shouldn't you be resting?" he corrects himself.

"I got your message, I was going stir crazy after the first hour," she says playfully, and they both chuckle. "It wasn't as bad as it looked, I guess. What are we doing?" she asks, inspecting the isolation unit.

"Director Coulson wants us to create a countermeasure for the bomb. Thought you wouldn't mind helping out—after all that happened," he says earnestly.

She smiles, looking pleased. "Of course. Can I help with this?" She taps the isolation unit.

"All done," he says airily. "I was thinking we should get it in there, open it up." His voice is tinged with excitement at the prospect of scientific exploration and he slides his hands together in anticipation of the task.

"Whoa, slow down, speed racer," she says with a grin. "I think we better create some safety protocols first."

He just barely stops himself from saying how much she sounds like Simmons. "Alright," he agrees easily, sitting down at his workstation.

"She pulls up a chair of her own and slides an open notebook closer, saying, "We should probably wear Kevlar." She suggests it gravely and looking up from the page, adds, "Just in case."

"We have some composite graph—graphene/Kevlar hybrid vests," he informs her. "I found them in storage. There were...quite a few of them. Don't think a couple will be missed."

She tilts her head with interest, adding it to her list. "Really? That would work even better."

"Hazmat suits, too," he adds.

"'Cause everyone looks good in a plexiglass face mask and rubber boots…" she says drily.

He chuckles in spite of himself but it dies off as he adds, "We'll need the...full-spectrum goggles that I designed." He darts a glance at Jemma and continues, "Agent Simmons will have them."

She nods, marking it on her list. "Respirators?" she says with an enthusiastic grin.

Hanna—Agent Lis smiles a bit too easily, he thinks. S.H.I.E.L.D. has been labeled a terrorist organization and no one has reason to trust them or believe they're still here for the greater good. She's basically an outlaw now like the rest of them but something about her demeanor sets her apart from their circumstances and he finds himself attracted to her lightheartedness.

He tries to imagine his own life path if S.H.I.E.L.D. had suddenly ceased to exist, for all intents and purposes, before he ever made it into the ranks. He draws a blank. Is it really her dream to work for S.H.I.E.L.D., even now? Once again, he wonders at her optimism.

She smiles and taps her notebook with her pen. "Anything else?"

As they continue to work Hanna already seems to be growing accustomed to guessing what he might be trying to say when he struggles and Fitz grows a bit more comfortable with her. It's a relief to be able to have a conversation with someone so easily again after months with no one he felt he could speak to.

"We could send one of the...D.W.A.R.F. in," he suggests. "Make quick work of finding out what tri—triggers it?"

She nods enthusiastically, making a note. "Yes, of course. What about an EM emitter?"

"Could use an ion beam emitter…" he corrects, he rubs his neck and stretches.

"We'd need better containment though," she notes. "We need to get in and find the power source. That's really the key."

He finds himself taking an unconscious inventory of her as she takes notes. Her fingers are long and slim and she wears bright pink nail varnish. Her blond hair is long, past her shoulders now that it's loose again. She's a little taller than Simmons, though not much, and a bit less curvy... What difference did it make? Why the Hell is he even thinking about it? He tries to shake off the thoughts but he finds himself noting the fullness of her mouth a few minutes later.

Hanna looks around the empty lab and finally says, "Um, I think everyone else has packed it in for the evening. Should we—"

"Yes," Fitz says a bit too eagerly, getting up from his chair. "Let's, I'm shattered." He has the irrational fear that she knows what he'd been thinking about moments ago.

"Okay," she says, her brow crinkling in a way that makes it clear she doesn't know what the hurry is about.

''Night," he says, ignoring the question written on her face.

"Uh, Fitz?" she says hesitantly. "I was, um...wondering—"

Something about her tone sets off an alarm in his head. She seems nervous, prepared to ask something personal...something he may not want to answer. Her usual confidence no longer seems in evidence as she fingers a strand of her hair and can't quite meet his eyes.

"Is it important?" he asks turning to leave, starting to walk away slowly.

"Um, no. I suppose not," she says, deflated. "G'night."

"'Night, then," he says again, as he lets the door swing shut behind him.

Walking back to the Bus, he's suddenly sorry that he hadn't let her speak. Maybe she just wanted to ask him where he'd bought those pretzels he'd shared with her. Maybe she wanted him to look over some of her engineering designs. He didn't know for sure what she was thinking… Anyway, he would never be able to make friends unless he actually spoke to other people. It seems to be becoming a habit for him.


Fitz enters the lab the next morning to find that Hanna is already there. Simmons sits at her station, her face obscured, peering into a microscope. He looks from one to the other and feels like a soldier about to enter a minefield. Hunter is reclined in his now usual seat by the door, a cup of tea hovering near his lips.

"Hey, mate," Hunter says brightly, much too brightly for this early in the morning in Fitz's opinion. He hadn't slept well the previous night.

"Morning," Fitz says with little enthusiasm.

Hunter looks thoughtful for a moment and adds, "Looks like you had a late one last night." He glances over at Agent Lis. "You two make quite the team," he winks with a click of his tongue.

