A/N: It is with heavy heart that I bring this story to its conclusion. I'd originally intended to end with where Jemma and Leo are at the start of the pilot, but I couldn't resist a little bit of an epilogue. Special thanks to the stalwart reviewers: You can't possibly know how much you inspired and challenged me and I offer you my thanks a million times over. If you haven't had a chance to comment yet, I'd love to hear from you.
I do have another work-in-progress fic for FitzSimmons, so hopefully I'll see you all again soon. Enjoy (and again, thank you for reading!)
PERFECT IMPERFECTIONS/EPILOGUE
Jemma measures her breath; each intake comes shallow and her fingernails dig into the back of her hand. Her eyes flit toward her partner who sits next to her. He is likewise silent, only the murmured hum of the car radio fills the air. She wonders briefly if their inevitable charade will be worth it in the end.
Her orders had been appealing: a life on the road where she travelled from country to country, visiting places she could only imagine. Having Leo by her side is an added bonus, but already the secrecy and protocol of S.H.I.E.L.D naws at her and she thinks they may be in over their heads. She's not sure if they've made the right decision. They're a far cry from field ready and she fears that there may be more to the operation than any of the ranking officials have let on about.
Leo's lips move slightly as he calculates the probability that they could encounter danger on their mission. Streiten has promised a laboratory sanctuary inside the plane and limited field action, so he thinks it's safe to put the percentage at 1.42.
Jemma's breath exhales deeply next to him and he can tell just by looking at her that she's a bundle of nerves. He thinks that 1.42% is still too high and vows to figure out ways to reduce the statistic. Leo makes a mental note to modify his spent .45 caliber test cartridges so that they can contain Jemma's dendrotoxin samples. He wonders if the dosage could make an effective defence weapon as he's determined to ensure that they both make it through the year unscathed.
When he notices that her nails dig deeper into the back of her hand, Leo reaches for her and pulls her hand away. She looks at him, questioning and he offers her a small smile and gives a wink. It's reassuring in its simplicity; it's as though he's saying they'll be okay.
She hopes he's right.
…
Weeks later, when Leo looks up and into the jungle forest searching for capuchins or yellow tailed woolly monkeys, there's excitement in his voice and Jemma thinks at last everything is falling into place. As hard as it's been, they've managed to convince the ranking agents on board the Bus that they're just friends. Agent Ward even calls her "Fitz" on more than one occasion and she suspects that he can't tell them apart.
But then the Peruvian rebels shoot at them and she begins to regret forcing Leo into the field with her. There's a tension that hangs thickly between them and the creases at his temples return as he briskly says that he hadn't expected combat so quickly.
Their eventual kidnapping over a Hydra-era weapon adds an entirely new layer to the mission and when they all have to put their individual skills into a team effort to save Coulson, even Leo can't deny the rush of adrenaline that flows through his body. Later, when they land at the Slingshot for disposal, his grin is wide and he babbles happily about residual velocity and the artifact's eventual entry into an elliptical orbit.
He later surprises Jemma by using the scrambler he'd stowed away among their equipment. They'd promised each other to keep it secret and to only use it when desperate as it was against protocol and there's only three good charges to it. But he's a little drunk from the MacEwans beer that Jemma had bought and when she bids him good night and turns the light off to her station, he presses the scrambler and wastes little time pulling her toward him and kissing her hard. She relents quickly, having missed the feverish feel of his lips on her own.
Jemma's always been quicker to her senses and when she pulls away, gasping, there's laughter in her voice when she admonishes him. Her hand bats against his arm and she clicks her tongue, warningly.
"Now there's only two charges left, you dolt," she says, a blush on her cheeks.
He smiles boldly as the scrambler's charge fades. "It was totally worth it."
…
There's a faint sobbing that comes from the bathroom in their shared hallway. At first he thinks it's his imagination, but as he nears the door the sound becomes clearer. He turns at the handle and the door opens easily. Jemma's hands are under the faucet, water pooling over her fingers and into the sink.
"Jem? What's wrong?" He asks softly, his hand gently cupping her shoulder.
Her tear stained face looks up at him, her chin quivering anew. Her voice is barely a whisper as she holding up her hands. "I can't get the blood out."
