One year later

Jemma sighs as she looks around the empty lab. She is the last one there, again. Her co-workers all went home. She glances over to Fitz's desk – in her mind it is his desk, even though he never sat there. The new lab was set up after he packed his bags shortly following their return to Earth, kissed her good-bye (their first and only kiss since the Framework, a brief peck on the lips, really) and left. That was one year ago to the day – not that she is counting – and she feels bitter disappointment that the day has ended without any sign of him. She has dressed carefully this morning, as she imagined different scenarios of his return – perhaps surprising her in the morning or showing up at the lab door (who knows with a bunch of flowers perhaps – after all he was the romantic one.)

There is a sinking feeling in her stomach that something is not right, that she has lost him forever. She hasn't heard from him for a year other than a card for her birthday and Coulson's reassurances that he was alive, he was OK. She heads back slowly to her room which is haunted by a Fitz-shaped empty vacuum that grows with every day of their separation. There is a last thread of hope that she would find him there, sprawled on the bed with a grin on his face. She opens the door, but the room is empty.

Then she spots an envelope on her bed (how the hell did it get here?) and her heartbeat quickens. She opens it and she finds an open-ended plane ticket and two lines scribbled on a piece of paper in his unmistakably messy handwriting:

I'll be waiting at the airport, if you still want to try it.

Love, F.

Jemma sighs; she's elated that finally he's in contact, but at the same time frustrated with all the smoke and mirrors. She would like to call him to ask what to pack – after all, she likes to be prepared, but there is no phone number or any other contact detail. She's annoyed for a second and opens her laptop to ask for last minute holiday approval, but when she enters the system, she sees her vacation days already approved. Seems like Coulson was in on the conspiracy, which could be a good sign, but still, she doesn't like being kept in the dark.

Of course, her desire to see him wins out over exasperation with him and she packs some clothes and boards the plane the next day with her heart beating fast. She is elated, worried, wandering the whole way what she would find.

When she lands, she walks towards the terminal with butterflies in her stomach, and a moment of panic hits her when she cannot find his face in the sea of strangers, all waiting there for someone. Then she spots him walking briskly towards her, waving and she almost cries in relief, because he looks so normal. Wearing jeans, a soft grey V-neck pullover and a raincoat, his face is less pasty than usual, his hair is a little longer than she remembers and his unruly curls are damp. His smile is radiant as he briefly hugs her and takes her bag.

"Jemma, so good to see you. I missed you." he murmurs.

"I missed you too." Jemma replies, biting back a sharp comment to the effect that his exile was entirely self-inflicted.

He looks at her fondly. "I can't believe you're here. Is it ok if we go to my place? I set up the guest room for you. And I made dinner. I figured you would be tired." he says a bit nervously as they get in the car. The guest room, What the hell? Jemma wonders.

"Sounds perfect, Fitz." she gets in the passenger seat and alternately stares at his face – (hmm, perfect stubble), his hands on the steering wheel (you could at least try to touch my hand or thigh or something) and out the window as they drive through misty landscape and tall trees in the dusk. "Is it always this rainy here?"

"Yes, it tends to get a bit wet. I like it, it reminds me of home." he says as he stops the car in front of a small wooden cottage, just on the edge of the treeline.

"You live here?" she asks surprised as they get out of the car taking in the smell of damp leaves and grass. He nods. "It's a bit – I don't know- too Thoreau for you, don't you think?" Jemma asks.

"Wait, I grew up in Scotland – it's practically the countryside." he chuckles.

She rolls her eyes "You grew up in Glasgow, Fitz."

"Like I said, practically the countryside. There is a certain primal satisfaction one gets from cutting his own firewood." his eyes glimmer mischievously.

"You cut your own firewood?" Jemma cannot help rolling her eyes.

"The house actually has geothermal heating. But I have a little fireplace and well, I know how to do it, in theory, but I actually hired someone to do it for me." he jokes.

A little scruffy mutt greets them joyously as he opens the door, jumping up and down.

"This is Pi." he says.

"Wait. You got a dog?" she leans down to pet the puppy's head and she feels unreasonably upset that he has made such a life-changing decision without consulting her.

"Well who adopted whom is still a question for open debate. We found each other, I guess. When I first moved here. I did a lot of aimless wandering, thinking – and Pi did too. Two lost souls, a match made in heaven." he shrugs.

Pi licks Jemma's hand. "He likes you. How could he not?" Fitz smiles leaning against the doorframe. "You look beautiful."

"Thanks. You don't look too bad yourself." Jemma looks around the cottage curiously as he shows her around. It's a charming, cosy place that reminds her of the apartment they picked out together, back before AIDA, before the Framework that they never got to set up. She doesn't know what she expected, but not this. The place looks very much like a home, with warm woollen fabrics, honey-coloured wooden floors, a modern white kitchen – ticking all the boxes for the things they had agreed on back when they first started their search for a home together.

"This is the guest room" he gestures as he leads her to an impeccably clean and nicely furnished room upstairs. She notices the wildflowers on the side table and cannot help but smile. The bedsheets are folded exactly the way she likes it, he clearly prepared it for her "Make yourself comfortable. I'll finish the dinner."

