Jemma stood in front of her computer, glancing at the monitor exasperatedly, piles of paper clutched in either hand. The screen blurred in front of her tired eyes, and her head ached from lack of sleep, and she'd been so sure that she was making progress, but, despite the setback, she took a long, swig of coffee (horrible stuff that it was, but she needed the extra caffeine), pulled a face at the bitterness of it, and forced herself to continue, because this was the most important thing she'd ever had to figure out in her life, and she would not let him down.
Throwing the papers onto her desk, she placed her hands on her neck, and breathed in deeply through her nose, head tilted back and eyes blinking as she tried desperately to stop the sting of tears from being anything but just that - if she broke now, it would all be over. Luckily, it worked, in a way - she still felt the nausea trying to claw its way up inside her, still trembled when her thoughts strayed away from their intended purpose, to darker, scarier things that threatened to swallow her whole before she pulled herself back from the edge just in time. She had to focus. His life depended on it. Think like a doctor, not like a friend...
"We need to talk." She'd said it so quickly that the words had come out in a jumble, but it had taken courage she wasn't sure she possessed to get them out, and if she hadn't just blurted it, she wondered if she would have said it at all. Her stomach churned with nerves, and her skin buzzed as if she'd just stuck her fingers inside a plug socket, but he was much better, now, and no matter what he already thought, he deserved to hear it from her own mouth, and even now, she wasn't quite sure what 'It' would be.
The smile he gave her was one of relief, a stark contrast to the turmoil bubbling away inside her, and she wasn't sure what to make of it, because at moments like this, Fitz could be terribly awkward. Maybe it was just another sign of how much he'd grown. Or maybe, just maybe, he'd already spent so much time convincing himself of what she was thinking, that it wasn't a surprise, that it was just something he wanted to get out of the way as quickly as possible.
"Yeah, I was actually going to say the same thing."
Even after everything, they were still on the same wavelength. That gave her some comfort, and helped to settle her nerves, if only a touch.
Jemma scrolled down the webpage, reading the rather impressive list of credentials attached to one Dr. Alan Sanford - he was one of the most promising neurosurgeons she'd come across so far, so much so that she allowed herself to feel just a glimmer of excitement, a fluttering that was just enough to tamp down the nausea that was lurking in the background like an unwelcome guest.
"Hey."
She jumped as if someone had prodded her with a hot poker, so focused on her task that she hadn't heard anyone enter the lab, and hadn't expected anyone to, not at this time of night, when there was currently nothing urgent to be tended to.
Except her own, personal mission.
"Fitz! I was just-"
"-I know. You missed dinner. Again."
"Well," she put her hands on her hips, shrugging good-naturedly, "you know how I get when..." She trailed off as he sighed, a hand going to the back of his neck, a sign of his discomfort.
"Jemma," he started, his voice gentle, but not quite hiding his exasperation, "you have to stop this."
She turned away from him, not listening, and pointed to the screen. "Dr. Alan Sanford-
"- Jemma-"
"- Highly respected, he pioneered-"
"- What makes you think he'll be any better than any of the S.H.I.E.L.D. doctors I've seen?" Fitz's voice rose as he desperately tried to get through to her. "They've all said the same thing - it's impossible."
Jemma spun back to him, her arms flung up in the air. "No, it's not! It's not impossible, and I wish you'd stop saying that! S.H.I.E.L.D. doctors are some of the best in the world, yes - they have to be. But there are also amazing, extraordinary doctors out there who are not part of S.H.I.E.L.D., and one of them could be the key to-"
"Stop." Fitz put his hands on her shoulders as he spoke, his eyes pleading with her, sad and scared and just needing her to listen. "Please."
She shook her head, blind to his pain as her determination pushed through. "Why won't you let me help you?"
"What you said, I...
"Jemma, it's okay, really - I know."
She blinked up at him, still struggling with what to say. "No, you don't. I do love you - you're-"
"-Your best friend, I know. And it really is okay, because I already knew it wasn't in the same way. I might have hoped otherwise - I'm only human, after all - but deep down, I knew, and it's... It is what it is." He stepped closer to her, and the affection and admiration on his face nearly overwhelmed her. "I've missed you. I've missed us. Being your best friend is a privilege - it's not settling for second best, and anyone who would think otherwise wouldn't deserve you at all." He screwed his face up, embarrassment flushing his cheeks and the tips of his ears. "Not that I'm saying I deserve you, I just meant-"
"-It's all right," she interrupted with a smile, eyes damp and her voice thicker than usual, "I know what you meant."
