Jan 12, 2018
Summary: Jemma and Fitz reflect on their engagement and all that has led up to it.
Rating: G
[Read It!]
seen from China
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seen from Singapore
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seen from China
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Summary: Jemma and Fitz reflect on their engagement and all that has led up to it.
Rating: G
[Read It!]
Written for the anon who requested FS + Can I hold your hand? Read on AO3 or below!
~
It was Coulson’s idea to head to the diner, but Jemma would have probably made the suggestion had he not. A hot meal seemed like the biggest luxury after everything they’d been through as a team, and even if they were being tracked down and would likely be taken into custody within a few hours at the most, a small escape like this sounded like the best thing for them at the moment.
The team was relatively quiet on the drive over with everyone still mulling over Daisy’s speech about Fitz, as well as exhaustion weighing heavily on their shoulders. Jemma sat between Fitz and Daisy in the back row of the van with Fitz noticeably leaning into the side of the vehicle. While Mack drove, Jemma could sense a friendly energy between him and Elena up front, which made her smile contently. She was happy to see them already healing after their time in the Framework, but a small part of her wished it could be that easy for her and Fitz. But she knew that wasn’t the case.
The look they shared a few minutes ago when they promised Fitz they were in this together as a team was all that consumed Jemma’s mind, and she hoped it meant there was still something between the two of them. But they had yet to share any words with each other since they departed, and she was getting antsy not knowing where they stood.
No matter how hard she tried to convince Fitz it wasn’t actually him doing all those…things in the Framework, she knew some part of him would never believe it. And she didn’t know what it was like to now have two sets of memories, to feel like she’d lived two separate lives as two different people. But she did know that what they shared in this world was real and that it mattered and still matters. So starting now, no matter where they were headed next, she planned to do everything in her power to convince him of that. It wasn’t the end of the road for her, so she hoped she could convince him to feel the same.
Before she could change her mind, she turned her head to the side and found him staring out the window nearly in a daze.
“Fitz?” she asked at a half whisper.
“Hmm?” he replied without looking her way.
She hesitated for a moment, still thinking over the idea as if it were this extraordinary request. But then she shook her head slightly and deemed herself ridiculous. It was simple, and even if he said no, it wasn’t the end of the world.
She leaned in a little to his side so she could speak even softer. “Can I hold your hand?”
He didn’t respond immediately, which didn’t surprise her. She knew he was still processing the last twenty-four hours or so, and she didn’t want to push him in any way that he wasn’t comfortable. But it still made her heart sink knowing the simple gesture of holding her hand required him to think before responding.
It used to be second nature between the two of them once the team was comfortably aware of their relationship. They weren’t too keen on public displays of affection, but handholding was almost sacred. Because it reminded them that the other person was there even if they were in the middle of a crisis. That even if it felt like the world was crumbling around them, and their end was likely near, they were okay for that moment.
Without even a glance from Fitz, Jemma was about to give up and turn her head to face forward. But a few moments later, he looked down from the window and uncrossed his arms from his chest before gently placing his arm against hers, his palm facing up. Jemma let out a soft sigh of relief before slowly intertwining their fingers.
Even though she had held his hand only hours ago when they had shared a painful moment together in the containment pod, silently telling him she would be by his side through this next step of their lives, this moment felt completely different. It felt familiar and effortless, and his warm hand complimented her cold one to reach a balance only the two of them could achieve. As she began to slowly move her thumb across his, he finally looked up to find her eyes. She didn’t know what to expect, but the sight of his content and even hopeful expression gave her some much-needed comfort. She knew he wasn’t okay, that they weren’t okay, but they were trying. And that was enough for now.
Once the van came to a stop outside the diner, Jemma let go of Fitz’s hand and hovered by the door waiting for him after she got out of the vehicle. She didn’t want to pressure him – she assumed he allowed them to hold hands due to the privacy of the dark back row of the van with only Daisy able to witness this small yet significant progression between the two of them. But once he got out himself and came to her side, it only took him a few seconds before he extended his hand out again for her to take. She smiled softly as she intertwined their fingers once again, and then led him forward as they followed the rest of the group into the diner.
With the bar empty, the team took their seats, Fitz picking the one on the far end next to Jemma. As he sat down heavily onto the bar stool, the waitress behind the counter moved forward with her notepad.
“Well, you look like you could use a pot of coffee,” she said, gesturing towards Fitz.
Jemma smiled sweetly at the woman and then at Fitz. She was happy to see him smiling as well, a particular light returning to his eyes.
After giving him a quick wink, she turned back to the waitress. “Two cups of tea would be lovely.”
Wash the Sea [4x21 coda]
Rated G/T (non-sexy nakedness) Mentions of AIDA/Fritz, all the grossness in canon Thanks to @agentcalliope for beta-ing and making me finish writing it
He must have known Jemma was behind him because he didn’t flinch upon her reaching his hand around his front and ghosting her fingers over the buttons of his shirt.