Leo looks down at her hands, searching for signs of injury but there's nothing to be seen. "There's no blood, Jemma," he says reaching across her and turning the faucet off. Her shoulders roll forward, exhaustion riddling her body. "Were you bleeding?"
She shakes her head, wet hands hanging limply in the sink. "It was your blood."
Leo's brain cycles through her logic, at first not quite understanding what she means. It's his own memories of his hands sticky with blood and the stench of copper that cause realization to finally dawn on him.
The simulation.
He turns and pulls a hand towel from the towel rack and envelopes her hands in it, drying them. Jemma's chin drops to her chest as he removes the towel.
"It's just bad memories, nothing real," he says softly, tossing the towel onto the countertop. "I'm right here. It was just a simulation."
He pulls her against him, her chin tucking into his shoulder. "When will it stop being so real?" She whispers.
He's without an answer as her screams often haunt his own dreams. "I don't know."
When he helps her to bed, she asks him to stay. He's hesitant, but she begs and her eyes are full of fear and he can't refuse. So he climbs in next to her and pulls her firmly against his side. Jemma sighs contently and he supposes her earlier nightmares have at last been drowned away. As her hand tugs him closer and her head rests against his chest, she mutters sleepily, "I guess we won't be able to do this on that plane, will we?"
He feels himself smile. "I should think not. But we could always tell them we're watching Dr. Who. They'd probably believe that."
She murmurs in agreement, eyes closing, a dreamless sleep enveloping her at last.
...
When Jemma gives her diagnosis in robotic fashion, Leo recognizes the familiar avoidance strategy. She's making herself appear calm on the surface, but underneath she is cracking. Quickly. When she excuses herself from the room, he follows.
She walks briskly to the medical supplies storage room and fumbles at the lock before she's finally able to gain access. Her fingers stick to the keys and she can see that blood has already stained the keychain. She tosses them on to a shelf and begins to rummage through drawers. She's not sure what she's looking for exactly; a distraction? Her bloody fingers dig through face masks, sani cloths and syringes. She slams the drawer shut and opens the next above it. There she finds pouches of gauze and rips at the packaging, pulling at the wrappings. She tears at the cotton, choking back fresh tears and rubs the gauze against her skin, desperate to remove the blood.
She hears his footsteps before she feels his hand on her shoulder. His very presence breaks her self-control and her face crumples as she turns to him. Jemma steps away at first; her hands are dirty with blood and she knows how he feels about mess. But his arms wrap at her waist and pull her into his arms.
She sobs and he holds her tighter. He says nothing, knowing that there's nothing to be said. He knows the place where the tears come from, knows the memories that it evokes. Leo feels his own guilt, having promised himself that he'd protect her from the very thing that he'd inadvertently caused.
Jemma doesn't leave the lab that night. Instead she sits next to the hyperbaric chamber and watches over Skye, afraid that at any moment her vitals will crash. When Leo discovers her asleep against the chamber, he grabs a warming blanket from the lock up and settles it over her shoulders. She murmurs slightly and he resists the urge to brush her hair from her face. Instead, he plays the doting "friend" and grabs a chair and takes on the next shift.
…
"Jemma?" Leo asks, shoulders barely peeking over boxes that are stacked before him in their apartment. "Can you pass me those shear force diagrams? I want to put them in a tube so they don't get all bent up when they put our stuff in storage."
"You need to stop that," she says handing him the rolled diagrams.
His eyes open wide, confused. "Stop what?"
She's organizing her clothes in keep and discard piles and her eyes don't meet his own when she responds calmly, "Calling me Jemma."
Leo chokes out a laugh. "What're you on about? What the hell else am I to call you?"
"Simmons, of course."
He positioning his elbows on the box before him and rests his chin onto the backs of his hands. "What's the difference?"
She cocks her eyebrow and looks at him incredulously as though it's the most obvious answer in the world.
"Seriously," Leo says. "I don't get the difference."
"Jemma's just…" She blushes and tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, her nose scrunching. "It's a bit… personal."
"Personal?" He has to stop himself from laughing but the look on his face gives him away.
"Don't laugh!" She chastises. "It's true! When you call me Jemma, it's personal. Don't get me wrong- I love it," she says resting her hand on his arm. "But that's just the problem. If we're to make it all believable that we're just friends and you know- fool the higher ups, you can't be calling me Jemma. I won't be able to keep a straight face. You know how I am!"
