Jemma is beginning to wonder if near-constant breathlessness is a prerequisite for love. She would also wonder if there was some way of scientifically testing that hypothesis, if her brain hadn't chosen that moment to short circuit, making coherent thought almost impossible. This is because Fitz, with his shirt sleeves rolled up and his collar open, mussed from the exertion of work, has swept into the room and is striding towards her with a look of raw determination, one that instantly weakens her knees and sets her pulse racing, and in one, swift motion, he pulls her notebook from her grasp, throws it onto the lab table, grips her waist with one hand, slides his other into her hair, pulls her against him, and crushes his mouth to hers.

Jemma drops the pen she's still holding and grabs at him, moving reflexively rather than consciously, her fingers twisting into his shirt in a vain attempt to steady herself, and then reality hits her so hard that she gasps, and Fitz immediately pulls away, eyes wide, an apology already forming on his lips, and she leaps to reassure him.

"Don't stop..." She needs him like she needs air, like she needs blood in her veins. He does as he's told, tilting his head and capturing her lips hungrily, like he'd never stopped in the first place. Jemma wraps her arms around his neck to try and pull him closer, even though she's already flush against him - she wants more of the heat that's burning his skin, wants to mould herself perfectly to his form and never let go.

Noticing she still has her gloves on, she yanks them off and tosses them to one side; it's a good job she wasn't working with anything infectious. Her fingers tangle in the hair at the nape of his neck and slowly move up into his curls, eliciting a soft moan from Fitz which ignites a spark in the pit of her stomach, one that spreads rapidly as he slips an eager tongue past her lips, sliding it hotly against hers, and she crumbles like wet cake, clutching him even tighter to steady herself. Fitz presses his hands firmly against her back in response, and it occurs to Jemma, albeit briefly, how positively indecent they must look. Not that she cares, not when Fitz's lips are caressing hers like silk against bare skin, not when he's mapping her mouth with the same detailed attention that he pays to his work, leaving her helpless and sighing his name like a plea.

It's indescribable, this kiss. It's so much more than she ever dreamed it would be, and mixed with the tremble that's running through her, with the heightening of her senses to their very limits, it tips her over the edge and overpowers her. She feels the bite of tears, and she breaks away, panting, unable to hide the telltale hitch in her throat.

Jemma's mortified. This isn't some sappy rom-com, pull yourself together.

But she knows why. She thought she'd lost him for good, that this would never happen, and she loves him so much, that she just splinters like weakened glass, overcome by it all.

Fitz stares at her in horror, his hands moving to her shoulders as he steps back a little to look at her fully, his breath coming just as fast as hers. "What... What is it? Did I do something wrong? Was it that bad? I know it's been a while, but-"

Jemma cuts off his babbling with a tearful laugh. "No! God, no, I'm just... I'm embarrassingly overwhelmed, that's all." With that, she buries her face in the crook of his neck and holds him tight, calming a little when he rubs soothing circles across her back.

"You frightened the life out me - I thought you were going to tell me this had all been a terrible mistake," he breathes, his relief obvious.

She shakes her head. "Never," she promises, her voice muffled by his skin, and she feels a shudder go through him as her lips skim his neck. Naturally, she wants to explore that reaction further, so she tilts her face and dusts soft kisses up towards his jaw, and he presses his fingers into the back of her shoulders as he exhales heavily. He tastes faintly of salt, of the burden of the day, and the tang of his cologne reaches her tongue, a strong, bitter taste, but she doesn't mind, because she's always loved the smell of it. It's the same one he's used for so long, that if he were to change it, she'd miss it, because wherever she is, if a stranger walks past with the same scent, she instantly thinks of Fitz. It's a little spicy, cinnamon mixed with faint floral and warm, woody notes. It's comforting and cosy and him.

"Jemma..." he whispers, fighting to keep himself in check as he brushes his lips against her hair.

