“Dorothy now took Toto up solemnly in her arms, and having said one last good-bye, she clapped the heels of her shoes together three times.” - L. Frank Baum, The Wonderful Wizard of Oz
“I think I’ll miss you, most of all.” - Dorothy Gale, The Wizard of Oz
They still have tonight, but it passes too quickly. Lydia and Noah stay in the Blue Room, and they don’t sleep a wink, don’t even try. They talk nonsense, and they wax poetic about life, and lie in comfortable silence looking at each other.
They touch. Noah is shirtless, and Lydia’s hands gravitate to his arms, shoulders, chest. His hands stroll up and down her back, heat blooming through the thin fabric of her camisole, sometimes settling on her hip or thigh, heat blooming there too.
His mouth silently begs to be kissed. The pull is strong as it ever was. All those times she wanted to kiss Stiles and didn’t, tingling her lips…
She gives in every now and then. Keeps her kisses delicate and chaste—as chaste as she can, given the fact that they’re in bed together and scantily dressed.
Noah is perfect. Never presses her for more than she can give. Takes what little she gives and makes it feel like everything. His body is warmer than afternoon sunlight. He tastes as good as she remembers. Better.
And maybe it’s the stress — tomorrow hanging over them like a storm cloud — but somehow, it all feels…
Hi! If you are taking prompts could you write a fic where Fitz is a little mad (and concerned) to Jemma after her stunt. I liked the episode but not really sure about the invincible story line.
Major Spoilers for 5x16!!
Hi!! Yeah, I know that a lot of people are worried about the whole ‘invincible’ thing, and I do have a feeling that it’s not going to end well - but, I know at least for me that I’m willing to see where it goes first before I start worrying about my faves! :)
Also, this sort of took on a life of its own, because there’s still a lot that hasn’t been said (at least on screen) between FS that needs to be, so I kind of took the route where them talking about Jemma’s stunt led to them finally having The Conversation that I feel they need to. I hope it’s still okay, though!
(Ao3)
-
Their quinjet had been in the air for a little bit now, andthey were well on their way to the first of the bases that Malick had turnedover to SHIELD to search for the weapon Hale was after. But, despite the amountof time that had passed, it hadn’t dulled the emotion that was still poundingthrough Fitz’s body.
All that he could see in his mind’s eye was a constant loopof the memory of watching Jemma writhing and screaming in pain on the ground,thinking that she was dying right before his eyes and being unable to doanything to stop it.
She and Elena were conversing about something at the moment,sitting next to each other on the seats at the opposite side of the quinjet toFitz. They were possibly making some kind of small talk (or, his mind filled indarkly, hatching another potentially life-threatening plan), but he was drowningall of it out.
That was, until he heard, “Fitz.”
Blinking a couple of times, he glanced up at them, and hecould tell simply from Jemma’s expression that she’d already said his namequite a few times in her attempt to get his attention – and that she was bothirked by his lack of reply and concerned about it.
Elena glanced between them, then stood up quickly, awkwardlythumbing over her shoulder to the cockpit. “I’m…um…going to sit up there for abit.”
Jemma waited until Elena had taken her seat in the cockpitand was out of earshot before she stood herself, crossing the small space ofthe quinjet to perch on the seat beside Fitz instead. She was quiet a beat,then asked, “What is it, Fitz?”
He looked up at her incredulously, arching his eyebrows andletting out a short, humorless laugh. “What is – oh, I dunno, maybe I’m still reeling a bit from what I thought wasthe sight of my wife dying right in front of my bloody eyes.”
There was another beat, then she questioned, a lick of disbeliefin her tone, “Are you upset with me?”
Fitz held his hands out widely and gaped at her wordlessly,unable to believe that she was being so blasé about all of this. Sure, it was Jemma, and it was perfectly like her todive head-on into a theory once she was sure of it, but experimenting with her ownlife? That was pushing it, even forher!
It scared him to death, wondering what else she might dowhile believing that they couldn’t die until they “broke the loop” (which hestill didn’t think was possible, but that was a whole other issue). He couldn’tlose her, not now, not ever, andespecially not because she was somehow convinced of their own invincibility.
So yes, he was upset; he was also frustrated, and he wasalso tired of something always going wrong and the world always ending aroundthem and always having to worry every single day about her getting hurt somehow.
Jemma was eyeing him impatiently, clearly waiting for ananswer, and he noted that her eyebrows were now arched – she meant business.
Letting out a heavy sigh, Fitz leant forward to rest hiselbows on his knees, burying his face in hands. It made his next words come outmuffled as he reminded her, “An hour ago, you performed an experiment with atwenty-five percent chance of you ingesting a lethal amount of acid, Jemma.”