He shakes his head. "You're incorrigible, you know that?" She shrugs her shoulders, unable to disagree and smiles wide. "Right then," he continues. "Simmons it is. What're you to call me then? You already use my last name."
She rolls her eyes and returns to her sorting. "Please Fitz. We both know you're the better actor. I'm sure you'll be fine."
"But what if I want you to call me Leo?" He asks, a sly smile crooking at the corners of his mouth.
Jemma's ears turn red. She knows he's trying to get a rise out of her, but she's mortified just the same. "I won't call you Leo. Not in front of others. You know that's for…" She looks over her shoulder as though double checking that there's no one else in the room with them. "-other times."
When Leo's booming laugh fills the apartment, Jemma wants to bury her crimson face into the old sweater she has between her hands. Instead, she tosses it at him, landing it square against his face.
...
Leo tries to keep his voice light and friendly, joking with her about the vaccine delivery mechanism. But Jemma's reply is terse; she corrects that it's really an antiserum and while there's a quarantine glass between them, he can feel her anxiety and it silences him. He knows that there must be a cure and he wants to believe that Jemma can figure it out. He holds his breath as she delivers the antibodies to the second infected rat. When her shoulders drop he doesn't have to see the results to know what they are.
He trills encouragingly in a hollow attempt to ease her frustration, but his eyes can't leave the floating rat. His fingers tap against his thumb and he silently runs through algorithms and logistics, dredging up every ounce of biological information he's ever read. He feels useless as he's more of a physicist than a biologist and the science stalls in his brain.
Jemma paces the lab, picking at her instruments, unsure of what to use next. She flips between academic journals on the table computer; her gloved hands waving away the useless and bookmarking the potential. She needs to find a solution and until the plane lands there's no one on board that can help her.
She is the biochemist.
Only she can find the answer.
The pressure within her begins to bubble to the surface; time is passing too quickly and when she turns to find her surgical tongs floating it takes everything she possesses not to scream with fury. Jemma is suspicious that anger accelerates the resulting electrostatic pulse and she knows she needs to control her heart rate. Her words unintentionally snap when Leo offers his help and part of her just wants to be left alone. She can't focus properly with him watching her; she doesn't want to let him see her die.
Instead, her words cut at him and Leo momentarily forgets where he is and the stressors that plague Jemma. He roars back at her; his device isn't the problem, they should've stayed at SciOps, they're not prepared for the field. If it wasn't for her, this never would've happened.
When his voice squeaks in imitation, her reserve cracks and she is equally caustic. He's just afraid, all he wants is to stay locked up from the world and to never experience life. She never forced him to come.
It's as though she's hit a trigger switch and his words come quick. She's no more worldly than he is and Leo's fingers angrily count off his proof. They've been at it together and her experiences are his experiences. His final arguments die on his lips, realization dawning on him. This is the end of their story; she's going to die.
Jemma can't bare to watch him process the information and she turns away. With every second that passes, it's another that she's lost and she doesn't want to argue.
"You have to fix this." His voice is a whisper, he can't bare to think of a future without her when his past was so full of her.
The problem is that she can't. She's maxed out her knowledge and she can't continue to apply human variables to something so foreign, so alien.
She will die.
Only the Chitauri survived the virus.
Realization dawns on them simultaneously: the alien may be an asymptomatic carrier. They rush into action; there is little time left, but together perhaps they can save her.
When Leo opens the door to the lab and exposes himself to her virus, Jemma can barely contain her tears. She wants nothing more than to throw her arms around his neck, but they've got work to do and she can't risk infecting him.
Her decisions are more fluid as they remove and prep the polyclonal antibodies and ready them for testing. When Fitz's sure hands load the delivery mechanism she's, for the first time, hopeful. He initiates the charge and it seems to work. There's a moment of silence between them and she feels relief wash over her.
"We did it," she says softly, a smile pulling at her lips. She thinks it's the first time she's smiled in hours.
But then the third infected rat sparks like its siblings and all of her renewed hope disappears.
Leo's not sure what happens next, but one second he's babbling shakily about potential changes to the antiserum and then suddenly the room heaves before him. As he pulls himself to his feet, he's horrified by what he sees.
