TEN YEARS, ELEVEN MONTHS, AND FIFTEEN DAYS AGO. GIVE OR TAKE.

Fitz quickly slid into one of the open seats in the back, his usual tactic upon entering a classroom. It wasn't necessarily that he wanted to avoid drawing attention to himself (which was true) or that he liked having the fastest escape route at the end of the hour (also true). Mostly he felt that the back gave him the most useful vantage point, where he could observe unobserved without the added pressures of participating. The other kids were tolerable, to a certain extent, and the professors were excellent, without question. But Fitz had always been more comfortable keeping to himself, demonstrating his talent through his work rather than by verbally fighting against the countless cadets only seeking to further their careers.

No, most of the time Fitz was fairly quiet in class.

Most of the time.

He kept his eyes cast downward, absentmindedly sketching designs in his notebook as the room slowly filled up. It was a smaller class, the beginning of a four-week seminar he'd been invited to enroll in, and Fitz had arrived ten minutes early just in case this professor happened to be on the stricter side of such policies. Fitz couldn't have said he cared all that much about the rules, definitely not as much as some of the other cadets, but in this case he figured it would be in his best interest to be on time. And he actually was quite interested in this particular module (or perhaps more specifically the professor teaching this particular module), despite the low number of students and despite knowing that she would undoubtedly be there. That was a given, after all. She was much too smart not to have been invited.

Sure enough, he heard her enter the classroom with a few minutes to spare. Fitz tried not to wince or make any sudden movements when she took the only remaining seat left in the classroom, the seat that fate had cruelly reserved next to him. His pencil paused on the page in front of him as she settled in quietly, and even though he didn't look over at her, he knew she was just as thrilled by the seating arrangement as he was. Her irritation was practically radiating off of her.

In all honesty, he had no idea what he'd done to upset her. On their first day, his eyes had widened upon hearing her clear voice answer one of the professor's questions. The accent wasn't Scottish, true, and she most definitely identified as English. There was something familiar to it, though, a cadence that echoed her northern origins and oddly reminded him of home.

But that wasn't the only thing they shared in common. She was younger than the others, perhaps even younger than him by the looks of it. Being years behind his classmates developmentally had largely been a part of why he'd disliked his academic advancement so much. So to know that someone else would not only understand but also identify with those experiences had given him hope, the hope that maybe joining S.H.I.E.L.D. and moving halfway across the world had not been such a bad idea after all. Plus, she was obviously brilliant. He'd needed less than a minute of hearing her talk to realize that, even without her exemplary marks putting her above everyone else in the Academy (besides him, of course).

Fitz couldn't really explain it, but somehow he just knew that if he got the chance, if he could just show her how similar they really were, they would get along. All he had to do was find the right thing to say, something that would impress her enough to consider giving him more than a passing glance outside of the classroom. But as the term went on and his class participation skyrocketed in the lectures he shared with her, that particular feat proved to be much more difficult than he'd originally anticipated.

Because at the end of the day, Jemma Simmons was very, very hard to impress.

Fitz attempted to surreptitiously glance at his watch, willing time to defy its own laws and move faster. Next to him, she was very pointedly avoiding his gaze, her hair cascading over her shoulder in a way that strategically covered the side of her face. Despite her less-than-subtle hostility, Fitz found himself smiling slightly. He'd never seen someone take that much time to write the date at the top of their paper.

After a few minutes, it became evident that their professor was not the punctual kind. The low buzz that had filled the classroom steadily grew louder, and some of the other cadets' comments could be heard over the din.

"Did you guys get a syllabus for this? Why even bother with another seminar if it's only four weeks?"

"Chemical kinetics, my ass. You know who this guy is, right? It's a cover."

"One of the third years said the cadet who has the best final project gets recommended for early graduation and immediate relocation to the Sandbox."

"Oh, you're all going down."

"I heard he's actually on the government's watch list, and S.H.I.E.L.D. just recruited him to keep an eye on him. That's why this class is so short. They don't want to keep him in one place for too long."

Fitz tried to keep his amusement to himself, but the absurdity of that last remark earned a low scoff from him. Thankfully no one paid him any attention, because Simmons set her pencil down just then.

"What a load of rubbish," she said, rolling her eyes. Almost immediately, the rest of the small class fell silent, a common effect whenever she began speaking. "Dr. Hall is an asset to S.H.I.E.L.D., a valuable one at that, and an extremely busy man. We should consider ourselves very lucky to be under his instruction. I mean, his work in the physical chemistry field is unparalleled, and that's not even taking into consideration his groundbreaking theories on the gravitonium-"

"Well, there goes my plan for a spellbinding introduction."

