The arrest of James Grant and Fitz finally opening up to providing valuable information helped pull the investigation together. Bobbi and Hunter were put in charge of the new London office with their first priority…finding the status of Emilie Fitz. Coulson and Mack returned to Busby visiting the flat Grant had shared with Fitz and his mother. The local police finally acquiesced and allowed them to participate in the investigation. The evidence collected in the small apartment did not look promising. Melinda dealt with the solicitors representing the Simmons estate as she was slightly more familiar with British law than the rest.

Despite the difficulty with gaining custody of Fitz, Jemma's case moved swiftly and without contest. Melinda was more than thrilled that they would be returning to D.C. before the beginning of the new school term. Jemma had missed enough school and needed to get back into a normal routine, not that moving to a new country would be the least bit normal for her. She knew that Phil had his heart set on taking Fitz with them as well, but it did not look promising. Without knowing the whereabouts of his mother they could not simply take the boy out of the country. For that he would need parental permission and well…that wasn't going to happen. If the worst happened and Emilie was dead it would start an entire new situation and miles of red tape to cut through.

On this afternoon, Melinda and the two children sat in the Sheffield Combined Court Center waiting to see the magistrate and sign the last of the documents that would make her and Phil Jemma's legal guardians. They sat on a wooden bench in the busy hallway, Melinda wedged between the two children. Jemma sat with her hands folded in her lap occasionally straightening her dark pleated skirt anxiously. Her feet, crossed at the ankle in true lady-like fashion, swung more than a few inches from the floor. She looked to Melinda every few seconds and smiled weakly, clearly unsure of what was going to happen today and in the near future.

Fitz pushed himself to the edge of the bench, making sure his feet touched the floor. He drummed his fingers on the wide arm of the seat and peered at the large clock at the opposite end of the hall. He pulled at the bowtie at his neck and scratched at the vest he'd been forced to wear. "What's taking them so bloomin' long? My arse is sore from this damn bench." He stood and rubbed his backside giving him the semblance of an elderly gent.

"If you don't watch the language it's going to be sore from something else." Melinda leaned forward and growled near the back of his head, barely above a whisper.

Jemma peered around her aunt. "Fitz, don't exaggerate so." Her voice was quiet and sing-song. "We've been here all of fifteen minutes."

The boy knitted his brows, folded his arms over his chest and mumbled to himself. "Least you get a family out of it."

Melinda stared at the back of the little boy's head and chose to ignore the comment only because the clerk had stepped out of the glass door and motioned for her to enter. She stood and urged the children in the door first.

The man seated at the desk in the small office looked stern and aggravated with spectacles resting just below the bridge of his nose. He glared at the group as they entered, eying Melinda up and down, passing visual judgment that immediately put her on edge. She smiled anyway and stood behind the seat that the clerk offered in front of the man's desk.

"The children can stay with the clerk while we complete our business." He commented without looking up from the stack of files on his cluttered desk.

"The children will stay right here with me." Melinda countered in the same tone, causing him to look up and remove his glasses. He glared at her and in true form she glared back refusing to back down.

The man took a deep breath and glanced at the clerk who still stood with her hand on the door knob waiting for instructions. He and glared at the children before barking, "sit over there and not one word from either of you." He nodded toward a large chair against the far wall but neither child moved until Melinda gave a quick nod.

"They don't teach much about manners in the States." It was a statement, not a question and he smirked at Melinda as he made it.

She already despised the man. "I'd like to sign the documents, please." Melinda stated, stressing the please.

The magistrate shuffled a few files and looked through the names on each. "I don't seem to have the Simmons' file, Miss Russell."

"I put it on your desk just this morning, sir." The young woman responded nervously. "I'm sure it's there."

Again the man shuffled through the papers. "No…no…I don't see it. Perhaps it is still with the solicitor. We can send a man round to his office to check. I'm sure the lady won't mind the wait." Melinda wanted to knock the sarcastic smirk off his face, but pursed her lips and evened her breathing.

"Sir…" The young clerk began.

"Oh, yer arse is out the window…" Fitz snorted from the chair he shared with Jemma. "It's bloody right there in front of you. You were reading it when we entered."

"Fitz!" Jemma whispered a warning pulling him back down as he stood. Melinda merely turned and glared, but the boy shook off his friend's hand and walked toward the desk.