Her hair blows in the wind, her body bounces as if she's gathering her nerve. Leo's brain registers what is happening, knows instinctively what she's about to do. Pretense long forgotten, he screams her name, pulling feverishly at the locked laboratory doors. When her body is thrown from the plane, he thinks he's going to be sick.
Somehow his brain kicks him into action. In seconds he's readying the delivery mechanism for another charge and rationality takes over as his fist slams against the emergency lock releasing the pressurization hold on the lab. The door opens and he rushes forward, grabbing at a parachute. He has to jump, has to save her. He struggles with the straps, flustered but thinks he can do it. He studied aerospace technology for godsake and if he positions his body properly in air he thinks he might be able to overtake her.
As he slings a strap over his shoulder he's mentally calculating the potential air resistance against the force of gravity when Grant Ward appears from nowhere and snatches the parachute from him. When the agent jumps after Jemma, Leo falls to his knees and it's there that Skye finds him, his body trembling and heart palpitating. She calls his name, asking him for answers, but he has none. His chest has tightened and he's gasping for air, choking. The hacker calls for Coulson and it's the last thing he remembers before his head hits the floor of the cargo hold and he blacks out.
Leo wakes in his room with Skye hovering over him. He's afraid to ask after Jemma, afraid of the answer she'll give. His mouth hangs agape and his eyes ask the question for him.
"She's okay," Skye says with a smile. "Ward got to her just in time."
He nods, relief washing over him. She stands and brushes the creases from her pants. "She's just with Coulson, I'm sure she'll be by soon. She'll probably want to check in on you."
Leo sits up on his bed and runs his hand through his hair. His throat his raw from screaming and he tries to push down the nervous feeling that rises in his chest. Shame plagues him; he couldn't jump for her, couldn't save her and he fears what she has to say to him.
When Jemma is at last next to him, she wants Leo to know exactly what she thinks: he is her rock and has always been. She likewise wants to confess what she knows is fundamentally against protocol. Instead, however, she smiles sweetly, reminds him of his role and leaves his bunk after taking a brief liberty and kissing him on the cheek with his door open for all to see. When she eventually leaves, it's not to return to the lab as Leo assumes, instead it's to retrieve the scrambler from its hiding place in a junk drawer.
Jemma marches back to Leo, scrambler in hand and slides the door to his bunk closed. He turns in surprise as she activates the charge and she wastes little time grabbing at Leo's arm, pulling him near and kissing him square on the mouth. He's quick to respond and tightens his hold against her, grinding his body against her own and using the wall to steady them. Her fingers twitch, hovering over his waist. She's forgotten that she can touch him freely now, they have a brief moment of blessed privacy. Jemma's craved his touch and her hands seem to become possessed, pulling at the back of his dress shirt. Her cool fingers touch his skin and he shudders slightly. He doesn't know what he'd do without her and he's desperate to devour every part of her. His lips at first explore her mouth, but then fearlessness takes over and he kisses his way to the base of her neck, where the necklace he made her rests. She makes a little noise, whispering his name and tilts her head back, allowing him room.
When the charge begins to fade, it beeps twice in warning, awakening them from their haze. They pull apart panting, foreheads touching and it's Leo that speaks first. "Bloody hell, Jemma. Don't ever - God. I can't lose you like that again. I'd be- I'd-" He can't finish the sentence, he doesn't want to imagine the possibility.
She nods and her fingers tug gently at his tie. "I know. I won't. I promise." She understands what he's asking and for once her lie comes fluid and believable. She knows innately that if presented again with the same situation she'd save him first a million times over. Even if it cost her her own life.
The charge on the scrambler fades and she frowns at the wand that lays discarded on Leo's bed and steps away from him. The cameras are back on and there's an almost immediate knock on the door to Leo's bunk.
Skye's voice calls out hesitantly. "Er... Fitz? Coulson says there's an issue with the surveillance program. He wants us to have a look at it."
Leo gives Jemma a weakened smile, year's end still too far out of reach. "I'll be there in a second, Skye. Jemma's helping me look for her copy of Dr. Who." Jemma stifles a small gasp at his use of her first name but doesn't correct him. Instead she just shakes her head, smiles in return and takes the battered set of DVDs from Leo's shelf. With the surveillance on, their lives are not their own again and their charade is back in effect.
When, in the weeks that follow, he uses "Jemma" more frequently, she thinks she doesn't want him to stop. It reminds her of home where she could be herself with Leo. She thinks hearing it scratches at the surface of their deception and she's not entirely certain she cares anymore if they're caught.