Fitz joined the others in turning towards the back of the classroom, where Dr. Franklin Hall stood in the doorway. For a world-renowned scientist, his outward appearance hardly commanded the presence he deserved. He wore a simple jacket and tie, his briefcase looked as if it had survived at least three decades, and the spectacles perched on the edge of his nose gave him the odd impression of a school librarian. But as Fitz could easily testify, appearances could be deceptive. He knew very well that this man was quite possibly the smartest person he'd ever been in the same room with.

"It seems as if you're already familiar with my research," Dr. Hall continued as he made his way over to the large desk near the whiteboard.

"Your reputation precedes you, sir," Simmons replied with a smile, always miraculously quick to recover. "As well as your work, of course."

Dr. Hall gave her a small smile in return before addressing the rest of the class. "I apologize for my tardiness," he said, pressing a button in the side of the desk. "I was trying to convince the board of directors to upgrade the Holotable in here to the most recent prototype. But it looks like we'll have to make do with the old mark for now."

Fitz briefly wondered why any classroom in the Academy of Science and Technology would be using old prototypes, but his attention was immediately redirected as soon as the Holotable booted up. "Now, if I could just…" Dr. Hall muttered, pressing a few keys. "Ah. There it is. The colors aren't as impressive here, but…well, you'll get the idea." With one swift motion, he raised his hands above the table, and a holographic projection of a silver substance hovered in front of their eyes. Almost involuntarily, Fitz leaned forward, his jaw going slack. The gasp that escaped his lips sounded a bit louder than he would have expected, but that was until he realized that it'd been magnified by a very similar sound coming from the person next to him. He snuck a glance at her out of the corner of his eye, and saw that her face had broken into an astonished grin.

"Bloody hell," she murmured with a laugh.

One of the cadets in the front of the class was the first to speak up. "So you, like, actually found it? The gravitonium exists?"

Dr. Hall sighed, looking somewhat embarrassed. "Well…yes and no, Miss…"

"Webber, sir," she supplied quickly with a smug smile on her lips, probably very pleased at being the first student to gain recognition by name. "Sally Webber."

"Thank you, Miss Webber," Dr. Hall nodded before turning back to the projection. "While all the data supports the existence of the gravitonium, I'm afraid it's still only a theoretical concept at this point." He swiveled the image around so that they could see the different sides of the substance, and Fitz marveled at how real it appeared, the outer surface swelling and falling like waves on a seashore. "But based on my calculations and with the help of modern technology," Hall continued, "we've been able to determine what the element's physical properties should be. Would anyone like to venture a guess as to why the gravitonium would appear like this?"

Sally Webber never stood a chance. "Well, that'd be because of its high atomic mass, of course," Simmons answered, not bothering to raise her hand. "Together, a group of gravitonium atoms has the ability to distort the gravity fields within itself. But since those fields would theoretically remain uniform, the element has an isotropic flow, which is why it would appear amorphous. Its properties aren't dictated by earth's gravitational field."

Fitz waited until she took a breath before he spoke, partly out of a genuine interest in the subject and partly because it gave him a chance to prove that he'd also done his research. "But that all could change, though, yeah?" he asked, and quickly powered through when he noticed her shoulders slightly tense up. "Theoretically the fields would be evenly distributed, but they could also erupt if stimulated by an outside source. An isolated positive charge should do it."

Dr. Hall smiled. "Very impressive, Mr.-"

"But you wouldn't actually want to do that, of course," Simmons interrupted in an overly sweet voice, still aiming her comments towards the front of the room. "Applying an electric current to a mass of gravitonium could have disastrous effects, especially considering the unpredictable nature of the subsequent gravity fields that would emanate from the source-"

"Well, yes," Fitz agreed, somehow managing to sound more irritated than he felt. "But if you were to find a way to control those fields, you could potentially-"

"Move heavy objects easily or…expedite the process of harnessing resources like oil, true. But that would require reversing the pull of gravity-"

"Or shifting the point of attraction," Fitz specified.

"Thank you," Dr. Hall nodded. "That's-"

"But all of that depends on our ability to even find a gravitonium deposit in the first place," Simmons continued, apparently unwilling to appreciate what Fitz had to say.