"It's right here." He tapped a finger on the paperwork in the center of the desk and pursed his lips before continuing. "You're feckin' manners aren't showin' either, mate."

The magistrate mumbled some excuse and ducked his head to hide the blush. Melinda, who had moved to stand behind the boy, took him by the shoulders and directed him back to the chair. She bent and spoke close to his ear. "You and I are going to have a very serious discussion."

Fitz rolled his eyes and stomped back to Jemma plopping hard on the chair with his arms across his chest.

Melinda watched him for a moment as she gained her composure then turned back to the magistrate and smiled. "I know everything is in order." The man nodded and turned the file toward her. He held out a pen and pointed to the line on the bottom of the form on top.

"Sign here," he tapped the spot with his index finger then flipped the page, "and here and then here." He had turned another few pages.

She took the pen and quickly scribbled across each line as he watched then handed back the pen. He signed as well and used a large stamp to verify each page then returned them to the file and handed it to Melinda.

"The clerk will show you out and make sure you get your copies of the forms." He pushed his glasses back on and waved his hand toward the door dismissing them.

Melinda narrowed her eyes and shook her head before turning to the children. "Let's go." She said through her teeth.

They followed without a word.

Phil and Mack pulled into the driveway a little after 6 p.m. with more information than they had found in the last three weeks and anxious to share it with Melinda. When presented with the evidence they had found in Busby, Grant had rambled on about how Emilie had been sick when he took her in and he'd found her dead on the bathroom floor and gotten rid of the body because he was afraid he'd be blamed. He'd clammed up again when questioned about the whereabouts of the body demanding a solicitor and a deal before he'd give any more.

They entered the unusually quiet house finding only Jemma seated at the kitchen table pushing a piece of salmon around her plate. She smiled as they entered.

"Hey, sweetie," Phil smiled back glancing quickly around the room. "Where is everyone?" Mack stood behind and gave a quick wave as he put down his bag and made for the refrigerator. Jemma watched him.

"There are plates for both of you in the warmer." She smiled at the way Mack rubbed his tummy and wriggled his eyebrows. "Aunt Mel said you'd be hungry."

Phil put his hands on the back of Jemma's chair and watched as Mack carried two plates to the table. He waved a hand indicating the large man could have both. Mack asked if he was sure with his eyes and received a quick nod. He shrugged his shoulders, sat down and dug in.

"Did you make this?" He asked around a bite, smiling at the little girl giggling across the table.

She shook her head. "No, Mrs. Miller, the pastor's wife sent it. She always does when he brings home too many fish." She leaned closer. He did as well. "They don't keep, you know."

Mack raised his eyebrows and nodded. "Well thank you, Mr. and Mrs. Miller." He smiled again.

"Sweetie," Phil interrupted. "Where is Aunt Mel? Did everything go alright at the magistrate's office?"

Jemma's features became very serious. "Oh yes, that. Well you see," she turned to face Phil. "Fitz got a bit cheeky with the man and Aunt Mel was a bit irate."

"Oh?" Phil waited for her to continue.

Jemma became very interested in the few crumbs that had fallen on the napkin on her lap. She flicked at them. "Well, she sent him to his, I mean my, room when we returned. She was quite cross." She seemed to be hesitating.

Phil stepped around the chair and squatted down to look her in the eye. "Jemma?"

"I think she might have given him a good smacking." She said quietly as if it were a secret. "Poor Fitz," she shook her head.

Phil smiled and leaned over to place a soft kiss on her forehead. He patted her knee before he rose. "I see…well…" he looked to Mack who shook his head telling him this was all his. "Well, I guess I'll go check on them both."

Mack swallowed. "You do that. Jemma and I will share this wonderful meal and then clean up. Right?"

Jemma nodded as Phil turned toward the stairs.

Fitz sat on the edge of his cot staring at his hands folded on his lap. He sniffled once and quickly swiped an errant tear.

"Rough day?" Phil stood in the doorway, a silhouette in the late summer sun. The boy did not respond, but ran his sleeve quickly across his eyes and squirmed a bit under the man's gaze. Coulson stepped into the room and slowly sat next him. Fitz scooted away without looking up. "Heard you had a bit of a bad time this afternoon," Phil commented as he laced his fingers together and rested his arms on his legs. He stared ahead matching the kid's stare. Fitz shrugged his shoulders.