Feeling daring, Jemma drags her mouth back to his and sucks his bottom lip between her teeth, just as she'd fantasied, biting down gently and trying not to let the surprise at her forwardness shine through. She lifts her eyes to gaze at him coquettishly (and she wonders if she can even pull that off, given her track record with flirting, but this is a very different set of circumstances, and adrenalin is urging her on), and Fitz stares down at her, almost hypnotised, his eyes dark and swirling with desire, and her heart almost stops.

Clearly, it's worked. She'll give herself a pat on the back for that, later.

She slowly releases his lip, her eyes still on his, and then he cracks and attacks her mouth again with the same desperation as before. She never wants to stop kissing him, not ever. She could quite happily just stay here in his arms, feeling exhilarated and more alive than she has in months.

Jemma blushes a little as she allows herself to indulge in the fact that Leo Fitz is kissing her, that she's kissing him, that she's seeing this whole other side to him that she's had no evidence of before (not much, anyway - even when he had a girlfriend, he wasn't really into public displays of affection past hand-holding and maybe a hug), and it's thrilling. It's probably the same for him with her, to be fair, and the whole thing is hugely exciting.

Fitz moves to drop kisses along her jaw and up to her ear, and she fails to suppress a shiver as he leans in to finish whispering what he'd started to earlier that night, his voice low and impassioned.

"I love you."

A not entirely unexpected surge of emotion washes through her, and she throws her arms around his neck, stretching up a little to press her head to his.

"I never stopped, I promise."

"I know. I- Ow!" Jemma's body jolts away from Fitz's like it's been set on fire, as his hand accidentally brushes over her injured hip, and he curses and immediately retracts his limb, about to apologise when Jemma puts a finger to his lips.

"No harm done."

He shakes his head. "Doesn't matter, I should have been more careful," he chastises himself, leaning carefully back into her. They take a moment to calm down a little, just breathing each other in, their hands winding together. Jemma smiles when she thinks about how perfectly they fit.

With the urgency dissipated somewhat, Fitz starts to blush the more he looks at her, and that just makes her smile even wider, because she can feel her face burning, too, and then she ends up laughing, the sudden bark of noise sending her hands up to her mouth to smother it, but she can't stop.

Fitz is momentarily bewildered, unsure as to why she's suddenly giggling like she's had too much gas at the dentist, but he can't help but become infected by her dancing eyes and broad grin, and his face splits, too, his delight at her giddiness falling musically from his lips. While the kiss itself wasn't completely unexpected, the way it happened certainly was - neither of them could have known just what would flow out of them once given free rein. It's a lot to take in, the newness of it, this brilliant discovery.

Oh course, something embarrassing was always bound to barge its way in, and without warning, Jemma's stomach rumbles loudly. She rubs a hand across her abdomen in an attempt to pacify it, just as Fitz's does the same, seemingly in reply.

"Oh, dear, that's rather ruined the moment," she says, trying to suppress the breathy giggles still forcing their way out of her.

Fitz grins at her, all rosy-cheeked and sparkly-eyed. "Clearly, they're trying to tell us something. Come on, I'll help you tidy up, and then we can raid the kitchen."

xxxx

Fitz roots through the fridge and cupboards while Jemma sits at the table, watching him. He'd insisted that she rest, still feeling guilty that he'd accidentally grabbed hold of her hip, and now he's throwing a jumble of things onto the kitchen counter and heating up a pan on the stove.

Omelettes.

Fitz might not have a large repertoire when it comes to cooking, but he does make a mean omelette.

Jemma smiles as he bustles about. She's always admired the way he works, but to be able to view him so openly, to not have to hide the fact that she's doing so, is wonderfully refreshing and soothing. He applies the same amount of care to chopping tomatoes as he does to fixing circuitry or shaping metal, and she finds his movements to be quite captivating, so much so that she zones out and only really comes back to herself when a plate lands in front of her, and she jumps, startled.

"You need to sleep," Fitz says, mistaking her daydreaming for tiredness, and that's probably just as well, because while she now doesn't mind being caught looking, it's another thing to admit that you spaced out from staring too intensely at someone. And not just someone - him.

