Fitz rushed into her apartment. "Miss Simmons?" He'd had an awful sense of foreboding going up the stairs, but looking around now, everything was the same. Almost eerily so. He searched each room frantically, not the least concerned that his drenched coat was dripping rain water all over her lovely things. There was no one there to complain about it. "Jemma!"
The whole place was dark and cold like a house that had been recently vacated. Even the comfortable sofa felt hard and wooden as he sagged into it to collect his thoughts. In an attempt to get his racing heart under control, he buried his head in his hands and took a long breath. There was rain in his collar and he needed a sandwich. There was no reason to be afraid. She was probably just out at the corner store picking up milk or something. Maybe she was working late. Maybe she was with Will bloody Daniels again.
The wind took the rain then, and threw it sideways against the window, rattling the panels like a band of angry monkeys threatening to get in.
That sick feeling in Fitz's stomach had the distinct tang of worry. There was only one thing to do. He marched over to the phone. Before he could talk himself out of what he knew to be an extremely stupid idea, he picked up the receiver and dialed Daniels' home number. It rang once. Twice. He was just about ready to slam the receiver back down when there was an answer.
"Hello," came Daniels' voice, sultry and smooth. Fitz scowled. With no response on the other end, Daniels coughed. "Jemma? Baby is that you?" Fitz rolled his eyes, but they landed on a sheet of scrap paper on the desk next to the phone. "Listen, I haven't heard from you in a while and I just want to make sure you're not still-" Fitz hung up. Reaching out a trembling hand, he picked up the slip of paper. He smoothed it out and took a few steadying breaths as he read the neat handwriting etched into it. He picked up the phone again.
"Hello, New York City Police department?" he said gruffly. "This is notorious jewel thief Leopold Fitz calling. I'd like to report some stolen jewels at 555 Main street."
Rain whipped against the car as it drove slowly into the open garage of the warehouse. Pools of water streamed off of it and onto the pavement when the car rolled to a stop. The rain outside orchestrated a hollow cacophony of drums as it beat down against the metal walls of the warehouse that did little to keep the rain from gusting in. The smell of damp asphalt hung in the air and thunder rolled through the sky.
John Garrett grinned to himself as Miss Simmons exited the car mechanically, brown paper package in her grasp. It had been a lot of work, and the anticipation of it all was almost too much to bear at times, but looking hungrily at the package full of precious jewels now, Garrett knew the whole charade and weeks of preparation had been worth it. She approached him in her trance.
"Jemma Simmons." His grin was fox-like and smug. "The Jade Monkey welcomes you. You have the package, I see."
"Yes," she said.
"Wonderful work my dear!" He rubbed his hands together greedily, but paused, not quite ready for it to be over just yet. He found the anticipation was almost more exhilarating than the payout at times. Almost. Either way, he let her hold onto the package a few moments longer. She simply stood and waited patiently for him to give further instruction, not even blinking.
God he would miss this heady rush of control. None of his previous volunteers had been quite so willing or resourceful as Miss Simmons and Mr Fitz had been. But all good things must come to an end eventually. It was time to get his and get out, as the saying went, before the fuzz caught wind of his little scheme.
Crossing state lines tended to freeze any trail he left behind, and this time would be no different. He would be back, though. The thrill and the score of the Big Apple was a hard habit to kick. He just needed one last thing...
"You heard about the jewels that were confiscated by the local precinct?" he asked her.
"Yes," she replied simply.
"I need you to retrieve them for me as well." He knew he was pushing his luck, but it was a calculated risk. The payoff would be worth it. "Take this pistol with you, and use it if you run into any trouble." He slipped the newly loaded gun to her. "Do you understand?"
"Yes." She held the gun expertly, turning the safety on and tucking it into her coat pocket out of sight. Boy, she was full of surprises. Not that he would have taken full advantage of her skills with firearms unless absolutely necessary. It was all too inelegant for his style. This time would be necessary.
"You will bring all of the Johnson and Stark jewels back to me here in one hour," he explained. "Then return home and fall into a wonderful sleep. You will awake cheerful, but you will remember nothing of these events. In fact, upon waking, you will have no memory of any of this ever. Is that clear?"
She opened her mouth to confirm, but a loud bungling crash swallowed her words. Garrett whirled towards the sound. Miss Simmons stayed stock still, unaffected. Garrett narrowed his eyes. It was none other than Leo Fitz, stumbling out from behind a stack of crates he had accidentally pushed over in his botched attempt at stealth. It was a wonder the man had got so far as a faux burglar.
"Ah, sorry. Just passing through!" Fitz said, clambering out from his now defunct hiding spot. "Thought I'd say hello. Check in on the burgling."
"Leopold Fitz! Well isn't this a pleasant surprise?" Garrett lifted his fingers, ready to snap and have the complete FitzSimmons set working together for his final task.