She huffed in something like affront, and he didn’t evenhave to look at her to know that she was crossing her arms over her chest. “Andan hour ago, I told you that thescience was sound.”
He groaned into his hands, giving a jerky shake of his headbefore lifting it and turning to look at her, narrowing his eyes. “Jesus Christ Jemma, I don’t care how sound thescience was; this is your life you’retalking about.” He noticed her eyes narrowing slightly as well, noticed the waythat she wouldn’t quite meet his eyes, and with a sigh, he sat back once moreand began anxiously bouncing his leg up and down. Keeping his voice low, hepointed out, “If you’re mad at me ‘bout something, you can just tell me instead of y’know…punishing meby making me think you’re dying, or something.”
“I was notpunishing you,” she insisted immediately. There was a moment of hesitation,then she added softly, “Am I upset that you…didn’t tell me about –” taking abreath, she then finished in a rush, “the Doctor? Yes, of course. We’ve spentso much time over the past couple of years trying to figure out how to keepcommunicating and not let things like this come between us, how to be open andhonest with each other, and now we’re…we’re married,Fitz. We’re supposed to trust each other, rely on each other when we need to,and…you didn’t. And as a result, things got so bad that…” She trailed off,blowing out a harsh breath and giving a tight little shake of her head. Whenshe blinked, he could see a tear roll down her cheek before she quickly brushedit away. “If you had just talked tome, come to me, trusted me –”
“I trust you, you know I do,” Fitz cut in to remind her.
He’d been waiting for this emotional outburst ever since hissplit where the Doctor took over; he’d been waiting for her to tell him how shereally felt about it – he’d justnever quite pictured it like this,though. And, he really just wished that it hadn’t taken her experimenting withher own life to get there.
“And I…wanted to tell you, I did,” he went on, “but…somethingalways held me back. Sometimes I told myself that I didn’t want to burden youwith just one more thing, sometimes I was afraid that I’d scare you or push youaway, sometimes…sometimes I just told myself that I was waiting for the righttime. They were all excuses, I know that now. I think…that I knew if I told you–”
“I’d have stopped you,” Jemma finished, releasing a shakingbreath.
“Yeah,” Fitz answered on a heavy sigh.
She nodded shortly in response, as though she’d expected asmuch.
He could also tell, though, that she was blaming herself,taking on the guilt of what he’d done, just like she always did, just like witheverything else. He absolutely refused to let it happen this time, though.
“Hey,” he started, trying to catch her gaze, but to noavail, “it’s not your fault, okay? This is all on me.”
Jemma shook her head, finally turning to him, and he couldsee the hurt and the sadness and the guilt written plainly in her eyes, makinghis heart constrict in his chest. “I should’ve noticed that something wasn’tright, Fitz! I’m your best friend, I’m your wife,I should’ve – but I wrote off all the signs as stress and a lack of sleep and –”
“Because I was tryingto hide it from you, from everyone!”
“It doesn’t matter! I’m supposed to know you better than anyone! And because I didn’t, people gothurt and –”
“That is not yourfault,” he argued, his tone firm as he held up his hands, putting an immediatestop to that thought. “You don’t get to take responsibility for that, Jemma.You were just as much a…a victim as anyone else.”
Just then, remembering the sight of that gun pointed at her,all because of him, had his handsshaking slightly in his lap. Was there anyone he hadn’t hurt that day?
He’d been trying his best to block out the memories, butthinking about them now had them resurfacing with a vengeance, and his disgustwith the darkness that was living inside of him and how it had caused him toinflict so much pain on the people that he loved made his stomach churn.
Keeping his voice low, Fitz told her, “You shouldn’t beworrying about how this could somehow be your fault – you should be worryingabout what it means.”
At first, there was only silence in response, save for thequiet sound of her failed attempts to hide the way that she was sniffling.Finally, though, Jemma asked, “And what does it mean, Fitz?”
He let out a shuddering sigh, but he just couldn’t quitebring himself to say the words, so he talked around them, muttering, “Look, Ijust…I just don’t want anything to happen to you, okay? And…yeah, okay, maybethe last time we lived all of this, things were different. I dunno, maybe…maybeI told you about the Doctor, or maybe a bomb never exploded next to a bunch ofmonoliths and created that fear rift so none of this ever happened. Maybe thenwe were okay, and you could trust me, and we…and Deke’s mum was born, but –”
“What are you saying?” she cut in, her voice barely morethan a whisper.
