Bright banners decorated the room, framed on either side by a rainbow of balloons, and drinks, party snacks, and plates of cake were scattered over top of most available surfaces.

"Welcome back from the dead?" Indicating the text printed across the thickest banner,Fitz raised his eyebrows at Skye who shrugged before taking another mouthful of cake.

"I wanted to go with Zombie Party," she told him between bites. "But the rest of the team didn't appreciated my sense of humour, even when I reminded them that it is kind of your party, so it should be your choice."

"I didn't need a party," Fitz told her. He grinned at Jemma who'd perched herself on the arm of the couch next to where he stood and she grinned back, watching him contently over her drink. "I'm just happy to be home."

"And we're happy to have you home," Jemma murmured. She reached up to flatten a patch of hair on the side of his head, her eyes misting slightly before she shook herself and smiled again though he still saw the months of painful memories just behind it. "It… it wasn't the same without you. Nothing was."

He moved closer, taking her hand and allowing his leg to press against the front of her knee, running his thumb down the tops of her fingers. It wasn't his fault, he knew that, but he still felt as if he'd been the one who'd caused her all that pain and even though a small part of him was glad he had people who would miss him, a much bigger part of him regretted how much she'd suffered. And the time they'd lost. It wasn't fair, an entire year together had been snatched away.

On the bright side, it meant that they had a lot of making up to do and Coulson had granted them a full five weeks of vacation together to start that off. They weren't sure what they were going to do with it yet, but he knew that Jemma had a list of wonders, caves that glowed by the light of a million worms and springs filled with jellyfish that could live forever. He had a few choice destinations as well, but as long they were together he knew he'd be happy.

"Just think of it as a readjustment," Skye said, bringing him back to the conversation about the party and shooting him a real smile. "Like an un-funeral… or…" She frowned. "You know what, never mind the funeral thing. That's just depressing. Forget I said that. Today is a happy day, we should celebrate."

Jemma's mouth twitched and she ran her fingers uneasily along the side of her drink before taking another sip of it, a shadow running across her face. She still hadn't said anything about that day, or what came after, and he wasn't in any hurry to push her into talking about it, though he knew that it'd remain a thorn in her heart until she did.

Skye was right, this wasn't about remembering sad times, it was about celebrating the good ones to come. He was back home, with the people he loved, and surely soon everything would go back to normal?

And yet he couldn't deny that things were different. Things had changed in the time he'd been away and every day he discovered something new that he'd missed. Some things were little, small advances in technology that he hadn't been around to experience, but others seemed a lot bigger, like Mack leaving SHIELD or Coulson promoting someone to replace him (Pao had taken the place left further down the ladder. She was skilled, but still very inexperienced.)

Jemma had given up her online science show quite abruptly after his 'death' (for lack of a better word). She'd been the one to start it but it had been something they'd mostly done together and she'd admitted a few nights before the party that it'd been too difficult for her to continue it without him.

"Actually," Fitz said slowly, his eyes never leaving Jemma's bright gaze, though he spoke to both her and Skye. "I think I a readjustment is exactly what we need."

Jemma blinked at him before smiling and giving him a small nod. Her hand found his and she rubbed his fingers with her thumb. "I think Fitz is right," she agreed.

"It sounds like you need to go to the cabin," Skye told them matter-of-factly. She plopped down onto the chair across from them, retrieving her plate and slicing off a large chunk of cake with her fork before chomping down on it.

"The what?" "Come again?" They asked in unison.

Skye swallowed her cake, resting her fork on the plate. "You know, the cabin they sent me to when I first started making earthquakes."

They exchanged a glance, still baffled.

"Why would we need to go there?" Jemma asked.

"Yeah, I don't think we'll be needing a Hulk proof cabin for this Skye," Fitz objected. "I'm still a normal human, the Olos didn't give me superpowers." He turned to Jemma, eyes narrowing. "They didn't give me super powers… right?" As hard as he tried, he couldn't keep the hopeful note from his voice.

She chuckled fondly and shook her head. "No, you're completely human I'm afraid."

"That's too bad," Skye grinned impishly at him. "I think you'd have fun with super powers." Then she frowned, remembering something. "But why couldn't he go out in the sun then? Humans can do that."