"Ehm...thanks?" Fitz replies with a look of complete confusion. Working late isn't usually something that elicits praise, no matter who he's working with.

Hunter nods once with conviction. "Yep." He pops the P loudly and takes another sip of his tea.

Fitz shakes his head and glances across the lab at Hanna sitting at his workstation waiting for him. He drops his eyes to his feet and tries not to look at Jemma as he walks by. His heart skips a beat as he passes directly behind her, but she makes no comment.

"Hi," Hanna says with a small smile as he sits at his station.

"Hi. Are you ready to open it up?" he asks without preamble, determined to stick to business.

"Uh, yeah, I guess. ...Did I do something wrong?" she asks suddenly. She's so direct, it's refreshing and terribly embarrassing all at once.

"What?" he asks, surprised. "No, course not. Why?"

She shakes her head, a relieved smile on her face. "I don't know…you just—you closed up on me last night and when you came in…you just—well, you were pretty brusque. I thought maybe I did something to upset you."

"No," he says, his face coloring slightly. "I'm not much for...mornings, I suppose."

"Coffee?" she says. "Or tea? You probably drink tea..." she trails off, looking a bit unsure.

"I had some," he says, feeling guilty. "Sorry, I didn't mean to be...abrupt." He meets her eyes.

She shakes her head vigorously. "No, no, it's fine. I just didn't want to—you know, be saying things…" she trails off. "I uh, I just wanted to say thanks. For getting me through—yesterday. I was so scared and you just, wow, took charge. I really can't thank you enough." She casts her eyes down and when she looks back, she looks determined. "I thought maybe we could..."

Fitz looks away, fear leaping into his chest. He doesn't like the tone of her voice, how it wavers and hesitates. It reminds him of his own uncertain forays into becoming closer to people and he's not sure he's ready for this yet. Jemma...Ward—maybe it's too soon for making friends. He's torn, he craves the contact, but it also terrifies him.

She pauses for so long that Fitz finally thinks maybe she's backed down and says, "You don't need to, it's fine, I just—"

But when he looks up and she's no longer looking at him, but across the lab at Hunter. He follows her line of sight and sees Hunter in his chair by the door, making some movement toward his mouth which he quickly continues up into an overhead stretch that would put any cat to shame, when he sees Fitz looking.

"—get a bite to eat." Hanna finishes feebly.

Fitz looks first to Hanna and then Hunter. He finally registers what she's said and his eyes shoot to Jemma's workstation, but she's not there. She's across the lab talking with one of the techs. His face suddenly feels excessively warm.

When he looks back at Hanna, she says, "I could make something? Just, you know...to say thanks." She looks miserable in a way that is intimately familiar to him. He's finds himself wanting to agree just to make her look less like a kicked puppy. At the same time, the fear in his gut urges him to say no.

The war inside him comes out as an audible breath, loud even to his own ears. What is the worst that could happen? He might make a new friend, or not, it certainly wasn't a train smash either way. Not to mention, she might have saved his life yesterday. Part of him is also more than a little pleased that she has singled him out, she emcould/em choose anyone.

He glances at his trembling hand and wonders why she would choose him. "That's not necessary."

Her face falls instantly, but she recovers nearly as quickly, saying with a false smile, "Okay. Maybe another time."

He realizes they're still being watched as he looks over—his face still a bit hot—and catches Hunter rolling his shoulders in an exaggerated shrug.

They work quietly, both somewhat introspective, doing some final prep and performing safety checks. They call for Level One Hazard Conditions within the lab to get the device into the isolation unit.

Everyone is temporarily evacuated, Simmons sends all her techs off for a break. She stays just on the other side of the glass door though, watching them with concern, her arms crossed as she chews her lower lip.

Finally, both Fitz and Hanna are wearing Hazmat suits over kevlar vests, despite having no idea if that will help in any way if something does go wrong. When Fitz brings the containment crate into the lab, he carries it gingerly, as if the bomb it contains might go off at any second.

After they agree that they're both ready for the transfer, Fitz says, "Maybe…you should…" looking away uncomfortably, he sighs. He points to his tremulous hand and then to hers, "We should use…steady hands?" He looks back to her and shrugs. He doesn't want her to be uncomfortable with him handling the device.

"Oh," she says surprised but comprehending immediately. "It's fine." She smiles. "I trust you. You do the honors."

He shakes his head. "I don't want to—to h...acci—" he grips the desk in frustration struggling with the words and finally slaps the desk in front of him. It makes a loud clap in the empty lab.

"I know," Hanna says firmly. "You won't. I emtrust/em you. You can do it." She nods and smiles tightly, her full lips nearly invisible.

He looks at her for a long moment. "I—" He stops. Someone having faith in him is something he hasn't experienced for a while. He's forgotten how good it feels. He feels his confidence swell.

p dir="ltr"He opens his mouth to make one last objection but she motions toward the device with her hands, indicating he should begin. He squeezes his own hands into fists at his sides and decides that the danger is minimal. He nods, still a little uncertain, before saying, "Okay. Ready?" His hand poised to lift the lid of the containment crate.

