Try as he might, Fitz couldn't get warm. He knew it wasn't the air, the thermostat read a toasty 24 degrees Celsius and, under the thick covers, he should have been comfortable, too hot even.

But he wasn't.

He couldn't tell if it was because of his fever, or if that had broken already and his body temperature was plummeting. He didn't know if he was actually cold, or if he just felt that way because his brain was telling him he needed to be warmer.

Whatever the case, tremors ran through him, muscles working in vain against the terrible chill. Everything hurt and his thoughts swam around him, vision blurred around the edges when he tried to open his eyes, and somewhere in the back of his mind the thought occurred to him that he might be dying but he didn't have the energy or the will to be afraid.

Maybe that was best. Maybe he'd been designed that way, by whoever had created him, made to expire when he accomplished whatever it was he'd been created for- or failed to comply.

He didn't mind that, being a failed experiment, if what he'd been sent to do was hurt the people he thought of as his friends. Maybe he was saving them, with this one final act of defiance.

If only it were quicker. Whoever had designed this must have had a streak of cruelty because what was happening to him bordered on unbearable.

His loneliness only added to his suffering, bringing in a new kind of pain that ached in his chest and burned behind his eyelids. He didn't want to be alone anymore, whatever he was he was close enough to human that he knew he wasn't meant to live that way.

The light to the room switched on and he groaned, shutting his eyes tight against the harsh stimuli before it was dimmed and hurried footsteps approached.

A hand brushed his cheek and it felt like a furnace, wonderful and warm.

He recognized the sharp intake of breath, the hazy face that he managed to crack open his eyes to see, and for one insane moment he forgot everything that he was and struggled to reach out to her, surprised when her hot hand wrapped around his own.

"We're going to need to raise the temperature in here," she ordered, turning her head towards whoever was hovering behind her, leaving no room for an argument in her fierce, urgent tone. "And I need an electric blanket- there are some upstairs in the walk in closet."

Feet scuffled across the floor before thudding up the stairs and as he wondered who the other person had been he felt himself lifted into a sitting position and bundled up, blanket around him, so that he rested against Jemma, his head supported by her shoulder.

On instinct, he squirmed into the warmth, helped by steady arms that kept him close. The tremors intensified, gnashing his teeth together, but already he felt stronger, his head clearing and it was such a relief that he couldn't help but mumble a string of thank yous under his breath, his stuttering voice thick with gratitude.

"It's OK," she whispered gently. "It's OK, we're going to warm you up." She rubbed his arm, spreading the heat from her hands and sparking more from the friction it created. "You'll be alright."

He nodded, closing his eyes and allowing his weight to sag against her, the fight leaving him as his shivers subsided. He couldn't move anymore but the pain was gone and, if he were still dying, at least now it would be in the arms of someone he loved, hearing her kind words murmured into his hair as she continued to rub his shoulder, his back, the side of his face.

Fuzzy darkness crept itself around him but just before he lost consciousness he thought he heard her calling his name, calling for him to stay awake. He was already so far gone though that it could have been all in his head.

/-/-/

A few hours later, Jemma lay with him beneath the heated blanket, much too warm but unwilling to spare herself the discomfort by leaving him without the extra source of heat.

It was what she'd told the others as she'd slipped underneath with him, responding to the room of raised eyebrows she'd felt behind her even though she couldn't tear her eyes from him to look at them. She was keeping him warm, stopping him from catching hypothermia, from damaging his heart, that was all this was.

It wasn't though, she knew it wasn't. She need to be near him, to feel his breathing beneath her arm, feel his heart beating beneath his chest. When they'd been left alone, she'd needed to beg him to come back, soft, pleading whispers against his ear.

She couldn't tell them any of that though, they wouldn't understand. How could they, when she didn't understand herself?

Why was she so desperate for him to open his eyes?

'You love him,' she realized with a start. 'You love this man, and he loves you. So where does that leave you? Where does that leave us?'

She'd been wrong. He wasn't just a copy, he was Fitz. She wasn't sure how she knew but she was as certain of it as she was that the sun had risen that morning, that the moon pulled at the tides, the earth continued to spin on its axis. She knew it was him, the way she knew to breathe or to blink. It was as inherent as up and down, light and dark, things that happened with no need for an explanation.

But they had one. Up and down were caused by the pull of the earth on every mass within range of its gravitational field. Light was photons reaching her eyes, dark was their absence.