After a few quiet moments Phil tried again. "You wanna talk about it?" The boy shook his head and sighed. Phil nodded and laid a hand on Fitz' back giving him a gentle pat. "Okay…well you know where to find me if you change your mind." He squeezed the boy's shoulder and stood giving the kid a few seconds just in case then turned and walked toward the door. He stepped across the threshold and stopped when a small voice gave him pause.

"You're leaving then, aren't you?" Fitz' took a deep breath trying to stop tears that now flowed freely. "You're all done with your da…" he looked up at Phil for the first time and swallowed hard. "Your blasted business and you'll be off…gone."

Phil walked back to the boy and squatted down in front of him. "We are going to leave." Fitz tried to turn away but was stopped by the man's hand on his shoulder. "All of us, Fitz, including you." Fitz stopped struggling and looked at the man. "Is that what this is all about? You think we'd leave you." He waited for the boy to respond. "Not gonna happen, little man. We're gonna figure this out and make it right." He rested a hand on the boy's knee and squeezed a little. "We don't leave until we do."

"She won't want me." He shook his head and once again lowered his gaze to his lap. "I don't think she likes me much…Mrs. May, I mean." He finished in a whispered breath.

Phil's heart was aching for this little imp but he also wondered why the boy had already given up on his own mother. Did he know more than he was saying? He wasn't sure he should share what they'd learned today but wondered why the kid wasn't asking, wondering, hoping that his mother would be found…alive and well. He did not look forward to telling Fitz of his mother's fate.

"May's pretty tough," Phil smiled, "and it's not a good idea to cross her." He almost laughed at the look the kid gave him. "But she cares a lot about you and Jemma." Fitz turned up one side of his mouth and sighed. "What happened today?"

Fitz shook his head and let out a long breath. "I was being a wise as…" He paused and looked up quickly correcting himself, "mouth…a wise mouth because I thought you would just leave and she wasn't for it. She warned me but I…"

"Didn't take the hint, huh?" Phil finished for him. The boy shook his head.

"But I won't be forgetting any time soon." He sighed and rubbed his backside. Phil stifled a laugh.

"May never makes idle threats. That's something you need to remember." The boy nodded vigorously. "Why don't you go downstairs and get some supper?" Phil suggested.

Fitz shook his head just as vigorously. "I'm to stay here until further notice." He stressed the statement by poking the cot with his finger.

Coulson tousled the boy's hair as he rose. "I'll put in a good word for you." Fitz looked up at him and nodded.

May stood at window sipping a cup of tea. She did not turn when Phil entered the room.

"Rough day," he repeated his statement to Fitz as he approached and stood behind her.

She took another sip of her tea. "Papers are all in order, copies on the desk." She reported without changing position or tone.

"Grant confessed…well, sorta," he informed her. She nodded into another sip. "I spoke to Fitz." She nodded again. "I didn't tell him."

"Probably for the best, it's not a good time."

"I didn't think so. They haven't found her yet. He asked for a lawyer."

She snorted a nonverbal response.

"He thinks we'll leave him."

"We won't"

"But that's what he thinks."

"He's wrong."

"He's nine, Mel. That's how he thinks." She took a long drink of her tea, set the cup on the small table next to her and turned to face him.

"I know how old he is, Phil. Are you going to ask what happened?" She asked with a huff.

"Says you tanned his hide, knows he deserved it."

"Does he?"

Phil nodded and reached out to rub his hand along her arm. "He thinks you don't like him."

"Because I whacked his behind a few times!?" She was stunned. "I'm not apologizing," she added quickly. "He was out of line, he deserved it and I will not hesitate to do it again if necessary."

They heard the telephone ring a few times and knew Mack would take care of whatever it was.

"Might be part of it, but I don't think that's all." Phil gave a half smile. "He's just not use to…" May's eyebrows rose in anticipation. "To your…your…um…methods of a…well…the way…"

May rolled her eyes and shook her head before walking away from him.

"You think you could grant him parole and let him get some supper before Mack finishes it off."

May continued across the room and out the door with Phil close behind.

