The usual disclaimer: characters belong to Marvel and AOS; written mistakes in this particular story belong to me. Many a thanks for reading!

Once he calms himself enough to politely accept the little plastic SciTech key fob and his cell-phone from the guard behind the desk, Fitz and Skye begin the slow trek towards the exit of the police station. She must know that he's deliberately walking at a glacial pace because she places her hand firmly on his back, pushing forward whenever she senses he's about to dawdle even more.

Fitz watches in his peripheral vision as Skye hurriedly types out a message on her phone and hits send with a sharp jab of her thumb. He feels his abdominal muscles tighten in anticipation, knowing full well that there's only one person she could possibly be texting at this hour. With her other hand still on his back Skye must be able to feel the tension that is now radiating through him because she shifts her palm to his shoulder and squeezes it unconsciously.

She looks as though she's about to say something when her phone lights up with a short buzz and her gaze scans the words across the small screen before she quickly shoves the device into her pocket. "She… Jemma that is… Is waiting with the car a few blocks down. She said she'll come pick us up out front."

Fitz can tell from her vague tone that there had been something else within Jemma's text that Skye hadn't mentioned, but doesn't push the topic because he's certain it's not something he wants to hear. He shuffles his feet even more, pathetically hanging his head and managing a soft, "Yeah okay."

When they step outside he pulls his thin sweatshirt tighter around his body, tensing in the early morning air and letting out a shaky breath as he attempts to psych himself up for the inevitable confrontation that will come in a few short minutes.

His eyes scan the street and flit down the road every time he sees the flash of a headlight. He doesn't realize he's started pacing until Skye, sitting on the curb at his feet, groans and smacks his leg as he moves past her again.

"Will you quit it? You're acting suspiciously paranoid, pacing around in your stupid hoodie, and we're still in front of a police station, so maybe keep the theatrics to a minimum?"

"She's going to kill me Skye! As in murder."

The scary thing is, a part of Fitz fully acknowledges the plausibility of his statement. He'd really messed up this time and he doesn't think Jemma would be all that unjustified in running him down with her car and throwing his disloyal body into the nearest ditch.

Evidently Skye seems to agree because she rolls her eyes derisively at his theatrics as she picks at her cuticles.

"Well then at least we're in front of a police station. Your killer will be apprehended immediately and your murder will go down in history as the quickest solved crime."

Skye's voice is laced with her standard sarcasm, getting increasingly biting as she continues talking. "Besides, from what I can tell you'd actually deserve it. Hell, I'll probably volunteer to be a character witness for Jemma during your trial."

Fitz sits down beside Skye on the curb, knees apart enough for him to tuck his head between them, and begins playing with the frayed laces of his battered sneakers. He feels tears prickle behind his eyes when he spots the Dopamine molecule that had been carefully drawn in black Sharpie atop the rubber toe of his shoe.

"I don't know what the hell has gotten into you Fitz. I don't fully know what you did and I don't even remotely know why you did it, but I do know that you made Jemma collateral damage in the process. And that's fucked up."

Skye's on a roll now and he makes no attempt to stop her, partly because he knows better than to interrupt her, but mostly because he completely agrees with the words she's saying. At this point he's not even sure what he'd hoped to accomplish with his actions, what point he was trying to prove, and he finds Skye's words to be a nice change from his own voice's berating in his head.

"Because she was near tears when she called me earlier and didn't stop talking about how worried she was in the car until she…"

"Until she what?" Fitz's head snaps towards Skye because for the first time he has some hint at how much Jemma actually knows about what had happened at SciTech.

"You know what! Until she got a call from work! Until some asshole security guard started yelling about someone breaking into the research facility!" Skye is standing at this point, yelling at him from above as though scolding a small child.

He certainly plays the part, keeping his head low and his tears hidden.

"Fitz, never in my life have I seen someone look the way she did when she was listening to that guy…" Skye's voice is softer now, as though she is back in the car watching whatever emotions must have played out across Jemma's face.

"What umm…" He pauses for a moment to clear his throat. "What all did he tell her?"

"Honestly? I have no idea. I only heard one end of the conversation and when she hung up she refused to tell me anything else." Skye plops down next to him again, plucking a clover off of the small patch of grass next to them, before continuing with exasperation.

