SUMMARY: Fitz was a genius, and that certainly didn't slip under the radar. He's plucked up by Stark before he can even visit the Academy. Fitz's life is well underway, but this means he hasn't ever met Simmons. What happens when Coulson implores Stark Industries for a engineer to help at the Playground?
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Okay, so this took me.. forever. But I think it was worth it. This chapter is a beast, like, seriously. I think it's the longest chapter I have ever written, so sorry about that! This prompt was given to me by the wonderful eckles, who gave me the most wonderfully detailed PM on this prompt. I'm really sorry if this wasn't what you were envisioning. Part of the reason this took me so long was the fact that I kept rewriting it. For me, accepting prompts is a big deal, because I get really scared that the person in question won't like it. Anyway, hope you enjoy this! Next up is another prompt suggested to me including our favourite little hacktivist, so there are you are. I would tell you more, but... you, know. Spoilers.
Also, for people who didn't get it last chapter, the senior adult with dark hair that told FitzSimmons to do their worst was supposed to be a terrible portrayal of May.
Another side note, thank you so much for all the wonderful feedback. It makes me smile. (PS, can we please just talk about the promo for Season 2? And the deleted scenes?)
CHAPTER EIGHT: Sunny
"How are you doing, Phil?"
"Is it too early to say good? We're doing.. okay. Listen Pepper, we've got limited resources over here. Barely enough to do anything."
"What are you suggesting, Coulson?"
"It's a top secret facility. Don't we at least need some sort of security?"
"Keep going."
"We don't have an engineer anymore, Pepper. You know what happened to Peterson.. We need someone to fix up a security system."
"This is no easy task, Phil. We've got limited resources on our end as well. Hydra have taken a rest for the moment, but that's not going to last. We need to rank up our defences."
"That's exactly why I want a security system."
"Prove the need to me, Coulson."
"Well.. I died once?"
"I'll speak to Tony about it."
...
Fitz wasn't looking forward to this new job. Not at all. Supposedly, the legendary Agent - sorry, Director Coulson had asked Pepper for a favour. The man and his team were in a secret base somewhere, recovering from the turmoil that Hydra had cast upon them.
Coulson had asked for some help. Someone to assist his team in setting up a safe security system to guard the secret base that they were in. And that was where Fitz stepped in.
I'm Stark's best man, he thought, smugness showing through. Although he didn't like to admit it, he loved his job. He worked for Stark. The Tony Stark. That wasn't something most people got to claim. Fitz had been plucked from the Academy at a young age by the man himself, who'd claimed to be looking for a fresh, innovative protégé to work for him. Apparently Fitz had fit the bill, and ever since he had risen in his successes.
But now he was being shipped off, to some base where anything could happen. He wasn't happy, to say the least. No one had told him about what had happened to the last engineer, but Fitz wasn't sure that he really wanted to know. All he knew was that he was going to be surrounded by a group of strangers who most likely knew nothing about engineering. He doubted that anyone there would even have an IQ of a double digit. Not to mention that Fitz was young. Only twenty-seven, and one of Stark's top men. It was something he prided himself on.
He wasn't sure what he'd been expecting. Something cool, high tech, maybe. Instead all he sees when he steps from the plane was a plane cargo, and a fierce looking woman that was no doubt intimidating. Beside her was a cheerful looking man in a suit, with a lanyard clutched in his hands.
"Fitz?" The woman asks, raising an eyebrow at him in question. Fitz moves the bag on his back with a small shrug.
"Yeah. That's me."
"We've got a bunker waiting for you, but first," the man grins at Fitz cheerfully, unfolding his hands from behind his back. "How do you feel about going to visit Director Coulson?"
...
Director Coulson looked exactly like Pepper had described him as. Friendly seeming, but with a commanding air about him. They were in some sort of office. It seemed reasonable enough, although nothing like the technology back at Stark Industries. Then again, nothing could really compare to the Stark Industries.
The woman and that friendly looking man were standing behind Coulson, seeming almost ready to leap into action at any minute.
"Hello, Fitz. Do you know who I am?"