"I'm fine," Jemma says, sitting up from where she has her chin resting in her hand, and smiles softly at him. "Thank you, this looks delicious." She stares down at a perfectly formed, ham, cheese, and tomato omelette, the smell wafting up her nose and driving home just how ravenous she is. Fitz brings over their cutlery and grabs some water from the fridge, then sits down opposite her, and suddenly she feels ridiculous, and not quite sure what her face is doing. She's trying to eat normally, but they keep catching each other's eye and smiling, and she really wants to eat, but she's feeling too nervy, and she wonders if he's feeling the same. Is she chewing too loudly? Is her mouth actually closed? Fitz raises an eyebrow at her, and she almost self-combusts.

"What are you doing?" Amused, he puts down his knife and fork, and Jemma drops her own onto her plate with a sigh.

"I don't know. This is..."

"Weird," Fitz finishes for her.

"Yes. But not-"

"-bad weird."

"No. Just... Different. Sorry."

Fitz reaches across the table to take her hand, and she watches as his fingers slide between hers, his touch causing a tingle to zip up her arm, and it pings off around the rest of her body like a pinball as her breath sticks in her throat. She glances up at him through long lashes.

"Don't be. It is. Now I'm worried about what I look like when I'm eating-"

"-Oh, god, me too!" Jemma replies, a little too enthusiastically, and he chuckles.

"Yeah, I mean, am I noisy? Do I look like a pig at a trough, or a goldfish mouthing at the surface of the water for flakes?"

She puffs a laugh. "Neither."

"I don't know what I'm worrying about, it's not like I need to impress you - you know what I look like when I eat. You know everything about me. And me, you. Well, I mean, not... I don't know... I mean... Um..." Fitz flushes beetroot, and Jemma's eyes widen as she picks up on what he's unintentionally stumbled into. He clears his throat and picks his fork back up, waving it at her. "It's going cold. You don't like it cold." He sits back and continues eating, and she mirrors him until her plate is cleared, and then reaches for her water bottle to give her hands something else to do, taking a long swig from it, forgetting that it's just come from the fridge, and she pulls a face as the cold hits a sensitive spot behind her front teeth. This seems to break the temporary awkwardness between them, as Fitz smiles and shakes his head, because it's not the first time.

"Remember that time you bit into an ice-cream without thinking and you nearly hit your head on the ceiling, and then flapped about like an angry bird?"

Jemma presses the back of her hand to her mouth to warm it, and narrows her eyes at him. "It's not funny."

He presses his lips tightly together in an effort to look less amused. "Sorry."

"Humph," she mumbles around her hand, but she watches him watching her, and it's not long before she softens.

"Better?"

"Yes."

Fitz grins at her, and she rolls her eyes good naturedly before standing to clear their plates. He jumps up to help her, but she waves him away.

"Jem-"

"I'm fine, Fitz - sit down." Jemma touches a hand to his chest and pushes gently, and he relinquishes, his legs folding and lowering him back down. Then, just for good measure, she bends down and drops a quick kiss on his lips, leaving him with a goofy smile on his face.

Jemma clears the table, scraps out the congealed pasta from her earlier attempts at dinner, and puts everything in the dishwasher. Then she fills the kettle and busies herself with fetching mugs and tea bags and milk and sugar, and then she stops to ponder her tea choice - black or herbal? Assam or peppermint? English Breakfast or camomile? Camomile, she decides, as it's late. No longer needed, she puts the sugar and milk away, and switches the tea bags. She's jittery again. Nervous excitement, that's all it is, but she can't stop thinking about how she wants to feel his hands on her again, to feel his mouth, soft and pliable as it moves against her own. Just as she's starting to lose herself to her thoughts, the air sparks, and the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. Fitz is right behind her - she can feel him completely, even before he touches her. His arms come to circle around her waist, and her hands still, hovering over the mugs. A soft, lingering kiss to the back of her neck has her eyes fluttering closed as her skin breaks out in goosebumps, and she leans back against him with a small sigh as she clasps her hands over his, his face buried in her shoulder. In the sudden silence, they become lost in the warmth of each other, just standing there and holding on, letting the peace and quiet wash over them.