"Yes," Hanna says breathily. "Okay to go on one."

"Three, two, one…" Fitz intones, lifting the top and carefully taking hold of the device with the longest tongs he could find.

He lifts it slowly, never taking his eyes off it, until it hovers twelve inches above the crate when, without warning, the bomb starts to glow red. It flashes with yellow lights and begins to beep and whine.

Fitz hears Hanna gasp. He can't look away from the device, his eyes are locked onto it. The blade that wraps around the circumference begins to spin. He thinks he can see Hanna's dried blood on it.

The tongs Fitz holds it with are unimpeded by the hazard of the whirling blade but the sudden motion startles him and the device slips a fraction of an inch. His stomach lurches. He doesn't want anything to happen to Hanna, she'd survived it once, twice seems unlikely. No one's that lucky, the devil's own luck or not.

"You should go," he says flatly, concentrating on not dropping the bastard. He can hear her breathing as it rasps through the respirator in her suit but she doesn't respond.

"Go on!" he repeats. He doesn't know if it has a timer or how long it might take before it will explode or emit or whatever it bloody well does.

"No," she sounds calm, determined.

"Damnit!" He says it more to himself than to Hanna. He can't bollocks this up now.

He closes his eyes, takes a deep breath and tries to center himself. The longer he waits the more likely his hands are to give out.

He continues slowly moving it from the crate, pivoting toward the iso unit until he has it over the opening. Finally lowering the device inside, he closes the lid and secures it.

They both stare in mute horror as the pattern of yellow chevrons flash sequentially, in rapid succession while the small coils on the surface glow a constant red. Fitz grabs Hanna's arm roughly, meaning to drag her along, run, but still trying to keep the device in his line of sight.

The bomb suddenly ceases its whirling, beeping activity and flashes, once, brightly. Fitz turns to block Hanna's exposure with his own body as they both flinch back from the isolation unit. For one moment, he glimpses Jemma's face through the glass door of the lab. Her mask of fear sends a shock of electricity through him that clenches like a fist deep in his belly.

He looks down at Hanna crumpled where he's enfolded her behind him, away from the unit. Looking back at the disk in its new enclosure, neither of them can detect any obvious effect of the detonation. The device seems to go back to it's previous state of dormancy.

"What the bloody Hell was that all about," Fitz says with an enormous sighs as he sits heavily in the nearest chair, clutching his chest and feeling like he may never be able to draw a deep breath again.

He's in awe at somehow still being alive. He'd been certain that any second the device was going to detonate—leaving him ash on the lab floor.

"Let's do a search for particulates and a spectrographic analysis," Hanna is saying, peeking into the top of the isolation unit. "I didn't see the device open but it might…Fitz? Are you okay?"

"Yeah," he says, his breath still coming quickly. "I—I'm okay."

"Maybe…maybe we should continue this tomorrow. You—I mean, I should probably rest, you know?" She indicates her shoulder, pretending further injury, and says with mock seriousness, "I have a lot of stitches." She smiles playfully through the plastic faceplate of the Hazmat suit and the effect is rather disarming.

Fitz finds himself laughing out loud though he's not exactly sure why—perhaps sheer joy at not being taken apart atom-by-atom. "Okay," he relents, "Yeah, tomorrow. We'll—yeah…"

After she does some safety checks to ensure that the device is truly contained, Hanna insists on walking Fitz back to the Bus. He figures he must look even worse than he feels. Having divested themselves of their suits, they walk out of the lab. Jemma is there, still looking horrified.

"All clear," Hanna tells her confidently. He can't bring himself to look at her.

"You're all right," Jemma says quietly. It doesn't sound like a question but he isn't sure.

"We're fine," Hanna says. "I don't know what happened but it's contained." Jemma just nods, never taking her eyes off of him. He never looks at her directly.

Hanna seems restless as they walk silently through the halls in the direction of the hangar. He notices her darting glances at him as they walk. The silence begins growing uncomfortable.

He's wracking his brain to think of something to say when a thought occurs to him. Before he can think better of it he says, "What is it you did to annoy Agent Simmons?"

She laughs a little and says, "She doesn't really know me very well yet. There's the Academy thing and then there was an incident with the Holocom..." she grimaces. "I might not have quite known what I was doing when she asked me to recalibrate the holographic matrix."

"Didn't you take two…" he taps his temple trying to remember the word, "...semesters of Holographic Engineering?" he asks.

"Only one…" she looks chagrinned.

"I think she's under a bit of pressure." He feels torn between defending Simmons again and feeling sympathy for Hanna—Agent Lis—he knows how Simmons can be. "I could talk to her, if you like." He isn't sure why he's offering. He really has no intention of talking to Simmons.

