Set after S2E16 Afterlife - contains spoilers!
Nothing Says Safety Like a Sandwich
Fitz didn't want to read too much into anything. He'd been guilty of that in the past. He'd fallen too quickly into too many friendships that had ended in betrayal. He'd even begun to think he was seeing the pattern all over again as Jemma pursued her agenda set by fear. It was like a hundred punches to the stomach.
She'd reached over and taken his hand and he'd reciprocated but internally he'd held himself tightly wound. In the past a gesture like that had spoken of hope, now it only confused him further. She was bent on a world that was black-and-white and free of nuance.
Could he continue to love someone like that?
Could he stop?
Oh, the relief that had flooded his body when he saw what she was really doing with that cube. To go to her in front of the others, to perform all of the anger and disillusionment he had genuinely felt, allowing it to melt away with only the breath those words cost him.
Almost the hardest thing he had to do was to feel her there, helping him hoist his bag onto his back, and yet not turn around. To let the others think he would walk away from her without a second glance. To have imagined what it might mean to leave her for good without even a last embrace.
He couldn't help but entertain the possibility that they hadn't read one another correctly. So to actually close his fingers around the cube, to know he'd been heard, to know that they were working as one despite all appearances almost surpassed that first wave of relief.
But what was this? What else had she packed for him? Her note, her unmistakeable hand – black marker, brown paper. Stay safe. And the sandwich that she seemed to believe best equipped him for life and death situations.
Love. It all bubbled back up inside him. The same love he'd tried to speak of for months but ended up having to show her. The same devotion that saw him hand her their only oxygen. The same affection that still had him reliving her tear-streaked face against his in his dreams.
In the same way that nothing was black-and-white for him anymore, his love for Jemma had also graduated the monochrome. She had been wrong, really wrong. She'd been wrong in ways that almost made him frightened of her. He knew that whatever he'd hoped might have come out of speaking of his feelings in the past, it was far too simplistic now. And maybe there was just too much in the way.
But as he took the first bite of her edible peace offering, all he could see was love. The Love in her handwriting on the card in front of him, the love in her actions in the hours that had led him into the back of this taxi, the love that had gone into using hands that could develop a dendrotoxin or a microthread or a vibranium box at short notice for the humble purpose of making him his favourite sandwich.
He knew he felt unreasonably happy given he was fleeing all that he knew and heading into uncertain and no doubt unsafe territory, but a good sandwich will do that to you, especially when it's been made with love.
ooo
ooo
Yes, I know. This is a little bit lame. But I LOVED his face with that sandwich and the title popped into my head and then I had to write it. I just HAD to! So much hope for a happy FitzSimmons!
I am waiting with bated breath for the arrival of episode 19 tonight (via the wonders of the internet) before we go and see The Avengers: Age of Ultron tomorrow! Eeeeeek! So excited!
If you are dying for more FitzSimmons and looking for something a bit more fun, you may like to check out my story "The Flying Haggis: FitzSimmons' Adventures in the Campervan of Awesome" It's pretty long with fluff galore! It breaks away from canon after S2E10.
Alright, peeps. Ciao!
(Oh, and if you are nicely going to leave a review, which you're very welcome to do, please no Avengers spoilers! Thank you!)