I'm updating a little early. I need to cheer myself up after that bizarro world episode of AoS. So, this is officially AU now as I have been Jossed into next week. Thanks for reading and don't forget to review if you want to keep the updates coming! Feedback is my motivation!
Simmons views the particulates under the microscope and says immediately, "I know what this is."
"What?" Agent Lis asks excitedly.
Lis is standing between Fitz and Jemma like a buffer and though he stays carefully on her opposite side, he leans over as if to peer into the microscope despite the distance.
"Really?" he says, surprised.
"Yes." Jemma looks up from the microscope. "It's very similar to the metal from the obelisk. I got a look at the data when I was undercover at Hydra."
"That didn't, um, disintegrate people, though," Fitz says, his face creased in disbelief.
"It was more like they turned to stone," Lis adds, nodding to Fitz in agreement.
"I know," Jemma says, looking from one engineer to the other. "I think they may have figured out a way to aerosolize the effects."
Hanna and Fitz's eyes both go wide in shock.
"Wouldn't that…af—affect a larger…area," he asks finally.
"I don't know," she says honestly. "I'll need to run some more tests. It might dissipate very quickly."
"So, you'll…need…" Fitz trails off.
"…Some time to analyze it," Lis finishes brightly.
"Um, yes…some time," Jemma manages, looking from one to the other again. They both wear the same eager expression. "If that's alright?"
"Yeah," Fitz and Lis say simultaneously.
"I'll let you know when I've completed my analysis," Jemma says, stiffly.
She's glad when they both wander back to the isolation unit to tinker with their prize. This was not what she'd had in mind when she asked Agent Lis to go on the mission in her stead. Was she really so easily replaced? She tries to push the selfish feeling aside. Fitz had said he couldn't work with her right now. He needs to work with someone…
She hates how things are…where they'd left things in San Juan. She hadn't realized how easy it would be for Fitz to avoid her once he moved out of the lab. She's been wanting to speak to him but it isn't easy to invent reasons to go to him on the Bus. He's here again but she still can't speak to him—not in front of Lis. She really hasn't the first clue how to repair whatever's gone wrong between them, but she has to try something. This is unbearable.
Suddenly overwhelmed with frustration, she hits the countertop sharply with her hand, accomplishing little beyond hurting her hand. She massages the sting from her palm, trying to remember what she'd been about to do—metallurgical scan?
"What did that counter ever do to you?"
She looks up to see Bobbi walking toward her. Her mood lightens, and she smiles at seeing the friendly face of the woman who had saved her from becoming another Hydra pawn.
Bobbi sits down on a stool next to her. In her usual forthright manner, she glances to the workstation where Fitz and Lis are and says, "Is it Fitz?" She uses what Jemma thinks of as a we-women-need-to-stick-together inflection that she doesn't want to acknowledge.
"I'm sorry?" She isn't sure how Bobbi could have ascertained her thoughts but she hopes it isn't that obvious who she's thinking about.
"You know, Fitz and his date? Are you okay?" She reaches out, briefly touching Jemma's sleeve in a sympathetic gesture. She can't quite comprehend what Bobbi is saying.
"Date?" Her throat feels dry and it comes out as a rasp. Fitz hadn't dated anyone in… She couldn't remember exactly, but it had to have been years. Not to mention, he'd told her not long ago that he loved her—well, basically. So what does Bobbi mean by date?
"Damn, I'm sorry," Bobbi rubs her forehead and sighs. "I thought you would've heard since..." she trails off, tipping her head in the direction of Agent Lis working at the other end of the lab with Fitz.
"What? Agent Lis?" She looks toward the younger woman, still not understanding. Bobbi's expression is so rueful that she begins to comprehend. "You mean Fitz is going on a date with…her?" Her voice seems unusually high suddenly.
"Little loud…but yeah." Bobbi's expression of dismay and hushed whisper emphasize her point as she surreptitiously checks to see if they've been overheard. "I guess I don't have to ask if you're upset."
"Me? Upset?" She looks to Lis with her slim figure and long, blond hair. She blows air through her lips, scribbles some unreadable notes on her pad and returns to peering into her microscope. "Of course not," she says, completely unconvincingly.
"Mmhmm," Bobbi hums with a poorly hidden smirk. "You said before that you'd never really thought of Fitz that way—Have you…I dunno," Bobbi looks close to embarrassment as she adds, "...tried?"
