#14 Choose your path and walk away

It was a normal, peaceful day until Fitz's phone started ringing. He took it out of his pocket, surprised, then looked at the screen and paled instantly, murmuring something about how he had to take the call, walking quickly out of the lab. Simmons looked after him, concerned, but waited for him to come back, wondering what could have happened. After a few minutes, she was still alone in the room, and it started being a little disturbing. She took her gloves off, moved to the door, opened it and looked around, searching for her him. He was nowhere to be seen, so she walked down the corridor, trying to think of any place he could have gone.

Fitz was just around the corner, leaning against the wall, his eyes closed and his hand a tight fist slamming the wall next to him over and over with a strength that had to leave bruises on his skin, if not worse. She rushed to him and caught his hand before he could hit the wall again. He looked at her in confusion, as if surprised to see her there, his eyes miles away from where they were.

"What happened?" she asked, still holding his hand in hers, hoping it would help him calm down.

He closed his eyes again, pulling his head back, resting it on the wall.

"Fitz?" Trying again, she moved her other hand to his forearm. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," he shook his head, blinking a few times before looking at her again.

"Fitz..." she said again, trying to figure out how to help. "You don't have to tell me, but if you want-"

"Come on, we have work to do." He moved away from the wall, his hand slipping away from hers.

She followed him quietly, knowing better than to push for answers. All she could do was be there in case he reached for her; she hoped that he would. For the next twenty minutes they stubbornly got their work done, but she could easily tell the difference from their normal routine. Fitz's hands were shaking, things were slipping out of them and falling from his work table, his eyes were unfocused and his mind far away, analysing problems that had nothing to do with the lab.

"I have to go, I have to talk with May," he blurted suddenly, while putting-or more like slamming-his screwdriver onto the table and storming out of the room before she could even properly nod. Whatever happened must have been bad, since Fitz hadn't even put his tools back to their proper place, like he always did.

This time Melinda May wasn't so easy to convince. She was stubborn and he couldn't change her mind, no matter what he said. Fitz couldn't even bring himself to ask the question that had been silently eating him for weeks, not when her answer to his simple request was so strict. He stood there, looking at her sadly shaking her head once again, and pointing at the timetable. The realisation that there was only one thing left for him to do was slowly sinking in. He didn't like that prospect at all.

He controlled himself enough not to slam the door as he was leaving, but then he stormed through the corridors to the bathroom and smashed the door shut behind him, happy that he was there alone. His hands crashed onto the sink as he bent his head low, trying to calm down and find a solution, even though he knew there wasn't one-nothing but the one he already knew. His eyes caught sight of a soap dish and a small vase with an artificial flower, and with one swift motion he pushed them away from the ceramic surface, the sound of glass shattering on the hard floor not enough to soothe his pain.

It was not fair.

Not fair, not fair not fair.

Serves me right for being so careless, he thought, finally surrendering to sorrow. He should have remembered how it always ended. He should have known better. Life wasn't a song, where everything somehow worked out in the end and everyone got to live happily and carefree. He should have known better than to allow himself a few moments of weakness, in the foolish belief that maybe this time something, anything, would be different.

Whatever happened that memorable afternoon, the effects gloomed over them both for weeks. Simmons could see it each time they were in the same room. Fitz tried to behave normally, she had to give him that-he was still speaking to her, helping her, working and even joking, but it was clear that his mind wasn't really there, that there was no happy smile behind his humour. She tried asking him about it, but each time he either waved the matter off, or just looked away with a pained expression that made her heart sink, wishing that she never asked. With each day he was clearly more tired, probably overworking himself in his part time job in order to keep his mind busy and distracted.

After a week she accepted the fact that he wouldn't tell her what was wrong and decided to focus on cheering him up, or at least taking his mind away from his problems. So she started sneaking the more difficult parts of their project away from him so he wouldn't exhaust himself. She brought him tea and made sure that there were only cheerful, optimistic songs playing on the radio, trying to figure out how she could help him. He always thanked her with a pale but grateful smile, his tired eyes catching just a shadow of sparkle when he looked at her, but they always dimmed again only a moment later. He never explained what was bothering him.

