2 Years Earlier

Jemma glided across the lab, cheerfully transferring her freshly made solution to her workbench so that she could begin preparing the tiny vials for the enzyme assay.

With any luck, she'd be one step closer to understanding Bruce Banner's transformation, the source of his incredible strength and, perhaps, a way to give him better control over it.

Footsteps sounded behind her and she set down her tools as a familiar voice called out to her. She grinned, warm as if she'd sunk into a hot bath, when his arms wrapped around her from behind, his lips brushing her cheek as she twisted towards him.

"Is that from Dr. Banner," he asked curiously, peeking over her shoulder.

"It is, and I hope you're wearing a lab coat," she scolded halfheartedly, tutting disapprovingly when her arm dropped and she found the wooly fabric of his sweater instead.

Fitz chuckled fondly, kissing her once more before he relinquished his hold in order to go acquire one. "You aren't working with anything too… that's… You'd be wearing gloves if that were, uh... corrosive," he reasoned, pulling his arms through the sleeves while she continued her work.

"Actually, in this particular instance, I'm more worried about you contaminating my samples," she admitted, pausing in her pipetting to shoot him a glance, shaking her head at the thought. "Imagine if a hair from your shirt fell into one of them? I'd have to restart this entire set." Her gaze softened, falling on his smile as her mouth twitched up to match it. "And besides that you're far too precious for me to allow you to become the victim of an easily preventable accident. Safety first Fitz."

He was watching her with that look on his face, the one she still couldn't believe was meant only for her because it seemed more appropriate for shooting stars or double rainbows. "I think you've already contaminated me," he murmured, eyes narrowed and glossy before he had a second to think about what he'd said. "That… that sounded more… uh… in my head that sounded romantic…" he fumbled, the tips of his ears ripening to red in embarrassment. "I didn't mean contaminated… er…" He chewed his lip nervously.

"Oh Fitz," Jemma sighed, shaking her head, though soft, fuzzy affection puffed just under her words.

"You should know that I'm rubbish at this," he told her, shrugging his shoulders as if it couldn't be helped.

"That's nonsense," she objected, placing the last of the little vials into the sample tray and pushing it into the machine. She clicked it on before gliding over to stand beside him, taking his arm and standing on her tiptoes so she could peck a kiss on his cheek. "You're wonderful and…" She blushed, heat rising to her cheeks at what she was about to say. "And besides, I'm pretty sure that you've contaminated me too."

That made him grin, eyes like sunshine hitting blue sky, and he lifted a hand to cup her cheek, planting a slow, gentle kiss onto her lips that spread the heat from her cheeks to the tips of her ears.

"See," she chuckled, lightly butting her forehead against his when he broke away, her hand winding around his head so she could weave her fingers into his hair. "You're excellent at this."

"You aren't so bad yourself," he said softly and she scrunched her nose, giving him one more swift peck before slipping away.

"I'm glad you think so," she told him, beginning to prepare the next tray. "And after what you did for our half year anniversary… lighting the dining hall like that and preparing that lovely lasagna. And the locket. I still don't know where you found the time to make it, it's gorgeous. Absolutely stunning."

He tugged at his ear lobe, smiling bashfully. "You… you like it?"

"Of course I do," she said, casting him a fond glance. "It reminds me of you."

His footsteps shuffled across the space between them and then he was by her side, watching her work over her shoulder. "Do you mind if I stay while you run the tests?" he asked softly, breath flowing against her ear. "I promise I'll keep the lab coat on."

'I always want you to stay,' she thought, her heart swelling in her chest, filling up the space so that her breath caught. 'I want you with me for the rest of our lives, and for whatever's after that too.'

The words never made it to her lips though, Fitz might think he was rubbish at romance but she was worse than he was. At least he knew how to show her into his heart, when she could only hope he was able to see into hers.

So instead she smiled, pausing to rub his arm with her free hand and wishing that she could pass the message between their skin, send out neurotransmitters like an axon meeting a dendrite.

