Fitz stared out the window and marvelled at how beautiful the sunrise was. Jemma was still fast asleep against him. It was amazing how much had changed in such a short time. To think, just yesterday they were exchanging barbs as they'd done for the past six months. It hadn't even occurred to them what was simmering beneath the surface. Now he was lying next to her beautiful form, and the sunlight caught in her hair. Fitz couldn't help but stroke it out of her face. It was far silkier than he had imagined it being. She looked so calm and peaceful resting there. He knew he would never grow tired of this view.

Who knew what this day would bring? He was feeling uncharacteristically optimistic. With Jemma by his side, he was sure they could both figure out a way to have the charges against him dropped.

As his fingers brushed against her hair again, Jemma's eyelids fluttered open, a soft smile playing at her lips. He grinned as her eyes grew accustomed to the light and focused in on him.

"Good morning sweetheart," he leaned over and brushed a gentle kiss against her nose.

"Sweetheart?" Jemma licked her lips sleepily for a moment. Then she sat bolt upright, knocking Fitz to the floor in surprise. "What's going on?" she cried.

"It's okay," he muttered, collecting himself from the floor. Stooped on one knee, he peered over the edge of the couch where Jemma was, neck craned and eyes wide with concern. He smiled. "I stayed awake all last night thinking about all those things you said," Fitz explained gently, reaching for her hands. "It all struck a very deep chord with me." She was just a little too far out of his reach and he faltered again, hands clasping air.

"What struck a chord with you?" She removed herself from the sofa then, still looking down at him with a perplexed expression.

"There were so many times when we were arguing in the office," Fitz said, standing and tucking his hands sheepishly into his pockets. "I just had a feeling that down deep, underneath it all, there was something more there."

"More than…?" She looked down at what she was wearing, then, and with wide eyes, she folded her arms like a shield over her chest. "What sort of cruel joke is this?"

"Now I know last night didn't go the way you planned," he said, reciting the whole speech he'd had all night to prepare. "But you have to admit that you caught me a little off guard. Tonight I'll pull out all the stops. I'll make dinner, then we can dedicate the whole evening just to us."

"Us?" Jemma stared up at him with big, round, still admittedly confused eyes. He wasn't explaining himself properly. Unable to think of the right way to fit what he was feeling into words, Fitz closed the distance between them with one long stride and kissed her like he'd wished he had the night before.

Jemma's eyes fluttered shut, leaning in to him, letting his lips brush hungrily against hers. Then, all of a sudden, she pushed him away. "Fitz!" She tried to catch her breath. "What's the big idea?"

"Is something wrong? We can make love now if you'd prefer!" He reached for her again, but she backed away, holding her arms out to keep the distance between them.

"Make love?! What are you delusional? You're the last person I'd want to… to… make love to!"

"But Jemma, last night-"

"Yeah, well, for some reason I'm having trouble remembering last night," she said, shaking her finger at him. "I do know you came in here and passed out and-"

The morning paper had a schedule that the local paper boy was very strict at adhering to. Despite the early hours, he relied on the tips he garnered from the little apartments on the block. He took pride in knowing when to knock on which door, and when to take a more subtle approach. This particular morning, something told him that he was best to steer clear of the normally pleasant Miss Simmons in apartment 6B. Perhaps it was the lingering hangover he had developed from a rowdy night with his mates. Perhaps it was the sounds of bickering that were growing in volume as he marched through the corridor with his trolley. Either way, he came to the decision that it was best for all involved to simply slip the morning paper through her mail slot, foregoing his typically generous tip for one day.

As the newspaper landed on the parquet flooring on the other side of the door, the bickering came to an abrupt halt. Simmons and Fitz turned their heads toward it, startled out of their discussion. The silence stretched on as they both read the headline.

Elusive Jewel Thief Leo Fitz Strikes Again!

Both Fitz and Jemma's eyes grew wide, and their heads snapped back to each other. He gaped dumbly, trying not to panic. She covered her mouth, pointing at him.

"N-Now hold on a minute," he finally managed to say, holding his hands out desperately.

"You did it again!" She said between her fingers. "That's why you escaped from the police!" Her hands slid up the back of her neck and she began to pace, fitting her mind around a plausible explanation. "Not to try to prove your innocence, but because you had unfinished business!"

"What kind of business?" he plead. "I was here with you!"

"But I was asleep," she pointed out. "You could have easily awakened, robbed those people and then come back. You just used this as a - a safe haven!"