He puffed out a breath of genuine amusement. "Of course you do. And I'm sorry, for making things so awkward between us, and-"
-No," she shook her head, hair flying around her face. "Do not apologise. There's nothing to apologise for, and that's not why I left, I promise." Jemma took one of his hands in hers, running her thumb across the back of it. "I've missed you, too. You're too important to me to lose, so let's not- what?"
Fitz had winced at that last bit, and she was at a loss as to why.
"I... Can we sit down?"
She stared at him, her heart in her mouth as fear started to wrap around her like a cloak, suffocating her, the air stolen from her lungs. He wasn't looking at her, his hand now withdrawn from hers and fidgeting with his other. She closed the gap between them, reaching out to gently grip his arm, her own trembling slightly. "Fitz?"
When he tilted his head to look at her, she had to bite her tongue to keep from crying. He was terrified, and of what, she didn't yet know, but his face was a struggle, at war with what he should tell her, and how.
Jemma strode over to the printer, picking up the document she'd sent through, the freshly inked paper warm in her hand as she held it out to him. He didn't take it, instead choosing to just stare at her, his hands pressed against his lower back.
"No. Please, Jemma. Enough. We've already lost so much time. I don't want this for us, this isn't how I want it to be for the rest of... Before I..."
Jemma couldn't speak. She was afraid that if she tried right at that very moment, that she'd scream, or cry, or both. This wasn't fair. It didn't make sense. He'd been getting better, he still was getting better. How had his doctors not picked up on this before? How was it possible that a routine check-up had flagged it up, but not the multitude of tests that he'd gone through when still in the hospital? Or was it something new - would it have developed, anyway? How could he have been given hope, only to have it so cruelly snatched away?
"Jemma?"
He was hesitant, afraid, and it pulled her back, allowed her to focus, because this wasn't about her, it was about him, and she wasn't going to let him down again. "No."
"What?"
No. She wouldn't accept that, that it was inoperable. She wasn't going to let an aneurysm dictate how long he was going to live for, to have him spend the rest of his life, be it years, or days, wondering if each new day that greeted him would be his last. Drug-therapy was all very well and good, but it only minimised the risks, it didn't cancel them out, and she couldn't rely on those drugs being good enough to carry him through. He would be stuck, unable to plan ahead, only living from moment to moment. She refused to let that happen to him.
"Jemma, please say something..."
Her eyes finally locked on his, and she threw her arms around his neck and pressed her face against the warmth of his skin, feeling the life flowing through him, the life that she was determined to protect at all costs. "We'll find a way..."
Fitz's hands smoothed across her back as he heaved a shaky sigh against her shoulder. "There is no way."
Before she could protest, he sat back, his eyes flickering all over her face, as if he still couldn't quite believe that she was there, that she'd come back, and was now closer to him than she had been in far too many months.
"I have to tell the others." The words floated out on a whisper, as if anything louder would cause the world to tremble and split. "Will you..."
She grabbed his hands and squeezed them tight, her gaze fierce and determined. "Anything."
"I'm not listening to this again. Why are you just giving up?"
"Jemma..."
She backed away from him as he reached out to her. "No. You almost died, and then you worked so hard to recover - I don't understand, after all that, why you're just giving in!"
"I'm not! For Christ's sake, I'm just trying to make you understand that there's nothing else that can be done!" Fitz closed his eyes and took a deep breath, fighting to calm himself. "I could die in the next sixty seconds, or I could die years from now. Either way, I want to use whatever time I have left with the people who mean the most to me, and I can't do that if the one that matters most of all is skipping meals - and my god, you know better than that - barely sleeping, and is spending every spare second of her time locked away in the lab!"
"I'm trying to keep you alive! And that drug I've been working on, I'm so close this time, I know it, I just have to-"
Fitz gently but firmly took hold of her wrists as she continued, to stop the manic waving about of her arms as she spoke, her words gathering speed like a runaway train. "Jemma, stop."
"What are you- Fitz!" She was scandalised as he removed the print-out from her grasp and threw it down onto the nearest surface without so much as a glance.
"Listen to me..." His voice was even, even as hers rose in complete indignation.