"They made him a new body," Jemma explained, glancing questioningly at Fitz to ensure she wasn't saying anything that would make him uncomfortable.

He couldn't really say he was thrilled with losing his old body, between the sunburns and the constant infections this new one was a bit of a nightmare. But Jemma had said that would pass soon enough and he had no secrets from Skye, so he smiled at her, encouraging her to continue.

"He has new skin, new organs, a new immune system," she went on. "They managed to speed up the growth process incredibly- for the most part he's physically the same age he was a year and a half ago- but it seems like they couldn't account for the problems all new humans experience. His skin had never been under the sun before, nor had his eyes, and they hadn't adjusted to it yet. And he'd never been exposed to bacteria or viruses, his blood was completely lacking the antibodies most of us have already developed."

"Which is why I've had to get about a dozen shots these past few weeks," Fitz added grumbly, remembering the bombardment of needles. "I even got a shot for the chicken pox."

"Those are awful to have as an adult," Jemma reminded him sympathetically.

"I guess a short pinch is better than being sick for a week," he conceded.

"But that wasn't what was making him sick before," Skye put in, still a little confused.

Jemma hesitated, looking uncertainly between Fitz and Skye before puffing out a breath. "No," she admitted. Her lip shook and when she spoke next her voice was so low he had to strain to hear. "No, that was us." She rose to her feet, her gaze downcast, and placed her drink on the table. "I- I think I may have left something on in the lab," she said shakily. "I'd better go… I'll be back soon."

She started for the door but Fitz caught her arm and she stopped, shoulders rigid. "Jemma, I'm not angry with you," he promised gently. "I'm not angry with anyone," he added to Skye, who nodded to show she'd heard though she continued to stare at Jemma in concern. "Well… except maybe the Olos… but not you."

"I know," Jemma sighed. She turned around, taking a step towards him and smiling fondly before pecking a kiss onto his cheek. "I really will be right back," she told him.

He brought his hand up the side of her arm, rubbing her shoulder and meeting her gaze, trying to figure out what she was thinking. "I know," he said.

He watched her leave, wishing he could understand what was making her so upset.

"She just needs a bit of time," Skye said reassuringly. "A lot of really messed up stuff has happened in the past year and a half, she's probably still trying to make sense of it all."

Fitz signed. "Yeah, I know how that feels. Even if I was the world's strangest embryo for most of it. Sometimes..." He paused, feeling a shiver run up his spine as the familiar thought resurfaced. "Sometimes I wonder if it actually worked... If I really am who I think I am or if... Well if I'm just a very good copy of him."

"No one thinks you're a copy Fitz," Skye told firmly.

"Sometimes I do," he admitted, his voice low.

Skye rose to her feet, stepping over so that they stood face to face before draping a hand over his shoulder. "Go to the cabin," she suggested again. "It'll help."

/-/-/

Their send off at the base had been a warm one. Skye had made them cupcakes for the road, decorating them with sprinkles shaped and coloured like smiling faces and even May's face had matched them when they waved goodbye.

Coulson had practically confiscated their cell phones and told them not to bring their computers.

"You won't have any internet out there anyway," he told them as they pulled out their various electronics and placed them in the bag he'd brought, just for the occasion. "There's a SHIELD computer and a phone with a secure line in the cabin, but the connection is only for emergencies."

"Like if the world is ending," Mack put in jokingly.

Skye rolled her eyes at that. "Yeah, like we'd interrupt your vacation for that," she teased, dismissing the imagined apocalypse with a wave of her hand. "I think we'd be able to handle it. We'll just leave Pao in charge of the lab while you're gone, any disasters can go through her."

The young scientist's eyes widened in alarm. "Wait… I can't… you're joking right?" she stammered.

"She is," Jemma assured her, smiling at her friends. "We'll see you all soon."

Skye hugged her, then Fitz, lingering a bit longer on the engineer to tighten her squeeze around his shoulders. When she pulled back to give him one last scan Jemma saw something of the same relief and gratitude pouring from her expression that she'd felt herself these past few days, though she saw none of the lingering sorrow that she'd felt clinging to her like a stubborn burr.