"Not—I mean, I never really had a chance...until recently. At first, it was his recovery, then being undercover and thinking I was about to die every minute, and now, I guess...I don't know." She sighs and rubs her forehead. "It's been so difficult between us. I told myself that I would be happy if things could just go back to the way they were before he told me, but then he moved out of the lab and... I don't think it's—I just don't know." She's appalled at her own outburst—hushed though it may have been. She hides behind the microscope again, taking a moment to stave off a sudden upwelling of tears before she looks at Bobbi again.
Bobbi looks unruffled as she sits, head propped on her hand, looking pensive. She finally says, "You know, sometimes when you don't make a decision—well, you really are making one. Sometimes, it's a choice in slow-motion—just letting options slowly fade away. Other times—well, you get the door slammed in your face." her expression seems to speak of personal experience.
She glances over briefly at Agent Lis to emphasize her point. "This could be that door, Jemma. So, if you want him..." she doesn't move her head but her eyes flit in Fitz's direction, "Well, you better go get him."
She pauses to make sure Jemma is looking at her and she adds, "Mack tells me she's seems pretty keen." She looks every bit the spy as she casually inclines her head back in the general direction of Fitz and Lis.
"On the other hand, if you really want things back the way they were—finding a girl might be just the thing he needs...to get over you," Bobbi says the last part quietly as if saying it too loud might be too much for Jemma, she smiles apologetically and adds, "Either way, you're taking a chance."
Jemma never knew life could be so complicated. Part of her wants to curl up and wait for everything to blow over and another part of her longs to act.
"What do I do?" she finally asks.
"Hell if I know," Bobbi replies, with a grin. She slides off her stool and leans in to give Jemma a quick hug around the shoulders, whispering, "But you better do it quick." She saunters out as if she weren't leaving Jemma completely shaken. She exchanges a few words with May as she goes.
Jemma remembers Fitz during his recovery and realizes he really has come so far. She wonders if she can say the same about herself.
Her heart had dropped into her stomach when the neurologist told her that she needed to be prepared for Fitz's "deficits"—she could hear the implied quotations on the word as he spoke.
"His speech is probably going to be an issue but don't let that worry you, that will likely improve with therapy," he said it with the utmost professionalism but somehow that made it worse. She couldn't stop the tears from spilling down her cheeks.
Her mouth was dry as she entered his room. He was sitting up with a tray of some sort of food, which he ignored in favor of looking out the window. The day had been dull and gray; it looked about to rain. He heard her enter and as he'd swiveled his head in her direction, she broke into fresh, unexpected tears.
She wasn't sure if they were tears of relief, guilt, sadness or some other pent-up emotion, but she couldn't stop them. She hated for anyone to see her cry, even Fitz. She made her way to him, unable to see his expression through the blurry sheen of tears.
He patted her arm awkwardly. "I'm sorry," she muttered, wiping at her eyes. He looked at her with an expression that she knew well, he was embarrassed. The clear reading of his emotional state actually gave her an odd hope that somehow, everything would be all right.
"Can I help you?" It was the only thing she could think to say.
She had known he couldn't respond, but what she really wanted was to hear him speak—for him to say something comforting, even complaints about her swimming technique would've served. Just anything. The silence stretched out and she shook her head at her own foolishness when she suddenly heard something.
It was soft at first and slowly grew louder. "I'm...I'm...I'm..." His face was contorted into a look of extreme frustration as he searched for the words. She put a mask of encouragement over her features hoping to hide her turmoil. She felt hope well up in her as he continued. "I'm...alive?" It came out like a question but his expression was almost triumphant.
"Alive, hmm. Wasn't...ehm, plan…plan…planning…on tha...that," he finished. The effort of his words was evident on his face, pink and strained, but he managed a small smile that so completely contrasted his sentiment that she felt her mask falter.
Somehow, Jemma managed to force her expression of shocked dismay into something resembling a smile as she said, in tones of tense cheerfulness, "Let's see what's for lunch, shall we?" She lifted the cover from his food tray and began to help him. She felt like a statue with a hot, molten core of grief.
Half an hour later, she was in her own room, uncontrolled sobs wracking her body as she tried to stifle the noise in her pillow.