When she emerges, having unpacked her bags and taken a quick shower, the table is already set by the little window alcove overlooking the treeline. "This place is wonderful." she says wistfully, and feels just a pinch of anger that he has been out here the whole damn time, living in this fairy tale place while she stayed locked into the shadows of their past life spending time in airplanes and underground bases.

"Yeah, I like to sit here. You can see sapsuckers and hummingbirds, sometimes a moose or a wolf. When we travelled, the scenery changed because we moved, but now, I sit in one place and the scenery changes around me. I forgot what it was like, to see the seasons." He says and Jemma notices for the first time the soft aura of autumn surrounding them. Looking out the window, she feels her soul expand a bit.

"Sounds wonderful. I just never pictured you the lone ranger type." she laughs. "Have you been alone out here?" Jemma looks at him questioningly.

"Well, here yes, but I'm not alone. I'll show you tomorrow what I've been working on." he says mysteriously and doesn't offer any more information even when she raises her eyebrows in question. "Some wine?" he asks as he pulls out wine glasses and a bottle of red wine.

"Yes please. This – whatever this is - smells great. When did you learn to cook?" Jemma asks.

"It's a venison roast with juniper berries. I watched lots of cooking shows. Great choice for sleepless nights." he pulls the dish out of the oven and places it on the table. It looks mouth-watering. Jemma is suddenly aware of the rumbling in her stomach and realizes she hasn't eaten the whole day.

"Wait? Venison? Are you telling me we are having Bambi for dinner?"

"Oh, dear God, no. Not Bambi." he looks at her in mock horror. "I have it from a trustworthy source that this is a very, very distant cousin of Bambi. A mean guy, I was told. Seriously, he was like the bully in deer school. Try it, very tasty." he grins.

"It is." she concedes taking a big bite. "Cooking shows? I guess my homemade pesto aioli will not be the highest point of our combined culinary might anymore?"

"There is nothing in the entire world that will ever be better than your homemade pesto aioli." Fitz replies, his voice full of emotion. "I would be embarrassed if I kept count of the nights when I dreamt of your pesto aioli." he says wistfully. "So, tell me, how is everyone? There must be so much gossip" he asks.

"Oh, there is not much to tell. We have been busy rebuilding the base – the new lab is ready, it's big, it's beautiful – it's all set up – shiny new tools – only a few things left to buy, but I didn't want to order it until I ran those specs by you. The only part missing is, really – well, you. It's been rather empty without you." she looks at him, but doesn't dare to ask if he's coming back. Not yet. He only nods and Simmons continues "Uhmm, Coulson and May have finally gotten together – you should see them, like two lovebirds. And Daisy is now assistant director. Recruiting, rebuilding. Really, not much to report."

"That's good news, about May and Coulson. If there is one couple…" he smirks.

"…who took longer than us?" Jemma laughs.

They keep talking about old friends, and the new base, Jemma tells about the new projects in the lab (nothing too exciting – it has been an uncharacteristically calm yearreally, kind of dull without him) while Fitz cleans away the dishes and lights the fireplace. They sit quietly for a moment, as Jemma stares into the flames sipping her wine.

"It's so peaceful here." she says and she realizes, it is not just the house. The nervous energy that has surrounded him ever since she's known him is gone – he is as calm as she's ever seen him.

"I needed to stop running." his eyes lock into hers and there is no trace of the tortured soul he was a year ago. They shine deep and calm and she is lost in them, again. She wants him to lean close and kiss her, but he doesn't move. Of course, it's still Fitz, she thinks and it would be so unFitzlike to jump her bones even if clearly, they are both burning with desire and longing. She takes his hand and he doesn't flinch. That's progress too. His palm is warm and he starts softly caressing her hand with his thumb. "I'm so glad you decided to come. Thank you." he says.

"Of course. I told you, I would. Frankly, I didn't expect this." she motions around.

"What did you expect? Piles of laundry on the floor? Junk food in the cupboard? Empty pizza boxes in the living room?" he mocks.

"Something like that. Maybe a giant TV screen hooked up to an X-box." she laughs.

"I have one in the basement." he admits sheepishly.

"Good. I was worried you have been replaced by…" then she stops, kicking herself mentally for the badly chosen words, afraid to break the magic of the night.

He remains calm. "I was. And I do feel… different a bit, I think."

"Yes, you are. Not bad different though." she looks at him and she sees that he remembers too. "I like it so far, Fitz."

"Good." he nods. "This place changes people."

"It's so strange…" Jemma sighs – she wants to tell him that she's a bit hurt that he ended up living her dream, while she was stuck in place; but she doesn't want him to think she begrudges him for whatever he needed to do to get out of his brokenness.

"I was so lost, Jemma. I was trying to follow the breadcrumbs hoping they would get me back home to you – and this is where they led me."

"You're full of hyperbole tonight." she says.

"Full of something. Maybe too much wine. You should go to bed; it's been a long day. You look tired."

"I am." she acknowledges. She is briefly tempted to ask if they could drop the charade and simply sleep together, but then reminds herself to be patient and wait for whatever his plan is. She wraps the throw-blanket around her shoulder and kisses him lightly. "Good night, Fitz."

"Sleep well, Jemma." he says his eyes dark with desire. He softly runs his hands over her hair. His touch sends electric charges around her body, and she thinks she will never sleep, but as soon as she sinks into the bed on the pillow that is just the right size, shape and firmness, she passes out.