"Gee, Simmons, let it go," Skye whined while sitting in their living room in front of her laptop, helping her search for the best ways to cheer someone up. "You're overdoing it. As much as I like Fitz and as much as I was encouraging you, it's clearly not working between you two and you have to chill. It will work on its own or it won't, and you'll find a better guy. What are you, a masochist?"

"It's not like that, Skye." Simmons shook her head, tearing her eyes away for a second from a page about making origami cranes as a gift. "You don't get it. It's not that he's simply being a jerk or ignoring me. It's... He's always there for me. Always. With work problems, with personal problems, with me simply feeling awful because of hormones. He's there, supporting me or making me smile or just being there in case I need him. But each time I try to do the same, to be there for him, he pushes me away before I manage to get closer. He's a good guy, he just doesn't let me be good for him."

"Whatever. You can't see what I can see, Simmons. And what I've seen is that the two of you are practically dating without the actual dating part. You hang out every chance you get, you talk non-stop, you always sit next to each other at lunch, he brings you drinks and takes your coat and you text him first thing in the morning, I've seen you. What will be next, sleeping on his arm?" Simmons tried to hide her face behind her hair and was grateful that Skye was too occupied with her rambling to notice her guilty look. "It may look sweet to you, but the truth is he hasn't done a thing to change anything, because it's convenient for him. He gets all the perks without the cons, and he doesn't even have to make an effort. I'm just worried about you. I'm afraid that he's keeping you on the hook." Skye had entered full lecturing mode and there was no stopping her. "He uses you, like... an emergency exit. In case, you know, he doesn't find someone better, he could always go to you if he needs a plus one to go somewhere or to just burden someone with his problems."

"He never did," Simmons whispered, pulling her hands into fists.

"What?"

"He never asked me to go anywhere with him," she explained. "I did. More than once. And he never, ever complained to me. About anything. Not even when he had to clean my mess up at the conference, or convince the board to keep listening to my presentation. But he was always there every single time I felt awful because Hand was being difficult or because I was too tired to move. So who is using who here, Skye? Because he's never been anything but good and nice to me."

Skye was silent for a moment, looking at her with sad eyes.

"Maybe," she finally admitted. "But as you yourself pointed out many times, he also never implied that he would like to move past that."

Simmons just grit her teeth and went back to searching.

She thought she was ready the next day. The plan was carefully thought-out, each detail taken into consideration, and even Skye had given up on whining and trying to change her mind. Simmons waited patiently for their lunch break before casually starting a conversation and smoothly circling around topics until she got close enough to the one she really wanted to talk about.

"There's an exhibit in a the science museum," she started, looking at Fitz picking at his food and barely eating anything. "About a variety of species with the highest DNA similarity to humans, so of course most of it is about monkeys. They changed their garden into a zoo exhibit and they've got 25 species of monkeys there. It's more than an hour away from here, but I thought that maybe if you would like to… um, maybe we could go there on Saturday?" She waited for his reply, hoping that she had been right, and would finally make him smile.

"I can't go." He looked at her with sad eyes.

Another plan failed, then. But this time she was prepared and didn't let it ruin everything. She was ready to propose something else when surprisingly, Fitz beat her to it.

"We could go to a park on Sunday though. For a walk or something." He started twisting his hands, a little nervous. "In the, you know, park? With trees and all that?"

"Oh." She couldn't think of a proper answer so she just nodded her head enthusiastically for a few seconds, unable to believe her luck. "Yes, that's... that's a really lovely idea, it would be nice to go there and... and see the trees." She would start rambling in a second, she just knew it. "Oh, we could go on a picnic! If the weather is nice, that is. I mean, it would be best if it's nice, if we are going for a walk, but even if it rains it might be fun too, we could just make a fort of... of umbrellas over the blanket," she slowed down a little, noticing his stare and the slight shadow of a smile on his face. "I'll make some food," she promised.