“All I’m saying is…you think we’re supposedly invinciblebecause we have to live to have a daughter, but…”
“I thought you believed that we couldn’t change anything,”Jemma reminded him, her voice rising slightly, and she really sounded upsetnow.
“I meant about stopping the planet from blowing up,” hepointed out. “That’s what all of this is leading to, what it’s always led to.It doesn’t matter what we change, and I’m sure we’ve probably changed thingsbefore, hoping for a different outcome every time, but it’s always the same and–” That time, he cut himself off, breathing out harshly. “But, that’s not thepoint. I just want you to…be more careful, because us having a daughter in aprevious loop doesn’t mean it’ll happen this time, okay?”
She stood up abruptly, and his gaze automatically followedher. From the expression on her face, Fitz could now confirm that Jemma was indeedupset – very upset.
Before she could say anything, though, he hastily added, “Jemma,I’m just trying to save you from having to – you deserve more than this, and after everything I’ve done, Idon’t deserve your forgiveness – anyone’sforgiveness, actually – let alone deserve you.”
Jemma gave a teary, humorless laugh, rolling her eyes andshaking her head fiercely. “This is just like you, isn’t it? You always makethese sacrifices, deciding for mewhether or not I can live without you, about what I do or don’t deserve. My god, Fitz, I married you, didn’t I? That’s not justsome small thing; it means that I’ve tied my life to yours, for better or worse. Remember?”
He wanted to point out that they didn’t actually say those words at any point duringtheir wedding, but he was wise enough to know that now was not the time. “Yeah, but you didn’t have all the information then –”
“I certainly had enough!” She blew out a breath, her gaze flickingupward as she blinked rapidly a couple of times. When she’d seemingly gottenher emotions under control, she reminded him softly, “Fitz, after everything we’ve been through… Yes,things are…complicated now, and maybe I was – was a bit upset, a bit hurt, butwhat I did wasn’t some sort of punishment. I am truly convinced that myhypothesis is correct, and I knew that I was going to be alright. I’m sorrythat I didn’t warn you, but…” She moved to sit back down beside him, cautiouslyreaching out to take his hands in hers, as though she was afraid that he wasn’tgoing to let her. “I know that we can get through this, just like we havegotten through everything else before this. We just need to trust each other,count on each other, and work together.” A little smile flitted across her lipsas she finished, “That’s how we work best, isn’t it?”
Fitz still wasn’t completely convinced that it would be sosimple, so easy, nor was he at all convinced of her invincibility theory or herbelief that they could break the loop and stop the planet from cracking apart.But, he would always believe in Jemma;that was something that would never and could never change.
And, well, as long as he stuck by her side and did his bestto help her try to stop the world’s oncoming destruction, he could keep an eyeon her and put a stop to anymore needlessly risky experiments before they couldbegin.
So, Fitz offered her a half-smile, absently stroking histhumb over her ring, the feel of the metal beneath his skin soothing him just abit. “Yeah,” he replied simply, “it is.”
Characters: Stiles + Lydia, Prada, Scott, Allison, Alan Deaton
Then, being prepared for the journey, they all started for the Emerald City. - L. Frank Baum, The Wonderful Wizard of Oz
“…the Wicked Witch of the West had come to an end, and they were no longer prisoners in a strange land.”
Stiles, having read the last line of chapter twelve, sets the book down.
It’s calm. Everything is calm. The rain. The wind. The room. Lydia.
It’s 8:08 a.m., and she’s curled beside him with her fingertips tucked into his shirt pocket, green thread from his flannel still wrapped loosely around her index. The lamp on her nightstand casts a soft orange glow on her skin, makes her shine like the sun, makes the murky grey sky outside her window seem less dull and depressing.
He hasn’t nodded off since the last time, but he feels like he’s just waking up or like he was split in two and part of him was somewhere else for a while. The place was unfamiliar — older and darker, cold — but the energy wasn’t. That he’d recognize anywhere. It was warm and powerful. Vibrant. Unmistakably, Lydia.
Something happened between them.
Unlike the sex fantasy he had of them in a forest, he can’t remember much of what it looked like. But he remembers what it felt like. Like his heart had been touched by Lydia. Like she put her hand right inside his chest and squeezed.
And it didn’t hurt. Not one bit. It was the purest expression of love he’s experienced in his nearly eighteen years on Earth. It felt like proof that they can always reach each other.
“I think we’re through the worst of it,” he tells her. “Don’t you?”
The corner of her mouth hitches, ever so slightly, like she agrees.
“That’s right. It’s gonna be easier from here on out.”
At the sound of his voice, Prada stirs from her most recent nap. She looks up at him with big brown eyes, fluffy tail slapping against Lydia’s book as if to say, keep going.
