After a little bit more thought, the road to a happily-ever-after for Fitzsimmons from the end of S2E6 didn't seem quite so impossible to imagine after all. So ignore what you read in the last chapter and rewind your imagination back to the end of the actual "A Fractured House" episode. This chapter is yet another crack at securing a happy ending for our beloved nerds…
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Fitz was never more conscious of how much time he spent curled up with Hologram Simmons than in the heart-pounding moments that the real flesh-and-blood Jemma wandered into the lab. It was like he forgot (though of course he didn't) each time she turned and walked out, that she was back, that she was home, that she was real. Hologram Simmons, with her wily illusion of comforting pressure on his shoulder, was, as she kept reminding him, a manifestation of his own subconscious, nothing more than a daydream. And of course he knew that, it was his subconscious after all, but a comforting habit is a hard one to break.
He and Hologram Simmons were just in the midst of discussing something or other about the activities of the growing team when the lab door opened and there she was – the real thing – carrying two cups of tea. As per usual, his heart started hammering and he had that familiar and yet no less striking sensation that his stomach had dropped to somewhere in the region of his knees.
Jemma made her way towards him, placed the tea cups down and pulled up a chair – so close, he noticed as she sat, that her knee rested against his. Whatever subtlety he once possessed was gone, he couldn't help but stare at it, but she stood her ground. The two of them busied themselves drinking tea for a moment before Jemma spoke.
"Yesterday you said you needed someone to talk through what happened," she said, resting her teacup on the bench. "Do you want to do that now?"
Fitz contemplated her offer. Of all the people he spent any time with, he knew he was at his worst with Jemma. He knew why too. It was because no one made him want to be quick and smart and funny and dazzling more than her. And when all of the effort it took for him to simply form a sentence was being channelled into trying to form it wittily, he got tied in knots. And the knots only got more tangled because he could see how much he was worrying her. He could see the tears shining in her eyes when he got flustered. He knew that she despaired for him. And all he wanted her to do was love him.
The frustration and pain of it all overwhelmed him. He could feel the hot tears spilling down his cheeks but he was powerless to stop them. And then Jemma did the strangest and yet most obvious thing. She reached out her hand and placed it on his shoulder. He instinctively placed his hand on top of hers. Then the floodgates opened. He was sobbing.
Jemma took his hand and led him out of the lab. He followed her blindly. Down winding corridors and up flights of stairs they went until she pushed open a heavy door and led Fitz out into the bright sunshine. He wiped his eyes on the cuffs of his cardigan and squinted around as he adjusted to the light.
They were on the roof. She led him to a corner of the roof top and sat down, leaning against the brickwork of the barrier and patting the ground next to her. Fitz sat dutifully and she immediately took hold of his hand.
"Fitz, this is complicated for me. Will you hear me out?"
He nodded, bracing himself for the inevitable, devastating impact he'd been expecting ever since she returned, of her telling him she was leaving him for good.
"When I see you struggling, you think you know what I'm thinking." She paused a moment. "But you don't."
He looked back at her sceptically.
"You think I'm mourning for the old you, don't you?"
There was no hope of him hiding his desperate desire to hear her contradict that deep-seated conviction. And yet he felt utterly unable to believe anything else. He nodded.
Jemma sighed. "Fitz, I know that having me around seems to make you worse."
Here it comes, he thought. He shrugged, keeping his red eyes focused on the paving stones in front of him.
"And I think I know why."
He turned to face her, intrigued to hear what she'd say.
"Fitz, all the things you said to me, all the things you accused me of – that I've given up on you, that I think you're useless, that I can't accept that you're different – they're not really about me, are they?" she asked gently. "That's not what's going on in my head, and I think you know it."
He shifted uncomfortably but heard in her words a speck of hope he could cling onto.
"I think I'm the one you find it hardest to spend time with because you don't let yourself just be who you are with me. You said that I can't accept that you've changed but I think it's you that's struggling to accept it. And I think you get flustered in front of me because we've been partners for so long and you think it affects me more than the others. You want to be your old self and you're afraid that I'll reject you now that you're not."