Know who you are? You're the bloody director, of course I know who you are. But he kept his mouth shut, instead nodding dutifully at Coulson. "Yeah."
"Agent Leopold Fitz, aged 27, with various PhD's and current worker for Tony Stark, underneath Pepper Pott's supervision?" Coulson peers at the sheet, reading off it loosely. "Impressive."
Fitz shrugs at him. "Stark took me under his wing."
"That's not something that happens often," Coulson muses. "Anyway, let's introduce you to everyone. Agent May, and Agent Koenig. You won't seem them around much, they're not working under the same division as you. You'll have a partner for that."
"A partner?" The word seems funny in his mouth. Leopold Fitz hasn't had a partner since primary school, and he wasn't exactly a sociable young man. He was solitary, and he preferred to work alone. Fitz was starting to hate this trip more and more.
"Yeah. You'll meet Agent Simmons when you get there." Oh, just fantastic. He'll probably be on and on at me about my way of doing things, Fitz grumbles inwardly, but he nods obediently at Coulson. Wouldn't want to upset the director, now would he?
(Although maybe that would send him home quicker.)
...
The Playground isn't undersized, that's a plain fact. Fitz had been given a day to get settled in, and he'd spent most of his day wandering around, peeking at the various rooms and generally getting himself familiarised with the area, and he hadn't yet found the end of it. He hadn't wanted to, of course. He was only doing it because Pepper had suggested it.
The cheerful man from the other day - Agent Koenig - leads him down the various hallways, and before he knows it he's saying goodbye to him and reaching for the door handle.
He doesn't notice her at first. He's too busy taking in the lab. It's fairly average. Clean, sterile and neatly kept. There's nothing fancy about it, but maybe that's just because he's been around Stark's labs too much. Then he notices the woman. She could possibly be described as pretty, with light brown hair and a wide smile. She's wearing a lab coat and a pair of goggles are strapped on her head.
She smiles widely at him, tugging rubber gloves off her hands and walking over to him. She sticks out her hand and grins so widely that Fitz almost feels nauseous.
"Hello!" She's clearly waiting for him to shake her hand, but he doesn't, only frowning at the woman in confusion. She's got a British accent - something which he's surprised by. Most of the people he's met so far have been American. Instead of comforting him, it almost irked him. Now she was going to think that she was equal to him. Good luck with that, he snorts to himself. Fitz has never quite found someone who was at his level for his age.
"Who are you?"
She looks surprised, tilting her head almost comically at him. "Didn't they tell you that I would be here? I'm Simmons."
Agent Simmons? This is the person they want me to work with? Oh, hell.. Fitz can already tell that he's going to dislike this woman's cheerful attitude. "I thought you were a bloke," he mutters in response, and he's surprised when Simmons laughs.
"Well, you're stuck with me, I'm afraid. Leopold, right?"
"Fitz," he responds, crinkling his nose in distaste. The one thing he regretted about his mother. Out of all the possible choices, she'd just had to have gone and named him bloody Leopold. Besides, he feels uncomfortable with sharing his first name with this woman - Simmons. It seemed strangely close for having just met her. "Jus' Fitz," he adds.
"You can call me Simmons, then," she says, eyes crinkling at him warmly. Everything about her screams optimistic, and Fitz almost sighs out loud. Trust his luck to be stuck with some 'the glass is half full' type.
(He wishes for the millionth time that he had never fallen for Pepper's persuasion.)
...
Fitz can feel her staring at him. It unnerves him, even though he's positive that she's just trying to be friendly. He was trying to fix up the systems and do his job quickly so that he can return home. Somehow, he doesn't think he'll be seeing Stark Industries for a long time. He was having to start from scratch, with barely any of the proper equipment that he needed. It was going to be difficult, but then again, Fitz wasn't a genius for nothing.
"What's it like?" Fitz briefly looks up to Simmons as she asks the question. She's working on something across the lab from him, but that doesn't stop her from occasionally asking questions about him, each with the same uncomfortable cheerfulness. "Working at Stark Industries, that is."