After a moment, May tilted her head towards the hangar doors. "C'mon you two, let's get you to the cabin. You can eat the cupcakes on the way."

/-/-/

Their first evening there they sat together on the wooden steps, watching the daylight turn to inky blue over the shining lake. As the sunlight faded, Fitz seemed much more comfortable, even taking off his glasses to stare out across the water, allowing Jemma to see those gorgeous eyes she'd missed so much.

And they looked right this time, not empty the way they'd been when she'd gone to identify him over a year ago, but swimming with laughter as he joked about the bullfrogs that were singing a croaking chorus out to what he insisted on calling the lady frogs. She'd hadn't realized, before then, how much of him was in his eyes and she wondered if they really were somehow connected to that thing humans had called a soul, whatever it actually was that made him Fitz and her Jemma and that had allowed him to move from one body to another.

She understood the biology of his personality, of his thoughts. She could map the parts of his brain that told him what he felt, held onto his memories, allowed him to speak or to understand what was said to him. And she even knew why his eyes reflected his emotions so brilliantly, tiny changes in pupil dilation and facial expression affecting the way light moved through them, giving way to the remarkable shifts. But she still didn't understand what it was they had taken out of one body and put back into this one, as many long hours as she'd spent poring over the research. She hoped that someday she would, and she wasn't going to give up anytime soon, but for now she was content to have him back with her.

Mostly content. As happy as she was for them to be together, she couldn't seem to shake the ghosts of the time she'd thought she'd lost him forever. She'd gone too long grieving to simply slip out of it, and the sadness lingered even though, to her immense frustration, she wasn't entirely sure what she was sad about.

The lost time? Regret for the pain she'd had to go through? For the pain she'd put Fitz through because she'd been too stubborn to see what was right in front of her? Whatever the reason she wished it'd go away. She wished she could just enjoy the fresh air and the sound of his voice through the quiet.

"Jemma?" He must have realized something was wrong, because there was a note of concern in voice when he spoke. "Is everything alright?"

To her horror, the simple question made her eyes sting and she shook her head, drawing a cool breath over the back of her throat in an attempt to keep her composure.

Fitz's hand found her shoulder, his concern deepening, and the contact drew her forward, her arms coming up around him and her face pushing into his shirt when he opened his arms to let her in, burrowing into the fabric as if she could stop the tears she felt about to spill out if she managed to press herself tightly enough against it.

It didn't work. She felt safe, with him holding her and it made her body relax rather than lock up, the springs inside her chest uncoiling and allowing the trap door to open and her tears to rush out in a startling gasp.

He didn't say anything and neither did she but one of his arm tightened around her shoulders while the other came up to stroke her hair and as he leaned his head against hers she was sure she heard him sniffle. Then he had buried his face into her hair and he was weeping right along with her, shuddering in her arms as she shuddered in his.

So they cried, together, until the sun had set and the moon was rising in the sky and fireflies shone like fairylights between the bushes. They cried and they held onto each other, neither one knowing exactly what was wrong, though the firm embrace and the twin streams of tears seemed to be exactly what they both needed, a long, messy release from the things they'd both been holding in.

It wasn't until a breeze brushed past her bare arms, sending a shiver through her, that they finally awoke from the trancelike state they'd found themselves in and she pulled her head back from his chest, looking up to his tear-streaked face that shone when it caught the moonlight, staring back at her questioningly.

He grazed his knuckles over her cheek as he watched her, slowly, over and over in a steady, soothing pattern, quietly struggling with something tied to the tip of his tongue.

"I've missed you," he said at last.

Her mouth twitched up in a small smile and she cupped his cheek against her palm, feeling his skin stretch up as smiled back.

"I've missed you too."

It wasn't everything, but it was the start, and the words seemed to tumble out after that, conversations that hadn't realized they needed to have flowing between them like rivers and by some miracle she found the words to communicate the tangled mess of emotions inside of her and he found a way to do the same.

When at last they went inside, tired of fighting off the cold and the insects, she felt as if a new link had been formed between them, another knot in the vast net that bound them together, and she was certain that they were stronger for it.

/-/-/

The next morning, Fitz awoke to a wonderful smell of flour, oil and blueberries, cooking on an open stove.