While Fitz sat enjoying his dinner and conversing with Jemma who politely avoid the topic of his chastisement, Mack filled in the Coulsons on the phone call he took earlier.

"They've got a body." He told them. "Haven't identified it yet but they're pretty sure it's her."

"Grant got his deal." May spat, hating the idea that the guy got anything.

"No," Mack continued. "Couple of kids found it along the river. Police said someone tried to weigh it down, wrapped it in some carpet. Attached the weights to it but they were so heavy they tore through and it just floated up. Time of death puts it around the last time anyone saw…" He stopped in case the kids could hear. He looked toward the kitchen where they were giggling over some silly comment. "We'll have to tell him." He sighed.

"Not until we know for sure." Phil stated then turned to May. "We'll contact Bobbi and Hunter, get them started on the custody paperwork."

Two days later the group gathered at the Simmons' home to provide support not only for the little boy would learn his mother's fate but for the man who would tell him. Phil's mouth was dry despite the amount of water he'd consumed since he received the confirmation earlier in the day. There had been some discussion about sending Jemma to the pastor's home while the deed was done, but they had decided she would need to know regardless and that she could and more than likely would provide more support and the more they could muster the better it might go.

After a lunch of pizza, which Hunter gleefully provided, and cold drinks, things took a serious turn. Once again the odd little group gathered in the parlor chatting about their exploits and plans, until an uncomfortable silence fell across the room. The large grandfather clock in the foyer ticked loudly in the quiet. It was Fitz who finally broke the stillness.

"I suppose you're all here to give me the bad news." He drew a deep shaky breath. "I think I already know…I think I knew in London when…" His voice cracked and he stopped knowing to say any more would break him.

Jemma covered a sob and turned into May's hug, the loss of her own parents still a fresh wound.

"I'm sorry, Fitz." Coulson comforted, placing a hand on the boy's shoulder. "I wish we could have done better."

"You've done your best." The boy spoke slowly enunciating each word carefully while holding back the tears that built in his eyes. "It's that feckin' Grant that's gone and put my maw in the ground." He glanced quickly at May and balled his fists. He didn't care that she had raised an eyebrow in warning. He didn't care if she was angry or even if she took a tawse to his backside, he was angry too. Angry at James Grant for his lying and hurting and betraying his mother and for what he'd done to him and to Jemma…angry at himself for not saving his mother, for being too little and too weak to make a difference.

"Did…did he hurt her…did he k..k…" the tears fell freely now.

"It's okay, lad, let it go." Hunter had moved to the boy's side and placed an arm around him. Bobbie quickly swiped tears from her eyes.

Mack lowered his head and closed his eyes offering a silent prayer for the woman he had never met and the small boy he had come to love.

Melinda gently pushed Jemma into Bobbi's embrace and moved to kneel in front of the boy who now wrestled with blind anger and heartbreak. She looked up at Phil and Hunter who stood at his sides. Reaching out slowly she took Fitz' small fists into her hands and massaged them gently.

"I didn't know your mom, Fitz, but I bet she'd be proud of you." She spoke quietly rubbing his hands as they slowly relaxed.

"She was my mom." He sniffed and nodded to Melinda.

"Yes, she was." The woman agreed.

"She loved me." His voice cracked.

"With all her heart," she agreed.

"I miss her." He whispered as the emotion overtook him and he fell into Melinda's arms. She stood picking him up and moved to the settee where she and Phil sat with the sobbing child and allowed him to cry until exhausted he fell asleep.

It took more than a month, a mountain of paperwork and help from every source they could tap but Leopold Fitz became the foster child of Phil Coulson and Melinda May in time to join them, Jemma and Mack as they boarded a plane bound for Washington, D.C. only three weeks after the start of the school year. For the adults it was a relief to be returning home, the children although apprehensive of what lay ahead, were excited to be off on a new adventure far from the tragedy and terror they had recently experienced.

Bobbi and Hunter were more than settled in the new office, already planning and executing security services for more than ten new clients. James Grant was awaiting trial, for which the children would need to return, but he was no long a threat. Pastor Miller had planned a quiet service for Emilie Fitz and although it was heartbreaking it brought closure to a small boy whose life had been turned upside down.

It was time to move on and everyone was more than ready to do so.