"No! It's like you want to die!" As soon as she'd said it, her hands flew to her mouth, her eyes wide and stinging with unshed tears. She wished with all her heart that she could take it back, but it was done, and horror washed over her, the blood rushing away from her face. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean that- Fitz!" She called after him as he walked off, the look on his face burned permanently into the back of her eyes, a unique mixture of shock and devastation and betrayal that nobody should ever have to see, let alone feel. Her stomach dropped out of her, like the earth had disappeared beneath her feet.
She wanted to go after him, she really did, but she couldn't move, and maybe, right now, he wouldn't appreciate it. He was walking off, not storming, just walking, his gait a little uneven, as if the effort of holding himself up was so enormous that he was in danger of collapsing under his own weight.
A hand pressed against her chest, Jemma could do nothing to stop the flood that burst from within her. She choked on the next breath she took in, and for the first time since he'd told her his diagnosis, for the first time since that night she left him all those months ago, she cried.
----
"Agent Simmons?"
Jemma stilled, choking off a sob and holding it in her throat, unable to swallow it down, but not wanting to draw attention to herself by letting it out, as if staying where she was, on the floor, hidden behind a filing cabinet with her knees pulled under her chin, in complete silence, would trick the man who had carefully said her name. It was futile, of course.
"Agent Simmons, falling silent after you've already been heard never works. Plus, I saw your feet sticking out from behind this thing," he tapped the cabinet, "when I was walking past the lab, so..."
Daring to look up, a hand swiping pointlessly at her face, she came eye to eye with Mack, who was staring down at her with a mixture of sympathy and hesitation. She didn't blame him - they didn't exactly always get on, born more from her jealousy at his friendship with Fitz than anything else (no matter how grateful she was that he'd been there for him when she couldn't be), although she didn't always appreciate how blunt he was. Still, she didn't hate him.
The sob worked its way traitorously out of her throat, and she dropped her head, gaze falling away from him.
Mack dropped down beside her, cross-legged on the cold, concrete floor. "Nice space you've got here."
Jemma choked out a small laugh, despite herself, before dissolving into tears again.
"Hey, come on," Mack said, resting a hand on her shoulder. "Look, I know you and I don't quite see eye-to-eye, and that probably won't change any time soon, but what Fitz told us... It's hard for the people who care about him, too, especially you, and not talking about it will only make it worse."
Taking a few deep, shuddering breaths, Jemma glanced up at him once more. He was right, and if she'd been worried about how to say it, that soon passed as she opened her mouth and everything tumbled out like word vomit.
"I said something so unforgivably awful..."
Of all the conversations she ever thought she'd have with Mack, crying in front of him on a cold floor late at night about her best friend was not one of them. Still, he surprised her with how good a listener he was. Maybe he wasn't so bad after all.
When she was done, Mack leaned back against the wall he was pushed up against and briefly stared up at the ceiling before returning his attention to the still tearful scientist.
"Thing is, I've heard that you're not a very good liar, but seems to me like you're doin' just fine."
Her head whipped up a little too quickly from where it was resting in one of her hands, but she ignored the strain that shot down the side of her neck, her eyes widening in indignation instead. "I beg your pardon?"
Mack put his hands out in front of him in a placatory gesture, backing away from her a little, which was no mean feat when he had nowhere to go. "Woah, woah, woah, calm down, I didn't mean that as an insult. What I mean is, you're lying about not loving Fitz the same way he loves you. You're scared, I can see that, and I can understand why - you don't want to get any closer to him, because you're afraid of what will happen to you if you lose him, that you'll just fall apart. I get that. But, you can't spend your whole life being afraid of happiness, because if you do, one day you'll look back on it, and while it'll be full of good things, it'll also be full of regrets. We get one shot at this." He smiled sadly at her. "I've seen the way you look at him, and I've seen how lost you look when you think no one's watching. You're not fooling anyone."
Was she really that obvious? She rubbed her hands over her face and sighed, shifting a little as numbness crept through her limbs. "I am scared. I'm scared that any second could be his last, I'm scared that I could wake up one morning... and he won't."
"Which is why you need to tell him. Let him know that he's loved, in the same way he loves you. He deserves to know that, and you deserve that chance. This life we lead - you have to grab happiness wherever and whenever you can. Don't put it off to wait for the right moment, because there's not always such a thing, and before you know it, you'll have run out of waiting time, and it'll be too late."
