Once she reached her car, Jemma spent several panic-stricken moments looking up and then calling the phone numbers of every nice hotel in the Ventura area, her frustration and dread mounting when she came up empty-handed every time. Then she called the not-so-nice hotels, just in case, with the same results. Wanting to be thorough, she extended her search out to Oxnard, but still, she found nothing. She even considered the possibility that Raina had gone all the way to greater Los Angeles, but she found it highly unlikely. It was a long drive, and the traffic wouldn't be worth it.

Another possibility was that Raina had booked the room using a fake ID-more likely, considering she wasn't old enough to reserve a room on her own. Which meant that searching for a reservation using her real name was absolutely useless.

Jemma sighed wearily, closing her eyes and pressing her hand to her forehead. Worry was nearly consuming her, but she forced herself to stay calm and think rationally. Rash actions wouldn't do anyone any favors now.

Reluctantly, she considered yet another possibility. What if Fitz didn't want to be found? He was a legal adult, and didn't owe her anything...he could engage in whatever activities he wanted to with Raina, even the ones that hurt her to think about. But would the fallout be worth it? Who knew what horrible lies and half-truths Raina would be waiting to spread come Monday?

The thought was enough to flag her determination, her heart sinking in sadness, but only for a moment. She was confident that she knew Fitz, knew how he operated, and she was sure he wouldn't give in to any sort of casual tryst, no matter how persuasive Raina might be. Sitting up straighter, she switched back over to her messaging app to send a text to Trip.

[Jemma] I still haven't found anything. going to his house now to wait on him

She didn't have to wait long for a response.

[Trip] nothing here either. good luck, send us an update when you can

Nodding to herself, she slipped her phone back into her clutch before switching on the ignition to her car and throwing the gear into drive.

-:-

She'd been expecting it, but Jemma was still a little abashed at the look of shock on Mrs. Fitz's face when she opened the door to find her standing on their front stoop.

"Jemma!" she cried, taking in her downcast face and meek posture with wide eyes. "This is a surprise. I'm sorry, but Leo isn't here. He's at the prom...which I thought you would be at, too."

"I know," Jemma replied quickly. "And I was. But…" How could she explain what had happened without alarming her? "I've been looking for him, and I can't get ahold of him, and I was worried, so I thought-I could just wait here. If it's alright with you."

Mrs. Fitz gave her a thoughtful look. "You know," she said after a pause, "Leo wasn't even planning on going tonight. But when a pretty young lady showed up earlier insisting that he go with her, I was surprised, even a little disappointed, that it wasn't you."

Jemma swallowed and looked down, feeling yet another wave of guilt and shame wash over her. Fitz's mother was just another person she'd managed to fail in this entire disaster. "I know," she said again, her voice a near-whisper. Then she looked back up. "I...I made a mistake. I hurt him, badly. I didn't mean to, but I did, and I-" She stopped, taking in a deep breath; tears were threatening again. "I wanted it to be me with him tonight. I'd like a chance to make things right. Please...just let me talk to him. I won't be any trouble. If he gets here and he doesn't want to see me, I'll leave."

Mrs. Fitz gave her another considering look, and Jemma tried not to fidget beneath her stare. Then she nodded and stepped back, opening the door wider so she could enter. "Of course, love, come on in." As Jemma walked past her, head bowed, she added, "Has Leo really not been answering his phone?"

"No," Jemma replied. "Several of us have been trying for almost an hour."

She frowned. "That's not really like him. But then again, he can get in one of his moods sometimes…" She shook her head. "Can I get you anything while you wait? Tea, perhaps?"

Jemma started to politely decline, but then she reconsidered. Some tea might calm her nerves, and give her something to focus on. "Yes, please, some tea would be lovely," she said, managing a small smile.