Actually, the worst thing had been that Fitz seemed to know that he would never be the same. His sadness and frustration grew daily during his recovery. She could hardly bear the occasional longing look that she drew from him and the rest of the time he could barely meet her eyes. In some ways, he was so accepting of his situation that it terrified her. She wanted him to fight, to get better—at least—to try. She wanted to scream at him sometimes: Why? Why did you do this? I'm not worth this!
His eyes stopped her, his damned, approval-seeking eyes. He had always sought her acceptance over the years of their partnership, but there had always been so much more to him than that. During his recovery, there was little else. He sought out her eyes after every small victory, begging her to approve. She had put on her false joviality and smiled, nodded her head, and felt her heart break a little more each time.
At first, she hadn't known if he even remembered what he'd told her. They never spoke of anything other than his recovery but she could see his feelings for her in his face, every gesture, he was waiting—begging—for her to resolve things. She had hoped he'd forgotten, and she hated herself a little for it, for wanting to make things better for herself instead of for him.
The truth was she hurt for him. She didn't know how long he had been holding onto his feelings for her—months, years, since they met. Did it really matter? It would hurt no less if she rejected him. And how could she after what he'd done?
A month after waking, he had been ready to leave the infirmary and Coulson had even agreed to let him return to work in the lab under her supervision. Fitz did poorly with the transition—even his rages got worse, though they seem more frustration than anything else. After a particularly bad episode, she finally tried placing her hand on his shoulder, soothingly. He reached up to cover her hand with his, growing slowly calmer.
"It wasn't…puh—pleasant," he said.
"What wasn't," she asked absently, just grateful for his more tranquil mood.
"Drowning," he answered, beginning to mumble to himself as he scribbled some notes and continued to clasp her hand on his shoulder.
The next morning, she had met with Coulson. Three days later, she had been gone.
She had tried to keep him from her mind while she'd been undercover, and she'd almost felt in-control again—except for the constant dull ache that reminded her that something was missing. It was like the pain of a phantom limb, as much as she wished to massage it away, there was nothing there to touch.
Work—that's what she needs, something to distract herself. But it's already not going well, an eye-glance away, Fitz and Agent Lis are chatting animatedly in the midst of discovery—the way they used to be. The way they just can't be anymore.
She's off her stool and heading for the ladies room, walking quickly when May says, "Hey!"
"Oh!" She's forgotten to let May know what she's doing.
May is right behind her. "You need to let me know when you need to leave," she states flatly.
"I know. I'm sorry, May," she tries to dredge up a smile and isn't sure if she succeeds. Her face feels oddly numb. "I just need the loo."
May doesn't acknowledge, just continues to walk. She goes in ahead of her and does the search—in case of compatriots, Jemma assumes, but doesn't ask. May steps out and waves her inside.
In the safety of the small space she lets herself go. Sliding slowly down the wall, the strength goes out of her legs as the tears begin to fall. Trying to muffle the noise, she presses her open palm over her mouth since it won't seem to close.
If only she could let the anguish flow directly into the air it would be so much less of a mess. She tears some paper from the roll and tries to keep her top from becoming tear-stained.
She wonders if it would help matters if she allowed herself the keening cry that seems to want to flow up from her diaphragm, but she doesn't try to find out. She just pours sobs silently into her palm until they fade off into childlike hiccuping gasps.
Two minutes later, shutting off the water, she examines herself in the mirror—eyes a little red but otherwise she detects no trace of her outburst. She opens the door and all she needs to see is May's face to know that she needn't have bothered with her examination.
"I'm not gonna ask," May says, instantly. "But if you have something to say…" She looks away, down the hall.
She doesn't know what May is thinking it's all about, but she doesn't really know what to say anyway.
"I'm fine." It pops out automatically though rather weakly. She's been saying it so long now she's not sure what the other options are anymore.
"Okay," May says casually, looking back, meeting her eyes. "For now." It comes out like a threat, and Jemma doesn't doubt her veracity.
She has no desire to make an enemy of May, but she honestly doesn't know what to say. Everyone thinks I'm a brainwashed Hydra agent? Agent Lis is stealing my best friend? Fitz loves me, and I don't think I feel the same way, now what? There are others but nothing that comes to mind really seems to cover the full run of options, and she really needs to get back to her analysis.
"Okay," May finally says again after her silence continues.
She sighs, steps out into the hall and walks back to her workstation, trying to project a confidence she doesn't feel.