"Yes," Dr. Hall said, trying once more to interrupt them. And though Fitz felt childish for even doing so, he wasn't ready to let the subject drop until he'd gotten his point across.

"There are plenty of mines that could potentially harbor gravitonium, it's just a matter of financing that's the issue-"

"That's not the only issue. Gravitonium is not like other elements. If it's ever found, we'd have to find a way to remove it safely-"

"Sure, but extracting it directly from the ore should work, considering-"

"That's purely speculation, and even if that were a viable option, it'd have to be enriched-"

"Of course it'd have to be enriched, that wasn't even a question-"

"FitzSimmons."

Whatever Fitz had been about to say completely disappeared from his mind as he turned his head towards the front of the room. Had he just heard what he thought he'd just heard? Next to him, Simmons also went quiet, and Fitz noticed that Dr. Hall was looking at the two of them with raised eyebrows.

"You…you know our names," Simmons stammered after a few seconds of silence, surprising Fitz even further. He was much more concerned with the way Dr. Hall had said their names, combining them into one word rather than addressing them separately.

As if he'd been admonishing one person instead of two.

Dr. Hall smiled again. "Your reputation precedes you."

Fitz was still in a state of shock, only now he was wondering how on earth two first years had garnered enough talk amongst the faculty to even have a reputation. He was even more bewildered to see many of their classmates covering their mouths, subtly trying to hide their amusement. For her part, Simmons nervously tucked a piece of hair behind her ear, staring down at her lap as her cheeks turned a bright shade of pink.

Thankfully Dr. Hall moved on quickly. "I appreciate your enthusiasm on the subject," he said, ignoring the quiet laughter coming from the other cadets. "Unfortunately, however, in this course we won't really be covering the theories surrounding gravitonium." He gave them all an apologetic smile, reaching over to minimize the projection on the Holotable. "I was told by my peers that I would get your attention faster with something like this. And while I'm always interested to hear your theories and opinions, I'm afraid this really is a chemical kinetics seminar."

There wasn't any audible groaning from the class, since they were all professionals. But the disappointment was palpable enough for Dr. Hall to notice. "Oh, come on, guys," he said. "It'll be fun, don't worry. But we do have a lot of ground to cover in four weeks, so it's not going to be a picnic. Some of you have more experience in this field than others, so the lecture portion of the course might seem a little repetitive. We'll meet in here three times a week, where we'll cover the basics in reaction rate theory, equilibrium, quantum scattering, all that good stuff. But the majority of your grade will actually derive from your performance in the lab practical."

He hit another key on the Holotable, and stepped aside so they could read the syllabus on the whiteboard. "It's no accident that you're all here today," he continued. "Every single one of you was invited to enroll in this course for a reason. You're the best of the best. The top of your class. Scientists who are heralding in a new era of technological development, one that is making strides we couldn't have even dreamed of twenty years ago. I have no doubt in my mind that you've all worked very hard to get to where you are."

Dr. Hall leaned against the Holotable and folded his arms, glancing around the room. "Now, I've been in your shoes before. Metaphorically speaking, of course. I know the hours you've put in. I know the measures you've taken to achieve the success that you have. And I know all about being that one guy who always ruins the damn curve." Most of the class laughed appreciatively, but Fitz was still too distracted by the strangeness of the previous moment to join in.

"And while a little competition is healthy," Dr. Hall went on. "S.H.I.E.L.D. isn't interested in its agents stepping over one another to get to Level Three. The organization only thrives when everyone is able to work as part of a cohesive whole. So…to foster such an environment, you will each be randomly assigned a partner, with whom you will work on and present your projects."

The groans were definitely audible this time around. Even Fitz felt his stomach drop at the prospect of having to work with someone else, especially with anyone in that class.

Dr. Hall rolled his eyes but otherwise ignored their protests. "Your first project is due next Monday, so I'd get started right away if I were you. The parameters of each assignment are specified in the syllabus I just sent out, but really the whole point of this is that you learn to work as a team. As long as your projects involve thoughtful consideration, I don't care what you turn in. Whether you wish to create something new or modify an existing piece of technology or procedure is up to you. This course has a designated lab time once a week, but you'll all get limited access to the south labs for the remainder of the term."

Despite his dread, Fitz actually found himself sitting up straighter in his seat, following suit with the rest of his classmates. The south labs were usually only reserved for faculty and upperclassmen.