"Oh no," she says instantly and he lets go a a breath he hadn't known he was holding. "She's just getting adjusted. There are quite a few new recruits but I'm sure she'll get more familiar with all of our talents. She couldn't figure out what to do with me and, before the mission, I think, she had decided to make me your unofficial liaison to the lab or something."

p dir="ltr"She tosses her intended role off casually but he feels like the wind is knocked out of him at the thought that Simmons had wished to designate someone to emdeal/em with him—someone not her. He feels the familiar coil in his chest that seemed to pull so much tighter now that they're separated.

"Yeah, a lot's happened in two days," he finally replies quietly.

"Thank you, though," she says. "I really appreciate it, Fitz." He likes the way she says his name. Her accent is very nearly American except for certain words and there is a pleasant lilt to the way she says his name.

They arrive at the elevator that will take them down into the hangar.

"You don't need to come…" Fitz says, with a dismissive wave of his hand as he gets on.

"No, it's fine. I don't want to go stir crazy again." She grins at her quip, climbing in after him.

The whining hum and occasional all-out squeal of metal are the only sounds as they ride down the ancient elevator until Hanna suddenly says, "I really did want to thank you though." She looks nervously excited again, twirling a strand of her hair around her finger slowly.

"Uh—" Fitz utters.

"I really want to do something for you," Hanna continues ignoring his attempt at protest. She splays her hand across her shoulder and adds, "You didn't have to do that. You didn't have to help me. Anything I can do—I could cook…or we could go somewhere! Off the base, wouldn't that be great? I would love to get out of here for an evening…" She trails off her exuberance running out with his lack of response.

He shifts from one foot to the other uncomfortably. He hadn't really done anything. Hunter would have done something if he hadn't had May to carry…

The elevator comes to a stop, but before he can step out, she turns and faces him fully. "Come on, let's get off the base for a break?" she says it in a rush, her words crashing into each other.

A memory sparks through his brain, Simmons with tears on her cheeks and her eyes so full of guilt he almost wants to look away. "Ehm, yeah…I suppose," he says noncommittally.

"We could go eat or—to a movie? Oh! I haven't been to a movie in forever." She smiles happily, looking more confident. He finds himself smiling a little, her enthusiasm spreading to him.

He feels like some of his misery over Jemma is less somehow when he spends time with Hanna. There's a warmth in their exchanges that he used to feel with…her. He misses it.

"Yeah?" he says, grinning fully.

Guilt floods his mind when he remembers that he's damaged now. Useless. Nothing. No good for anyone not Agent Lis...not Jemma. He looks down at his trembling hand and his stomach lurches uneasily at the thought that he's no longer the Academy prodigy that she'd sought out—he was just this now.

She seems to sense the change in him. "You know that I know about your…" she hesitates, searching for the right words, "…what happened to you. If you were wondering, and I don't…." she fades to a whisper, "I don't care." Leaning closer and meeting his eyes from beneath her lashes, she adds, "I'd like the chance to know you now—as you are."

Her words make his face flame red. He wasn't surprised she knew about his injury but he can't guess why she would want to know him now—broken and useless. But the selfish desire to feel her warmth remains. There's also a freedom to hearing her say out loud that she accepts him as he is now. The emotions that have been choking him for months feel as though they're beginning to subside a bit, loosening their death grip on his heart.

He considers Simmons, how they'd been friends before...everything. He misses their easy conversations and how she made him feel that he wasn't alone in the world. He thinks maybe he can get some of that back with Hanna. He could try.

But what if his friendship with Hanna makes things worse with Simmons? He's forced to admit that he's still holding on to hope that Jemma will—he stops the thought. He doesn't know—it's just hope. The weight of disappointment is almost too much to bear at the thought of giving it up, but another part of him knows it would be a relief. Holding onto it is driving him mad.

But it's not as easy as deciding. He can't just choose not to be in love anymore. At least making a choice to move emforward/em is a step in the right direction and perhaps being friends with Hanna will help him...need Simmons less.

"Ehm, yeah," he hears himself repeating uncertainly, "Whatever you like."

She grins broadly. "I'll figure something out."

Hanna steps out of the elevator and he follows. "When? Tomorrow night?" she asks, still smiling brightly while keeping her eyes on him as she steps back into the elevator. He nods. "Okay? I'll see you in the morning."

"Yeah," he says warmly, a slightly goofy grin softening his features.


Fitz walks up the cargo ramp and reflects that every time he does, it feels just like going back to his mum's after having been away at university. His room isn't his room anymore, just a place to keep his things. It's not a home now, just where he lives. Still, the sleek newness of the Bus is closer to home than the base's stark utilitarian design. Once, at least, the plane had felt like the place where he belonged.

He enters the garage to a familiar sight—Lola. Classic rock is playing from the speakers and he sees Mack's elbow hanging out from under the raised bonnet.

"What is this?" Fitz calls happily. The sight of the vehicle reminding him of before.

"Coulson finally decided to let me work on her." Mack chuckles, coming out from under the hood, "Getting possessed by aliens might've been worth it if this is the payout." He steps out from behind the car and nods in the direction of the elevators. "So what's the story?"

"What do you mean?" Fitz says, examining Lola more closely.

"Is it me, or are they making those science chicks better looking all the time?" Mack says thoughtfully, wiping his grease-stained hands on a towel.