"Didn't speak the rest of the drive, so it was an awkward ten minutes to say the least. You know how I feel about silent road trips." She shudders at this and throws the shredded clover into the road before sighing and shrugging her shoulders. "Then she parked around the corner, said she'd wait with the car, handed me the bail money…"

"She what?!" Fitz yelps at an octave he didn't even know he was capable of reaching and grabs Skye by the shoulders, turning her to face him. "What do you mean she gave you the bail money?"

Skye is clearly startled by his sudden exclamation and swats his hands off of her as she begins rolling her eyes at his dramatics.

"What, you thought it was my money we used to get you out? Fitz, c'mon. I still eat Ramen for most of my meals. It cost, like, 400 bucks to get your butt out of that cell! In what world would I have access to that kind of money?"

He feels his entire body give out on him and the next second he's laying down with his back on the ground and gaze focused on the sky.

"Whoa Fitz, what the hell?" He ignores Skye as his mind contemplates how someone like Jemma Simmons can be real. How someone can be so unfailingly kind and generous despite having people like him in their lives.

She paid the bail.

Fitz wants to let himself break and start sobbing but doesn't want Skye to witness it. He knows that despite the fact that she's his best friend and roommate, Skye's loyalties lay with Jemma on this one. She'll pat him on the back but he'll see in her eyes that she thinks he's deserving of the ache.

Her next statement only proves his point.

"Fitz, c'mon sit up. Look I realize that tonight has been… Less than ideal… And I fully intend on hearing your side of the story… But right now I don't feel like watching you go through this internal crisis that seems to be happening right now." She tugs at his arm, pulling him upright, and then grabs another blade of grass to destroy.

"She hates me now." His voice wobbles as he audibly voices what he fears to be true. "I've finally managed to realize I might love her and it took making her hate me to do it."

Skye's hands still and she turns to look at him with an overwhelming amount of sadness. She opens her mouth to speak but Fitz watches her as she registers that, for the first time, she has nothing to say.

They're locked in a staring contest when a car pulls up along the curb and stops in front of them. Skye stands immediately, nodding her head at the woman in the driver's seat, before looking down at him with a frown. "Get up Fitz. Time to rip off the band-aid."

He doesn't want to rip off the band-aid. At this point he'd feel much more comfortable just walking back to his apartment but Skye's hands are on her hips and her glare is slowly but surely turning icy enough that Fitz knows he really only has one option.

He slowly makes his way to his feet, quickly shoving his hands in his pockets, and keeps his head low with his eyes trained on the ground. He shuffles forward until he's next to Skye and reaches for the door handle of the back seat. Skye quickly smacks his hand out of the way and his head snaps up in surprise.

"Nuh-uh. No way José. I'm not going to make this any easier on you. You're in the passenger seat." She points to the front door and doesn't move until Fitz hesitatingly pulls at the handle. He closes his eyes as he does, expecting to be met with a locked door, and feels his entire body tense when it opens without issue.

He tugs at the door until it is completely open but can't seem to convince himself to sit down next to the woman who is resolutely refusing to acknowledge his presence. He must have stood outside of the car longer than expected because Skye, who had somehow clambered into the back seat without him noticing, pipes up.

"Get in the car Fitz. We're all tired. It's time to go home."

Fitz slides into the seat and softly shuts the door behind him. He clicks the seatbelt into place and uses his already turned torso as an excuse to flick his eyes towards Jemma.

Her eyes are firmly on the road, only moving to check the rearview mirror as she pulls onto the main road and begins the drive towards their respective homes. He wants to openly stare at her and take stock of everything about her but he knows that it's neither the time nor place so he chooses to focus on one thing only: Her red-rimmed eyes.

It takes about two seconds for him to realize that Jemma's request to wait in the car was actually a desperate bid for privacy. She'd been crying, alone, over a stupid boy who'd betrayed her trust in the most unimaginable way.

She'd been crying because of him.

Fitz feels sick at the thought and leans his head against the cool window in an attempt to distract from the roiling feeling in his stomach. He doesn't think throwing up in her car will make Jemma any more willing to hear him out. At this point he doesn't think anything will make her listen to him.

The car is thick with tension and the silence does nothing to diminish the discomfort.

Within five minutes Skye is dozing in the back seat and Fitz is left with a silence that is stifling. He opens his mouth a few times but each time he stops himself from speaking, unsure of how to even begin this conversation.

