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She looked so grown up. How had she aged so quickly?

Fitz was quick to restructure the question in his head, she hadn't aged, she just looked... Well, stronger. More confident. More mature.

She looked like a woman who knew what hell was and how to survive it.

He didn't know much about makeup - other than what he'd seen Simmons apply back at the Academy before a date, or at Sci-Ops before a big event, but he never really paid attention to it. If they were still in that place, still had that easy intimacy between then that he'd grown to rely on for so many years, or if he were ever again given the opportunity to watch her get ready for her day, he knows he'd study her every move.

Why were her eyebrows darker? They made her look harsh and serious. Did she mean to do that? Was it fashionable right now? He never paid attention to other women for long enough to notice. How long did it take her to curl her hair now that it was short? He remembers her fussing over her long locks for what felt like ages back in school, but he can't imagine her fussing over something like that now.

She'd grown up and moved on. She had bigger issues to worry about then back when they were in school.

Fitz glanced down at his cardigan, worrying the fabric between his fingers. It felt like she'd grown up and left him behind. While she was off battling Hydra in her solo apartment - alone for the first significant length of time since they'd first met - he'd remain stuck in the past.

Regressed, really, if he thought about it. He had to relearn basic skills after his injury. Had to deal with the sudden return of the feelings that he wasn't smart enough or good enough - self doubts placed there by his father that had all but disappeared after years of working side by side with Jemma.

He had changed physically a little, he reasoned. He occasionally went without shaving because his hands were more trouble than they were worth, giving him a slight stubble he was proud of. It had taken him ages to be able to grow facial hair - something he had been self conscious of and Jemma had noticed, constantly insulting the beards their classmates were growing and talking about how unattractive it looked. He knew it was all for his benefit - he'd seen her reactions to Agent Triplett.

After Jemma had left, Skye had made a big deal about giving him a "grown up" haircut. She had pulled him out of his confused, heartbroken depression, sat him down in a chair she pulled into the bathroom, and given him a beer while she trimmed away. He just sat there and watched the hair fall away, recalling the conversation he had overheard her having with Trip at his bedside just a few days before when they thought he was asleep.

"I don't know how to help him. Physically, he's getting better. But with her gone?.. I guess we just treat it like a bad breakup," she had sighed.

"I didn't think they were together?" Trip had asked, surprised.

"They weren't. Well, not the way that the rest of us think about being together. But... That's still a piece of his heart out there, separate from him."

Trip hummed as Fitz had tried hard not to flinch at the description.

"What do you do after a breakup?" She asked.

Trip laughed, "Oh, c'mon girl! You know I've never been dumped!"

The pair laughed before seeming to remember Fitz and quickly quieted.

After a moment, Skye spoke again, "Worst breakup I ever had, I went out and cut my hair. Like chopped it all off. I went from crazy long hair - about halfway down my back - to a pixie cut. Bleached it, too."

Trip started laughing again, "Oh, no."

"Oh, yes. And it was just as awful as you're thinking," Skye said wryly. "Fortunately, the short length meant my natural color grew in pretty quickly, but I had to wait for years to get my hair back to this length."

After that, Coulson had stuck his head in the room and called the agents out, leaving Fitz to lay there, pondering the conversation he had just overheard.

So when Skye finished doing something near the nape of his neck with his some clippers and made a big deal about how "smokin'" he looked now, he just smiled and thanked her.

They had all tried to help him, and in some ways they actually had. Not in the way they expected to - Hunter's attempts to set him up with someone and Skye's efforts to give him a fresh start hadn't done anything to heal to hurt in his heart after Simmons left. But it did help toughen him up a little and make him realize that he can't just be a nerd who stays safely tucked away in his lab, destined to be half of a whole forever.

If he were honest, one of the things that hurt the most about her leaving him wasn't that she left. It's that she didn't take him with her..

Which he logically knew was insane - he was in no place to do anything after his injury, and he was finally admitting to himself just how long and drawn out his recovery process had been. And her being gone had, admittedly, probably helped.

But the fact that she had gone off BY HERSELF to do something he knew she had to find terrifying... He was so proud of her, but selfishly, equal parts angry and heartbroken that she had been able to do it without him.

He'd always known Simmons was brilliant, better than all of them, would out-survive the entire lot of the team and SHIELD even, if it came to it. It's one of the reasons he loved her.

But he was a selfish man, and a part of him hated that flying solo came so easy to her. When she was gone he had HALLUCINATIONS of her, for heaven's sake, and she barely even batted an eye...

But she had come back. And she hadn't reacted to his physical appearance at all, but why would she. He knew she didn't feel the same way about him as he felt about her, so it makes sense that no matter what he looked like, she would still think of him as her friend. Hard stop. Nothing more.

Fitz gazed at Simmons as she struggled to zip up the hazmat suit in preparation of entering the caves.

Even after all the changes and time and distance between them... She was still the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.

"Fitz, can you help me attach this helmet?"

Her question snapped him out of his revere as he quickly set his equipment down and rushed forward to help her.

"You haven't even begun to get dressed!" Simmons exclaimed, eyes wide as she took him in.

"Calm down, Simmons, I don't think I'm going to breathe any fatal gases in the next 30 seconds," he snapped back at her, his hands flawlessly attaching her helmet, muscle memory assisting him with what should have been a difficult task.

Simmons' eyes grew wide as she stared at him and a wide smile started spreading across her face. It was the first time he had annoyingly but lovingly snapped at her in months, a brief reminder of the way they used to be.

"Oh, Fitz!" She admonished lightly, playing her part. "Oh, could you hand me the-"

"Yeah, yeah," Fitz responded, fetching the tool he knew Simmons, eyes trained on her toolbox as she packed, hand outstretched expectantly, would need right now.

Maybe she didn't need him like he needed her. But it was nice to be there for her anyway.