"I'd love it if you did."

/-/-/

Present

Jemma stomped around the lab, gathering what she would need in a frantic haste. The world was crashing down on her and it was like she had balloons in her chest, filling up all the space so that she couldn't breathe, squeezing out the air that was left in her lungs.

It looked so real, it looked just like him. It had the same eyes, same smile, same sparkle when he caught sight of her.

But it wasn't him, it was copy, a fake, and all the wonderful things it reminded her of were gone from the world forever. Her darling, with his golden heart and unspeakable courage had left her for good and this… this thing…. was a cruel joke. It taunted her, tempting her to believe it, but she wasn't a fool and she wouldn't do that to Fitz. She wouldn't betray him by allowing it to toy with her.

Even if she couldn't help letting it tear at her tattered heart.

She wheezed in another breath, her head spinning as she set up the analysis, mixing together the solution that would break open the cells from the follicle at the end of the hair she'd obtained from it.

This would prove what it was, that it wasn't real. In just a few hours she'd be able to see with her own two eyes that this couldn't be her Fitz.

Because she'd seen already, with her own two eyes, that her Fitz was dead. She'd held his freezing cold hand in her own, her life turning inside out as she stared down at his pale, still face. She'd seen his eyes, red tears streaked beneath them, closed for the last time by her gentle fingers before she was told to say good bye and that, no, she could not do the autopsy herself.

She still remembered the way they'd looked at her when she'd asked. They hadn't understood. She'd needed to know what happened to him because she'd thought that if she could figure out why he was gone, if she could punish whoever had taken him from her, she wouldn't hurt so much.

She'd never been so wrong in her entire life.

Her trembling hand slipped and a glass beaker fell to the floor with a crash, shattering at her feet and splashing its contents onto her shoes and up the side of the side of the desk.

Startled, she let out yelp, leaping away from it and stumbling into one of the cabinets.

But then how had it known to do that? How could it possibly know about their secret gesture? Three gentle squeezes she'd never thought she'd feel again because they'd only ever come from him.

The cabinet wobbled, but didn't fall, and she slid to the ground, leaning against it all the way down because her legs had lost their bones. Her chest was so tight it hurt to breathe.

Why did it look like him? Why would it take his form and his voice? What did it want? Why was it doing this?

Why was it torturing her?

"Jemma?"

She recognized Skye's voice but she was unable to respond to it. There was no air in the room, she was suffocating, sinking to the bottom of the ocean and she was certain that this time there wasn't going to be a way back up.

Careful footsteps treaded across the floor and her friend knelt in front of her so that their faces were level, searching her over with alarmed concern.

"Jemma what happened?" she asked softly. "Are you hurt?"

She shook her head wildly, loudly gasping in mouthfuls of empty air to no avail. "N-no."

Her hands flailed in front of her, flexing before clenching into fists because she didn't know what to do with them, until Skye gently caught them, her grip loose, allowing for Jemma to slip easily out of it if she wanted to, but she didn't.

Instead she clamped her fingers around her friend's wrists, trying to steady herself.

"I-it's not… it's not him," she squeaked, struggling to speak. "It's… I-it…"

"Shh," Skye urged, using her thumbs to rub steady circles onto her arms. "Jemma slow down. Breathe."

"I'm… t-trying," she wheezed.

"Slowly," Skye soothed. Her breaths became elongated, deep and exaggerated. "Just breath with me OK. Slow down."

Jemma locked eyes with her, starring desperately and doing her best to imitate her.

The slow, steady, pumping of her lungs finally allowed them to work and after a few minutes, she evened out and the world stopped spinning.

"I'm sorry," she said quietly, shame findings its way to the surface through her pain. She pulled her arms back, wrapping them around herself. "I messed up."