Fitz presses his body as far away from Jemma as he can, not even bothering to be subtle about it, and is plastered against the passenger door in a state of complete discomfort. He tries to give her as much space as he can, both physical and emotional, not wanting to intrude upon her life any more than he already has.

Despite his best effort, however, he can't seem to stop his eyes from glancing in Jemma's direction every few moments. He only lets each look last a moment or two and takes in everything he can in the short time he allows himself.

She's dressed casually in a pair of jeans and a ratty sweatshirt with a faded Cambridge logo emblazoned across the chest. Her whiskey eyes are dark in the early morning light but there's a fiery glint in them that seems to flash with each passing streetlight. He can't see her face clearly but he doesn't have to in order to know how angry she is. Her entire body is tensed and her jaw is clenched in a telltale sign of displeasure.

He's seen glimpses of this Jemma before, briefly during the numerous arguments they'd gotten in over the past few weeks, but never has it lasted so long.

Fitz absolutely hates it. More than anything he hates that he's the reason for it, that it's his fault the woman beside him is no longer the smiling Jemma Simmons that he has admittedly grown to love. He stops glancing at her and instead focuses on staring out the window and avoiding the sight of someone he thinks he's responsible for breaking.

Skye stirs once they're about ten minutes away from their apartment and leans up between the front seats, sandwiching herself between them and staring out the windshield in exhaustion. Fitz can feel her eyes on him and wonders if Jemma has a similar sensation. He knows that Skye's eyes are likely moving between the two of them and he holds his breath when he hears her inhale.

Fitz isn't sure he's ready for Skye to meddle in this situation and he desperately hopes that whatever she's about to say won't be too uncomfortable or direct.

"Jem, would you mind dropping me off at Trip's apartment? It's the fancy brownstone a few blocks before ours."

He quickly turns his head in Skye's direction and is met with a mouthful of hair. She's facing Jemma and Fitz knows it's her way of avoiding his pleading gaze.

"The one across from TeaTime?"

Jemma's voice is soft but to Fitz her words seem to resonate throughout the car. It's the first time he's heard her speak since hanging up on her in the police station and he immediately feels a flood of warmth surge through his veins at the sound.

He glances over Skye's shoulder to look at Jemma and for one brief moment, as she turns her head to speak to Skye, their eyes meet. She seems to physically recoil at the eye contact, snapping her head back to the road in front of her and tightening her grip on the wheel.

The warmth dissipates immediately and is replaced by a suffocating iciness.

Skye must notice the shift because she infuses an obvious amount of false enthusiasm into her next few words. "That's the one! Will that be an issue or…"

"Nope. It's on the way." Jemma's answer is succinct and though she makes an attempt to smile politely at Skye in the mirror, it's lacking its usual warmth. Fitz turns his head back towards his own window as Skye squeezes Jemma's shoulder in silent thanks- or understanding or sympathy- and falls back into her own seat without another word.

Fitz is lost in his own head until he sees the closed sign leaning against the TeaTime window. The sight has him straightening in his seat and he can feel his heart begin to hammer in his chest.

The car comes to a stop outside of Trip's apartment and Fitz can see the light on in the third floor window. At first he assumes that Skye had informed the other man she'd be coming by, but he then glances at the clock and realizes that it's already after five. Normal people, he realizes, are just starting their day. Going about their morning routines with no knowledge of the issues that other people are dealing with.

Skye leans forward, wrapping her arms around Jemma from behind, and whispers something into the other woman's ear that Fitz can't make out. He does notice that when Skye pulls away Jemma is left with glistening eyes and unshed tears.

Skye opens her door and squeezes Jemma's shoulder, throwing out a, "Later Fitz, glad you're not dead," as she exits the car. Jemma is still visibly upset and a moment later Skye is rapping on her window to get her attention. Simmons turns her head and releases a tremulous smile as Skye fogs up the glass of the window and draws a grinning face. Skye proceeds to wave fondly and make her way up the steps of Trip's apartment.

Both Fitz and Jemma keep their eyes trained on Skye until the door has closed behind her and they are left alone in a suffocating silence.

Jemma's sigh echoes within the confines of the vehicle and Fitz is about to open his mouth to tell her he's fine walking from here when she puts the car in drive and begins the two-minute journey to his place. He thinks about the last time they were in a car together, remembering the much different tension that had been present in the cab, and once again feels as though he's going to be sick.