He pats her head, takes a sip of water, and flips to chapter thirteen. “How ‘bout we get to the really good part now, Lydia? The part where you come home to me?”
“Hmm…home,” she mutters. “Stiles.”
He feels that squeeze again, and he hopes it’s a sign that only a few more chapters stand between this moment and Lydia waking up.
Read more: ao3
🏷️ @folglore13, @kylermalloy (drop a comment if you’d like to be tagged for the final chapters)
“But if you go, I shall certainly go with you.”
- L. Frank Baum, The Wonderful Wizard of Oz
Lydia tells Alli everything. About Beacon Hills and Stiles, Noah and the kiss, Scott and…Allison. Everything.
Alli listens. She holds Lydia’s hand and passes her tissues, one after another, even takes a couple for herself.
They’ve changed into their pajamas, and they’re sitting on Lydia’s bed. Prada is between them, awake but calm, her sweet head resting on Lydia’s lap.
“Wow,” Alli says, staring at the carpet.
“I know,” Lydia replies, staring at the door, guilt still rattling her bones like the aftershocks of an earthquake.
It’s been over an hour since she’s seen Noah. She has no idea where he is, or how he is, or if he’ll ever talk to her again.
“Wow,” Alli repeats.
“Yeah.”
After an unbearable silence, Lydia states the obvious. “Turns out, you were right to be suspicious of me.”
“Lydia...”
“It’s the truth. I swore I didn’t want to hurt him, and that’s exactly what I did.”
The jagged pit in her stomach swells to the size of a grapefruit when Alli answers, “Believe me, I’m well aware that one of my best friends is hurting right now because of a decision you made. If you’d told him sooner, we’d probably all still be in the ballroom, dancing, and getting tipsy on tayberry champagne, and generally having the time of our lives.”
She’s right, of course.
Lydia hangs her head.
Read more: ao3
🏷️ @folglore13, @kylermalloy (drop a comment if you’d like to be tagged for upcoming chapters)
Characters: Stiles + Lydia, Prada, Allison, Scott, Alan Deaton
First they came to a great hall in which were many ladies and gentlemen of the court, all dressed in rich costumes.
- L. Frank Baum, The Wonderful Wizard of Oz
The knot in Stiles’s stomach tugs tighter. Even more so when he glances at Deaton. “Wha—why are you smiling?”
“This is good news, Stiles.”
“How? Lydia’s in deeper sleep now than she was twenty minutes ago.”
“Yes, but this also means she isn’t stuck in REM. The more she fluctuates between stages, the closer she is to waking.”
“She…” His eyes instantly fall back on Lydia, the hand tied to hers, his only grip on what’s left of his sanity, reality, hope. “How close are we talking here, Doc?”
“Likely within the next few hours.”
A collective sigh carries in from the other side of the door, confirming his suspicions about Scott and Kira’s presence.
Stiles’s exhale is partial at best. He won’t know true relief until Lydia is awake and talking to him.
But some of the weight is lifting. He bows his head, kissing her hand and not caring that Deaton is there to see it. He only realizes that he’s crying when he looks up to find that her face has blurred into a watercolor. He doesn’t care if Deaton sees that either.
The sun’s halo is breaking through the blue of twilight, and Lydia could already be on her way back to him. That revelation is worth shedding an entire ocean of happy tears in front of the whole world.
Read more: ao3
🏷️ @folglore13, @kylermalloy (drop a comment if you’d like to be tagged for upcoming chapters)
Characters: Stiles + Lydia, Prada, Allison, Scott, Alan Deaton
The next morning, after breakfast, the green maiden came to fetch Dorothy, and she dressed her in one of the prettiest gowns—made of green brocaded satin.
- L. Frank Baum, The Wonderful Wizard of Oz
On Friday, Lydia wakes to mellow sunlight and the affectionate nudge of Prada’s nose on her elbow. She quietly gets out of bed, dressing in jeans and a white tee shirt that Kira loaned her. Leaving her hair down, she quickly combs it through before zipping up her silver boots and scribbling a note to let Alli know she’s taking Prada for a walk.
As she approaches the door, she sees that a letter has been slipped underneath. She picks up the green embossed cardstock. The outside is engraved with her name as well as Alli’s in elegant gold script. She breaks the wax seal, reading the message as she steps into the hallway.