"No," Skye objected gently. She reached out to give her arm a firm squeeze. "No. No one expected you to go down there. It's OK, it wasn't your fault, and it wasn't that bad. It was just a bit of broken glass." She glanced over her shoulder, attempting a smile. "I see you're on a roll with that today," she kidded.

Jemma starred beyond her, thoughts far away, too far gone for laughter.

"It knew something Skye," she whispered after a moment. "Something only we knew. How could it-?" The balloons began to reinflate and her chest heaved as she moved her horrified gaze back to Skye. "What if they did something to him? Before." Her eyes flooded, tears streaming out to roll down her cheeks and claws ripped at her heart, making her voice grow small and high as she admitted her newest source of torment. "W-what if they hurt him?"

"He died instantly," Skye protested firmly. "He had no injuries, no one did anything to him before."

"According to the autopsy," Jemma mumbled, unconvinced. A fresh wave of pain passed over her and she choked out a sob. "I couldn't… We don't even know how he died."

"It was poison," Skye reminded her, drawing out the words as if she thought Jemma would have trouble understanding them. "You isolated it from his blood sample, remember?"

Her head shook, eyes narrowing. "No, no I don't know what it was… it didn't make any sense."

"Jemma…." Skye sighed.

"No!" she snapped, regretting her harsh tone when she saw her friend wince. Her fists clenched around the fabric of her trousers and she struggled to keep her next words even. "No, it didn't make sense, not how he died, not even the poison itself. The compounds don't react, they shouldn't have reacted… t-the poison shouldn't have existed."

Skye frowned. "But... they did…" She'd grown careful, speaking as if her voice might break something should she put too much force behind it.

"Yes altogether," Jemma hissed, struggling to explain. "Altogether they react, but other than that they don't, not with each other."

"So… but they do react?" she tilted her head, confused.

Jemma nodded, a bit clearer now that she had something else to focus on. "Yes but their interactions are not predictable, it would require the assumption that the components do interact with each other, which they don't, except when they're all together. It's an unpredictable event."

"So…?"

"So whoever made the poison had capabilities that we do not," Jemma pressed. She cast her gazed downward, trying not to lose it again, because her next thought wasn't at all a distraction. "If they were able to predict an unpredictable event what else could they do? Get into his head? Steal his thoughts? In-... inflict p-pain without leaving a biological trace?"

"No one hurt him," Skye insisted, but this time it sounded like Jemma wasn't the only one she was trying to convince.

They'd done something to him, recent evidence strongly suggested so, and she knew he wouldn't have given up such an intimate secret easily. If someone else knew about, it was because they had forced it out of him and the idea he might have suffered to create that thing was more than she could bare.

A sob raked through her, making her shudder and she had to wrench the words from her throat so that they came out gargled and gritty. "We don't know that Skye. All I know-" Her voice broke and she fought to continue. "A-all I know is that I don't understand. If I don't know how he died, how can I know it didn't h-hurt? He shut off Skye. Everything, every cell in his body just stopped. I-it's impossible… i-it… it..." She whimpered, pulling her knees to her chest so that she could bury her face into them, shoulders quaking as she weeped. "I d-don't understand."

They killed him and I don't know why, they hurt him and I couldn't stop it.

On she wept, until her throat was raw and her eyes swollen.

He's gone and I'll never get to hold him again, I'll never get to feel him say 'I love you', for the rest of my life.

And still the tears would not stop.

I wanted him back, but I didn't want this. This is wrong, so wrong, and it's going to destroy me. I'm not strong enough for this.

Skye didn't say anything, or try to stop her. She only rubbed her shoulder before going still, leaving her hand where it was and watching over her, a silent guardian, shielding her while she shuddered and shook.

/-/-/

High five to notapepper for betaing his chapter :) (Autocorrect wanted to put beating :P)

The poison is a reference to Fringe. In the episode Making Angels there is a poison made of ingredients that only interact in the way Jemma described. It baffles both Astrids.

Thank you to Artesuna for the advice on Jemma's thoughts on the 'not' Fitz :)