...
"I won't do it Jemma. I won't." Leo is insistent as he carries their suitcases to the rental truck. "There's a lot of things I would do for you. But that- that's not one of them."
"Please?" She begs, placing a weapons carrier into the truck. "You have to. It sells our story."
His eyes narrow as he lays their luggage on the ground. He's been trying to remain positive for her sake about their new position but as their start day grows nearer, Leo's been finding it increasingly hard. Marring his attempts at positivity is Jemma's preparation of their history as friends. "This is getting ridiculous, you know that right?"
"It's not a big deal," she says bouncing her shoulders. "I mean, I'm giving you permission. That has to count for something."
Leo puts his hands on the small of his back and mulls her proposal. Sometimes he hates that she is his weakness, it makes it harder to refuse her.
When the wind sends his tie askew against his torso, Jemma reaches forward to correct it. His hand is quick and he bats her touch away. "No! You don't get to touch my tie! You're not supposed to be my girlfriend anymore, remember?" Jemma pouts dramatically.
"Besides," he adds. "If you want me to flirt with other girls, then you can't go around fixing my tie all the time."
Jemma's eyes widen, excited, following him back toward the apartment. "So you'll do it then?"
"Begrudgingly, yes. But I want you to remember this moment when you're all jealous because the girls are fawning over me."
"Right," she says, laughter in her voice. "I'm sure you'll be beating them off with a stick."
"You never know, Jemma." His elbow pokes into her side. "I've got skills that you don't know about."
"Duly noted. And will you call me 'Simmons' already? It's hard enough getting in character with you all-" Her hands flit before her, finishing her sentence for her.
"Do I make you flustered, Simmons?" Leo asks teasingly, quickening his step. When he reaches the door, he turns and adds, "I'm telling you, the girls will be clamoring for me. They won't be able to keep their hands off of me and then what will you say?"
"I'll ask them if they have a spare brother for me."
His mouth drops open in mock offence and his hands clutch at his chest. "Cold, Simmons. Cold."
She laughs in return and follows him into their apartment, the last of their belongings waiting to be removed.
…
Jemma hadn't expected to be jealous. Before they'd turned in the key to their apartment, she'd snuck a peek at the flight manifest and knew that the only other female on board the Bus was an older woman from administration, not exactly Leo's type. But then Coulson secures a position for a beautiful, friendly and computer savvy twenty-something woman to help assist the team and Jemma - unable to change the rules of her request - is fraught with jealousy.
Leo scrambles, rather convincingly, to offer the bunk next to his to Skye and he's just a little too helpful. Jemma remains silent, stewing in her own choices and her desire for them to be realistic. She offers hollow smiles and pushes herself to befriend the hacker. She's a lovely girl and they become fast friends but Leo continues to stutter and trip over his words around Skye. She knows it's for show, but she's can't help her envy.
Before long, Leo cottons on to her feelings and questions her. She replies that it's nothing, just that the altitude is getting to her. As always, he sees through her lie and gives her a warning look.
"I told you," he says, measuring his words. "You said you wouldn't be mad."
She shakes her head. "It's fine, Fitz. Really." And it is. The hacker seems more interested in Ward and she's commented on more than one occasion about the synchronicity of FitzSimmons. In fact if there was one person on the team that Jemma suspects might discover their secret, it's Skye.
"You'd tell me if it wasn't fine, right?" He asks, passing her the test module of the handheld Night-Night gun.
She accepts it and inserts the dendrotoxin cartridges. "Of course," she promises, readying the weapon. "Besides," she adds lightly with a hint of laughter to her voice. "Sometimes it's rather embarrassing to watch you try to flirt."
...
It feels like the first day of school when the SUV drops Leo and Jemma off at the S.H.I.E.L.D hangar. Jemma's heart beats quickly and she's taken aback when agents swarm the car and begin to remove their equipment. She thinks her and Leo are perfectly capable of doing it themselves and is about to say as much when he tugs at her sleeve drawing her attention.
"This is rather posh, in'nit? Having all these people do our bidding." Leo points to one of the agents. "Careful, you! That's got radioactive matter in it. You don't want to sprout limbs from your ears." The agent steps back in horror and Leo laughs. "This is brilliant," he says to Jemma, nudging her side.