“This is inconvenient,” she tried to joke.
Fitz said nothing. He couldn’t. What was there to say? He stared ahead at the steam from the shower. He had turned it on, hadn’t he? She had told him to go take a shower and he had tried. He could not stop himself from tensing when she pressed her face into his back.
“You’re safe now, Fitz. She can’t hurt you anymore.”
He bit his lip, but it only muffled the sob that broke through him. Still, he didn’t move. She slipped her other hand around to hold him closer.
“I’m safe,” she whispered, kissing his shoulder as he bowed his head. “Let me help you.”
Slowly, still standing behind him, she began unbuttoning his shirt.
“I know what it feels like,” she said softly. “Not what you’re going through, not what you’re thinking. But I know what it feels like to wish all the feeling would just stop.”
He let out a choked sob. “How do you do it?”
“Oh, Fitz.” She finished his shirt and pulled it off before moving to his undershirt. “May I?” When he nodded, she slowly began untucking his undershirt. “I try and convince myself that you would hurt just as much in a world without me as I would hurt in a world without you.” She helped him pull the undershirt over his head and rest her fingers on his belt buckle. “I’m always here, Fitz, in whatever capacity you need me.”
He moved his hand to cover hers, interlocking their fingers and clumsily guiding her through undoing his belt. Together, they finished undressing him and he turned in her arms. He ran his fingers down her sides, catching in the tie of her robe.
“Always prepared,” he said, wrapping his arms loosely around her, as though unsure if he was permitted to touch her or not.
She took a step closer to him, burying her face in his neck and curling her hands in his hair so he would do the same. “Is this okay?”
Something in him seemed to break and he tighten his hold around her.
“I smell like the ocean,” he said. He let out a sob and Jemma held him as tightly as she could, supporting his weight completely.
“I know,” she said. She could feel his tears dripping down her neck. “But you’re still here.” She turned her head so she could kiss his jaw. “And so am I. And I’m not going anywhere. Never again. You’re stuck with me.” She pressed her forehead to his. “You’ll feel better if you shower.”
He shook his head and wrapped his fingers around the tie of her robe. “Jemma…”
“You never have to ask me.”
Slowly, he undid the tie and let her robe fall to the floor along with his clothes. She led him into the shower, allowing him to stand in the corner, outside of the spray of water. She took the washcloth, wetted it, and began to rub it slowly over his body as he shut his eyes. She turned to open his body wash, but he grabbed her wrist.
“The other,” he said. “Yours.”
She laughed. “You want to use my soap?”
“It smells like you.”
Without a word, Jemma poured a generous amount of her body wash onto the cloth and returned to cleaning Fitz, slowly and delicately.
“Things won’t be better tomorrow,” she told him. “Not the next day either. But one day, they will be.”
“I don’t think I deserve it.”
She sighed and stepped closer to him. “Then we’ll have to agree to disagree. For now at least. I’ll fight you a little more tomorrow.”
His mouth twitched as he tried to smile.
“Fitz,” she said softly. “Don’t I deserve to be happy?”
“Of course you do!”
“Well, I’m happiest with you. So when you’re ready to hold me and to be held by me, I will be held by you and I will hold you. And when you’re ready to kiss me, I will be there to kiss you. When you’re ready to flirt in public just to make Daisy uncomfortable, I will flirt right back at you. And--” she took a deep breath and ran the washcloth over his left hand-- “when you’re ready to marry me, I’ll marry you.”
Fitz looked at her with wide eyes, his mouth slightly agape. Jemma squeezed his hand.
“Not everyone who gets to say their android doppleganger spoiled their proposal.”
Fitz smiled at that but shook his head. “I’m sorry if...if it got your hopes...I don’t know…”
“Fitz.”
He stopped and looked at her.
“Fitz, I’m not asking you to marry me. I’m just telling you that it doesn’t matter what happened there. I mean it does, it matters a lot and it matters that she-- it did that to you. But not for that. Not for us. So we’re going to keep working and keep fighting and one day, whether it’s in six months or six years, we are going to be happy. Because we deserve happiness. You deserve happiness.”
Fitz shut his eye but squeezed her hand tighter. “And if…” he whispered, trailing off. He pulled at her, causing her to step closer. “Jemma, I’m scared.”
She wrapped her arms around him and pressed a soft kiss over his heart. “That’s okay,” she said. “Just remember that, every single day, I am proud to be loved by you.”
He nodded against her, tears mixing with water on her shoulder. But he held her close, willing to rely on her, as always, to wash the sea away.
The Fear of Being Forgotten
A couple months ago, I found this post defining the below word. I thought immediately of Jemma. Rated a hard T for mentions of nudity & Framework content. Canon-compliant. A series of Simmons/FitzSimmons missing moments from post-S1 through the future.
