Simmons had been wrong.

She'd thought that being with her team, remembering how much they cared for her, letting herself care for them, would weaken her resolve. Though it was true that allowing herself to spend time with them, to follow Coulson's lead, hear May's strong, calming words, laugh with Skye, hold Fitz's hand, had reminded her of how she would always hunger for more, that she'd never be satisfied with just one more moment, it hadn't weakened her.

Remembering how much they meant to her had only driven her determination to ensure their continued survival. She was more frightened of letting them down than letting them go, though she was terrified of the latter.

Fitz's fingers were still tangled between hers and their linked hands held her down like an anchor for a small ship. She soaked in the feeling of it, the smell of the trees and the sound of his voice, the warm sunshine and the feeling of fresh air passing in and out of her.

She could follow the oxygen from that air, across the membranes of her lungs and into her blood, through her heart, pumped to her tissues, migrating all the way into the mitochondrias of her cells where it allowed them to convert energy stored in macromolecules into the form of ATP so that she could move and think and digest her breakfast.

It was beautiful. The entire world, as broken as it was at the moment, was spectacular, a wonder, and so was the man holding her hand.

She loved him more than anything in the universe, and he had no idea. She was going to die, and he had no idea how much she loved him.

Except that he did. Her Fitz, the one from when she was from, knew how she felt about him. She told him every single day, sometimes twice (sometimes more than that). If he knew, someday this one would know.

How bad could it be, really, to open the box a little early? It wasn't as if he would remember, and it wasn't as if he didn't feel the same way.

"These woods make me think of that film we saw together, the one with the dog," Fitz mused.

"Old Yeller?" she guessed.

He laughed. "Nah, the other one. The one with the happy ending."

"The one that made you cry?" she teased, swinging their arms playfully as they followed the others. "Even though everyone was fine in the end?"

"They did their best to make you think the poor mutt was going to doggie heaven though, didn't they?" he defended.

"I knew he wasn't," Simmons reminded him, chuckling softly. "I knew little Tony's plan would work."

"You knew the dog would run," he agreed warmly. "You were a real pain in the arse about it too," he added, nudging her affectionately. "'Oh Fitz, stop being silly,'" he mimicked, "'of course the dog isn't going to die. He's going to run, just like Tony planned.' Spoilers."

'I'll show you real spoiler,' she thought, breathing in his scent as she watched the light catch his laughing eyes. 'Just come a little closer.'

Was it really too much for a dying woman to ask for one last kiss? (Or two, or three, or a dozen). She could easily call up the memory of her own Fitz's lips, pressed against hers, and she wondered if this version of him would feel any different, not that she would mind. On the contrary she was, strangely, curious.

She was seriously considering it, debating between giving him a warning first or just going for it and surprising him, when a shout from the front of the group stole her attention.

"We've found it," Coulson called. "Leaky, Niehaus, FitzSimmons, let's shut this thing off."

Simmons cursed herself for her hesitation. It seemed as if she'd have to wait, but she was adamant she'd still follow through.

If she was going to say goodbye, she was going to do it properly.

/-/-/

"Everyone needs to stay away from the device unless absolutely necessary," Leaky announced, holding out her arms and gesturing for the group to move away from where the machine hummed a few dozen meters behind her. "Further than that," she told them, pushing out with her hands.

They continued to shuffle backwards, exchanging puzzled mutterings.

"What's going on?" Coulson asked.

Leaky and Niehaus eyed Fitz and, after a nervous glance at Simmons, who narrowed her eyes questioningly, he nodded.

She was going to have to find out eventually.

"We believe that- by now- the machine will be emitting high levels of radiation," Niehaus informed him. Skye and most of the civilians' eyes widened and quite a few took a couple more steps back. "Any negative effects will be erased when time resets of course," he assured them. "We just don't want anyone having… an unpleasant reaction… right now."

"Except for the engineer who's going to turn it off," Simmons commented tartly beside him, stiffening.

Fitz couldn't look at her. That wasn't even the worst part and she was already angry with him for the lie she knew he'd been telling her.

"Even if the levels aren't high enough to make you sick, the area should still be cleared so no one is caught in the explosion when it's turned off," Leaky went on. Once again, she eyed Fitz wearily. "Except… well… I'm sorry agent Fitz, we didn't make it in time."

"It's OK," he mumbled, blood chilling, though he tried not to show it. "At least I'll have some motivation to do the job properly… er… not that I wouldn't have anyway."

He risked turning to Simmons who stared back at him, jaw clenched. He wasn't sure if she was furious or about to burst into tears.

"We really are," Niehaus pressed. "Sorry, for everything."

"I'd say don't do it again," Coulson replied flatly, "but…Well, let's just hope you don't do it again."

The pair nodded in acknowledgement.

"Why does it need to be Fitz?" May asked calmly. "Can't one of you do it?"