"I don't know," Fitz says, "I...think it might be you." He glances back toward the elevators.

Mack smirks and turns around to admire Lola. "They definitely aren't making these babies any better looking." He turns back and says, "I guess it went well?"

"What did?" Fitz asks nervously, not sure what Mack could possibly know about the conversation with Agent Lis.

"The Splinter Bomb?" he clarifies, drily, his brows raised in question.

"Oh, yeah—that," Fitz says looking back toward the elevators again. "Good," then realizing what he's saying, backtracks, "Uh, I mean, no…terrible."

"Okay, I'm no expert in human nature, but, what's up, man?"

Knowing he's caught, Fitz decides to give up the news. Mack would find out eventually anyway.

"I sort of…made a…date...er...not, I mean, plans—with Hanna," he squinches his eyes shut at the word date. It's not really a date date but he's not sure what to call it—a thing where friends go somewhere and do something together, possibly eat food... He's not at all sure what Mack's response will be.

When he hears nothing, he opens first one eye and then the other to see that Mack is smiling—in fact, he looks amused. "Nice, Turbo," he says and claps him on the shoulder.

"Really?" he asks, not quite sure, himself, if he approves. "Maybe...it's too—too soon?" he offers.

"Nah," Mack assures. "You're good, if you're feelin' it. I think you're good." He eyes Fitz closely, "You're feeling' it, right?"

He assumes that Mack means if he likes Hanna and he nods. "She's…a good engineer and…nice. She seems to like…well, me. I think we can be friends," he finishes uncertainly.

Mack chuckles and with a wink, says, "Uh-huh, sure. Well, if I didn't like her before, I certainly do now—she's obviously got taste. Congrats, man."

Fitz just nods.. If anything, Mack's approval makes him less certain of his choice. He doesn't want to make another mistake. Mistakes seem to be all he's capable of lately.


The next morning he gets the message that Coulson wants an updated status report on the Splinter bomb and there will be a briefing at 0800. He assumes Agent Lis will be there.

On his way to Coulson's office, Fitz runs into Hunter in the hallway.

"Hey!" Hunter's usual blithe detachment is in full effect. "Heard about the big date." He draws out the last word playfully before ending it with a loud T sound. Fitz stops walking—frozen in dismay. "Best thing for it, Mate. Really," he adds earnestly.

Hunter turns as he passes, continuing to talk as he walks away, backward. "The best way to get over someone is to get under someone else...or over them...or whatever you like, really." He spreads his arms wide, shrugging. "Don't know, read it in a magazine. Well done, though."

And then he's gone around the corner, leaving Fitz to snap his jaw shut, simmer in his own embarrassment and marvel at how quickly news travels in the new S.H.I.E.L.D. He wonders briefly if Simmons has heard yet. He didn't know what to do if she had.

"God," he scrubs his face in frustration and continues on his path to the briefing.

When he arrives at Coulson's office, Hanna is already there. He can hear her through the open door.

"….this mechanism. I'm thinking electromagnetic shielding also. What we don't know is what's inside the device. We'll need to get it open before we can assess what it will take for a countermeasure."

The debriefing sounds well under way and he checks his watch, thinking he must be late but it says 07:56. He rounds the doorway to find Hanna deep in conference with Coulson and May.

"Hi Fitz," she says brightly when she sees him. She looks to Coulson and says, "I couldn't believe how calm he was yesterday when the device nearly went off in our faces."

Coulson acknowledges Fitz with a nod in his direction. May dips her head and presses her lips into a thin line as she fixes her eyes on Coulson again. Fitz merely stands mutely in the doorway until Hanna walks to him and, taking him by the arm, leads him to the desk where a diagram of the device sits.

"I'm sure you know how incredible Agent Fitz is in a crisis. I probably wouldn't even be here if it weren't for him," she finishes fervently.

"Right, of course," Coulson says with suppressed amusement. He passes a hand over his mouth and presses his lips together. "Good work, Fitz," he says finally breaking into a large grin as he claps him on the shoulder. May clears her throat and Fitz thinks he catches her rolling her eyes.

"I—I…" Fitz splutters, unsure what's happening. "Is the debrief over? Did I miss it?"

Coulson checks his watch and says, "Agent Lis was early but she's been getting us caught up."

"I'm sure we can have a concept for a countermeasure in no time, Director, once we get the device open," Hanna says.

"Excellent," Coulson says happily. Even May is nodding in an uncharacteristically pleased way.

"Well, we should probably get back to it, right, Fitz?" Her bright green eyes are fixed on his blue ones, expectantly.

Skye thunders into Coulson's office unannounced, saying, "It's happening again." She has a tablet and Fitz can just see some highlighted code on the screen that he can't identify. "They're hacking through."

Coulson looks around the room at each one of them and finally says, "Where's Simmons?" He goes to his desk and pick up his comm unit. "Hunter? Where's Simmons?"

Silence.

"Hunter!" Coulson shouts.

"Keep your shirt on! She's in the loo," Hunter can be heard over the speaker on Coulson's desk.