After a minute or two, Jemma turns in his arms, and they're back in the same position they were in before Skye interrupted them, except this time Fitz brushes his mouth against hers without hesitation, and she brings her hands up to thread her fingers through his hair, her mouth turned up in a deliriously happy smile.

"It's really hard to kiss you when you're grinning like a clown," Fitz murmurs against her, his own lips mimicking hers.

Jemma wraps her fingers around his collar and bumps her nose to his. "We should talk."

"Oh. Wow. Well, that beats my previous record of shortest relationship ever. I didn't think it could get much worse than Holly MacAllister dumping me after a day because I refused to stay at her house for dinner. Her mother was terrifying - she gave me "the talk", and I was only five."

"Fitz! I'm serious!" She laughs.

He grins, then runs his hands up her arms and rests them on her shoulders. "Yeah, I know."

"Sit down. I'll bring the tea over." Jemma turns to the kettle, sees she hasn't turned it on, and tuts to herself, flipping the switch. Oh, well - the distraction had been pleasant.

A few minutes later, she rejoins Fitz at the table, and they both cradle their mugs in silence for a few moments, unsure of where to start. When they do, they both go at the same time, taking over each other until their words become a jumble.

Fitz smiles. "You go first."

"No, please, you go."

He nods, and stares at her for a second before beginning. "Okay." He takes Jemma's hands in his. "When you got hit by that car, it frightened the life out of me - for a split second, I thought that was it, that this time I was going to lose you for good, and it made me realise that I couldn't keep dithering about, because you never know when you might be seeing someone for the last time, and we've already had so many close-calls... I was stupid to waste those chances. It was suddenly all so simple. I know it still took me a few days, but all I could think about was how, when it comes to you, I don't know how to do anything but love you. And I'm... I'm pretty sure I know what the answer is, so don't be mad at me for asking, but you know this is forever? I can't do this and not have it be forever. You and me, everything we've done, everything we've been through... This is it. And if you can't see it being forever, I need to know now, because I can't start this and-"

Jemma presses a finger to his mouth and cuts him off. She smiles softly at him. "I know, and it will be. I know you're still angry with me-"

"-No, no, I'm not."

"...Really?"

"Really." He cups her face and runs his thumb across her cheek. "And I know you're wondering if I trust you, and I do. Completely. It was horrible, an absolute nightmare, but I know you why you did it - I know you were scared, and that it overwhelmed you."

She inhales shakily. "I was terrified. But, I couldn't live on just memories of you. It wouldn't be enough. I don't know what I was thinking. I really do mean that - I couldn't. Everyone thinks I'm really strong, but I'm not strong enough for that. I'm so, so sorry that I hurt you. Every time I think about it..." She shakes her head and stares down at her lap, hoping to find something profound there, even though she knows he doesn't need it. "I might not have meant to, but I still did."

"You don't have to keep apologising."

She glances back up at him, still not quite able to grasp that he's truly not angry with her anymore. But it doesn't matter, because she knows he's telling the truth. "I feel like I do. I feel like it'll never be enough. But, we have a new start, now, countless blank pages to fill, together, sort of like our book two - one story is complete, and now it's time for the sequel..." she frowns, and turns her head, her eyes moving but seeing nothing as she thinks. "No, not a sequel - they're usually not very good, are they? Continuation of a series, like 'Harry Potter', or 'Lord of the Rings'. And I think - I know - we can be even better. And I know we'll never not risk our lives for each other, but even so, let's both just promise that we'll try our best to stay alive."

Fitz's answering smlie stretches all the way up to his eyes, and he lifts one of her hands to his mouth to gently kiss the inside of her wrist. "I like the sound of that."

xxxx

Jemma thinks, if it were practical, that she could kiss Fitz forever. He's just walked her to her room, and she's in his arms again, sinking against him, his mouth sliding hotly against hers. She sighs, not wanting to move from the comfort of his hold, but knowing that, despite it now being almost one in the morning, it's not a good idea to be standing in the hall and snogging like teenagers. Not that she knows what that's like. She'd always been too busy studying and making new discoveries, and she knows that Fitz didnt have a very good time during his teen years. Still, whilst making up for lost time is most definitely fun, she knows they shouldn't linger out here.