"Sure, I could have done all that," he shrugged. "But I didn't! I was with you, and you were very insistent that we make love!"

"You are feeding me the wrong lie, buster!" Jemma whirled around, putting her hands on her hips. "Why would I want to make love to you when I'm marrying Will Daniels?"

"You're what?" Fitz staggered to a stop. It was as though all the air had rushed from his lungs as he processed what she'd just said.

"Yes," she insisted, quietly. "We've set a spring date. Just as soon as the prenuptial agreement is approved." She waited for a response from him, but when none came, she thrust her chin in the air and stepped closer. "Besides, I wouldn't make love to you if we were the only two people on the planet!" She stood in front of him.

Fitz looked her up and down, his face contorting, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. "Well don't worry, it wouldn't come to that." He jabbed a finger in the air at her. "Ten minutes alone with you and we'd both kill each other."

"I'm going to take a shower," Jemma snapped. "And believe me, that is not an invitation. If you're still here when I get out, I'm calling the police!" She turned on her heel, then slammed the bathroom door behind her.

"Geez, you drop your guard for one minute," Fitz said angrily, more to himself, if he was being honest. "Careful in the water," he called after her. "Don't slip and fall, fracturing your skull and drowning in a pool of your own filth!"

There was no response, so Fitz sighed and grabbed his coat. Just in front of the door, he caught something glinting in the light, and he stooped to pick it up. It was an expensive jeweled earring. Fitz raised an eyebrow at it and sniffed. Pretty snazzy for an office worker. "Boy, Daniels must really love you in an extravagant way," he muttered under his breath. "That prenup better be worth the wait." Fitz pocketed the earring and let himself out.

When she heard the door shut, Jemma leaned her head back against the bathroom door and let out a heavy, shaking breath. The hot water began steaming up the bathroom. Dragging her hands over her face, she did her best to shake the uneasy feeling that had settled in her chest. Her fingers stopped at her lips. The ghost of his kiss was still there… It was so unlikely. So illogical. Shaking her head, Jemma stepped into the shower, letting the water rush over her. It didn't help.

A heavy fog had settled in between the buildings of New York. Silhouettes of people passed through the streets like ghosts in the early morning haze. Fitz, once again, was one of them. With nowhere left to go, feeling like all his options were turning in on him, he stumbled through the streets like a man who'd lost it all. Because - his situation being what it was - hadn't he?

He wasn't sure how he found himself at this one particular corner, but when the ripe-smelling lump of cloth stirred on the bench, he realized with a start that he recognized it.

"Fitz, that you?" Hunter lifted his head, careful to make it look like he was still dozing fitfully on the street bench.

"Hunter?" Fitz squinted through the misty air.

"Fitz, you're hotter than a pickle!" Hunter sat up, making room for Fitz to slide next to him.

"Hot? The New York City Police want to give me a lifetime achievement award." Fitz pulled his hat off and held it loosely between his knees, sighing down at the damp pavement. A meeting with Hunter never pulled much attention, but he couldn't bring himself to care if he was seen. Let them find him like this.

"Listen, I got a name keeps cropping up," Hunter whispered. "John Garrett mean anything to you?"

Fitz shook his head. "Zero. John Garret?" He tried the name out on his tongue. "Nope. Nothing to me. Does it even matter anymore?"

"I dunno. Don't mean a thing to me either," Hunter shrugged, "but it's come up twice!"

"John Garret?"

"Yeah yeah yeah. There's no police record. Could mean anything."

Fitz shook his head slowly, trying to will himself to become invested in the thrill of the hunt again. Even if he had all his resources back at the office, it would take too long to follow such a long lead. "It's no use, Hunter, I can't get a break no matter what I do." Fitz dropped his face into his hands. "Don't waste any more time on this. It's a done deal. The cops will be by any minute to lock me up and throw away the key."

"Well before you get dramatic about it," Hunter smirked, "there's something else." He nudged his friend, ignoring his rather embarrassing display of self-pity. "Stick your hand in the cup."

Fitz scraped his hands down his face. "In the cup?"

"In the cup, yeah." Hunter pushed the cup closer to Fitz, who tentatively lowered his hands into the grimy plastic.

"Thirty-eight cents and a wad of paper." Fitz shrugged at the contents of his palm in resignation. "Oh, and somebody threw their gum away in your business establishment."

"Open the wad of paper." Hunter rolled his eyes.

"Why?"

"It's a clue!"

"What kind of clue?"