Athazagoraphobia (n): An irrational fear of being forgotten or replaced.
Jemma learned the word two months and eleven days after her eighth birthday. Her grandmother had given her a lovely little satin-bound book that explained unusual or rarely used words as a present that year, and she had finally gotten around to flipping through its pages before bed. (Unsurprisingly, Jemma had spent most of the intervening two months spending far more time with the microscope kit that her father had gifted her, thereby delaying her even glancing at the book, let alone reading it.)
How odd, she thought, tracing her fingers over the word. Athazagoraphobia. How did someone come to have such a strange fear? At least, she told herself as she moved on to the next word, that was something she needn't worry about. Being a girl already well into her secondary school studies before she’d even reached two digits of age meant that she was nigh well irreplaceable. Who could ever forget her?
-----
A stale beeping echoed in the hospital room, ticking out the hour after hour that Jemma sat without moving. But then again, Fitz hadn’t moved in eight days, twenty-three hours, and forty-two minutes, and so neither would she.
Read more.
An Ounce of Relief
A 4x21 coda fic hastily written and quickly posted- enjoy!
Jemma doesn’t know how long they sit there, holding each other, absorbing each other’s tears and pain until it mixes together and they can no longer tell what belongs to whom. They just know intrinsically that it is theirs. The pain is different for each of them, with their own individual traumas to work through, but they cannot help but want to carry each other’s burdens as their own, like the unbreakable unit that they are. Unbreakable. Jemma grips tightly to that thought as she stares warily down the road they have ahead of them.
Fitz’s breathing begins to slow a bit as he wipes away the latest wave of tears on his sleeve. He slowly begins to look up at Jemma, gaze lowered until the very last moment to allow her all the time in the world to look away like he expects her to. She keeps her gaze firm, but soft as his eyes meet hers, putting all of her energy into conveying the love she feels for him. They finally meet, blue eyes full of pain and regret and heartbreak, brown eyes full of a different kind of pain and heartbreak, both full of love. His eyes widen in surprise and he’s only able to hold her gaze for a second before his face crumbles again and a new wave of sobs erupt through him. This time he turns fully towards her, burying his head in her neck as the tears fall. She wraps her arms around him and tries to find more room in her heart for his pain.
He suddenly becomes overwhelmed with the need to erase the last thing he said to her, feels the words bursting through him with a force he can barely believe is possible given how utterly exhausted he is. “You mean everything to me,” he whispers into her neck. She smiles and places a lingering kiss on his temple, willing it to bury its way into his brain, his heart, to sooth some of the hurt, fill in some of the gaping wounds.
We’ll Never Be Safe
The other side was coming for them, and he and Ophelia needed a strong offense.
That delusional man acted like he knew him, mouthing off more and more absurdities.
His poorly weaved tales provided no advantage for the infiltrator who crossed over with him.
He harbored subversives, tainting his good fortune and Madame’s good graces.
What occurred next was his shame and his shame alone, now, wasn’t it?
Justice had to prevail, and this man had to understand the damaged he caused.
Sooner or later, the subversives would all be managed in the same manner, and the consequences would be doled out with swiftness and precision.
It was simply the way the world worked: you cannot expect to threaten Hydra without suffering the repercussions.
It didn’t matter what the man told him.
He had to protect what was familiar to him at all costs, right?
He’d kill whoever would dare to keep that from happening.
And Ophelia and Hydra’s mission were what was familiar.
-
“Isn’t it peculiar? The word familiar? Because someone may seem familiar, but sometimes...”
-
A 4x17 Coda Challenge Collaboration - Quote and Concept by Adrienne ( @bioforensics ), Edit by Melissa ( @whatlighttasteslike ), and Drabble by Janelle ( @consoledacup ).
See the companion edit here.
Where do you run when you’re breaking down
Rating: T
Summary: What takes place after the hug in 4X21
Excerpt:
In the end, they don’t talk very much at all. All of the wounds that they both carry, all of the pain, rested too close to the surface for either of them to even begin to speak.
Instead, Jemma kept her arms around Fitz while they both fell apart.
She had held him before when he cried, of course, just as he had held her when she could hardly stand. Yet, this time everything was different. Before it was always something else that was causing them to crumble not each other. It was a horrible feeling, wanting to be close to something when they were the one causing the pain.
But they had both lived without the other before and Fitz knew from experience that being with her was much less painful than trying to stay away.
So he stayed. Letting her hold him long past the point when both of their tears had slowed to a stop and the trembling in his limbs had been replaced with a quiet numbness.
Read on Ao3
Post-Framework fic
I just can’t help it. These things just keep happening and I’ve stopped fighting it.
I hope you enjoy :) [I promise it has a fluffy end.]
After the Storm
Sneak Peek below the cut.