The car pulls to a stop outside his apartment building and Jemma puts it into park while noticeably leaving the engine running. This is a drop-off and, despite his previous anxiousness at being alone with Jemma, Fitz suddenly wishes that this conversation were deemed worthy enough to at least park the car for.

It's silent for another long moment before he breathes deeply, finding whatever courage he has, and begins the long overdue conversation.

"Jemma…"

"Get out Fitz."

She doesn't even look at him when she says it, instead opting to keep her hands at the ten and two position and her eyes focused on some distant point through the windshield. Her knuckles are white from their grip on the steering wheel and he can feel the anger that is simmering beneath her pale skin.

"Jemma it wasn't…"

He contorts his body in the passenger seat so that he is facing her fully, desperate for any sort of acknowledgement from the woman next to him.

"Fitz. Don't." Jemma's head whips in his direction and he flinches back slightly at the fury in her eyes.

"But…"

"I don't want to hear anything you have to say because I'm done. I'm done Fitz. With whatever this is… With whatever it could have been… I'm out. I don't want anything to do with it and I want even less to do with you."

There are unshed tears in her eyes and he knows that despite her outward rage, beneath is an insurmountable amount of hurt and devastation.

"Jemma please…"

Fitz doesn't even care that his voice breaks, he's on the verge of tears himself because he knows that this moment is the one that will dictate his future.

"I don't know what I expected. You hate what I represent and I don't even understand what you represent. We're not friends, you've said that too many times to count." At this point the tears are running silently down her face and her breaths are coming quickly and shakily.

"I swear it wasn't person…" He can't even finish the sentence before Jemma cuts him off.

"It wasn't personal? Are you fucking kidding me Fitz? Do you have any idea how I felt that morning? How I felt waking up in an empty bed after we slept together and then having you give me radio silence for a week until you called me from jail because you needed help. It was awful Fitz, absolutely awful, and I didn't think anyone could hurt me worse than you did then."

The tears are no longer silent. She's crying audibly, clutching at her chest as though she's worried she'll physically fall apart, and the look on her face is full of so much hurt that Fitz feels his own heart break with each passing second.

Jemma must understand his reaction to her because she hastily wipes at her cheeks, unwilling to be vulnerable with him again, before taking a shuddering breath.

"But I was wrong because here we are. The joke's on me I guess because this hurt is worse but it's still you that's responsible for it." Her tone is hard and she delivers the words with an impassive calmness that slices through Fitz more than her previous tears.

There is a void in Jemma's eyes that scares him because the lack of emotion is exactly that: an uncaring and emotionless stare that leaves Fitz struggling to breathe.

"I'm sorry Jemma, I don't even know what I was…"

"Stop! Just stop." She turns her head away from him and it feels like the equivalent of a door being slammed in his face. "You were right Fitz, we're not friends. We're not anything. Not then, not now, not ever. I'm done. Get out."

Fitz isn't exactly sure what an asthma attack truly feels like but he's certain it's similar to what he's currently experiencing. This was it, this was the life-defining moment and he realizes that his life has been defined as one that is now Jemma-less.

Fitz reaches into his pocket and pulls out the little piece of plastic that had caused so much damage. He stares at it for a moment, trying to understand how something so small could be so destructive, before he catches sight of himself in the mirror and realizes that the only destructive thing in the car is him.

His own selfishness and deep-seeded insecurities brought him here and he can't think of anything he'll regret more than what he'd done to Jemma Simmons. He shakily extends his arm and places his balled fist on the flat plane of the driver's side dashboard. He sees her flinch at his proximity and it's that physical recoil that causes his own tears to finally fall.

"I'm sorry." It comes out as a broken whisper and he opens his hand, letting the little plastic key clatter onto the car's surface. He pulls back and turns to exit the car.

Fitz hears the choked sob that leaves Jemma's mouth as she spots the fob and he quickly closes the door behind him before she has the chance to hear his.

He steps away from the car and watches through the window as Jemma reaches for the little key before retracting her hand. She moves to cover her mouth before her head drops into her hands as she begins to cry. She's no longer holding it in and he watches as her body shakes with the sobs that wrack through her.

Fitz doesn't think he has the right to watch her crumble like this so he does what has quickly become his least favorite thing to do and walks away from Jemma Simmons.