"I don't really have anything more for you today," Dr. Hall concluded, swiping across the screen as he flipped through the syllabus. "Here's the course roster showing your partner assignments, which are…non-negotiable." Fitz wasn't quite certain, but he thought the professor's eyes lingered just a little longer at the back of the room. "I look forward to seeing what all of you come up with. If you have any questions, see me after class. Good luck."

As soon as the roster displayed on the screen, Fitz immediately understood the pointed look he'd received. Because right across from his name, in bold capital letters, was the name of the one person in that entire class that he absolutely did not want to work with. Of course, there was also the minor complication that she happened to be the one person in that entire class that he actually did want to work with.

Dr. Hall left the assignment list up on the screen for a few more minutes, and as the rest of the class paired off and began discussing plans, Fitz remained frozen in his seat, staring down at the paper in front of him with unseeing eyes. He wracked his brain for something, anything, to say, but everything that was flashing through his mind was completely inadequate.

Eventually he heard her breathe in sharply. "Well," she said finally, drumming her fingers on the desk surface. "Looks like we're…partners."

She didn't sound nearly as upset as he thought she would, so he took his chances and looked over at her. He couldn't tell if she was smiling or wincing as she met his eyes, but either way he had absolutely no idea what to say in response.

"Is…is something wrong?" she asked hesitantly.

"I'm just…not exactly a partner person."

It was, without a doubt, the worst response he could have come up with. But the words had escaped before he'd had time to process them. And even though it was technically true, he silently cursed himself as all the alarm bells in his head told him he'd definitely said the wrong thing. If she hadn't considered him smart enough to notice before, there was absolutely no way in hell she'd want to be his partner now.

Her wince froze in place as she glanced down at her hands momentarily. "Well, you'd better get used to it," she said after clearing her throat. And when she looked back up at him, he was surprised to see that she didn't look angry. In fact, her smile even seemed genuine, although he figured her exceedingly polite nature was only barely overcoming her irritation. "Because how else are you going to solve the problem of your freezing device without a crystalline nucleation process to actually make it work?"

Fitz was pretty sure he stopped breathing for a few seconds, completely thrown for a loop by what she'd said. She must have noticed his confusion because she gestured to the notebook in front of him. "Y-your design," she clarified, reaching up to tuck another loose strand behind her ear. "I couldn't help but notice-"

"Oh," Fitz breathed, looking down at the paper as if he were seeing the sketches for the first time. "Oh, that's….just…"

"Just an idea?" she offered. He managed to give her some combination of a nod and a shrug, which probably made him look ridiculous but thankfully got his point across. "Well, it…it could work," she concluded, folding her hands in her lap as she looked at him expectantly.

Fitz opened his mouth to respond, but he still didn't have a bloody clue what she was talking about.

"For a project," she explained, looking at his notebook once more. "It would fit the parameters for the first assignment, or at least it would with a little modification. I've already read them."

Of course she'd already read the assignment specifications. Jemma Simmons was nothing if not prepared.

It was only when she started talking again that he realized he hadn't actually responded, and that he was most likely looking denser by the second. "Look," she sighed, glancing down at the desk. "It's not…ideal, no. But we're stuck with each other. And we're going to have to tolerate one another, at least for a little while, if we want to pass."

Fitz could feel his hope at any kind of friendship with her diminish as she continued. He supposed he had made quite the impression, but it wasn't the one he'd been aiming for if he'd become a partner that had to be tolerated.

"It's four weeks," she reasoned. "Four weeks and then it'll be over with. So…you do your part, I'll do mine, we'll got top marks, and then you'll never have to work with me again."

For about the hundredth time that day, Fitz found himself speechless. He wanted to say something about how he actually didn't think he'd mind working with her, or about how he thought the project idea was excellent, or perhaps something about the brilliant suggestion she'd made based on only a rudimentary sketch. But all he was able to manage in terms of a response was a small nod as he met her gaze, hoping that by some miracle his eyes could express all that he could not say.

She glanced away from him after a few seconds, and if he hadn't known better, he might have said she looked somewhat hurt. "I'll meet you in the lab tomorrow at nine," she said, quickly gathering her things together as she stood up. "Bring your designs and we'll brainstorm then."

She'd taken a couple steps away when she paused, and even though she was facing away from him, he could tell she was having an internal argument with herself. He saw her shoulders rise and fall as she took a deep breath, and she slowly turned back around to face him.