Smiling contently, he rolled onto his side, letting his hand rest on the fabric of the sheet that hand been ruffled and folded on itself as Jemma slept. It wasn't warm anymore, and he guessed that if she'd had enough time to start cooking she'd been up for a while, but it still held the memory of her laying beside him, her hands gliding over him as she familiarized herself with his new skin and he refreshed his memory of hers.

For a while, their conversations had halted, as they reacquainted themselves with each other's bodies, their lips meeting and their skin brushing, filling them up with incredible sensations which they followed together until they were both amazingly saturated with them.

And then, after holding each other in silence for a short while, their conversations had sparked back up again, their eyes struggling to remain open as they continued their talk into the night, giggling from time to time as they moved on to happier subjects. There were universes they could fill with things they still needed to say to each other and not all of them were sad.

She'd been so beautiful. She was so beautiful, glowing with it as if her life were a star and her sense of wonder and excitement the corona around it. He could hear her, just outside and down the short hallway, pattering around the kitchen, filling the cabin with her presence.

The memory of her arms around him was still fresh, and as incredibly real as all his other memories of her were. In her embrace, he felt her love for him, knew that he belonged.

He wasn't alone anymore and it was fantastic.

When his stomach grumbled at him, he made himself get up, feet finding the fuzzy carpet as he stood before they moved on to the chilly wooden floor, and followed the smell into the kitchen.

"Good morning," he greeted when he arrived at the entrance, having paused for a moment to watch her before he did. There was a spring to her step as she wove about the kitchen and he was sure he'd heard her humming something until his footsteps had alerted her to his presence.

"Good morning," she replied sunnily, turning around to shoot him a cheery grin before getting back to what she was doing. "I was up early so I decided I'd make us some breakfast."

She seemed excited about something, her voice raising a little near the end the way it did whenever she was, and she was doing something with what looked to be a piping bag over the frying pan.

It was clear that she was making pancakes, but he didn't understand why she needed the icer.

"You know they aren't actually cakes," he teased, starting towards her with a chuckle. "You don't need to put icing on them."

Although, now that he thought about it, it wasn't a horrible idea.

She hummed an absent response, absorbed in whatever it was she was doing, however at his approach she spun around, rising on her toes in alarm. "Wait, no! You can't see them, not yet." Piping bag in hand she hurried over to him, steering him by his shoulder with her free hand until he sat down at the table, narrowing his eyes at her in confusion. "It's a surprise," she explained. "You need to wait."

Surprise pancakes? Did she really think he couldn't smell them?

He shook his head apologetically. "I'm sorry Jemma but I already know they're pancakes. I suppose it's possible they did something to my sense of smell," he added, attempting to console her and realizing that it would be pretty neat to have heightened olfactory power.

"Of course they're pancakes," she dismissed, shuffling back over to the stove. "That's not the surprise."

"It isn't?" Once again, he found himself confused. "What's the surprise then?"

She picked up the spatula, using her body to shield the pan from view as she flipped whatever surprise pancake was on it. "You'll see in a minute," she said, only a little distracted by what she was doing. Her voice returned to morning sunshine. "How did you sleep? I thought the mattress was actually quite comfortable."

"I did too," he agreed, unable to help himself from craning his head in an attempt to see around her. "I didn't move around too much did I?"

"If you did I slept through it," she answered, carefully using the spatula to transfer her creation to large, white plate. "Close your eyes," she instructed, swiveling around to face him.

He did as instructed, feeling his stomach tickle with excitement. "Do I get a kiss with breakfast?" he asked hopefully.

It wasn't as if he'd been lacking them lately, but he still couldn't bring himself to take any gesture of affection for granted. A hug, a kiss, a lingering touch, he soaked it all in like a fresh paper towel, and Jemma seemed to be holding onto the same philosophy, as hungry as he was for that connection.

"Well," he heard the smile in her voice. "I suppose it wouldn't hurt to add that too."

Her lips touched his, briefly but long enough to spread a pleasant warmth through his chest and the way her fingers slid behind his neck in unmistakable affection made him melt in the best way possible. Then he heard the clatter of a plate being placed on the table and she gripped his shoulder.

"Alright, you can open them now," she chirped.

He did that and what he saw made him glow with delight.