He shrugs at her, not particuarly interested in starting a conversation. Fitz had always been a bit of a loner, honestly. Kept to himself and his designs, working busily away in the labs while most were out partying. He had scored himself a top job while many were still studying and attempting to figure out what they were going to make of their lives. Fitz was solitary, and that was the way he liked it. By himself, he knew exactly what he needed and exactly when to do it. No one could bother him, or question him. But now he was stuck being bothered by this 'bio-chemist'. He had never liked bio-chemists. They thought they knew everything about engineering, although all they did was dissect things - ugh, the horror.
"Good, I guess," he responds, bending down over his work. He's startled when a figure pops up beside him, and it's Simmons, peering over his shoulder at his work like she's known him for all her life.
"Working on the systems?"
"That's what I'm here for," he replies in irritation.
"What are you doing at the moment?" Simmons asks innocently, not seeming at all disturbed by his annoyed tone.
"I'm trying to fix the power," Fitz explains, attempting to make his words simpler for the bio-chemist. No doubt she would have no idea what he was talking about. "But the wire's been frayed on the far end, so I'm goin' to have to-"
"-route it back to the main generator. Oh, yes, that'll be a chore, won't it?" She's smiling at him, but he can't reply. Did she just finish his sentence? She was a bio-chemist, not an engineer. She wasn't supposed to be at the same level as him.
He narrows his eyes suspiciously at her. "Are you sure you're a bio-chemist?"
"What? Of course I am," Simmons nods, looking surprised. "I graduated early and went into field work as soon as I was eligible. I was paired with Peterson, but.." Her eyes darken, and her smile becomes thinner. She turns away, chattering about something that Fitz doesn't particularly care about.
(He wonders who Peterson is, and what happened to him.)
...
He's on his seventh day - or more accurately, night - of being stuck with Simmons and her infuriating optimism. He tries his best to steer away from him, but she always seems to find some way of striking up a conversation. He's sitting by the inside pool - yes, the base even has a pool - with his legs dipped in the water. Compared to where he had previously been, the base was too hot for what he was used to, although everyone else seemed accustomed to it. It didn't help that Fitz had packed sweaters and ties for him to wear during his trip.
He's just thinking about Tony and Pepper when he can feel someone watching him. Even before he turns around, he guesses it's Simmons. He's right, she's standing there, looking like she was fresh from the lab. The thought strikes Fitz that in all his seven days, he hasn't seen Simmons without her lab coat. He finds it weird. Fitz almost prefers that she keep her lab coat on.
She smiles at him, but makes no attempt to come closer, something Fitz is relieved about.
"Enjoying the pool?"
"Yeah," Fitz shrugs. He guesses it's nice, but he isn't really there for the pool. He had never been much of a swimmer, even when he was little. He took all the customary swimming lessons as a child, but after that had stopped completely.
"It's quiet here, isn't it?" Simmons ventures politely, and Fitz only nods in response. He was tempted to add that there was next to no one in the base anyway, but he refrained himself from it.
She moves forward until she's sitting next to him, although they're still a distance away from each other. Still, Fitz feels uncomfortable. Why is she being so friendly? He asks her this, and she smiles at him.
"It doesn't hurt to be friendly, right?" It might, he thinks. "I was assigned to be your partner. We'll work together better if we can get along, right?"
"Not really," Fitz says without thinking. He almost feels guilty when he sees her disappointed expression, but continues bluntly anyway. "We could each do our own part. Solo."
"I suppose you're right."
(He doesn't hear again from her that night.)
...
Fitz had hoped that Simmons would take a hint from the night before, but the chipper scientist payed no heed to his words. She was still as sociable as ever - something which Fitz wasn't particularly enjoying. It was a calm (well, calm as it ever got working in a secret base) Thursday evening, and Fitz and Simmons were working away in the lab.
"How are you going, Fitz?" Simmons asks curiously, moving forward to check on him. Fitz resists the urge to swat her away and shrugs instead. Truth be told, he wasn't completely working on the job assigned to him. Of course he wanted to get out of here as soon as possible, but he had been working on this little side project for a while now, and it was just about... there!