She waited in the kitchen while Mrs. Fitz prepared the tea, and once her cup was done, they took it out to the living room to sit on the sofa. They made small talk; Mrs. Fitz complimented her on her dress and her hair, asked her generic questions about the prom, and congratulated her on being voted prom queen. Jemma sipped slowly on her tea and tried not to think too much about where Fitz was and what he was doing.

Roughly thirty minutes passed-Jemma knew, because she kept checking the time on her phone-before they heard the sound of a key turning in the front door's lock. They both stood from the sofa, Jemma's stomach churning.

"Mum?" Fitz called out over the sound of the door opening. "I'm home."

Mrs. Fitz looked back at her before taking a few steps toward the entryway. "Leo? Did you have a good time?"

"Eh, yeah...it was alright." The door shut, and his footsteps came closer. "But I think I'm just gonna go upstairs, I'm really tired and…"

He trailed off as he came around the corner into the living room and saw Jemma standing behind his mother, her hands twisting together anxiously at her waist. He stared at her for an extended moment, his expression unreadable, until Mrs. Fitz quietly cleared her throat.

"I'm sure you two have a lot to talk about," she said. "I'll be upstairs if you need me." She gently touched Fitz's shoulder before moving past him to leave the room.

But Fitz didn't look inclined to speak. As soon as they were alone, he cut his gaze away from her, stuffing his hands into his trouser pockets and shifting his weight uneasily from foot to foot. Jemma felt suffocated by his silence, all the questions she wanted to ask jumbling together in her head. She'd told herself that she would let him speak first, as it was the least she could do, but the way his body language screamed discomfort wasn't doing anything to dispel the nightmare scenarios her mind had conjured up on her drive over. She had to know. "Are you okay?" she blurted, unable to disguise her worry.

His eyebrows drew together slightly. "I'm fine," he mumbled shortly, without looking up from his shoes.

That didn't inspire confidence, either. "We've been trying to text you," she added, her words rushing together. "But you haven't been answering, so we didn't know if-if-"

"Yeah, um." Fitz reached up to rub a finger along the side of his nose. "My battery died. Accidentally let it run down because I got, er-distracted."

Jemma's face paled. "Distracted?"

He finally glanced up at her. "Yeah. Earlier today. Before, um-" He looked away again. "Before everything."

Jemma couldn't help the sigh of relief that escaped her then, her shoulders relaxing slightly. "So-Raina-she didn't-"

Fitz shook his head. "Nothing happened," he said. "I, uh...it just took me a little while to figure out what she was really after."

The relief she'd felt evaporated like mist beneath the morning sun, chased away by the renewed stiffness of his stance. What was his definition of 'nothing'? What had Raina done to him? What had she tried to do? How far had she gotten? All of Jemma's fears collided together and stuck in her throat, rendering her speechless and nauseated. When a moment had passed and she still hadn't replied-just stared at him in helpless horror-Fitz rolled his eyes.

"We had it out in the parking lot of the hotel," he explained, scuffing the toe of his shoe against the carpet. "She, ah, called me...a lot of very rude names." His eyes flicked briefly back up to hers. "Said I was a stuck-up prude who'd just lost his only chance at action because I'd never be able to get it anywhere else. She said she was doing me a favor."

Jemma's hands clenched into fists. Of course Raina had gone into full aggro mode when he refused to play along. She was used to getting what she wanted.

"I've never seen someone get so angry over being told no, it was like...she said she'd destroy me, that I was through socially." He huffed a sardonic laugh. "Like I care about that crap."

Jemma inhaled. "How did you get home…?"

"Oh, uh-I walked over to the bar next door and used their phone to call a cab. Good thing I had some cash on me."

She closed her eyes and allowed herself to truly feel relief this time. Fitz hadn't been physically hurt or abused. He was okay. Raina might have a multitude of horrible untruths to spread about him by Monday, but like he said, he didn't care about that. She was certain he could rise above it.

"I was so worried," she said, opening her eyes and taking a step forward. "I tried looking everywhere for you, I texted, called, but I couldn't-"

"Jemma."