"Get her," Coulson's voice is deadly serious. "Now."

"All right, all right," Hunter replies insolently.

They hear a thud and a small scream and then, "She's washing up, thank God," Hunter says. "What's this about?"

"Check the room," Coulson says, his voice weary now. "Thoroughly and bring Simmons here. Now."

No one asks Fitz to leave and so he doesn't. Agent Lis keeps giving him small questioning looks which he evades, keeping his eyes on Coulson. Simmons soon appears in the doorway to Coulson's office, her eyes downcast.

Hunter is hard on her heels. "Nothing in the loo that I could find."

"I take it something's happened," Jemma says, finally meeting everyone's eyes.

"Looks like," Coulson says, going around behind his desk before he unbuttons his jacket and takes a seat. "Anything I should know about?"

"No, sir," Jemma says, eyes steady but dark.

"Sure about that?" he responds acidly.

Fitz can't take it any longer. "What else are you doing to figure out who or what else this could be?"

All eyes go to him.

Skye looks flustered, twitching her fingers as she pipes up, "I've been combing our system but this is the only other thing I've found. It's weird. I still can't decode the last message either."

"Why don't you let me work on it?" Fitz says in exasperation.

"Um—" Skye says uncertainly.

"Okay," Coulson says firmly. "Skye, you can work with Fitz on this. See if you two can come up with something new. We need to get on top of this thing." Skye nods, looking a little abashed. Coulson looks at Fitz, "You still need to get this countermeasure figured out. Are you handing it off to Agent Lis?"

Fitz hears the inherent question. Can she handle it? He nods. "For now."

"Simmons—" Coulson starts.

May looks steely as she steps up to Coulson. She brushes his sleeve almost imperceptibly with the tips of her fingers. "I can watch her. No sense scaring the girl if she's got nothing to do with it."

Coulson looks defeated suddenly. "All right, May," he says in a small voice. "Hunter, you're relieved."

"Thank Christ—er, just this is all getting a bit—" Hunter manages before noticing everyone's dead stares. "Don't mind me…just leaving," he whinges before turning and heading out the door with a few grumbles. Fitz thinks he hears something about playing favorites.

Coulson looks around at those assembled and says uncomfortably, "We're not Hydra and there's no manual for how to do this now. I threw out the manual and, if I make mistakes, you're just going to have to forgive me. I'm just trying to cover our asses here."

"I know, sir," Simmons says, taking a step forward. "You should do what you feel you have to, sir. You shouldn't have to worry about me when the real threat may be here somewhere in our midst."

"Half the time, I feel like I'm jumping at shadows anyway," Coulson says, standing and buttoning his jacket. He looks at his desk as he says, "Now I really don't know what I'm doing but I think they're playing me. I feel it but I don't have anything to go on." He looks them each in the eye. "Fitz, Skye, get me something to go on."

"Yes, sir," Fitz and Skye say simultaneously.

"I'll work on the Splinter device, sir," Hanna says earnestly.

May just looks at Coulson, a slight crease between her brows.

"Thanks, guys," Coulson says finally. "Now get out of here and find me some Hydra ass to kick."

Skye laughs, though a bit subdued compared to her usual self, and Fitz can't help but grin. He chances a quick peek at Simmons, she's smiling and looking at Coulson. He thinks to glance at Hanna and finds that she's looking at him with an odd expression but it's gone just as quickly. He gives her a tight smile and nods to the side, raising his eyebrows in a question. She smiles back knowingly.

He stops just outside Coulson's office and she circles around in front of him as Simmons and May pass. He glances up just in time to catch Simmons' eyes, and she nods but never slows her pace. When he looks back at Hanna she has that same odd look, like she wants to say something but can't find the words.

"So, it looks like you went on with the device without me last night," he says, seriously.

She looks away, shaking her head minutely. "Well, I didn't want to go stir crazy. Besides, I guessed that the Director would want emsomething/em and soon. Don't worry, I just diagramed the outside and wrote up a few theories on how it might function…"

"Knowing full well that we won't properly know anything until we get the bloody thing open? Not to mention all the—the tests we'll have to run…" he says wryly, trailing off in thought. He could think of ten he wanted to do right now and that was just the basics.

"I did do a particle analysis on the air inside the iso unit," she says, with mock hurt.

They both grin. Proper nerds is what they are, he thinks to himself. With him, at least, you got what was on the tin. With Hanna, not so much—pretty didn't quite cover it.

"Okay," he says. "Just…don't—don't get hurt. And don't open the little bugger without me," he finishes. Then he remembers one more detail. "About the other thing we discussed yesterday…I think we'll have to…" he isn't sure how to finish, can't find the right words.

"We should postpone," she finishes for him. "Until things settle down."

"Yeah," he says. "That okay?"

She smiles warmly and reaches toward him but stops short, pulling her hand back, before she touches him. "Of course." She turns and heads toward the lab with a little extra sway in her step. Looking back, she pushes out her lower lip minutely and then grins. "You owe me though," she teases, ponytail swinging behind her.