"That would break protocol," Simmons explained icily, glaring at them. "They need to ensure their own survival in case something goes wrong, because they are the most knowledgeable about the machine and its effects on time and space."

The two scientists lowered their heads and shuffled their feet, appearing as if they'd rather be anywhere else at the moment.

"I can do it," Fitz declared bravely. He turned to Coulson. "Sir, I know I can."

"Fitz no," Skye objected, shaking her head, horrified.

"He'll be OK," Coulson assured her heavily. "None of this is permanent."

"It's still going to hurt," Simmons muttered, her hand clutching his. "Can we have moment?" she asked the others, her gaze sweeping over each of them before resting on their leader.

Coulson nodded somberly. "Of course."

One by one the rest of the group left them, a teary eyed Skye lingering before Coulson draped an arm around her shoulders and led her away. Simmons watched them go before turning back to Fitz, holding back her own tears.

"Hey," Fitz soothed, seeing her expression and trying to smile reassuringly as he rubbed the sides of her arms. "I know you're worried about me but I'll be back, I promise, this isn't goodbye forever."

"You can't do this," she told him desperately, voice cracking. "I know you think that you can but-"

"I know how to fix the machine," he told her firmly, dropping his hands, growing defensive and prickly at her perceived accusation. "And yes, I'm bloody terrified, but that isn't going to stop me from trying. I'm an agent, just like May, just like Ward. Just because I can't swoop down from a plane and-"

"Ugh, Fitz!" she hissed, throwing her head back in exasperation. "This isn't about that. I know how brave you are, how strong, how clever. You are the most amazing person I've ever met, but you are not prepared for this. You aren't ready to die."

Her praise caught him off guard and he found himself fumbling for his next words. "You… you really think that?"

She sighed, smiling as she shook her head in disbelief. "I do, and you never could see it," she told him. Her arm moved up so she could hold the side of his face with smooth, gentle fingers and he pushed his cheek into her hand, unable to take his eyes off of her, his pulse quickening at what she was saying, the way she was looking at him. "You're the most amazing person I've ever met," she repeated softly, "my favourite person... I can't let you do this."

He placed his hand over hers, stroking the side of it with his thumb. "I have to."

Her lip trembled. "Then I'll come with you," she decided firmly. "You might need my help anyway."

"I can manage on my own," he objected swiftly, horrified at the idea of her being killed with him, even if it were only temporary.

"I'll come with you," she insisted, taking her hand back, eyes flaring as if he'd offended her.

"Jemma…" he pleaded.

"No," she snapped shrilly. "No, you are not dying alone. I won't let you, it's too awful to do by yourself."

"And how would you know that?" he protested loudly, needing to stop her, to keep her safe. "Why are you talking as if you know how it feels? Why-"

"Because I do know how it feels!" she shouted, silencing him.

It was as if someone had knocked the wind out of him. He couldn't breathe but he didn't understand why, he didn't understand what she was telling him.

They stared at each other, Simmons wheezing in shaky breaths, about as winded as he was, while she waited for him to respond, seeming stunned by her own declaration.

"What?" he managed to choke out after a moment.

"You were wrong, you didn't die Fitz," she told him, staring past his shoulder. There was a long pause and her eyes grew bright, threatening to spill over but she closed them, taking a deep breath, and went on. "I did."

Fitz narrowed his eyes, not comprehending, his gaze locked onto her as she continued to look beyond him. "No... no you didn't." He hadn't meant to disagree, his objection came out before he could stop it. What she'd said hadn't made any sense at all.

She laughed, not out of amusement but from something awful, a sound born of twisted misery and horror. "I only have one pupil Fitz," she reminded him dryly, glancing his way at last. "Only one in each eye, why do you think that is?"

Fitz shook his head, the world spinning out from under his feet. "No."

That wasn't an answer. He knew why, knew her words before she spoke them.

"It's because I don't have a body," she explained, pouring them out into the world, making them real.

"No," he repeated, wanting her to stop but needing her to continue, needing to know.

"I don't have a body," she persisted, "and so there was nothing to meld with this body, nothing that could harm it. I was the perfect candidate for this mission, the only one who could do it."

"No."

She wasn't crying but Fitz was. Large, hot tears rolled down his cheeks as he shook his head, slowly, back and forth, unable to look at her.

It made sense, too much sense for him to keep denying it, and Simmons wouldn't lie to him, not ever, not about this.

There were sharp things inside of him, jagged, pointed metal that gouged his gut each time he sucked in a breath, as he thought about what was to come, what was looming before them.

They were there though, facing it, in that moment. So he sniffed loudly, lifting his chin to meet her gaze once more, not bothering to wipe his face.

"How... how are you-" he held up his hands, flailing them inarticulately before him, at a loss for a gesture as well as a sentence to ask his question.

"How am I here?" she guessed, putting together the simple phrase that had escaped him.