She stopped, blinking up at him. He was finally looking straight at her, and his eyes were tired, hurt, his posture still distrustful. It was so much like the way he'd acted when she first spoke to him all those weeks ago that her stomach clenched in despair. She'd made him look that way. It was all her fault.

Fitz sighed. "Why did you come here?"

Oh, there were so many reasons why. Because she was worried, because she was sorry, because she was scared. Because she desperately wanted to make things right, and felt in her bones that this was her last chance. If she couldn't win his forgiveness now, they were done for.

"You know why," she whispered.

Fitz looked away again, biting his lip and nodding to himself as he seemed to consider her answer. Eventually, he pulled his hands from his pockets and walked past the sofa to the door leading to the back patio. "We should probably go outside," he muttered as he turned the locks and opened the door.

Jemma followed quietly, her head down, concerned that he was taking her outside because they were about to have a truly terrible argument and he didn't want his mother to hear. Stepping out into the warm night air, she thought, maybe, it was only what she deserved. But she had to plead her case. She waited, her nerves buzzing with anxious energy, until Fitz shut the door behind them and turned back to her.

"Fitz, please, let me-"

"Jemma, I need to-"

They both stopped short this time, taken aback by their rush to talk over each other. Then Jemma took a deep breath, preparing to launch into her well-rehearsed plea, but Fitz held up a hand to stop her.

"Jemma," he said, "just...don't. I-I need to get this off my chest and you, uh, you know I'm not-good at this. So. Just let me talk."

The fire abruptly went out of her at how unhappy he looked. Jemma could only nod, looking back down and clasping her hands at her waist as dread filled her. Here it came, all of his hurt and anger, his sure rejection and dismissal.

Fitz swallowed several times, twisting his thumb into the opposite palm, before looking back up at her. "I...I let you in," he said, his voice raw with emotion. "I told you I don't like people, but I let you in anyway, because...because I'd always thought that maybe we'd get along, you know, if I wasn't me and you weren't you...because-I wanted to believe that…" He let out a shuddering breath. "But it was just a joke for you, a laugh. I should have known--"

"No," she said quickly, anguished, shaking her head as tears filled her eyes. "No."

He crossed his arms and leveled her with a stare that was more heartbroken than angry. "I thought we were friends. I thought-maybe-we were...more than that. So was it all a lie? Everything you said, all that we did...was any of it even real?"

"Yes." It was barely a whisper, heavy with the weight of her remorse as she struggled to hold back her tears. "Yes, it was. I-it might not have been the best of intentions at first, but I meant everything I've ever said to you, everything...I wanted to tell you about the bet. I almost did, so many times. That it was stupid and I didn't care about it anymore, that I didn't even care so much about the drones, I just cared about you...but I was so afraid you'd hate me." She sniffled, blinking rapidly. "Except now you do anyway. I'm so sorry, Fitz. I've hurt you, and…"

She trailed off, at a loss as to fully express the depth of her guilt and regret, and hugged her arms around her stomach. Fitz was still watching her, his expression hard to read again.

"I don't hate you," he said quietly. When she choked on a disbelieving scoff, he uncrossed his arms. "I don't," he repeated. "I want to, but…" He shrugged. "I can't."

The admission dared to spark hope in Jemma's heart. "Why not?" she asked.

He bit his lip and glanced away again. "What was the bet even for?" he asked after a pause, instead of answering her. "What did you lose?"

"You," Jemma replied simply, looking up at him. "My best friend."

Fitz stared at her.

"You've taught me a lot," she added, steeling her courage to keep looking him in the eye. This was it: her final appeal, her last chance to convince him she cared. "You taught me that it was okay to just be me, that I don't have to act a certain way just for people to accept me. That I don't have to dial back my intelligence for anyone, that I don't have to settle for something lesser, because-I deserve someone who truly likes me for me. All of me. You make me want to be better-the best version of myself that I can be. And I want to be all of that, and more. For...for me. And for you."