How did Mack, the man she thought sometimes offered Fitz the most terrible life-advice, suddenly seem so wise? Jemma nodded tiredly, and offered him a wobbly smile. "Thank you."
"You're welcome."
They sat in silence for a few moments, until something Mack had said earlier caught Jemma's attention, and she frowned at him. "Fitz told you about our conversation?"
Mack grinned at her, although she had no idea why - the situation hardly called for it. "Not really. I knew he was going to speak to you, and when I saw him later he said "I got my best friend back", so I figured it out. He was so happy, and then..." For the first time, Jemma saw Mack falter, the smile disappearing from his face. "Then he dropped that bombshell."
Jemma put a hand over his. "I'm sorry - he's your friend, too. How are you feeling?"
"Gutted. He doesn't deserve that. I mean, who does? But he's still just a kid-"
"-He's twenty-seven."
"You know what I mean. It's not right, not at any age. But to have that on your shoulders, when you've not even reached thirty, or had the chance to..." He shook his head. "The big guy upstairs really knows how to pick 'em. Anyway, what I'm feeling I know is nothing compared to what you're goin' through, and I'm sorry, I really am. Ten years, right? You've practically grown up together." He moved to get to his feet. "Still," he said, holding out a hand to pull Jemma up, which she gladly accepted, "you've got something important to go and do, and sitting here moping is just wasting time. Go."
"Thanks, Mack. Really. You know, you're not so bad."
He smirked. "Yeah, you ain't so bad, either."
----
Jemma almost made it all the way to Fitz's room unseen, when she bumped into May, and despite knowing that it would never work, she made a mighty attempt to not look directly at her, as if that would somehow disguise the fact that she had been crying.
"Simmons?"
"Oh, hello, Agent May - I was just on my way to bed." She winced at how hoarse her voice sounded, and then faked a yawn. "Awfully long day, and all that."
May, as expected, fixed her with her typical no-nonsense stare. "You cry after every long day?"
Jemma dropped her shoulders, and sighed. "I'm fine, really. Mack helped me out. I'm just on my way to see Fitz."
The older agent nodded, seemingly satisfied. "I don't suppose you saw Skye on your way here?"
"No, sorry. Have you tried the rec room?"
"On my way, now." May went to move around her, then stopped, her face softening as she reached a hand out to squeeze Jemma's shoulder. "If you ever just want to talk about it, come and find me."
Jemma smiled gratefully up at her. May might have her moments - many moments - of unapproachability, but when it counted, when you needed her, she was always there. "Thank you."
A flicker of a smile, and then May was halfway up the hall before Jemma had even registered that she'd moved. She continued on to Fitz's room, and stood for several seconds just starting at his door before finally raising a hand to knock on it.
There was no answer, and she fought to swallow down her panic, cursing herself for automatically jumping to the worst possible conclusion.
"Fitz? I know I'm probably the last person you want to see, but-" She was cut off as the door rattled, and, relieved, she stepped back a little so that she didn't fall through it as it opened. Tears flooded her vision again as she saw how tired her friend looked, how red his eyes were - a sure sign that he, too, had been crying, and her throat constricted. "Fi-" Her voice cracked halfway through his name, and she moved forward and flung her arms around him, a sob falling against the crook of his neck as she felt him hold her back. He manoeuvred them both fully into his room, his leg brushing against hers as he kicked the door shut, and then they just stood there, clinging to each other for an undeterminable amount of time, even after they'd both quietened.
The warmth of him, the feel of his heart beating against her, his breath against her skin, gave her the courage to break the silence. Jemma lifted her head, and placed a hand against his jaw, her thumb brushing away an errant tear. "I'm so sorry."
"Don't-"
"- No, I need to. What I said was unforgivable, and the last I thing I ever want to do is hurt you, and I don't want to do it even then. Except, I did, and I hate myself for it."
Fitz shook his head, and placed his hand over hers, eyes shining as he looked at her. "Please don't. And there's nothing to forgive. It's how you cope with stress, I should know that by now."
"That's not an excuse."