"I wouldn't bother, Garret." Fitz tapped the side of his head. "Your little mind tricks won't work on me anymore. The police are already on their way."
"Are they?" Garrett smirked. He had to admit, the kid was even more resourceful than he first thought. "How convenient of them." Ever the one for improvisation, Garrett turned his wolfish grin away from the younger man, not missing a beat. "Miss Simmons, a change of plans. Please detain Mr. Fitz for the police when they arrive. I believe your search for the confiscated jewels will be much easier now that the entire local precinct is preparing to apprehend the notorious cat burglar!"
Fitz's eyes widened. "No no no, hold on Jemma!" He held his hands out as she moved obediently towards him, bewildered that his master plan had gone south so quick. Garret almost felt sorry for him. "Ah," Fitz floundered for a moment, snapping his fingers at her. "You will not go to the police station and you will not detain me!"
Garrett began to roll his eyes at the man's feeble attempt, when Miss Simmons stopped where she was, half-way between both men. The hypnotist frowned and cocked his head, taking a step towards her. "Miss Simmons, do not listen to him. The Jade Monkey is in need of your compliance."
"Don't listen to me? Don't listen to him!" Fitz cried. "He's the one using us both like puppets, happy for us to take the fall for his dastardly deeds!" He took a step towards her too as she tilted her head ever so slightly. She blinked once. "Simmons, Jemma, please. It's me. You inexplicably trust me, remember? The pasty little cockroach? Just hand me the package and we can all go home and forget this whole thing ever happened."
Jemma lifted her hands slowly towards Fitz, the wrapped brown paper crinkling in her grip.
"Stop! Miss Simmons, Stop." Garrett placed himself between her and the younger man, looking her dead in the eyes. Fishing out the Jade Monkey, he dangled it in front of her. The small green bauble glinted in the fluorescent lighting, swaying back and forth, and she blinked again, her eyes losing what little focus they had briefly regained. "The Jade Monkey requires your assistance," he said in soothing tones. "Remember that you cannot stand this man, and now he is getting in the way of your task. You know what to do."
Garrett stepped back as soon as she handed him the package of jewels. Inelegant, yes, but desperate times and all that. He was too close. Miss Simmons turned her unblinking gaze on Fitz, then took the gun from her pocket. She raised the muzzle to his chest as the rain streamed down from the roof just outside.
"Simmons, what are you doing?" He held his hands up and nearly knocked over another stack of crates backing away. Garrett chuckled as Fitz gulped, backed into a corner. "She'd never pull that trigger." His eyes darted around the garage, searching for a way out.
"Don't be so sure of yourself, Mr. Fitz. She's under my complete command." Garrett sidled up and stood behind Jemma, placing his hands on her shoulders in an almost fatherly gesture. "I just need say the word, and Bang! No more Leo Fitz."
"You'll never get away with this!" Fitz tried to lurch to the side, but Jemma moved the gun to follow, halting him in his tracks.
"Get away with it? But don't you see? I couldn't have orchestrated a better getaway if I'd tried," Garrett nearly sang with glee. "No one knows I was involved except for you and Miss Simmons, and I can easily remove you both from the equation." Fitz looked uncertain at that, but remained silent as Garrett continued, on a bit of a roll. "Think of the headlines tomorrow: String of Jewel Heists Ends with Disgraced Lovers' Quarrel!"
Fitz gaped. "A lover's quarrel?" He scoffed and rolled his eyes. "Good luck selling that kettle of fish. You said it yourself, she hates me, and everyone knows it." Fitz laughed hollowly. "A lover's quarrel! Of all the ridiculous-"
Simmons moved her thumb, releasing the safety, and took aim at Fitz right between his shoulder blades. He gulped, losing his entire train of thought.
"There's a very blurred line between love and hate, I've found," Garrett grinned. "Miss Simmons, what are your honest thoughts on the matter?"
Her face fitted itself into an expression of such impassioned awe, that it was odd, considering the gun she had still trained on him. "I think you're the bravest, most brilliant, most handsome man I've ever met and I would to go to the ends of the earth with you!"
"Ah. Well that's just poetry," Fitz remarked nervously. "Everybody should have somebody they feel that way about, don't you think?" Fitz shifted his weight between his feet. "But you're in love with Daniels, not me. This is just a twisted scheme from a dirty old crook filling your head with lies."
"No. It's you that I love, Fitz." She cocked her head to the side, and her smile faded. "But I also find you ridiculous and pigheaded and infuriating. You would never offer me the life I want, yet you show up and immediately throw off everything I've worked so hard to set in motion. You, Leo Fitz, are impossible." She blinked. Once. "And now the Jade Monkey says you must pay." She lifted the gun.