This though, there was no explanation for this, and it terrified her. It filled her with fear, to be in love with a dead man, to care so much about something that was such a mystery that it could disappear at any moment.

However love him she did, and she couldn't stop herself from pleading with him as she anchored him against her, as if holding him close enough would stop him from leaving again.

"Wake up," she whimpered, pushing her tears into his shoulder, hand clutching his tightly. "Please wake up. You can stay." She lifted her head to plant a frantic kiss on his icy cheek. "I want you to stay… I…" Her voice lowered, barely a whisper. "I love you. I've m-missed you so much. Fitz please. Please just wake up."

Was it her imagination, or had his hand gotten warmer? Taking in a shaky breath, she moved up once more to brush her lips over his cheek and the warmth she found made her melt in relief.

His face scrunched and he groaned, eyes cracking open, and she lifted herself onto her elbow so that they could see each other.

He seemed confused, his eyes foggy as he stared up at her. "Jemma?" he mumbled.

His voice was like the air after it rained, smelling of spring and the promise of hope. Fresh tears welled up, soaking her eyelashes and a smile pulled itself across her face. "I want you to stay with me," she told him again, louder now, determined, her palm moving over his cold, clammy forehead. "Stay."

His eyelids began to droop but he nodded hazily. "OK," he sighed, falling unconscious once more, and for a minute she panicked, worried that she was losing him again.

He continued to warm up however, and his breathing became stronger, colour returning to his cheeks, visible even under dim lights of the monitors.

Each hour after that, he got better. Every passing second it was as if he were filling in, like a ghost becoming a person and she sat up, watching over him and marveling at the transformation, as bewildered by it as she was by him, until morning came.

/-/-/

Fitz had dreamt of her, the night before, whispering in his ear, wonderful, impossible words that had filled the hollow places in his heart with hope. She'd told him to stay, that she loved him and she wanted him to stay.

And so he had, even though he now knew that it had all been a fantasy. Surely it had all been a dream, made real enough by his struggling consciousness to fool him into listening.

Not that he regretted it.

Right at that moment, he was about as content he thought he could be, being an unwanted copy of a dead man. He was eating his way through a tin of his favourite biscuits, his favourite person in the entire world perched beside him on his hospital bed as they watched Monkey Kingdom together, laughing with her like they belonged this way, together.

"You're going to give yourself a stomach ache," she scolded halfheartedly, grinning in amusement as he crunched another bite out of the sweet, buttery treat. "Maybe you should slow down."

"Maybe you should help me finish them," he suggested instead, grinning back at her and hoping his face wasn't too full of crumbs. "C'mon agent Simmons," he teased, waving one tantalizingly in front of her. "I know they're your favourite too."

She rolled her eyes, even as she gracefully accepted his offering. "I suppose I'd better not let you eat all of them," she conceded, but even as she sighed her eyes were smiling.

He chuckled, already on to his next one but deciding that he'd slow down, just to give her a chance to sneak a few more, not because she was right and his belly was starting to gurgle irritably at him. "You don't have to pretend it's for me, you're allowed to like biscuits."

She swallowed down her current mouthful, licking her lips to clear the crumbs before she spoke and he couldn't help staring, wishing he could touch her lips too. "Well… and you're allowed to call me Jemma you know," she told him and though she spoke lightly there was something behind her words that suggested that there was nothing light about her offer.

Fitz looked away, placing the half eaten biscuit down onto his napkin and lowering his chin to his chest. "You… it… that wouldn't be strange?"

Out of the corner of his eye he saw her shake her head, giggling nervously. "Strange? Ha, no.. of course not. Honestly you calling me agent Simmons is what's strange. I feel like I'm at some sort of formal meeting."

He turned his head towards her, smiling cautiously. "Yeah?"

Her head bobbed up and down enthusiastically. "Of course you can, we're friends, aren't we?"

That drew his smile up further, stretching it out so that he felt it in his cheeks and he nodded slowly along with her. "Yes, we are friends…. Jemma."

Friends. It was better than he could have hoped for.

She beamed at him, glowing with delight. "Good. Because- you probably know- I don't bake for just anyone."

"You don't," he agreed cheerfully. "Thank you… Jemma."

She chuckled at him and they returned their attention to the film, an amicable silence falling between them, broken here and there by Fitz's excited comments and Jemma's fond replies.

After another twenty minutes or so, she became fidgety, glancing back and forth between him and the television before she finally spoke, hesitant, shy almost.

"So… do…" She cleared her throat, trying again. "Do you remember everything?"