He clicked his tongue in satisfaction and held his work up to the light to get a better look, grinning suddenly, something which he felt he hadn't done since he had come to this base for Director Coulson.
To his dismay, an inquisitive Simmons peers at his creation excitedly. She briefly reminds him of a child at Christmas, or at a birthday. "Oh, wow, what is this, Fitz?"
He's too excited not to explain his work to her, and so he speaks while fiddling with the machine to get it perfect. "It's a sort of tiny helicopter. You'll be able to control it through a sort of control system. It'll be able to analyse things, search things-"
"-the perfect scouters," Simmons finishes, and again Fitz is taken aback at her ability to tell the words that were going to come out of his mouth. She seems oblivious to his surprise, instead chattering on. "That's wonderful, Fitz!"
A little bit of pride didn't hurt, and Fitz drunk it in quickly. He wasn't often praised for his work in an environment where everyone was a genius. "Yeah, well I've got to make six more of them."
"Six more? Why do you want seven drones?"
Fitz shrugs, not entirely sure himself. "It seemed like a good number."
"Seven," Simmons muses. "Like Snow White. Why don't you name them after the seven dwarves?"
Fitz shoots her a strange look. Was this woman crazy? These were a set of professional machines, he wasn't about to name them after a children's fairytale.
"It would be cool," Simmons persists.
"That doesn't even make sense," Fitz counters.
"Acronyms fix everything, Fitz," Simmons preaches, like it's an important life lesson.
"Yeah, well, I'm not naming them that." He begins to pack up, but not quickly enough to miss Simmons crestfallen expression.
"Why not?"
"'cause that's a stupid idea," he says bluntly. Simmons' eyebrows lift in something that might have resembled anger, and Fitz could feel her staring at him.
"I was simply trying to offer a suggestion for your drones, being that-"
"I'm not naming the bloody things after Snow White, alright?" He blurts out suddenly, his voice absurdly loud in the normally quiet lab. "Just.. please. Leave me alone."
(He's surprised to feel guilt for the bio-chemist when he leaves the room.)
...
Simmons has been avoiding him. He's not entirely sure why, but he has a good idea that it was something to do with the drone situation. He's sorry for making her feel upset, but he doesn't regret his words.
Stupid woman, trying to make me name my drones after a fairytale, he snorts to himself.
She attempts to make conversation with him, but Fitz has had enough. He brushes her off; he doesn't particularly want to talk with her anymore, her bubbly attitude irritating him. It was like she tried too hard to make him feel welcome, when he didn't particularly want to feel welcomed. He just wants to go home.
So it's after another hard day of work that he overhears the conversation. He's walking down the hall to his cabin, when he hears voices drifting from Coulson's office. Specifically, voices he recognises.
He knows he shouldn't pry - be a good little boy, his mother had always told him - but curiosity draws him in, and he creeps closer to the door.
A high, girly (or at least girly in his ears) voice echoes through, and he recognises it instantly as his annoying lab-partner.
"Coulson, I honestly don't think that I'm a suitable lab partner."
"Why not, Simmons? You fit perfectly fine with Peterson."
"Peterson was... different." Her voice is sadder than he has ever heard it.
"We don't have another available agent of his level, Simmons."
"Yes, and his capabilities are certainly of an amazing level, but-"
"Simmons."
"I'm sorry, sir. But I don't think it's going to work."
"Give it a few more days, Simmons."
There's more to be said, but Fitz is already slinking away.
(Is he really that hard to put up with?)
...
The next few days in the lab our different. He notices the ever so slight differences in Simmon's cheerful attitude. The way she refrains from asking so many questions. Her smile is still wide, and her eyes are still warm, but she's quieter. She doesn't mention anything more about the drones.
Fitz thought that he would like it, but instead he finds the lab is strangely emptier without her relentless chatter. Instead they work in concentrated silence, something which reminds him rather painfully of his home back at Stark Industries. He thinks he would give anything to go back.