"From last night's heist." Hunter took his cup back. "The Koenigs found it on the property on the driveway."

Fitz unwrapped the wad of paper, and an expensive jewelled earring slipped out onto his lap. He picked it up to examine it, and his breath caught in his throat. "Hunter, what-"

"The burglar dropped it getting away." Hunter grinned, waggling his eyebrows triumphantly.

"How'd you get it?"

"Well I got a friend on the inside, so to speak." He crossed his hands behind his head, leaning back on the bench. "I thought maybe you'd want it."

"Hunter, this is serious grand larceny!"

"Hey, anything for a pal. By the look on your face, it must have helped you."

Fitz dropped the earring back in the cup, looking tired and dejected, and he put his hat back on his head. "Three words," Fitz sighed. "Chercher la femme." Fitz stood again, slowly, begrudgingly spurred into action. "You know what that means, Hunter?"

"What?"

"Find the woman."

"There's a woman?"

"Well. At first I thought so," Fitz said quietly. "Then I didn't." He reached into his pocket and pulled out the earring he'd found on Simmons' floor just that morning. It was identical. "Now I think I got her."

Mack looked over to the empty office that should contain a pacing, muttering Fitz. He took another sip of his coffee and bowed his head. "You work next to a person for years," Mack sighed. "I guess the temptation was just too great."

"It's not Fitz!" Daisy insisted for the hundredth time. "It doesn't make sense!"

"Daisy, I don't think that any of us expected it, but they have proof," Mack shrugged. "You heard Simmons found the jewels sitting in his apartment."

"Yeah and how he fought the cops when they found him at Grand Central," Trip added. "All I'm saying is, you don't run from the police if you're innocent."

"But this is Fitz we're talking about," Daisy said. "The man gets nervous fighting a parking ticket."

"Well it sure took some nerve to strike twice," Mack pointed out.

Trip nodded his agreement. "Fitz deserves credit for that. He turned out to be a pretty gutsy guy in the end."

The phone rang, and Daisy answered quickly, happy for the distraction. "Hello?" She sat up straight. "Fitz!" she hissed into the receiver, waving the other men over. "Where are you?"

"Never mind where I am," he said quickly, his voice crackling on the other end. "I've got to get up to the office. I think there's more people involved in this thing. I think that Simmons is behind it. Does the name John Garrett mean anything to you?"

"No."

"I have to check through the Koenigs' report. Can you get me into Simmons' desk?"

Fitz was waiting for them by the back door in a terrible disguise. Round glasses and a fake mustache, his collar pulled up almost to his nose. Daisy ushered him in, looking around nervously. "Quick, Simmons is out meeting her sister for lunch," she hissed.

Fitz rolled his eyes, but followed as quickly and quietly as he could. It was easy work getting into her office and sneaking the report back to his. They shut the door and Mack stood, watching over with his arms crossed as Fitz, Daisy and Trip read the report.

"There's no question about it," Fitz shook his head. "Simmons is involved in this thing up to her neck!"

"I don't know Fitz," Daisy said. "There's not much incriminating evidence here."

"You sure you're not just letting your feelings for her colour your judgement?" Mack sniffed.

"It's nothing to do with my feelings for her!" Fitz spluttered. "It's the only thing that makes any sense." Mack rolled his eyes and turned back to face the door.

"Fitz, don't stoop lower by dragging Simmons into this," Trip said. "There's only so much of a limb we can go out on here for you."

"I'm not dragging her into this!" Fitz scoffed. "Listen, I went over to her place last night, because I figured no one would look for me there." He put the report down, frustrated that it was far too vague. "In the middle of the night I heard a noise, and there she was putting her coat away. At first I figured she couldn't sleep and went for a midnight stroll or something. But she'd probably just done the latest heist, and she was coming back, and I caught her!"

"I dunno Fitz…" Trip shook his head.

"Then she started to act very peculiar," Fitz shook his finger, trying to piece together a reasonable explanation for how he'd been so taken in. "She must have thought she was trapped, so she started seducing me with her feminine wiles!"

Daisy tried to cover her smile. "Meaning what?"

"Meaning all of a sudden I'm handsome, I'm wonderful and she can't take her hands off me," Fitz tried to explain with an unaffected air. "Does that sound like Jemma Simmons to you? Or is that a schemer trying to play me for a sucker?"

Trip looked at Daisy, a grin spreading across his face too. "Actually, it sounds like that Hypnosis show by Garret the Clairvoyant."