Fitz swallowed and took in a slow, measured breath. Silence settled over them as he looked away again, pacing, deliberating; Jemma folded her hands in front of her and waited for him to come to a decision.

Finally, he turned back to her. "You know, I only went with Raina because I was hoping I'd see you."

Jemma inhaled. "Really?"

"Yeah." He nodded, shifting his weight. "Even though…" He sighed, then shook his head; evidently what he had been about to say wasn't worth it. "So...you left your prom, for me." His eyebrow arched in a ghost of his usual dry humor. "You left Milton."

Jemma laughed wetly. "'Prom queen' is just a title, Fitz. It doesn't really matter. Neither does-Milton. You're more important to me, anyway."

At that-either because of her admission, or using Ed's given name-a weight seemed to lift from Fitz's eyes. "Yeah?"

She braved a smile for him. "Yeah."

He nodded again, the faintest of smiles tugging at his own lips. "Right. Okay...so...what now?"

Jemma's heart leapt. If Fitz was willing to talk, willing to give her this open-ended question, it was possible he was giving her a second chance. Trying not to let her growing hope show too much, she gave a small shrug. "I don't know," she said. "It's up to you. But if you'll let me...maybe we could start over." She bit her lip. "If you want."

Fitz shook his head. "I don't want to start over." Jemma's stomach abruptly plummeted, but then-hesitantly, as if he was second-guessing himself-he held out a hand to her. "I think...can I-would you like to, um, dance?"

Surprised, relieved, and a bit bemused, Jemma smiled as she slipped her hand into his. Fitz smiled back nervously and pulled her to him, settling his free hand carefully against her waist while hers lighted on his shoulder. Then he eased them into a slow side-to-side step, swaying to the beat of a song only he could hear. Looking into his eyes, Jemma found herself captivated by the sudden softness of his gaze. It wasn't a way he'd ever looked at her before, and it took her breath away.

They danced in silence for a moment, loose and unhurried, until Fitz ducked his head a little. "You look beautiful," he murmured, rubbing his thumb over the knuckles of the hand he was holding. "I didn't get to tell you, before."

Jemma looked down as she felt her cheeks heat up, feeling shy for perhaps the first time in her life. "Fitz, I've been crying."

He shrugged lightly. "Doesn't make it untrue."

She couldn't contain her smile. Looking back up, she squeezed his shoulder. "You look pretty handsome yourself."

Fitz's smile turned lopsided; the warmth of it made her stomach do a little flip. "Yeah, sometimes I clean up okay," he said with far more bravado than he clearly felt. There was still a hint of sadness in his eyes, but he was mostly relaxed now as he held her, and Jemma was profoundly grateful for it. She knew things weren't completely mended between them-his hurt couldn't vanish all in an instant-but this was definitely progress.

Wanting to be nearer, Jemma stepped more into his space; Fitz answered by slipping his arm around her lower back, snugging her just a little closer. His eyes were faintly wide, as if he were afraid she'd protest his move, but when she only smiled at him, he relaxed even more, his hold on her growing more sure.

She felt that pull again, the magnetism she'd felt that day in his basement, the inexorable draw into his orbit. This time, she let herself fully surrender to it. When his forehead came to rest against hers as they danced, her eyes fluttered shut and she drank in the sensation of him being so, so close, closer than he'd ever been. When her nose bumped gently alongside his, she revelled in the scent of him, soap and a hint of cologne, and thrilled at the fan of his breath over her lips. Every nerve inside her felt alive, every point of contact between them hyper-sensitive, thrumming with possibility. If she tilted her face just so, just a fraction, she could kiss him-but she held back. She wanted to let him decide, as a show of trust, to let it be his decision to take that last step.

The moment hung suspended between them, both almost afraid to breathe, until Fitz finally leaned in and caught her lips with his in the softest, sweetest of kisses.