It's a warm evening in the lab, even though the air conditioners are on full blast. Fitz finds himself sweating due to his thick lab coat, and he stops to take a drink of water. He watches as Simmons works, swabbing something in a petri dish and stowing it away in the tiny fridge that they have in the lab. She doesn't even seem slightly bothered by the heat, instead frowning intently at her work.
"Who's Peterson?" he blurts out without quite intending to, wincing as Simmons jumps and the fridge door shuts with a loud thump. He twists the cap of his water bottle uncomfortably. "Sorry, I mean. For asking." Fitz prepares to turn back to work, but instead she only shakes her head at him, a small trace of a smile appearing on her lips.
"It's okay," she assures.
"It's just, uh.. you mentioned him earlier, is all," he attempts to amend, cursing as he stumbled over the words clumsily. "And I was wonderin'-"
"Honestly, it's okay," Simmons smiles at him, straightening up and reaching for the other petri dishes on the bench. "Peterson... He was the old engineer."
"Was?"
"We were on the Bus-" he briefly wonders what in the world they were doing on a bus "-after we'd just found out about a virus that was carried on a Chitauri helmet. I was so excited, I could have found out so much.." she trails off, her voice thick, and Fitz suddenly regrets ever asking. "Anyway, it all turned to custard. I caught the virus. I tried to come up with an antidote, and Peterson attempted to help me. He caught it too. We didn't... We didn't know that our antiserum had worked. We thought there was no other option. He was so brave."
She forces a watery smile, and Fitz gives her a little nod in return, motioning for her to keep going. "We jumped off the plane. Wa- One of our team members figured out what was going on. He jumped out after us with a parachute and the anti-serum, but he could only grab one."
"He grabbed you," Fitz guesses.
"I was the closest, yes," Simmons nods, "and I regret it. If I had never suggested the idea.."
"It was your idea to jump?" He can't disguise the surprise. He hadn't pegged the scientist to have come up with that sort of plan.
"I'm a bio-chemist, Fitz. It's part of my job to care for others. That means protecting them," she says softly.
"Protecting is a job for the specialists. You're just a scientist."
It's with surprise that Fitz notices the sudden fire in her eyes. "Scientists are every bit as brave as a soldier, Fitz. Being just a scientist has saved more lives than you can ever imagine."
"I'm sorry about Peterson."
"I am too."
(He wonders briefly if Simmons and Peterson had something special going on.)
...
They've somehow designated their own corners of the lab, without even speaking, or even meaning to. Fitz works on his side, alone, and Simmons does the same. They don't speak, and Fitz often finds himself thinking wistfully of home. Homesickness isn't something he's experienced before, but it's different here. Here it's strange, and new. He's not really found anyone to talk to - not that he was exactly social at home either.
It's another quiet day in the lab when it happens. A pretty woman with brown hair bursts in, tears streaked down her face and a set jaw.
"Skye!" Fitz watches curiously as Simmons drops everything to pay attention to the woman - Skye. He's alarmed, especially by the gun that drops from Skye's hand as she moves to hug Simmons.
"Simmons- Simmons, he's gone," Skye chokes out.
Simmons visibly stiffens, and she pulls back. "Who's gone, Skye?"
"Ward's gone. Broke out. And Triplett... he's.." Although Fitz has never seen this woman before in his life, he gets the drift.
"Dead," Simmons says slowly.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Skye repeats. "But the place is on lockdown. Coulson needs you to come and.. analyse the body."
Simmons looks shell-shocked, but she nods dully. "Fitz.."
"I'll stay here," Fitz puts in quickly. He's scared, but he knows he can't pry, not now. Something has happened, someone has died. Simmons and Skye rush out of the lab, and Fitz is left with only his work for company.
(He wonders who Triplett and Ward are.)
...
Somehow, Fitz knows exactly where Simmons is. He's right. She's tucked up next to the pool, staring up at the ceiling. He notices for the first time that it's painted with glittering lights, in the formation of stars.
He walks forward cautiously, shuffling awkwardly a good distance away and stuffing his hands in his pockets. She tilts her head towards him and jumps, as if startled. Her eyes are rimmed with red, and there are tear tracks, but it's obvious that Simmons has stopped crying. He isn't sure that's a good thing.