"That's actually really impressive," he praised, examining her creation as she retrieved her own plate and sat down beside him, watching him fondly.

"And why do you sound so surprised about that?" she teased. "I am rather impressive."

"And you're very modest too," he added jokingly, shooting her an affectionate grin before looking back at his plate. "So how did you… with the piping bag?"

"I learned how to do it from a very helpful website," she explained, watching him nervously though he wasn't sure why. "I spent a great deal of time browsing the web while you were…" her gaze flickered away before darting back again and she appeared even more uneasy. "When you weren't here. And I needed something to distr- to occupy my time." she corrected herself quickly. "I've also gotten very good at souffle and I've perfected the my frittata...Perhaps I should have done that instead...I'm not sure it turned out exactly the way I wanted it to," she worried, studying it critically. "It's a bit cartoonish… But I've never done a monkey before it was too…" She trailed off, her eyes clouding. "...I wanted to focus on other animals," she decided after a moment.

Fitz felt a lump form in his stomach. He didn't like it when she talked that way about the time he'd been gone, when he was reminded of the time they'd lost and how hurt she'd been by it, but he knew that pretending it didn't happen wasn't going to make either of them feel any better, so he forced himself to let go of the awful feeling and focused instead on the present, on what she was showing him now.

He looked back at his cheerful pancake monkey, a capuchin actually, neatly crafted so that it stared back at him in varied shades of golden brown, and wondered how good her other animals must be if she was calling this cartoonish.

"Jemma this is incredible," he told her warmly, smiling when he saw his words light her up again. "What other animals have you done? "

"Oh, well my dragonfish is particularly detailed," she answered, a slight blush pinkening her cheeks. "And Skye says her favourite is my blue ringed octopus, she likes that I use blueberries for the rings, though they do turn out looking more like spots than rings…"

"I'd like to see that someday," he said cheerfully. His voice softened, growing thick with an emotion he couldn't quite place. "All of it… everything I missed. I want to see all of it."

"I'll show it to you," she promised, giving his arm a firm squeeze, what he was feeling, whatever it was, reflecting back on him in her gaze. "I want to show it to you. Everything I wanted to tell you, to talk with you about, to do with you and anything you want to know."

"That sounds like a lot," he kidded, but he stacked his hand over hers and squeezed back.

Her free hand came, cupping his cheek and she kissed him, slower this time, pushing her forehead against his in a light headbut before pulling away, leaving him buzzing and fuzzy. "It is," she murmured. She scrunched her nose, eyes sparkling. "I'm sure you'll still be hungry after that," she tilted her head towards single pancake. "Why don't we see how many animals we can get through before I run out of batter?"

She stood up, skipping back to the stove, and Fitz took a bite out of the monkey pancake before following her. It was as delicious as it was beautiful. Leave it to Jemma to improve upon pancakes. She made everything better, the sky bluer, the sun brighter, the rain fresher, the entire world was wondrous simply for having her in it and he was so grateful that he got to share it with her.

And he knew that she felt the same way, she'd told him last night, singing out her heart in the words she'd spoken, though she hadn't needed to. It played without her carefully chosen lyrics each time they were together and he'd always known what it meant.

Still it had been wonderful to hear her say it.

He watched her for several minutes, marveling at how she crafted shapes from the batter, until she offered to teach him, allowing him to take over, adding blueberries for spots and eyes over his shoulder.

And so together they made pancakes, and filled the world with goodness, and they lived happily ever after.

The End

/-/-/

Thank you to notapepper for you help with this chapter and this story :D And for showing me that pouring is not the same as poring. Poring, the word I never knew I never knew.

The ending is a reference to the Fringe episode Brown Betty. Ella ends the story Walter tells (after fixing the ending) with "And together they made goodness and they lived happily ever after. The end." I just replaced goodness with pancakes (same thing right :P?)

Also I'm pretty sure there's a post on tumblr about how Fitzsimmons would totally make those crazy animal shaped pancakes together. People really can do amazing things with pancakes! You should look it up.

ANNND so weird I had to mention it. A guest mentioned the boy from the last chapter could be named Gerard. That was my grandfather's name! So I guess I'll go with that, though there were a few good suggestions.