"Wait! Wait!" Fitz cried, shielding his head with his hands. "Jemma, I know you're in there! For once in your life, listen to what your gut is telling you. Don't listen to his words! You can't actually want me dead!"
"Enough!" Garrett snapped. "Shoot him now!"
"Jemma!"
Two loud bangs echoed throughout the warehouse, and a white-hot pain tore through Fitz's flesh. He fell backwards, clutching his arm in shock as the sight of Jemma Simmons and her smoking gun dropped from his line of sight. He hit the ground.
Rain blew around them and lightning ripped through the sky, causing the lights in the warehouse to flick and stutter. Fitz brought his hand up to his face, and caught sight of his own glistening blood on his fingers, just before the lights extinguished for good.
He felt faint. But he was alive. She'd only shot him in the arm. She must not want him dead after all. He looked back up from his position on the floor, and as soon as Garrett realized what had happened, he growled and grabbed the gun off of Simmons, taking aim at her too. Fitz held his breath, not enough time to rush between the gun and the girl. But then, all at once, a noise made them all turn.
"Freeze right there!" shouted a voice from the back of the warehouse. In his daze, Fitz thought it sounded an awful lot like Inspector Coulson.
Fitz looked up at Garrett standing over him with a smoking gun and a package full of stolen jewels. Now, if ever, was the time for his luck to show up for the party.
"Well, well, well, if it isn't the infamous John Garrett." Inspector Coulson whistled, moseying over from the crate he'd been leaning against in the shadows. "I should have known it was you this whole time."
"Coulson." Garrett spat, backing away. He kept the smarmy grin on his face, but even Fitz could see it coming apart at the seams.
"Fitz, you alright down there?"
He could only manage a shaky "Mmhmm," which seemed to satisfy Coulson.
"I gotta say, you've cooked up some pretty exotic schemes in the past, John, but this one sure takes the cake." Coulson gestured around the warehouse. "You actually go out and learn hypnosis this time?"
"I may have picked up a few things." Garrett still had the gun pointed, but he didn't seem to know who to aim it at anymore. He'd try to buy time next, if Fitz's experiences taught him anything. "You curious to hear how I did it?" There it was.
"Not particularly," Coulson shrugged. "I know you well enough by now to piece together the important bits of the plot. I'm guessing you used your stint as a magician to scope out your audience for 'volunteers'. FitzSimmons were the perfect patsies with their clients, their clearance and their complete mistrust of each other. All you really needed after was a phone."
Fitz felt like he should stand up for himself and Jemma, but he knew he didn't have the strength, or the legs to stand on. They had been fairly perfect targets.
"Took you long enough though, Inspector," Garrett chuckled smoothly, determined to at least sound like he still had the high ground. "Usually you're right on my tail. You're getting old."
"I admit, this one took more effort than the last. You must make a more believable hypnotist than a mind-reader. Or you were just more desperate."
"You think I'm desperate?"
"I think you framed two good kids to do your dirty work for you," Coulson said simply. "Besides, scratch the surface of any criminal and you'll find the same thing." He smirked. "Desperation. Greed, power, riches. Doesn't much matter. You're all desperate."
"After all this time, Phil, you're going to boil me down to the likes of a common criminal? We both know I'm far more sophisticated than all that. You remember my last job, don't you?"
"I do. Ian Quinn remembers too. He's still doing time for falling for your mind-reading scheme. "
Garrett chuckled almost fondly. "The man was a crook anyways, he deserved what he got."
"Maybe so. But these two?"
"These two had it coming," Garrett snarled. "The whole thing wouldn't have worked if they didn't have it in them in the first place."
Coulson looked down at Fitz and shrugged half-heartedly. "You've got me there. Only they didn't have the intent. You decided all that for them. That's bound to get you up on at least one or two charges, don't you think?"
"Only if you can prove it." Garret scowled darkly and glanced around the warehouse. He appeared to have settled on a plan of action, and the inspector knew it too. "Now enough chit chat, Coulson. Let's not do the old song and dance again, we're well beyond that at this point." He started to slowly shift his feet, like a cat on the hunt, lowering his gun as he moved. Coulson kept his eyes trained on him, not missing an inch as Garrett crept to the side with his smug face. "Nothing you threw at me before could ever stick, so what would be different this time? See, that's your problem, Coulson. You were always too much of a goody-goody."
"And you were always too much of an ass hole," Coulson hissed. "But you have a point. All I've got you on now is for attempting to detain a known fugitive." He looked down at Fitz with a defeated shrug of his shoulder. "I may as well let you go, save us both the hassle and the paperwork."
Garrett looked at Coulson sideways. Not sure if this was his free pass or a trick. "You gonna sick your goons on me as soon as my back is turned?"
"Wouldn't dream of it. Too much of a goody-goody," Coulson smiled wryly, holding his hands up innocently. "It's like you said, pretty hard to pin anything on you for this. Besides, I'm getting far too old to chase you down," Coulson laughed darkly.