"Stay," she whispers into his mouth; she realises half a beat before his lips still that she should have said a little more than that. Her eyes widen, and she moves back. "I didn't mean... I just meant... To sleep," she finishes, lamely, her face and neck burning.

Fitz remains motionless for a second or two, then throws her a lopsided smile that makes her insides go all funny in the most perfectly delightful way. He takes hold of her chin between his thumb and forefinger, tilting her head to better stare into her eyes, and she blinks at up him, captivated by his own, the colour of a clear, twilight sky.

"Okay, let me go get changed. Five minutes." He kisses her one last time before turning away and disappearing off to his own room, and despite the late hour and how exhausted they are, there's a spring in his step that Jemma hasn't seen in a long while.

Puffing her cheeks, she blows out a relieved 'whoosh' of air, then opens her door and slips inside.

When he comes to her, just as she's finished brushing her teeth, dressed in checked pyjama bottoms and a white t-shirt, his smile shy and adoring, a lump forms in her throat to which she cannot push words past, so she just pulls the covers back on her bed, instead, and she's about to slide in when Fitz's expression moulds itself into an uneasy frown, and she follows his line of sight to see that he's staring at her hip. She looks down to find her tee partially ridden up, her bottoms slung low on her hips, and the top of her bruise peeking out, the contrast against her skin screaming out like a siren.

"Fitz..."

"Can I... Can I see?"

Jemma nods and straightens, beckoning him closer. She pulls the material down just enough that it exposes most of the mottled skin, and Fitz reaches out, stopping just shy of touching, his fingers skimming the air above it. He locks his jaw, anger filling his eyes, and Jemma covers herself back up and grabs his hands.

"Don't - I'm okay. Don't think about what could have been, or the fact that you want to strangle him," she doesn't want to be presumptuous, but she knows him too well to not know what he's thinking, "just remember that I'm fine, and that it will soon be gone. It'll be like it was never there."

Fitz nods, his eyes focused on the floor, then he steps closer and wraps his arms about her. The pulse in his neck beats strong against the side of her face, and she suddenly has to steady herself as the thought that not that long ago, he could have died, sneaks into her brain without warning, and she clutches him tighter. In return, Fitz cradles the back of her head, his fingers softly stoking her hair, a gesture which very quickly has her drifting, and when she starts to slump, Fitz untangles himself from her and helps her climb into bed before moving to the other side and sliding in himself.

Her eyes heavy, Jemma turns onto her side, and Fitz faces her, reaching out to brush her hair away from her face. She smiles sleepily at him, and then purses her lips, and he obliges her with a soft peck and a tired face that's bright with happiness.

"I love you, too - did I mention that?" Jemma mumbles, and then follows it with a small laugh. "Isn't it funny how we can jus' say that, now? 'S strange."

Fitz laughs, softly. "Go to sleep, you nutjob." He threads his fingers through hers and kisses her hand.

"'Kay." It's probably for the best. The first thing she'd done once inside her room was take her painkillers, forgetting that she'd only wanted to take one instead of the usual two, and now they're slurring her speech whilst rapidly pulling her into the land of nod. Her eyes flutter closed, and the last thing she feels before surrendering to sleep is Fitz's thumb brushing back and forth along the edge of her wrist, like a sweet, silent lullaby.

A/N: I really hope that wasn't too overly sentimental! It's so difficult finding that balance, sometimes.

Sorry for the delay with this chapter. I had a lot going on over the bank holiday weekend, and then this week I decided to take a little more time to just relax and focus on other things, partly because this chapter was being a bit of a cow, so rather than stress about it, I put it to one side for a bit.

Thank you all for sticking with it. The next chapter will be the last, so it will be winging its way to you sometime soon.