She doesn't acknowledge him, instead dropping her hand into the water. Fitz lingers behind her, watching the ripples in the chlorinated water.
"I'm sorry, Fitz," Simmons sighs finally. "Do you want me to leave?"
Fitz shakes his head almost too quickly. "No! Uh, just.. It's okay, I mean- I'm sorry."
"It's not your fault."
"No, not that," he says, startling even himself. "Just about the whole thing with the drones."
"Oh, yeah. The drones," Simmons echoes. Fitz immediately feels stupid. Someone had just been murdered, their argument was the least of her concerns. "Don't be sorry for that, Fitz. It was... a stupid idea, anyway. You can sit, if you'd like."
Simmons moves aside, but Fitz doesn't entirely welcome the idea. He's not sure she does either. So he stays put, hovering just behind Simmons.
(The artificial stars just make him more homesick than ever.)
...
Simmons is more sombre than before. He can see the worry lacing through her eyebrows, although Fitz wasn't quite sure why he had been paying such close attention. She's more determined, quieter. Still with a sunny smile, but not one that entirely reached her eyes.
He's sucking on his thumb - the damn soldering iron had gotten him; to hell with the old-school systems of SHIELD - when Simmons makes her way in, smiling at the sight of a small ribboned box on her lab workbench. She opens it slowly, and it's a badge, with the SHIELD logo on it, shining brightly. The smile on Simmons face is wider than he's seen it in the past few days, and he grows curious.
"We exist again," Simmons whispers excitedly.
"Sorry?"
Simmons looks up, looking like a deer caught in the headlights. "My SHIELD ID. We were wiped from the system when we had to go undercover. This isn't the real thing, but..."
"Wait, you were wiped from the system?"
"Yeah," Simmons says off-handedly, still smiling at her new possession.
"But that's.. incredible."
"Skye is incredible. But don't tell her I told you that. Her head is big enough as it is."
Simmons doesn't seem to want to breach further on the subject, but when she leaves the room momentarily, he slides over to the ID and examines it. Her name is Jemma Simmons - a rather pretty name. Admittedly, Fitz had imagined it to be something like Daisy or Sarah. Still, Jemma suits her, somehow. Her picture makes her look younger, the way she smiles broadly at the camera. Her birthday is September 11th, which is-
"Fitz, what are you doing?"
"It's your birthday?" He blurts out, whirling around suddenly. Her eyes widen in surprise, but she gives him a small smile.
"Twenty-seven years ago, a little girl was born in the Simmons family. God knows that they didn't anticipate that this is where I would end up."
(Her birthday is only twenty-three days after his.)
...
It's the first day he's been in the lab alone. Simmons had been sent out into the field to do a forensics analyse on one of the bodies. Apparently, this Ward was on the loose, siding with Hydra. Fitz makes a mental note to enquire who the hell Ward is, and how they had been so stupid as to letting him on the team in the first place.
Fitz gets a lot of work done that day, but he finds it rather lonely. It surprises him. He'd expected to like it, as it reminded him of days back home. Home, a word that is becoming strangely unfamiliar to him now.
Simmons clatters her way into the lab late at night, obviously surprised to see him still working. "Fitz? What are you doing up so late?"
"Just finishing up a project," he answers briskly. "None of your concern."
(But a part of him is glad that she's concerned.)
...
Fitz hears crying. He doesn't like it, and he's going to root out the source of the problem. Not to help them, of course not. Just because it was interrupting his beauty sleep, is all. He tracks it down a very familiar hallway, into a very familiar lab, to see a very familiar bio-chemist.
"Simmons?" The young woman is crying over a workbench, wiping at her eyes with one ungloved hand. Fitz isn't sure what to do. Stark and Pepper had taught him many things, but none included tips on how to take care of a crying woman. He approaches tentatively, reaching a hand out to touch her on the shoulder. He's surprised, however, when Simmons throws herself against him and draws him into a hug.
(It's not half as bad as he had been expecting, and he has a feeling that her sadness has something to do with the aforementioned Ward and Triplett.)
...