With a nervous smirk, Garrett started backing away. He grabbed Simmons' arm for good measure and held her like a shield, pressing the gun to her temple, daring Coulson or Fitz to come for him. With a last look around the corner, he lifted his hands into fists around the barrell of the gun and drove them into the back of Jemma's head, pushing her down to Fitz before he dropped everything and ran for it.
Fitz leapt from the ground and caught Jemma less than gracefully. His arm was rather in pain where she'd shot him, after all. Her eyes shut tight, and he reached out a hand to make sure she still had a pulse. She did, and he exhaled with relief.
Garrett ran for it all right. He ran straight into Constable May who was waiting in the shadows for him, illuminated by a flash of lightning. The ensuing fisticuffs were quick and one-sided. Garrett never stood a chance.
When it was all over, Coulson marched over to where May held Garret in submission. "Now, assaulting a police officer and attempted murder?" He grinned. "I'm sure I can get at least one of those to stick."
Jemma's eyes fluttered open in the warehouse light that had returned with a sudden pop. Her eyes focused and she smiled cheerfully up at him. "Fitz?"
He breathed a sigh of relief, brushing her damp hair off her forehead.
"Jemma, are you okay?"
"Yes," she said, still bewildered and uncharacteristically cheerful.
"Right. We'll have to get you to Trip to undo all this, I suppose." Fitz sighed, helping her to her feet. "But that can wait for morning. It's been a long day. A long week, really."
She didn't respond. Fitz nodded to himself and guided her gently to follow him. They walked side by side in silence through the rain as more police showed up out back to help put a lid on the Jade Monkey case. Stopping just behind her car, Fitz turned to face her.
"It's such a shame that you're going to have to actually wake up from this illusion," he said. "Master-mind's puppet aside, there's something pretty nice about being in that unburdened state, isn't there?"
She merely blinked in response. Fitz slumped his shoulders, then fliched as pain shot through his deftly patched up arm at the movement. He winced. It was definitely much too strange having her so agreeable to the things he said. He opened his mouth to take it back, but then she smiled up at him with a look on her face as if she'd been interrupted in the middle of a nice, believable dream. Perhaps that's what did it, that look on her face.
Fitz knew all at once that he didn't care about anything other than spending as much time as he could bickering with her. He didn't care if he never got back to his safe routine and he didn't even much care if his files got put into his old system, though he would never admit that to her. He didn't want Raina or Daisy or anyone else for that matter, so long as Jemma Simmons lived and breathed. He wanted her with everything he had. And with everything he didn't have. He wanted a future. With her. He could do the small cottage and the white picket fence and the youngsters and everything else you were supposed to do if that's really the life she wanted. If she came as part of the deal, he wanted it all too.
He let out a long, heavy sigh as the rain fell down against them. "Just – just once before the ugly curtain of reality drops on both of us…"
Knowing he shouldn't, but unable to stop himself, Fitz leaned in and pressed his lips to hers. As he suspected she would, she leaned in to him too, but he was still nervous, tentative. She brought her hands to his face and without hesitation, she pulled him closer. He gave in. Their lips brushed against each other in an increasingly heated dance, tasting of salt and rain water, and she clung to him. Soft, happy moans escaped their lips as one or the other would quickly gasp for air then pull the other greedily back in for more. It was a heady escape for the tension that had been building between them that he knew he would not get another chance to release.
He also knew it couldn't last. She didn't come as part of the deal. Not for him, anyway. He'd tried so hard not to get hurt, and here he was keying himself up nicely for the hurt of his lifetime. Fitz finally pulled away, reluctantly. What he wanted most of all was for her to be happy, and if she wanted Will Daniels, then he wouldn't stand in her way. It was time. Reality was waiting for both of them with its rough edges and grimy truths, and as much as he wanted to stay stuck in the fantasy forever, his arm really hurt.
"C'mon Simmons," he sighed. "I'll drop you back home on my way to the hospital." He turned away from her before he could change his mind and got in the driver side of her car.
Jemma stood in the glare of the tail lights with rain dripping down her face. The puddle at her feet crept across the steaming pavement, a tendril of water reaching, racing slowly towards him. She brought her fingertips to her lips. She blinked a few times to herself, attempting to clear her mind from the incongruent cheerfulness that had been dictated to her upon waking. She remembered nothing before waking up on the ground in Fitz's arms, but she did feel far too cheerful. It was not the correct emotion right now. Though she had to admit it, the gut-wrenching indecision she that was quickly taking its place was not altogether as unpleasant as she'd feared.
Finally, fitting her mouth back into that inappropriately stupid grin, she stepped through the puddles towards her car where Fitz was waiting to drive her home. Want or need. Reality or fantasy. The proper question was - which was which?