He nodded, shuddering as he stifled a whimper. She didn't seem it but she must have been terrified, and he didn't want to make things worse by breaking down in front of her.

"I was in a machine," she told him flatly, he thought he saw her body tremble as she spoke but she hid it well. "It's... it's stolen Hydra technology. You remember who they are, right?"

Fitz nodded, not trusting himself to speak. They were the bad guys, from World War II, he'd learned about them in the History of SHIELD.

"This was always going to be a one way trip," she went on. "There's no way to put me back now...besides our model isn't permanent, they can't... they couldn't have kept me that way." She exhaled shakily and a tear dripped down the side of her face. "N-not th-that I'd... w-want them to... it's horrible." At last she let out a sob, then another, squeaking softly with such anguish that it would have broken his heart into a thousand pieces if it wasn't already shattered.

It hurt seeing her this way, so afraid, in so much pain and it hurt even more when he realized how brave she'd been. She'd kept everything to herself this whole time, gone on the mission, did as she was told for the good of everyone else even though she was living in hell. She was walking through a nightmare for a world she was about to leave behind and she'd been doing it all alone.

"Jemma," he soothed, carefully touching her shoulder, unsure if it was what she wanted, ready to take his hand back if she drew away.

She didn't though. Instead she shuffled forward jerkily, wrapping her arms around him and pushing her face into his shoulder, shaking with quiet sobs that grew louder when Fitz returned the embrace and she held him tighter, as if afraid he'd let go.

He kissed her head and stroked her hair, not knowing what to say, how to fix it, as he cried silently with her, tightening his own grip because it suddenly felt as if she could disappear at any moment. She was so warm, buzzing with life, the complete opposite of the corpses which made him too afraid to enter their lab but, like them, her time had run out. He couldn't let go because then she'd slip away forever and the best part of himself would be gone too.

"It was so stupid," she whispered, after a minute. "How I died."

Fitz wasn't sure he wanted to hear about how she'd died, to think of her as dead. He couldn't stop it, neither of them could, and knowing without being able to do anything would be agony, but if that was what she needed he wasn't going to argue.

"And when I died." She squeaked. "... I just wish... I wish I'd had more time," she said softly. "I know... a lot of people do... even when they've had a whole lifetime... but I wasn't done yet, there was so much more I wanted to do and... we were finally... happy."

'Aren't we happy now?' Fitz thought, but he kept it to himself, listening.

"You don't understand, do you?" she asked, leaning back so she could see his face. Her eyes were red and swollen and her cheeks were soaked in her own tears but she smiled fondly at him. "Because we are happy... right now."

"Something is going to happen," he guessed numbly.

She nodded, still smiling as if she were proud of him for answering a test question correctly.

"Things are going to go very wrong, and we're going to be...broken, for a little while." Her smile faltered for for a few heartbeats before it returned. "It seems like a long time but in the grand scheme of things... if I'd lived... it... it wouldn't have been."

Her expression was warm as she reached out to touch the side of his face to her palm, gently rubbing her thumb under his eye.

"We were finally right again, not the same but that didn't matter because what we were was still beautiful, everything I wanted." She laughed, a real laugh that made her eyes sparkly. "Well, almost." She shook her head, a sly grin bringing light from darkness. "You had no idea," she marveled, stroking his skin with her thumb again. "I guess I can't really blame you for that."

It was strange, that she kept talking about the future him in past tense, and he dreaded the awful thing that was going to pull them apart, but he did like the feel of her hand, cool on his burning cheek. He was used to her touching him, but not like this, and it was wonderful.

She chuckled. "I remember you were in the middle of assuring me that I could forget what you'd told me in the med pod," she explained. "That you could move on, that we could move on together. I've never seen you so surprised as you were after I kissed you."

'What were we doing having important discussions in a med pod?' Fitz wondered before he took in the rest of what she'd said.

"Wait... you did what?" he sputtered.

"Actually, you looked exactly the way you do now," she teased.

Too much was happening at once, swirling around in his head hazily.

"But… but… why?" he fumbled, confused.

She crossed her arms and raised her eyebrows, unimpressed. "Why do you think?"

Fitz was at a loss for words.

Simmons rolled her eyes and puffed out a breath. "Let me show you then," she offered.

With practiced precision, she reached up to place a gentle kiss on his lips, pausing as she pulled back to float her face in front of his before she went the rest of the way. Then she waited, watching him intently, but he still couldn't manage to reply.

"Please say something," she begged, doubt creeping its way into her expression.

Damnit, she was going to think he didn't feel the same way, that he was freaked out. His tied up tongue was hurting her. He had to snap out of it.

"You're going to kiss me?" he asked quietly.

She nodded. "Quite often actually."

"We'll be together?" he inquired, needing to clarify, head spinning.

Another nod and her mouth twitched upwards slightly.