"But it's the reason, and I shouldn't have been so hard on you. I'm grateful that you're trying to find a way, of course I am, and, if you'll let me, I'd like to help you with that drug. It just can't be all that we do. I'm still trying to come to terms with it, to deal with it in a way that will let me live each day rather than be terrified of it. Right now, I'm still scared that any breath could be my last, and, as selfish as it sounds, I don't want my last moment with you to be me fighting to spend time with you that isn't reminding me that I'm on borrowed time."
Jemma pressed her forehead to his, an incredulous noise, not quite a laugh, but near enough, falling from her lips. Fitz frowned at her, but before he could speak, she explained herself. "Selfish? My god, Fitz, that's not selfish. And as for trying to come to terms with it..." she trailed off, not knowing what to say, and instead flattened her hands against him, just either side of the open collar of his shirt. "I... I need to tell you something."
"Go ahead," he said, his voice so quiet that Jemma was almost afraid to ruin the moment, because she doubted he would believe what she was about to say.
"Before I came here, Mack found me in the lab, and... Well, he opened my eyes to something, and, the thing is, what I should have told you instead of letting your rather beautiful speech about being my best friend scare me into silence, is..." She took a steadying breath, eyes fixed on his. "I love you." When he just stared at her with an expression that told her that maybe he hadn't quite understood her, she went on to clarify, "I'm in love with you."
His reaction was not what she had been expecting, not that she'd quite known what it would be in the first place.
Fitz pulled away from her, his eyebrows knitted together, and a look that could only be described as disappointment scowled back at her. "Stop it."
Jemma reached out to him, shocked at how angry he suddenly seemed, but he shrank further away from her, arms folded tightly across his chest. "Fitz-"
"- I don't want your pity, I just wanted-"
"-No!" She put her hands on his arms and pulled them down away from him, not meeting as much resistance as she'd anticipated. Even so, when she held his hands, he refused to close his around hers, and something awful tightened in her stomach, grief threatening to push its way up once more. He was trembling, the movement vibrating up her arms. "Listen to me. Mack said you have to grab happiness while you can, because if you wait for the right moment, you could be waiting forever, and he's right. I was scared, Fitz, but not anymore, and I don't want to waste anymore time - we've already lost too much of it." She looked at him pleadingly, trying to bore into him how genuine she was. "Please believe me," she whispered, desperately trying to hold her heart together as it threatened to splinter further than it already had done.
Finally, Fitz's face softened, but the sad smile he gave her did nothing to settle her nerves. He brought one of her hands up to his lips, and pressed a gentle kiss to it, before lowering it and holding it against his chest. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have... You've no idea how happy that makes me, to hear you say that, but-"
"- No, no 'buts'," she used her free hand to clutch desperately at his collar, but he spoke again before she could, his soothing voice only serving to bring her back on the verge of tears.
"Jemma, it's not fair on you. I have nothing to offer you, now. I can't promise you anything, I can't-"
Not worrying that it could turn out to be a completely reckless thing to do, that it could make things worse, she cut him off with a firm press of her lips to his, her hands sweeping up to rest along his jaw, but pulled away before she could find out if he would respond. "You have everything to offer, and I don't need anything else, just you."
Fitz studied her for what felt like forever, and she held fast, determined not to let him give up on them. Finally, he raised his eyebrows, looking for all the world like he was about to tease her. "Was that supposed to be our first kiss?"
She smiled at him, unable to keep from it spreading across her entire face. His eyes sparkled down at her, and she brought her face closer to his. "No, I don't think it counts if you don't get a chance to kiss back."
"Good." He tilted his head, gaze flickering down to her lips, and as his mouth slid against hers, she sank into him.
----
"You're here..."
The words were spoken on a breath of surprise, a smile forming on the man's face. He stepped forward, but the young woman in front of him put a hand out to stop him.
"My being here is conditional," Skye said, as she moved out of the shadows, eyeing the man who called himself her father, cautiously. "Don't say anything until I've finished, just listen." She told him about the GH formula, and then, specifically, how Leo Fitz and Jemma Simmons had played a huge role in saving her life, before explaining about Fitz's condition. "They're like family to me, and they've been through so much already - they need a miracle, and you're going to give it to them. They saved your daughter's life, after all. And so, I'll stay here with you, and we can be the family you searched so long for." She dropped the bag that she had slung over her shoulder onto the floor. "And to prove I'm serious, that starts right now. All you have to do - and I know you can do this, and I don't care who you have to contact to get it done - is save Fitz's life."