The agents scurry around them, some checking at the mechanics of the plane, others move their luggage up the cargo ramp. The plane is impressive and while they wait Leo explains how it's a repurposed Globemaster, complete with turbofan engines and vertical flight capabilities. Jemma can't believe that this is their new home and while she's nervous, she's also very excited. She is beginning to feel like an actual contributing member of S.H.I.E.L.D. While she'd long ago devoted herself to their mission and was certainly a member of the organization, it's on Coulson's team that she believes she will be able to make a concrete and visible difference. She'll finally get to experience the effects of her work rather than hearing about them second hand.
"C'mon," she says, motioning toward the plane, a grin wide on her face. "We'd better get started organizing the lab before Agent Coulson arrives or he'll have our heads."
…
S.H.I.E.L.D's demise at the hands of Hydra hits both Jemma and Leo hard. They follow Coulson's orders with blind obedience, unsure of who is truly in charge anymore. While Agent May dons a welder's mask and sets about repairing the exterior of the plane, Jemma seeks out what's left of the scientists at the Hub and recruits as many as she can to assist Leo with the internal mechanical repairs.
Hours later, when sheer exhaustion cripples much of the work force, Coulson allows them a brief reprise. They're to meet back at 08:00 to continue the work they've started. Jemma has to practically drag Leo from a ladder in the cargo hold and as she pushes him up the stairs and to their bunks, he mutters angrily about Agent Triplett's interference in his progress.
She listens patiently to his grievances and follows him into his bunk, the team's common room having been largely destroyed by gunfire. As Jemma takes a seat on his bed she asks, "What are we supposed to do now?"
He looks at her, confusion riddling his face as he sits across from her on a chair. "How'd you mean?"
"It's all gone to pieces, Fitz. Is there even a S.H.I.E.L.D. for us to even belong to?"
He leans back against the chair and considers her question. "I'd like to believe there is. This can't be the end of the story."
She reaches for his hands and pulls him toward her, seating him next to her on the bed. "It's not a story, Fitz. And certainly this is a far cry from a happy ending."
He shrugs. "I'd like to believe that there can still be a happy ending."
"What?"
"S.H.I.E.L.D is a part of our story," he says. "It's a part of who we are and what we are. It led us to this moment, to this place and I refuse to believe that after bloody well everything we've been through, that we aren't at least owed a happy ending. This isn't our end, so why should it be S.H.I.E.L.D's?" He's been thinking a lot about their role in the organization and the events of the past day. He believes that the mission is officially bigger than the both of them and that there's no turning back.
Suddenly, she startles him by tugging at his cardigan and pressing her lips to his. Every thought of S.H.I.E.L.D and their future in it seems to instantly melt away. His hand cups her jaw and as their kiss begins to bloom into something more it's Leo that pulls away first.
"What was that for?" He asks with a curious grin.
"Nothing," she replies innocently, her fingers holding tight to his sweater. In truth, she's amazed at the person that sits before her and the bravery she's witnessed from him. She can't believe that the Leo Fitz next to her is the same person who'd once seemed so shy in his video showcasing a flying disk. She bites at the corner of her lip. "Why'd you stop?
His finger points to the door of his bunk. "I'm pretty sure that Skye got the surveillance system back up and running this afternoon and we didn't use the scrambler," he says cautiously. "Should I go get Dr. Who?"
She scrunches her nose and shakes her head. "They shot a bullet right through the packaging."
"Oh."
"There's probably a metaphor in there somewhere," she says with a laugh as she leans back against his bed. She makes room for him and when his arm wraps around her shoulders and pulls her tight against him, she thinks that he's not wrong about them and their place amid the shattered remains of S.H.I.E.L.D. While their story had begun with S.H.I.E.L.D, it certainly didn't have to end with it.
"Do you think Coulson still cares about 8-6?" Leo asks. "I mean we did sign off on a year and I'm not exactly keen on keeping to that after everything. Especially if we're staying on." His fingertips languidly trace the length of her spine. "Though, it's probably a bad time to tell him, in'nit?"
"We'll tell him in the morning," she says. Her own arm is slung across his chest and her fingers curl at the hairs at the back of his neck. "Might as well let him think he has this chapter tied up for a bit longer."
...FIN...
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