"That's right. That's the night of the first robbery!" Daisy snapped. "I dunno Fitz, she must have some real feelings for you."

"Don't be ridiculous. She definitely hates me." He rubbed at his eyebrows. "Hold on… what's that name you said? The magician at the Rainbow Room who I've completely repressed?"

"Garrett. Garrett the Clairvoyant. The Jade Monkey."

Fitz tipped his head to the side, feeling the tug of intrigue begin to sink its teeth into him again. "What is his full name?"

"Garret. Johnathan Garrett."

Fitz dropped his mouth open, eyes bugging out. "I'm… just theorizing... on an incredible sequence of events…"

Mack squinted. "You look like my Uncle Jerry right after the United Parcel Truck hit him."

"What happened?" Fitz asked, whirling to face the others. "I know you described this to me before, but what actually happened? They brought me on stage…"

"-And put you into a trance," Mack said, keeping his arms folded to his chest.

"Pretty easily, too, despite you resisting," Daisy giggled.

"Right. Yes." Fitz waved of. "And Simmons. She was with me… And then?"

"Then he woke you in a post-hypnotic state with a word that would put you back under again," Trip explained.

"Capuchin!" Daisy grinned. "Yeah, and then you started making..." Fitz's face had gone immediately slack. "Fitz? Fitz!" She snapped at him.

"Yes?" He smiled at her pleasantly. Daisy backed away, a little freaked out.

"Hey, you okay man?"

"I'm fine, Antoine." Fitz folded his hands in front of him politely. "How is your aging mother?"

Trip and Daisy looked at each other, then at Mack. They all looked back at Fitz, examining his altogether too-pleasant demeanour. "Looks like he was never released from the key word," Mack observed.

"Wake him up, Trip, this is freaky!" Daisy slapped at the man's arm. "He's far too… cheerful." She shook herself. "It's not right."

"Relax! This stuff's right up my alley." Trip pushed his shirtsleeves up and stood in front of Fitz. "Alright. Now when I snap my fingers, you will awaken. Ah… You'll have no memory of what has just occurred, is that clear to you?"

"Yes!" Fitz beamed.

"Okay." Trip nodded. " Three… Two…" He snapped his fingers.

"So the guy gets me on stage," Fitz carried on as though nothing had happened. "Then what? What took place after that?"

"Woah," Mack exclaimed. "That's messed up."

"Hold on. I have an idea." Daisy grabbed hold of Fitz's shoulders, ignoring his irritated protests, and spun him to face her. "Capuchin!" Fitz' features went slack again, and Daisy waved a hand in front of his face. "What a sense of power..." She raised her eyebrows as Fitz smiled at her in a daze. "Trip, could you get him to remember everything?"

"Yeah, absolutely!" Trip nodded. "We should probably set him loose from the trance while I'm at it," he pointed out. Daisy shrugged in agreement, and Trip turned Fitz to face him. "Now Fitz, when I snap my fingers, you will awaken," he said smoothly. "Your memory will be clear. Crystal clear. All the events of the past week will come to you vividly and with no distraction." He nodded. "You'll also be completely freed from your trance, and the mention of the word Capuchin will have absolutely no meaning to you. It will not put you back into your hypnotic state. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Antoine, I understand perfectly."

"Okay." Trip cracked his knuckles then held his fingers in position before Fitz's face. "One… you're coming out of it." He glanced at Daisy. "Two… your memories of the past week are coming back. Three, you're fully awake and…" Trip snapped his fingers.

Fitz's mouth dropped open like a ton of bricks and he stumbled backwards as the memories of the past week came flooding back to him. "I took the jewels!" He gaped, covering his mouth. "The Johnson jewels and the Stark – I went over and disabled the systems like he asked!" Mack stood away from the wall then as Fitz began to pace around the room. "Of course, it's so simple! And then he probably tried to get me for the last one, but couldn't get me, so he – that last heist was her!"

Daisy looked from Fitz to Mack to Trip, concern etched in her features. "What was Simmons' keyword?"

"Marmoset."

Simmons stood alone in her apartment, telephone to her ear. She listened for a minute, then returned the receiver, wrote out an address, and tucked a brown paper package under her arm. A flash of lightning split the night sky, the buzz of a looming rain storm crackling through the air as she drove off into the night.

Across town, John Garrett returned his watch to his pocket. He was growing impatient. With a self-satisfied smirk, he fed the bullets into his gun, one by one, snapping the barrel back into place.