He bit his lip, feeling a wave of fresh tears spilling over his eyelids. "A-and th-then you're… you're going to…"

"Then I'm going to die," she told him, unsettlingly calm, as if she didn't have the strength to show her sorrow anymore.

Fitz's heart was smashed into more pieces than he'd thought could come out of it. "Jemma," he squeaked, leaping forward to pull her into a solid embrace.

She lifted her arms, rubbing circles onto his back as he broke into uncontrollable sobs. "Shhh," she soothed. "It's OK."

"N-no," he spluttered. "No, no, no, no, you can't. I w-won't let you."

"There's nothing you can do love," she murmured, pulling him closer.

His heart twisted at the term of endearment. It should have been wonderful, pure bliss, but it had been tainted.

"We'll stay here then," he decided, abandoning reason, voice watery. "You haven't died here, you'll be safe. We can be together, I want that too. We'll go back to the school and-"

She turned to kiss the side his face, stopping him, before she nuzzled her cheek against his and her next words were whispered into his ear. "Fitz you know we can't do that." He whimpered and she kissed him again. "Shhh." She resumed rubbing circles into his back. "It'll be OK."

"I can't turn off that machine if it's going to kill you," he croaked. "I c-can't…" It wasn't going to be OK. The world was truly ending, exploding and collapsing around him.

"Then I'll do it," she said softly.

"No," he protested desperately, tightening his grip on her.

She smoothed the back of his hair then softly kissed his cheek. "You'll be OK." Her fingers wrapped around his shoulders and, very gently, she pushed him away.

Then she turned around and, slowly, made her way towards the machine. Fitz followed, unable to stop her because he knew she was right. Not turning it off would do worse than kill her, it would erase any time she had left. This way, at least, there was future and maybe that future could be changed.

Her hands shook as she reached for the first power cell, the one in section 4, and she flinched, squeezing them into fists. "I-I need you to tell me how," she whispered.

She really was going to do it. He couldn't bear how incredibly wrong that was.

"No you don't," he told her, gathering his courage. "Let me."

He knelt beside her and set to work, refusing to ask for assistance, refusing to let her be the one to end her life. Grateful, she curled her arm around his back and leaned against him, watching.

His head wasn't throbbing and he didn't feel as if he were going to throw up, so he guessed the radiation levels were at least low enough that the effects weren't immediate, which made his work much easier. So there was that. However it was hard to think of the fact that they weren't going to live long enough to start feeling ill as a silver lining.

"Have I ever told you, dear, that you have lovely hands?" Simmons remarked, making him blush despite everything that was happening.

"All of you is beautiful," he answered. It was true, and she should know.

She chuckled and kissed his eyebrow. "I never said the rest of you wasn't," she teased.

It was good to know that, even under the threat of being blown up, he'd kept his ability to transform into a human beet.

He continued, trying not to think about what he was doing. Every so often he would turn to plant a frantic kiss on Simmons' face or her hair. A few times their lips met and she pulled up a smile that shone sunshine into him.

He stopped when he reached the last switch.

"That's it then," she remarked softly.

"It is," he agreed, halfway to stone.

"Can I have just one more minute?" she pleaded. She sounded so small.

He pulled her into his arms and rained kisses onto her face. "You can have anything darling," he murmured.

She turned her head so that the side of it lay on his shoulder and her forehead touched his jaw, silent as he traced patterns on the skin of her back.

More than a minute had passed when she spoke.

"Live your life," she requested, he hated how resigned she sounded. "Live your life and love me, whoever I am. That's what I want."

"I will," he swore. "But I'm not giving up. I'll find a way to save you."

She made a noise between a laugh and a sob, lifting her head to grin at him and run tops of her fingers down the side of his cheek, making his skin tingle. "You are so stubborn," she mused before kissing him again. "I love you."

"I love you too Jemma," he answered, keeping his voice even and strong. For her.

She glowed as he spoke, happy and at peace. Then she smiled at him and, before he could stop her, her arm rocketed towards the machine and she flicked the switch.

The searing heat lasted only an instant, after that they were both gone.

/-/-/

Stay tuned for the epilogue :D

The Fringe reference is the comment about the hands. It is a modified version of when William Bell tells Astrid "Has anyone ever told you, dear, that you have lovely hands". I think he kinda makes her uncomfortable though, 'cause he's possessing the body of her friend at the time.

The movie about the dog is made up, but the kid is named Tony after Antoine Triplett (I missed him in this fic).

The stuff about oxygen and mitochondria is what I remember from school. It should be true, but I don't actually have a reference.

EDIT: There is another Fringe reference I completely forgot about. It is the line "Live your life and love me." It is what the wife of a man who uses her work to create a time machine tells him when he tries to create a time bubble to stay in a time before she had Alzheimer's in the fourth season episode And Those We've Left Behind