He stands there for a moment feeling something like not-entirely miserable before Skye pokes her head out of the office saying, "You owe her, huh?"

He starts, throwing his hands up defensively just enough to be embarrassing. "Skye—I…What? Oh, it was a joke," he finally manages.

"Mm-hmm. Fine. You don't have to tell me," she says, clearly dying to know. "So you want to go to the new Hub?"

"The new Hub?" Fitz's eyebrows come together in confusion, not just about the term but about the fact that Skye dropped her questioning so quickly.

"Yeah, I wanted to call it The Nexus or maybe The Matrix but Coulson overruled me." She leaned in and mock-whispers, "I think he just hates anything not-Apple. Anyway, it's the center of all our computer activity around here now."

"Yeah, let's make a start," he answers with a shrug.

As they walk, Skye glances at him periodically. "So, you're really not going to tell me?" she finally says.

"What?" He knew it. There was no way Skye would ever give up that easily. He feigns ignorance so he won't have to explain. "I mean, tell you what?"

"She's not the crazy stalker-type, right? Do I need to worry about you?" She cocks her head, meeting his eyes. "You know Hunter is spreading it all over the base, right? According to him, you two are the next Kim and Kanye."

"Who?" he asks, voice cracking slightly.

Skye rolls her eyes. "Don't pretend you don't read my Entertainment Weekly, Fitz. I've seen it on your tablet."

Fitz starts to protest, but she holds up a hand to stop him.

"Seriously, Fitz, are you sure about this?"

He doesn't know what Skye knows about the rest of his business but he doesn't like everyone speculating. "I'll be fine, thank you. And we're just friends, anyway," he says in clipped tones.

"Just friends, like you and Simmons were? Because we've been worried about you since—"

"Well you can just stop worrying, because I'm fine!" he shouts.

"Oh-kay," she says with brows raised in surprise. She puts her hands up defensively. "Sorry, I just thought—"

"Well, emdon't/em. I'd aple—damn—appreciate it if you would just not think about it," he says with finality.

She continues to look surprised by his outburst, drawing her lips into a tight line. She points to an unmarked door and says, "This is it. We're here."

Skye shows him what she's already done, what she's thought of doing and looks surprised by his suggestions when other avenues come to him. He throws himself into the work over the next two days. Keeping a strictly business-like façade but he finds himself softening to Skye again as she jokes around like her old self and doesn't bring up Simmons again. He regrets lashing out at her. Hunter is probably the one he should be angry at but he can't quite find it in himself.

After 48 hours of near-constant work, they are no closer to breaking the encryption or finding the source of the signals. They're both exhausted, and their resources are too limited and the tech that was used likely too sophisticated. Fitz has the niggling suspicion that it came from inside the base but that's the most substance he can gather at this point. He comes to the conclusion that he has nothing further to contribute and will have to leave the project in Skye's capable hands again.

He and Skye report their findings to Coulson who takes the information with an audible sigh and quickly returns Fitz to the Splinter project before he dismisses them.

"Thanks for the ideas, Fitz," Skye tells him outside Coulson's office.

"Yeah, sorry I bit your head off the other day," he replies.

"None of my business," she says with a dismissive wave. "And good luck," she says with a smirk before heading off in the direction of the Hub.

He suspects she's not talking about the Splinter bomb.

He goes to the lab to check on Hanna and finds her talking to Doctor Garner. He can't help but notice how tall he is. Fitz looks down at his own frame, trying not to compare but giving up. She laughs at something Fitz can't hear as he walks up to her workstation.

"Hello," he says, subconsciously rocking up onto his toes. He tries to sound cheerful and adds a small chuckle, though he has no idea what their joke is. He hopes the smile plastered on his face doesn't look as awkward as it feels.

"Fitz!" Hanna says enthusiastically, moving toward him. Her voice is still tinged with amusement as she continues, "Doctor Garner and I were just—"

"Please, call me Andrew," he interrupts, offering a winning smile as he inclines his head in her direction.

She slides her hair back over her ear with a slight flush and says, "Andrew and I were just discussing what could physically cause a body to disintegrate the way the device causes it to."

"Yes," Garner says, taking on a pedantic tone. "We've ruled out a number of potential causes since the device leaves no trace once deployed." He strikes the air to punctuate his delivery. "Of course, radiation would be detectable, gamma rays and other EM frequencies, heat, all detectable after the fact—"

"Obviously," Fitz interrupts trying and failing to maintain his cheerful air. Garner's attention goes to him immediately. He sees Hanna smirk into her hand as he looks away.

Andrew Garner, we've been introduced but..." The doctor holds out his hand for Fitz to shake.

He takes the man's hand and shakes it firmly. "Agent Leopold Fitz."

"I've heard of you, of course, Agent Fitz." Garner nods. He looks mildly annoyed as he continues, "Well, it's nice to meet you again ...I, uh, should probably be getting back." He smiles charmingly at Hanna and clasps her hand briefly. "I'll see you later, Hanna."