Neither of them mention the night before. Simmons looks perfectly normal, and Fitz realises that she's probably covered it up with make up. He wonders just how many times Simmons has cried in the dead of night.
"Ward," he says impulsively, "who is he?"
Simmons doesn't look up from her work, and Fitz can't gauge her expression. "Just.. a man."
She doesn't say anymore, so Fitz turns back to his work. It's half an hour later before she finally speaks again. "Ward was on our team. He.. he betrayed us. He was working for.."
"Hydra," Fitz finishes, dawning on realisation. "And now he's out there, and he knows where our base is."
Simmons smiles weakly at him. "Well done, Fitz. Excellent deducting skills."
"I'm not a school child," he replies indignantly, but his mind is elsewhere, spinning through the possibilities. "What if Hydra-"
"Attacks our base?"
He nods, setting down the tools he had been using.
"We run."
Fitz has never been the best at running. But he's done it all his life. Run from his family. His responsibilities, his job. And from other people.
"Where to?"
(Simmons smile at his wry comment makes him uncomfortable. But he doesn't know why.)
...
There are people storming the area. The base is a mix of confusion, and soldiers and... war. Fitz hasn't got the foggiest idea where anyone else is. There's a high pitched scream and a gun shot above all the noise. The scream stops suddenly.
Fitz is scared. That's the only way to explain it. He's hiding in the lab, away from all the gunshots and explosions. Like a coward. Running. Again.
He's bracing himself to run out there and do something, anything when that same brunette girl bursts in, this time clad in protective gear and a gun in her hand. Skye, he remembers.
Skye spots him instantly and runs over. "Fitz," she pants. "Where's Simmons?"
Fitz shakes his head, heart in his throat. "I don't-"
"It doesn't matter. We have to go, okay Fitz?" She's shouting above everything, looking warily around. Fitz jumps up immediately, and the two race through the hallways.
(He watches for a lab coat and brown hair.)
...
They're in some sort of plane. It's big - massive, in fact. It's got a lab in it, and a shiny red Corvette. There's probably a million other rooms down further, but they're gathered by exit. There's not many of them. Director Coulson, Agent May and Skye.
"We have to go," May says. Her, Skye and Coulson are handling guns, shooting anyone who dares to come near. They don't seem to have found them yet, but it's only a matter of time.
"No. We can't leave!" He says suddenly, surprising himself. "Simmons and Koenig are still out there. We can't-"
"We don't have much time," May pointed out coldly. "They might be dead already. We can't help them if we're dead as well."
All eyes turn to Coulson for the verdict, and the man looks torn. He's about to say something, but there are yells, and there's two figures hurling to the plane with gunshots tailing them.
(He recognises a lab coat.)
...
"Argh!"
"Sorry!" Simmons winces. She's treating his wounds, including a nasty one that came from a bullet grazing his neck. May is flying the plane, and Skye is with her. Goodness knows where Koenig and Director Coulson are. They've all had there wounds treated already, so now he has to endure through Simmons treating him.
"There, all done," Simmons sets down the swab, and Fitz instinctively reaches a hand up to touch the wounded area, earning a glare from Simmons. "I'm not doing that again, Fitz!"
"Sorry," he smiles sheepishly, without really intending to.
Simmons begins to pack up, and Fitz frowns suddenly at her. "You haven't treated yourself."
"Oh? I'm fine, Fitz," she says it with conviction, but there's something false about it. His gaze falls to her left arm.
"You're holding your arm at an angle."
"Honestly-" Her sleeve shifts, and Fitz can make out a long graze running up her arm.
"You were saying?"
She smiles at him slowly. "You're smarter than you let on, Fitz."
(There's a lot of things Leopold Fitz doesn't let on.)
...
It's several weeks later, and they're back at the base. Or rather, the ruins of the base. Hydra left no stone unturned. Things had been blown up, wrecked. Fitz and Simmons head to the lab to see if anything can be salvaged.
Simmons climbs over the rubble to the valuable things immediately, but Fitz digs around for one particular object. His hand juts straight into a shard of glass, and he draws it back with a curse and continues more carefully. Finally, he finds what he's looking for and pulls it out with a satisfied smile. "There you are, Sleepy."