She returns to her microscope—at least then she can't see the two of them—remembering that she was going to run a metallurgical analysis on the material. She gets lost in the work for a time, letting the familiar ebb and flow of it keep her distracted until she finally gets the results. She realizes that if it hadn't been for the Chitauri virus, she probably wouldn't have come up with the answer at all, much less this quickly.
She looks over to the isolation unit and notes that Hanna is gone.
"Fitz," she calls. He looks up, his expression something like expectant trepidation. She nearly wants to smile at the familiarity of it but keeps her face serene. "I think I've found something."
He comes to her, looking a bit reluctant, and she gives him a warm smile for the effort. "This material is similar to the metal from the obelisk. I've discovered something else as well. It has incredible electrostatic properties. With enough power behind it, I think that it could break the static bonds between quantum particles—"
"…And disintegrate people," Fitz marvels. "I think I might—I uh, I might have something that could explain the…the—source of the power," he points her over to his workstation.
Following him over, he shows her a diagram of a power source, but it's like nothing she's ever seen before. "What is that?" she asks, amazed, picking it up to examine it more closely.
"I think it's…alien," he says.
"Alien," she repeats. "Chitauri?"
"I'm not sure," he says, refusing to meet her eyes.
It almost feels like things are normal, until he glances up and she sees it. It's the familiar pain that had been there ever since he had woken from the coma. She nearly reaches out to him but stops herself. "Fitz…" she starts, not sure what she will say. "I—"
"Does the material aerosolize, then?" he asks suddenly.
"I think so," she says, looking away, embarrassed by his implicit rejection.
"Any…idea why this didn't kill Hanna—Agent Lis, then?" He's looking at the diagram that she'd dropped back to the table.
"No," she says, sadly. "Maybe it really was a dud, as Agent Lis suggested. Or perhaps the material was aerosolized prematurely? I'm just guessing though." She wants to reach out and comfort him but she knows it's useless. There's nothing she can do.
He's nodding repeatedly, again refusing to meet her eyes. "So, the material, it's magnetic?"
"Yes," she says. Allowing him to speak to her the only way it seems they can at the moment, in the familiar language of science.
"So, an EM pulse might..." he begins, trailing off with a pained expression, as if unable to gather his thoughts. She bites her lip nervously, not wanting to try to help him and guess incorrectly. His attempts to look casual fall flat as he fidgets and runs his fingers anxiously across the surface of the workstation. He finally sighs, unable to follow his train of thought.
"Perhaps an EM pulse could affect it...you would have to run some simulations to get a better idea," she ventures, swallowing thickly, afraid it might be too much.
"Thank you, Jemma," he looks up finally and she smiles, believing she's successfully walked the line between saying too much versus leaving an awkward pause hanging in the air. But he meets her eyes, he just looks stricken and her smile fades away to a hard-pressed line.
"Fitz—" she says, trying to broach the the thornier emotional subject again. She hopes the right thing approach might come to her once her mouth is open.
"Hanna," he calls, looking toward the sound of the lab door opening. Jemma turns to see Agent Lis coming back in with two sandwiches.
"Goodnight," she mumbles as she walks away, returning to her own desk.
She listens to their chatter as she tidies up her work. He tells Lis what they've discussed, and Jemma listens as they talk out the options for their countermeasure device. She turns to find May still standing guard, leaning by the door, waiting for her—seemingly ever-present. She nods to the other woman as she walks toward the exit. May falls wordlessly in step with her as they leave the lab and the lively sounds of friendship and scientific discovery.
"I'm going to my room," she says when May starts to veer toward the kitchen.
"You don't want—"
"No," she says abruptly. "I'm tired."
May comments no further until they get to her room. She unlocks the door and stands back for her to enter. Jemma steps inside and is about to close the door when May says, "Are you going to tell him?"
"Who?" she asks.
"Fitz."
"Tell him what?" Jemma wonders.
"How you feel."
"Wha—I—I don't know what you're…" she trails off at May's expression. Her head is tilted slightly and she can't pin down exactly what it is in her expression that says, Cut the crap, Simmons, but somehow she conveys it perfectly.
"I can't," she says at last.
"Why not."
May's voice is still flat and unemotional but Jemma's is beginning to waver. "Because I don't know. I just—miss him."
May does something then that Jemma could never have predicted: she hugs her. She wraps her arms around Jemma's neck, locking her against her shoulder. It's a little painful, the pressure in her neck and the fullness in her chest.