"I…I understand why you want to work alone," she began in a quiet voice. "All right? Really, I do, but…" She hesitated, but seemed to come to a decision to finish what she'd started saying. "But sometimes it's just a little easier to solve things…together."

He knew he most certainly didn't deserve it, but she smiled at him anyways. "See you tomorrow, Fitz," she said softly, leaving him alone in the now-empty classroom. He didn't realize until she'd disappeared that it was the first time she'd actually said his name. It replayed like an echo in his head, long after he'd left the room and made his way back to his dorm. He'd never been particularly attached to his surname, but the way she'd said it definitely gave him a new appreciation for it. In fact, as hard as he tried, he couldn't think of a single sound he would prefer to hear, which was a bit of a problem considering she probably thought he was a lunatic.

He had four weeks. Four weeks to convince her that he wasn't a complete idiot. Of course, after that disaster of an interaction today, he had a lot of damage to make up for.

What the hell had he gotten himself into?

PRESENT DAY

Fitz fiddled with the bottle in his hands, awkwardly waiting for someone to break the silence.

"That's it?" Hunter asked, sounding somewhat disappointed. "You're just gonna leave it there? Come on, there has to be more."

But Fitz was exhausted now, mostly because he'd spoken more words in the last few minutes than he had in the past month. It also didn't help that the longer he spent thinking about his memories from the Academy, the worse he felt.

"Not much more to tell, really," he shrugged, purposely avoiding Mack's eyes and knowing the mechanic could probably see through his lie anyway.

"Right," Hunter replied doubtfully, finishing off his beer. "The two biggest know-it-alls at the Academy forced to work together in close quarters, barely stomaching each other and yet managing to create a partnership within four weeks that would last over a decade." He shook his head. "You don't have to tell me, mate, but there's no way I'm going to believe there's not more to tell."

"It's not that," Fitz mumbled. "It's just…well…Simmons could probably tell it better than I can," he finished sheepishly.

"If you say so," Hunter laughed.

"But what about the project?" Mack asked, probably in an attempt to satisfy Hunter's curiosity without getting into uncertain topics.

"Got it done, yeah," Fitz said, placing his nearly empty bottle on the table. "Hit a few bumps, sure, but nothing that would make for a good story is what I've been trying to say. Actually, if you want to hear something really funny-"

"Oh no," Trip groaned. "Not the bunny-suit story again."

"It's a classic," Fitz protested.

"Simmons actually does tell that one better," Trip explained to the others.

Fitz grumbled a little, but he knew Trip was right. He'd never been able to tell a story quite like she could, even when he hadn't had trouble with his words.

"Well, this has been fun," Hunter said after a few moments. "But I'm beat. Did we figure out who actually won that last round?"

"It was definitely us," Mack replied.

"Bollocks, I don't remember," Hunter muttered. "But that can't be right. Let's call it a draw then, yeah? Settle it next Saturday when we're all…present. You know, mentally speaking. Like the classic gents we are."

"Nice try, Hunter," Trip said, gathering up the cards and shoving them randomly into the box. "You're lucky I'm too tired to care."

Hunter simply gave him a grin before ambling over towards the door.

"Try not to pass out until you actually get to your bunk this time, Hunter," Mack called after him, earning a dismissive wave in response. "I should probably follow him," he sighed. "Lord knows what'll happen if Bobbi finds him unconscious in front of her door again."

"He's a big boy," Trip said, starting to toss out some of the empty bottles on the table. "And big boys have to accept the consequences of their drunken-ass actions."

"Yeah, I hear you," Mack replied quietly before turning to Fitz. "What're you thinking, Turbo?"

Fitz had been staring off into space, trying to figure out why Hunter's words had sent up a red flag in his head. And suddenly he remembered what had happened to inspire his trip down memory lane. "Is today Saturday?" he asked.

Trip looked at his watch. "Sunday now," he replied, gathering the last remaining wooden blocks from the table. "Jeez, Fitz, I keep forgetting how much of a lightweight you are," he laughed as he headed to the doorway. "Don't even know what day it is?"

Under normal circumstances, Fitz might have argued that he could hold his liquor just fine, thank you very much. But at the moment he was much more preoccupied with a different problem. Of course, it'd been months. Surely he wouldn't have expected her to uphold tradition, especially a tradition that had sort of gone on hiatus with her absence. But she had sought him out, oddly enough, despite everything that had happened between them. Fitz felt like smacking himself once again. Because now he knew what Jemma had come for earlier.

And he absolutely hated himself that he'd forgotten.