Luckily Sunday was as sunny as the name suggested and she didn't have to worry about rain ruining the day. She made all the best snacks she could think of and paced impatiently through the apartment until Fitz came to pick her up. There was still something eating him up; he seemed more nervous than usual and no matter what she tried to do, it wouldn't go away. After 20 minutes of a walk full of forced smiles and pretty but empty words they finally sat down on a blanket spread over the grass, talking about the latest science articles. She took a thermos with hot tea out of her bag and poured some into the plastic cups she'd brought. She handed one to Fitz and then took out her ace in the hole: her famous prosciutto and buffalo mozzarella sandwich, with just a hint of her homemade pesto aioli, a combination that had never let her down before. She handed one to Fitz, who thanked her with a small smile.

"How's it?" she asked a little nervously after he took a bite, hoping that at least the sandwich might cheer him up.

He looked up at her with something in his eyes that she couldn't quite name, but it made her feel anxious.

"It's delicious," he said, his voice deadly serious.

"Really?" She smiled happily at him, not noticing his fingers drumming restlessly and his face tensing. "That's-"

"I'm moving to Shanghai," he blurted, closing his eyes with pained expression.

"What?" She felt colder in an instant and the park had somehow gotten a lot more quiet, everything around her narrowed to him and the nonsense he'd just said.

"I'm moving." He opened his eyes and looked at her, taking a shaky breath. "Right after our project is finished."

There was silence, and she couldn't comprehend what was happening or how to stop it.

"B-but why?" she finally managed to stutter.

He blinked a few times and looked away, at people walking in the distance and sighed again.

"Advanced Idea Mechanics offered me a contract job there. I agreed this Tuesday," he admitted.

"You don't want to work here anymore?" She was desperately looking for something that made sense, because she couldn't just accuse him of making that decision without her; she had no right to that.

"I do. It's a great job and S.H.I.E.L.D. is giving me a lot of bonuses, but... well, the pay I'll get there is better than the one I have here." He looked at her as if searching for something. "Besides, S.H.I.E.L.D. never mentioned anything about prolonging my contract or the possibility of a salary raise."

"Can... can't you find something else here? There's a lot of other research companies, S.H.I.E.L.D. isn't the only one." She didn't want to sound pathetic but couldn't really help herself.

"They've given me really good terms, Jemma."

"But they make weapons," she tried. "Most of their contracts are from the military."

"I know, and that part sucks, but the salary is really good and it's not like I have that many other options."

She was silent for a long moment, trying to process it all and find a solution. She couldn't.

"It doesn't make sense," she said finally, slowly and carefully. "You like this job, I know you do. I know for a fact that you hate working for the military, you've mentioned it more than once. S.H.I.E.L.D. gives you so many opportunities, so many fields and projects to choose from. And... and we could work together more, we've only just started and we... I thought that we could build something good. Together," she admitted, looking him straight in the eye. "You're throwing all of this away, the possibilities and our relationship and everything, just because they're giving you more money? I don't believe it."

"I need money," he said, but Simmons was still staring at him, daring him to finally say what was really going on. "My mum, you've seen her. She's sick. She needs medication. That phone call, that was about her. She fainted." Simmons' look shifted to alarmed, but he just shook his head. "She's all right, nothing serious happened, but she had a checkup and apparently she needs some additional medicine, and I can't afford them with this salary. She's doesn't work." He answered the question before she could convince herself to ask it. "She was a seamstress and she can't sew with shaky hands. Do you know how much her meds cost? Oh, sure the basic ones are affordable, but the others? The ones that are not absolutely necessary but would actually make her better? Let's just say they are not cheap. I work at S.H.I.E.L.D., I deliver, I do some online tutoring, I sell patents, and it's still not enough to cover the expenses of living for both of us and her medication."

She couldn't find a way to fix this. Not on her own at least.

"Maybe if you tell this to S.H.I.E.L.D., they would-" she started.

"I asked May if I could go visit just after Mum fainted," he interrupted impatiently. "She wouldn't allow it. Said that we have a deadline and I could go on a weekend. Somehow I doubt they would renew my contract with better terms just because my mother is sick."

Silence fell on them then and they sat there avoiding each other's eyes, the food she'd carefully prepared that morning long forgotten and their tea turned cold.

"Why haven't you told me?" she asked, looking up at him and trying to be strong.