"Just wanted to check in," Fitz says casually as he inspects her screen once Garner is out the Lab door and gone from earshot.

Hanna suddenly grabs Fitz by the arm, presses her forehead against his shoulder and groans, "Ah, thank you for emsaving/em me! I didn't think he would ever leave."

"Really." He leans away slightly, feeling awkward at such close contact. "You looked pretty cozy," he finishes trying and failing to keep the resentment from his tone.

"Please," she says drawing the word out and following it with a chuckle. She looks up to meet his eyes but still doesn't release his arm. "He's obviously trying to make Agent May jealous." She tosses her head in the direction of the door and he notices May standing there, leaning against the wall. She appears to be glaring in the direction Garner has gone down the hall. "He's her ex," she whispers somewhere in the vicinity of his ear.

Fitz eyebrows raise up in surprise and he tries not to notice how her breath feels on his neck. "Oh."

He searches for something to say when Hanna asks, "So, does anyone ever call you Leo?"

He's shocked by the abrupt change in subject and blurts, "My mum."

She laughs gently. "That all? Not friends, not…girlfriends?"

"Yeah, I mean…no, I've always...hated it, everyone just calls me Fitz," he admits, face beginning to flush.

Her expression is thoughtful as she finally releases her grip on him and brushes some imagined lint off his shoulder. He passes a hand across his face trying to hide his redness.

Turning to her workstation she asks, "And how's it been going on your front?"

He blinks for a moment before answering, trying to keep up with her sudden changes in direction, but he visibly relaxes at the new subject. "Erm, not great. I think Skye is on her own now. What about you? Any progress with the bomb?"

"Well, I've been trying to figure out how to open it, what might be powering it, you know, the usual. Nada," she says. "I can tell you it's shielded and it has a Hell of a power source."

"I might've guessed," he says wryly. "What's shielding it?"

"I'm not sure," she answers, turning, she taps her index finger against her dark red mouth in thought, then begins to run it just across her bottom lip. "I did promise not to open it without you," she jokes.

"You've figured out how, then?" He tries to think about work and ignore her captivating finger.

"Not as such—but you're here now. Maybe you can think outside the box better than I can?"

"We're S.H.I.E.L.D. we're meant to live outside the box," he says lightly "Let's give it a go, then."

He looks at the diagrams that she had drawn of the outside of the device, trying to figure how it might function, but something seems off to him. He can't put his finger on it, but it just doesn't sit right.

Around the chevroned outer ring are small indentations, though he can see no obvious function for them. Within the ring is the center circle which contains four coils around a central gear—he notes several indentations within the circle as well. The other side appears to be a duplicate of the first.

The first problem he sees is there's no obvious way to activate it. He decides to look at the device itself and see if there might be hidden pressure-sensitive activation or possibly a remote receiver that isn't apparent on the diagram.

When he examines the device on the first side, he sees no difference from Hanna's schematic but once he carefully reverses it using the inset glove the answer is obvious. "Ha!" he barks.

Hanna near-runs from her workstation, where she's working on effect simulation models. "What? Did you find something?"

"You've been doing everything off your diagram?" he asks.

"Yes, since we can't get it open yet or take it out of iso. Why?"

He points to the center circle with his well-protected hand inserted through the glove-inset port in the wall of the unit. "Right there, see it?"

She squints at the device. "Uh, what?"

"Button," he says.

She sees it and covers her mouth with one hand. "Oh my God." She blanches. "I missed a button. I'm an idiot. We lost three days…" Her eyes go glassy.

He pulls his hands from the iso unit glove and touching her arm awkwardly, says, "It's not as bad as all that. It could happen to anyone, really."

She smiles ruefully. "Not you." She brushes her fingers over his hand on her arm. "I'm so sorry."

He pulls his hand away awkwardly and scoffs. "No need." He eyes the device. "Now, that's how it's activated but how do we get it open? I think the shielding is materials-based. This metal is familiar but I'll need to analyze a sample to be sure." He spins around in a complete circle in the rickety office chair in which he sits, his elbow propped on his opposite hand and tapping his chin in thought with the other. "I think the coils are electromagnetic so that might work toward the function of the thing or even how we get at the inside bit."

Fitz works on his theories all day. Hanna helps him run analyses and models. He finally pronounces his hypothesis sound and after running the simulations again and again, they finally blast the thing with a particular EM frequency and just like that, it opens.

"It's empty," Hanna says, disappointed. "What does that mean?"

"It means you're not dead," he says bluntly.

She smiles and pats his shoulder. "Yeah—but that doesn't help us figure out how it works."

"We'll see about that," he says confidently. "Let's swab for part—particulates."

"You never give up, do you?" she says, marveling.

"Where's the bloody fun in that?" he jokes cheerfully.

Hanna seems particularly nervous as he swabs and then examines it under the microscope. "Be careful, Fitz. We don't know what that is."

"Bingo." he exclaims happily, peering at the foreign substance. "We have a winner."

"What?" Hanna says, just over his shoulder. "What is it?"

"No bloody idea," he says as much to himself as her. "I think we're going to need a bit of help."