Jemma felt a warm, delighted rush sweep through her veins as she all but melted into him, responding in kind. She tried to infuse it with all of her heartfelt apologies, but there was nothing bittersweet about the way Fitz kissed her; it was longing, pure and simple, growing into cautious certainty.

They stopped their gentle sway as Fitz kissed her again, still sweet, letting go of her hand in order to lightly cup her jaw. She could feel his fingers trembling against her skin, and her heart softened; he was nervous. It was possible this was his first kiss. Flooded with a sudden tenderness she didn't expect, Jemma slid a hand into his hair and pressed closer, letting him know that she wanted this, wanted him, and wanted it to be perfect.

When they broke the kiss, they stayed close, breathing each other in, willing the racing of their hearts to slow. Then Jemma leaned back just far enough to look at him, and found that Fitz was smiling bashfully. She couldn't help but smile in return, soaking in the brush of his thumb against the small of her back, feeling bright and giddy and hopeful for something more. Maybe this was forgiveness. Maybe it was Fitz wanting a future with her included more than how much she'd hurt him. Whatever it was, she didn't want to argue about it. Instead, her smile widened before she stepped back in to kiss him again, sighing happily as both his arms went around her, holding her tight.

But before it had a chance to go anywhere, to deepen or heat up or anything else, they heard the sound of a car pulling into the driveway at the front of the house, followed by the doors opening and shutting and voices that were all too familiar. Jemma pulled away with a gasp.

"Oh no," she cried. "I didn't text Trip to tell him that I found you."

Fitz looked toward the front yard, where they could still hear Trip and Daisy talking, and frowned. "And obviously my phone's dead, so Daisy hasn't…" He sighed, then let go of her shoulders to take her hand in his. "Come on."

Jemma let him walk her over to the side gate leading out of the back yard, holding up her skirt with her free hand so she wouldn't trip over it. Fitz let her go through first, then shut the gate behind them. Together, they headed around the side of the house to the driveway.

Trip and Daisy were still talking, voices overlapping as they headed up the front walk toward the door. Fitz stepped out of the shadow of the house and called out to them. "Daisy?"

She stopped in her tracks, Trip colliding into her back, and her head whipped around towards them. "Fitz!" she hissed, trying to keep her voice level down due to the late hour. "Do you not know how to answer your damn phone?!"

Fitz grimaced, holding his hands up to ward her off as she stalked toward them. "Sorry! I couldn't, my-my phone died, it wasn't just you, no one could get in touch with me-"

"And I left my phone inside," Jemma added contritely. "And when he got home, I just-I forgot, I'm sorry too-"

Daisy squinted at them. "What are you doing outside in the dark, anyway?" Her mouth dropped open slightly. "Were you two making out?"

"No-" Fitz started, but both he and Jemma glanced at each other, wide-eyed, and that was all the evidence Daisy needed.

"Oh my god!" she shrieked. "You were!"

"Daisy!" Fitz stepped forward, flapping his hands like he wanted to shush her, and Trip-who was busy tapping at his phone-elbowed her sharply, though he was smiling widely.

Jemma went up on the balls of her feet, trying to look at Trip's phone. "What are you doing?"

"Oh, me?" Trip glanced up at her before going back to his phone. "I'm texting Bobbi to let her know what's up before she and Hunter end up here, and this turns into a real party. Which I wouldn't mind, but I don't think Fitz's mom will be down for it." He tapped one last time at his phone with a flourish, then turned his grin on them. "So, what's the deal here? Are you guys good?"

"Yeah," Daisy chimed in, smiling just as wide. "I mean, if you guys were making out, something's gone right, but seriously...are you two okay?"

Jemma looked up at Fitz, not wanting to answer for him, and found that he had turned to look at her as well. A soft smile bloomed on his face. Then he reached out to slip his arm around her shoulders, carefully pulling her in against his side. "Yeah," he said, never taking his eyes off her face. "Yeah, I think we will be."

Looking into his eyes, seeing the warmth there she thought she'd lost, Jemma believed they would be, too.