Jemma was so characteristically astute in her analysis that Fitz didn't know whether it was agony to have been so thoroughly seen through or relief to have been so compassionately understood. His tears fell afresh.
"I only left you because I was following orders. Coulson could see the effect that I had on you and we thought that maybe you'd be better without me for a while, maybe you'd be able to learn to adapt better without the added pressure you were placing on yourself to be your old self."
She placed her other hand over his and held it tight. "Fitz,' she continued gently, "Of all the people you should feel totally safe with, it should be me, shouldn't it? We've chosen to spend every day together, since that very first day we met at the Academy – don't you remember?"
He nodded, allowing himself a tiny smile.
"I would never agree to be parted from you for good, you know," she grinned. "You won't get rid of me that easily."
Just hearing those words from her healed his heart. All of a sudden, the relief of being so transparent far outweighed the agony. But Jemma hasn't said all she had to say.
She continued so quietly, he almost couldn't hear her. "I see the cost of what you did for me, Fitz," she said, her face now wet with tears. "I haven't forgotten that you were ready to sacrifice your life for mine." She paused, squeezing his hand again. "I could never forget what it feels like to be loved like that."
He looked up sharply.
She smiled at him through her tears. "I'm actually sort of hoping to be loved like that for the rest of my life."
Fitz wasn't sure he knew what he was hearing. He found his voice at last. "Have you… um…" He rubbed the back of his neck. "Have you got a shortlist of potentials then?"
Jemma nodded. "It's an extremely short list."
"It is?"
"Fitz," she whispered, turning to look at him. "It's you."
"Brilliant," he breathed, almost dizzy with amazement. This was not at all where he had predicted the conversation going.
He felt her gaze on him. She was right there. He closed his eyes tightly for a moment, trying to navigate the 180 degree about-turn from rejected best-friend to romantic hero. He glanced sideways. She was smiling sweetly back at him. He thought he could probably manage it.
Fitz turned to face her. "Hi," he said.
She giggled. "Hi, Fitz."
He glanced down at her lips. He did happen to have a very large back catalogue of daydreams that dwelt on a wide range of variations on this very scenario. He took a deep breath. He could probably harness some of that for a moment like this.
He couldn't tell if it were just his imagination or if Jemma really did move a little closer. Either way, there was a new inevitability at play. He wasn't going to be dumped. He was going to be kissed. It would have to have been the best turn up for the books in the history of anything. Other than perhaps the Ice Age. He shook his head. No, this was no time for science. He decided he wouldn't say that out loud. Jemma would argue that it was always time for science and there'd be a risk that the exciting kissing possibility would be derailed, just when it was humming along so nicely.
Jemma saw Fitz shake his head and wondered what exactly it was that was going on in there. In the past she would have bet money on her ability to read his mind but now she couldn't be quite sure. It was a little bit refreshing to find him suddenly unpredictable. Whatever it was, though, she was determined that they weren't leaving that rooftop without a kiss. She leaned a tiny bit closer.
This time, he caught her at it. He harnessed all of his courage and leant forward too.
Their lips met with a tentative softness. It felt like finally letting go of a breath they'd each been holding for as long as they could remember.
Jemma smiled at Fitz's blissful expression.
He opened his eyes slowly. "I had been so sure that I would never find out what it was like to kiss you, Jemma," he whispered. "Every man in the world must be in love with you!"
"That's highly doubtful, Fitz!" she laughed. "But even if it were true, it'd still only be you that I'd want."
Fitz beamed. Then, without warning, he suddenly leapt to his feet and held out his hand to Jemma. She allowed him to help her to her feet. He pulled her close, as he had in his daydreams, wrapped his arms around her and kissed her soundly, winding a hand into her hair.
"Oh, Fitz," she giggled, as they broke apart. "I feel quite weak at the knees!"
"You do?" he asked, surprised and delighted.
"Actually, now that you ask, I'm not quite sure." She looked at him cheekily. "Kiss me again?"
He grinned, taking her once more into his arms. "Whatever you say, Simmons."