He turned to her, considering the question before he answered, wondering why it had been asked. Was she simply curious? Or were there things that his predecessor had left unanswered? As far as he knew, all the important things had been covered.

"I think so," he replied, watching her now guarded expression carefully, searching for a hint to her reasoning. He caught her eye, smiling reassuringly. "As far as I know anyway." He chuckled. "I can't know what I don't know right?"

Her mouth twitched up but her eyes weren't smiling anymore. "Yes, right, of course."

Fitz tilted his head, concern spreading across his chest. "Is there something you want to know?"

She couldn't seem to look at him as she spoke, tucking a stray lock behind her ear, the way she did when she was nervous or stressed. "I…" She took a deep breath, as if she were trying to suck courage from the air. "Do you remember our trip to Coney Island?" she blurted, fixing a wide eyed stare on him, scanning him as he scanned her. "When… the first time we went to New York? You absolutely had to go, you wanted to ride the Iron Man Rocket. We waited in line for two hours in the rain."

His eyebrows rose and he smirked at her, remembering the story. "I absolutely wanted to go?" he questioned incredulously. "Maybe you need to go through the CAT scan Jemma because you were the one who kept nagging me to come with you." His pitch raised unflatteringly. "'Oh Fitz, it's a world renown attraction, we have to go. It'll be fun.'" He shook his head. "I threw up after that bloody rollercoaster. Two hours waiting in the rain to have my lunch expelled from my body." However, as he thought of the day, the strongest thing he felt was a fluffy, untainted joy and he smiled. "I'm glad we- er… you went though," he corrected, catching himself and feeling the warmth flee out his skin. "He… he remembered that day all the time. It was a good day. Whatever he told you."

She was staring at him, her breaths shaking, as if she were frightened and she seemed to be fighting with herself, the pain in her eyes a startling contrast to their earlier sparkle, and it was all he could do not to reach out and take her hand.

"I'm sorry-" he said in a rush, voice rising in alarm.

"What if-" she squeaked over him.

"Are you two still watching that movie?"

In the same moment, the pair's heads whipped towards the door and they spotted Skye, picnic basket in hand, looking at them as if she'd caught them watching dirt during a fireworks show.

"Coulson just cleared us to go out into the exercise yard! As long as we stay within the fenced off area. And Fi-" She shook her head, waving her hand in his direction. "You look like you haven't seen the sun in… well, ever. Seriously, you're paler than Jemma, and that's saying something because she never goes outside. So..." At last she noticed their gaping mouths and she narrowed her eyes suspiciously, glancing between them. "Am I interrupting something?"

Fitz turned towards Jemma, unsure, but she was smiling at her friend, her previous turmoil hidden beneath beams of sunshine. "No, no not at all." She chirped. "And I do too go outside. I love going outside. In fact, I think going out in the exercise yard is a wonderful idea. Some sunshine and fresh air will do us all some good."

"Are you sure he meant me too?" Fitz asked, hesitating. He didn't want to give Coulson a reason to mistrust him, he might need his help to figure where he'd come from and besides he still thought of the man as a friend, even if he wasn't actually his agent.

Jemma rolled her eyes as if he were being ridiculous. "Of course he meant you too, you've been nothing but cooperative from the start. Besides you need the fresh air and you're under my care, so its my decision."

He couldn't help grinning at that, amused. "I'm under your care? Is this just another way for you to make me wear proper safety equipment and eat my vegetables?"

"After all the biscuits you've eaten I would highly recommend a few vegetables, yes," she shot back, but she was smiling too. "Right after some fresh air."

It was tempting. When was the last time he'd seen the sun? When was the last time Jemma had seen the sun? Skye was right, she looked greyer than she usually did, bordering on unhealthy. It was his concern, coupled with the confusing realization that she wanted him to go with her, that made him nod in reluctant agreement.

"Whooo hoo!" Skye did fist pump, turning on her heels and waltzing out as if she expected them to follow, parading behind her. "Let's get some sunshine!" She puffed out a breath, in disbelief of herself. "Man I have been underground way too long."

He and Jemma smiled at each other and she held out her hand for him to take. "I'm sure you remember the sun?"

"I think I remember something big, bright and yellow, yeah," he kidded, happily sliding his hand into hers, and they giggled together as they trailed behind their friend.

/-/-/

Thank you to notapepper for all your help and advice with this chapter :D

The trip to Coney Island is a reference to Fringe. In season a 3 episode, Charlie uses a similar story to test whether or not Olivia is who she says she is.