"Because it's my problem. No reason to throw it on your head too."

"But I could have helped! I could have thought of something to do about it! Or...or at least be there for you," she added quietly. "And now you're leaving."

"Yes."

"Well, we could still be... we could still talk. By phone or online or just e-mails," she said, hoping to find something, anything positive that would help her. "We can still keep... this," she motioned awkwardly between them. "Maybe I could come visit, or there might be a conference and-"

"Stop it, Simmons." He tried to make his voice determined but she could hear the pain in it. "It won't work. It never works. I have to leave and you're staying here. So let's just... leave things as they are. No need to dwell on possibilities and make it any more complicated than it already is." She looked at him closely, because his word choice was odd, to say the least.

"Why? Why not? Why won't you just take a risk and try?" she asked. "Just because it didn't work before doesn't mean that this time it will be the same. You can't know how it will end if you haven't even given it a chance and tried."

"I told you," he reminded her. "It never works for me. Relationships, love, it never works for me. The only person that's stayed with me is my mother and that's because she's my mother. Everyone else just keeps leaving, and I can't really blame them. I ruin things. Life is full of tragedy, so I'm just trying to make it less hurtful for the people around me. That's why it's better to just leave the possibilities. You can't get hurt if you don't try. At the end you'd just be disappointed that the effort was not worth it." He stopped himself, realising that he had got too emotional, said too much. "That's why we should just say goodbye. That's the best way, for us, to just take our own paths before things get complicated and you get hurt. You'll be all right, you'll see. Time will pass and everything will be fine. I know you're sad now, but you'll get over it."

"Why are you so concerned about me?"

"You know why."

"No, I don't. I don't understand and you never explain anything!"

"Because I don't want to trouble you!" he blurted. "Because I care about you and don't want you to get hurt!"

The world around her swayed a little, because that was it. That was the sign she had been hoping and waiting for the whole time. That was the sign that Fitz actually cared about her. That was him admitting that he felt something besides friendship towards her. And just after he had crossed off all hope for them, she could clearly see what she had been trying to figure out for months- Fitz liked her too, but he wasn't letting himself, sure that he would just end up hurting her.

And it did indeed hurt.

"I mean, look at us," he said, noticing her expression and clearly misreading it. "I can't even take you for a walk without ruining it. I'm sorry, I didn't want this to be that way," he apologized with sadness and regret. "I wanted today to be happy and pleasant, so that we could have a nice time together before I leave. I was going to tell you tomorrow, at work, but I just couldn't... hold it in anymore. I'm sorry that I ruined your Sunday."

She just shook her head, focusing on something he had said, something important that had caught her attention, that connected with the things she'd been thinking about ever since he told her why he changed the words to songs.

"Memories," she finally realised. "You have memories."

"What?" He looked at her confused, and a little worried.

"After it all ends, you have beautiful memories that make the sad things worth it," she explained. "It makes it worth it to try, even when you are almost sure you'll fail."

She sat there, waiting for his response, hoping that he would understand, that she could somehow change his mind. Instead he just looked at her, sadness and resignation evident in his eyes.

When Simmons came back home, she barely noticed anything around her, focusing only on getting to her room and hiding under her covers, hoping that the pain wouldn't find her there. She threw her shoes off and walked slowly through the flat, her face an unmoving mask.

It wasn't fair. After all of that, this was the end? They would just get separated and everything would be over before it even started?

"Simmons?" Skye called from the sofa, concerned by her friend's defeated state. "What has he done?"

"Don't." Simmons shook her head, not feeling like having a conversation. "Just… don't. Not now."

"Jemma-"

"Please," she pleaded, her voice empty and weak. "I just… need to be alone for a moment."

Skye didn't look convinced, but she nodded hesitantly.

"You were right," Simmons admitted quietly when she made it to her door.

Fitz didn't want to move forward and she had to finally let it go.

A/N:

The end.

Just kidding! Chapter's title is from "Running Away" by Skowyt (from "The Witcher" Soundtrack)

Making origami cranes is an idea from "How to Cheer Someone Up (with Tips and Examples)" because we all know that Simmons would research it first.