"Sleepy?" Simmons is standing behind him, with a curious look on her face.
Fitz gives her a smile and passes the drone to her. "Drones Wirelessly Automated to Retrieve Forensics."
(Her smile is enough to make him wonder why he had ever declined the idea.)
...
"Fitz. It's getting more dangerous out here. We... Well. You didn't sign up for this."
"What are you saying, Director?"
"Would you like to return to Stark? We're passing by in about half an hour, we could drop you off."
Fitz stops to consider it. His first instinct is to jump and cheer, and take the first chance to escape the madhouse of danger. But then he pauses. Something is stopping him. He flicks his gaze around the room. May isn't present, but everyone else is. He notices that Simmons is deliberately avoiding eye contact with him.
"Yeah, actually," his eyes fall on the drone controller in Simmons hands, "I think I'll stay."
(He's surprised to see the amused smile on Coulson's face.)
...
"Why did you stay, Fitz?"
"What?" He's sitting in the lounge, attempting to work on fixing up the drones. Simmons seems to have snuck up on him, perching on the couch and sitting next to him.
"You could have gone back to Stark," she points out gently.
"Yeah?" Fitz pretends not to look at her, but he can see her in his peripheral vision.
"Yeah. Why not?"
"Yeah, well." He shifts uncomfortably as he tries to think of something to say. "I needed someone to help me fix up the drones."
He almost jumps out of his skin when Simmons leans over to give him a kiss on the cheek.
(Somehow, he doesn't think Simmons bought his excuse.)
...
"Fitz? Are you scared?"
It's the middle of the night, but Simmons has crept into his bunker. He's not sure why he hasn't told her to leave yet, but somehow she's ended up perched on his bed next to him.
"Yeah."
"Me too." They sit in silence, and Fitz doesn't want to break it, but she does instead. "Do you regret not going back to Stark?"
"Yeah," he says truthfully, and he can almost feel her disappointment. "But- but I didn't. I'm here now. And I can't change that. Neither can you."
"No?"
"No," he tells her firmly. "I'm here now. But I think we'll make it through."
"And if we don't?"
"I don't know."
(And he honestly doesn't know.)
...
"What are we going to do?" Simmons whispers. Simmons slipping into his bunker has become a regular thing, whether they had planned it or not.
"I don't know." Three words that Fitz is sure are the most disappointing ones in all of the human vocabulary. "But.. We'll fix it."
"Together?" The word is thrown at him so suddenly, Fitz is surprised. It takes him a long while to respond.
"Yeah. Together."
(The word is surprisingly familiar in his mouth.)
...
"You should go."
"What? Simmons, I'm not leaving."
It's another morning in the mobile lab, but Simmons has got a daft idea spinning around in her mind, and doesn't seem to be accepting that Fitz isn't going to act on it.
"Fitz, we're parked right outside Stark Industries," her voice is determined, "go back in. I'll cover for you."
"I'm not doing that."
"Yes- yes you are."
"No, I'm not."
(He refuses to speak to her until the plane takes off again.)
...
"I'm sorry."
"Fitz-"
"I should have gone when you said."
"Fitz-"
"And now-"
"Stop, please." They're in his bunk again. Simmons now has a scar running down her leg. It's his fault. Not directly, but it's his fault. He doesn't want to think about it. "It's not your fault."
"It was. And I'm sorry."
Simmons has the nerve to smile at him. "Fitz.. Don't be sorry. I knew what I was getting myself into. And that was a smart move."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah, Fitz. You're the hero."
"You think?"
"I know."
"Because it wasn't just me, you know. We fixed it together."
"I know."
"And-"
He's not entirely expecting the kiss that comes next, but he thinks he can definitely get used to it.
(He wonders just when Jemma Simmons had stopped being an annoying little chatterbox and became the best person in his life.)
...
Somewhere in an office, Coulson smiles to himself and picks up the phone.
"Pepper?"
"What is it now, Coulson?"
"FitzSimmons is go."