It feels a though her heart is being squeezed, but she recognizes it for what it is, the hurt making its presence felt. She's no longer able to suppress it with May's arms enfolding her so tightly.
She can't relax into her embrace so she just stands there, frozen. May says in her ear, "You do know, Simmons. And when you realize it, it'll be okay."
She pulls back then. "It won't." It's too loud, her frustration let loose—she takes a step back into her room as if she could escape it now. "I don't think it ever will be," she whispers overcompensating, "I don't know what to do." She's crying again and it's making her feel like she's suffocating.
May looks completely unruffled, and somehow that forces her to calm down. "I'm sorry," she says when she's under control again. She's unable to meet May's eyes in the face of her own lack of self-control. It would have been mortifying in front of anyone, but with May it seems almost unforgivable.
"It's okay," she answers. Jemma thinks she sees the hint of a smile as May says, "When you know, you'll act." Then she's pulling the door shut and locking her inside.
Jemma can't understand what May thinks she's going to do, but she feel less like crying her eyes out anyway. She thinks the fact that someone actually noticed her might have something to do with it.
The next morning she's feeling more than a little hopeful despite sleeping oddly and ending up with a stiff neck. But perhaps May wasn't the worst inspirational speaker in the world.
That's when the door opens and Mack is there behind it instead of May. Jemma feels the bottom drop out of her stomach at the realization that she may have burnt a bridge with one of her few allies at the moment.
"Agent Simmons," Mack says with little enthusiasm as she steps out of her room.
"How are you, Mack?" she asks with all the geniality she can muster as she tries futilely to massage the stiffness from her neck.
"Okay," he says reluctantly.
"Well, I'm going to the lab now," she says cheerfully. He just nods and they set off.
She notes the absence of both Fitz and Agent Lis. Doctor Garner is waiting at her station when she arrives—he takes her hand as he always does, quite the gentleman.
"Good morning, Doctor," she says graciously. "What can I do for you?"
"I'm running into a problem with the biotracking again," he says apologetically. "I think the idea of a vest is too much for Skye. I was thinking maybe we could figure out something smaller?"
"Oh," she says happily. "Agent Fitz could help us with that. I'll send him a message, shall I?"
He looks a little unhappy as he says, "Alright."
"I'll let you know, then," she chirps.
"Thank you, Jemma," he says informally.
"Not a problem," she says, and smiles, forcing her natural cheerfulness to the surface.
She gets back to work on further analysis of the alien metal particulates until she hears someone push through the main door. She looks back to find Skye.
"Hey, Simmons," she says. "I hear you're gonna make me a watch or a wristband or something?"
"Well, I was actually thinking Fitz would be the person—" that's when he walks in with Agent Lis right behind him. Jemma sighs.
"Hey, Fitz," Skye says with identical intonation. "I hear you're making me a watch or a wristband or something?"
"Ehm," he looks to Jemma instantly, a bewildered expression on his face.
She grins and rushes over, saying, "Doctor Garner had me send you a message. Skye needs a biotracking unit. Something discreet. I have the specs on my desk," she points back in the general direction.
"Oh," he says. "I—alright." He walks to her desk to get the information. She goes over it, pointing out the need for something that could monitor Skye's brainwaves from a distance." He nods and takes the specs from her. "I'll see what I can do," he smiles wanly, then turns to leave.
"Fitz," she says, a little too loud and grits her teeth. She suddenly feels like all eyes in the room are on her. His shoulders are a little too high as he turns back around. She takes a step toward him anyway and says, "I was wondering if we could talk. ...Later. I have something to discuss with you." She doesn't know how to be less enigmatic with all the attention in the overcrowded room on them now.
"What is it, then?" He looks around the room, noting their audience as well.
He smiles at Agent Lis then, and she finds herself feeling even more exposed. "I, well, I was hoping we could discuss the subject a bit later."
"I'm a little busy, now I've got…even more work. Is it critical, Simmons?" He's looks at Agent Lis briefly and then back to her again. He looks like he'd rather be anywhere but in her presence.
"Yes," she says, looking at her shoes. She feels her eyes glazing over again and hopes desperately that no one can see. "But we can discuss it later."
She meets his eyes again for a fraction of a second and just catches a glimmer of the look that she had so hated seeing there before, and finds that she's now pleased.