You are cordially invited to attend
the Seventh Annual Emissary’s Ball
as the honored guests of Dr. Alan Deaton, Emissary of Oz
8 o’clock this evening
Friday, the Fifteenth of November
in the Garden Banquet Hall
100th Floor
At the same time, Noah is coming out of the boys’ room with an invitation of his own. He’s wearing a blue henley, jeans, and sneakers. His hair is damp, skin still dewy, like he just got out of the shower.
“Hey…” he says with a crooked smile. “I was just coming to see if you were up.”
Everything in her goes soft when he crosses the hall in one stride to give her a hug, tight like he hasn’t seen her in days…or weeks, then hums a g’morning against her temple.
“Morning,” she replies, sliding her arms around his torso, loosely at first, then equally tight once she gets a feel for how comforting it is.
It may be mere hours since they last saw each other, but there’s something about the way his hand comes up to smooth the back of her head that makes her lungs expand differently. She presses her nose into his shoulder. He smells so good, she can’t think, let alone pull away.
The hug goes on, longer than it should and still not long enough.
Read more: ao3
🏷️ @folglore13, @kylermalloy
(drop a comment if you’d like to be tagged for upcoming chapters)
Characters: Stiles + Lydia, Prada, Peter Hale, Julia Baccari, Theo Raekin, Kali, Enis, the Oni
But the wicked creature was very cunning, and she finally thought of a trick that would give her what she wanted.
- L. Frank Baum, The Wonderful Wizard of Oz
Stiles jolts forward, heart thrashing against the hand that is clutching his chest. He’s hot all over. Panting for breath. Every cell in his body tingling with—
He looks at Lydia. She’s sound asleep, cheeks a rosy shade of pink. The clock behind her reads 7:42 a.m. That’s eight minutes since the last time he checked. Eight whole minutes unaccounted for.
Not good.
He pats his face a little too hard and rakes his hands through his hair. He’s supposed to be reading, not fantasizing about Lydia.
Story of his life.
Daydreaming about Lydia is as natural to him as breathing. Has been for as long as he can remember.
Never like this though. Never where he couldn’t snap himself out of it, where the lines between imagination and reality bled so seamlessly.
They were in the woods. Not the Beacon Hills Preserve, some other forest, grey and misty. One minute, they were talking. The next, they were kissing—hot, open-mouthed, hungry.
And then…they were more than kissing.
He remembers what it felt like. Tumbling heart-first with Lydia onto the forest floor. The ache in his body only she could cure. Their intertwined forms writhing naked on a bed of leaves.
He remembers her touches, eager and attentive. He remembers her lips, soft and wet on his skin. He remembers the rush of it all, every sensation driving them towards one intensely passionate climax. There were colors everywhere. He still sees them. Still feels her. Still tastes the nip he took of her shoulder.
He wipes the sweat from his brow, storm in his heart raging like the one outside.
One minute, Lydia was with him. The next, she was gone. Snatched from his arms by some dark hooded figure, disappearing into shadow and smoke—
Read more: ao3
🏷️ @folglore13, @kylermalloy (drop a comment if you’d like to be tagged for the final chapters)
Characters: Stiles + Lydia, Prada, Allison, Scott, Alan Deaton, Bobby Finstock
Dorothy walked boldly through and found herself in a wonderful place. - L. Frank Baum, The Wizard of Oz
Lydia’s heart is pounding. Noah is uncharacteristically still beside her. After four days travelling together, the only thing between them and the answers to their questions is a door.
She isn’t sure how long they stare at that door, nor which of them moves first, but she is sure that when their fingers graze and hastily knit together, it’s exactly what she needs. She needs to be touching him, needs his support.
The way he’s squeezing back tells her that he needs her just as much. So does the way he looks to her as he lifts his other hand to the grain.
She gives him a reassuring nod. With that, he takes a breath and knocks three times.
“You may enter,” a familiar voice calls from the other side.
Noah turns the knob, and they cross the threshold together with Alli and Scott close behind.
“Come in, come in.” The Emissary stands, waving them closer. “Welcome.”
His greeting instantly puts Lydia at ease. It doesn’t hurt that he’s the mirror image of Alan Deaton, average height, smooth brown skin, kind eyes, trimmed goatee. He wears a crisp white shirt, a cobalt blue, diamond pattern tie, and navy slacks. His jacket hangs neatly on the back of his chair.
The office is sophisticated and bright with floor to ceiling windows overlooking the city. The furnishings are classic, streamlined in design with impeccable craftsmanship. Two of the walls house built-in bookshelves, and the floors are hardwood, overlayed with a forest-green area rug.
“You must be Lydia Martin,” the Emissary says warmly.
Read more: ao3
🏷️ @folglore13, @kylermalloy (drop a comment if you’d like to be tagged for upcoming chapters)
