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It’s his hair today.
Last week, it was his eyes, and the week before that, it was the way his Scottish brogue curled around her name. But today, it’s his hair.
And somehow, it’s driving her crazy when she can't even see him.
But who can she blame but herself? She’s the one who thought it would be a good idea to comb her fingers through his curls, opening a Pandora’s box of complications. They were only lab partners and best friends before she made the mistake of solving that mystery. Now she’s . . .
Now, it’s a struggle to think about anything other than how much she wants to feel the softness of his hair again.
But she tries to focus, because they’re setting a trap for a very dangerous man, and Jemma needs to keep the bait safe.
Well, really she’s just tasked with keeping Audrey calm. It’s really up to Coulson, Trip, and Fitz, to . . .
Ugh. Fitz.
She takes a breath to center herself, and she does not flick her eyes up to the glass panes that separate them.
But why do things separate them?
After all, it's that same pane of glass that separates Audrey from Coulson. Is that how it is with SHIELD? You give the good parts of yourself to everyone else and have nothing left for yourself?
"What if he doesn't show?"
Her attention turns back to Audrey, where it is supposed to be. She rolls her eyes at herself and hopes nobody notices.
"Before they put him away," asks Trip, "he never missed a rehearsal, right?"
Audrey shakes her head. "No."
And of course he wouldn't, after all, Jemma never missed any of Fitz's robotics competitions. He was so—
"Then he won't this time either," assures Trip.
"Don't worry," says Jemma, attempting to have the same, calming tone. "We'll be close."
"All you need to do is keep playing until Daniels gets close to the stage. We'll do the rest."
Audrey eyes Trip, seemingly unconvinced. "Last time, there were two whole teams of SHIELD agents," she says.
It's true; there's no backup this time, and barely any SHIELD at all, but Jemma's sure that they'll be able to hold their own.
"See up there?" She points up to where Coulson and Fitz are. She feels ridiculous for having to take a breath to steady herself. "Our best agents are watching. I promise, they won't let anything happen to you."
Jemma wishes she could just tell Audrey that it's Coulson behind the glass, because that alone would be enough to convince her. But if she can't do that, maybe she could tell Audrey that Fitz is—
Ugh.
She clenches her fists, because a madman with powers is on his way, and Jemma keeps getting distracted by a Scottish engineer she can't even see. And that's all he is right now, or, all he should be. He's the one who's reconfiguring the stage lights to stop Marcus Daniels (though really, she thinks, at they'll be more like gamma rays by the time Fitz is done with them). Fitz will then lie in wait and direct the gamma rays towards Daniels, and Jemma has to be focused enough to stand beside him and do the same.
But beside him never seems close enough these days.
"Agent Simmons?"
It's Trip who asks the question, and she fails at pretending she's not as startled as she is.
"Hmm?"
He smiles at her like he knows something, but she also wonders if he doesn't want to know it. She must be glaringly obvious.
"Why don't you go take your position, and I'll finish up here."
She nods at Trip's suggestion, a little relieved that she can go hide in the darkness of the theater seats. But Audrey catches her by the arm before she can scurry off.
"Are you sure about this?"
Jemma's so caught off guard that she's beyond grateful when Trip joins in to save her.
"The weapons that are going to stop Daniels were designed by the best engineer in the business. Daniels won't know what hit him."
Jemma nods. "It's okay; you'll be fine."
She smiles at Audrey and waits for a nod and smile in return before retreating to her appointed place. She feels an odd sort of bubbling in her chest, because of course Trip could talk about Fitz all he liked, but she had to stop herself from constantly gushing about him. But then, Fitz isn't exactly an easy subject to avoid, and would it look suspicious if she didn't mention him at all? Surely, she would. Trip is standing on some middle ground she might never find.
She stands there, waiting, knowing Fitz will come any moment and steeling herself against it. She's even more pathetic today than usual, and all because she'd heard Audrey talk about how Coulson swept her out of the clutches of Daniels. Even now, she's enraptured by the romance of the tale, and she knows, she knows that Fitz would just swoop in if some maniac were after her. He'd saved her from the Chitauri virus, after all, and he'd been by her side when Skye got shot.
(His lips had been there, too, and she shudders as she tries to push the thought out of her mind.)
"Jemma."
She looks over and there he is. There is her very best friend in the world, who kissed her twice and pretended it never happened. That's what's really bothering her—it doesn't mean anything to him. It mustn't, if he can go on like usual.
He comes to bring her a modified stage light, and it must be heavy, because he stumbles a bit on his way to her. It really isn't fair how adorable he is when he almost falls flat on his face.
But his hair, his hair is coming with him, and she feels her fingers twitch. Maybe he'll get hurt, like Ward was—well, not like Ward was, that would be awful—and she'll have to stitch him up. If he got a nick on his ear, for example, she'd simply have to comb through his curls again. It would be the medically responsible thing to do.
"Here," he whispers, handing her the light. She swallows and nods, but when she takes it, her fingers brush his. Does he feel that shock, too? It's like the spark that passed the Chitauri virus from her system to his, only it's muted this time. Blunt.
But he only nods and scrambles back to where he came, and she has to learn to control herself, or she'll break her promise to Audrey. He didn't feel it anyway, she tells herself. Fitz fancies Skye. That's why he lost control when Skye got shot, after all. He was really kissing her, even if he used Jemma's lips to do it. She can't even blame him! After all, who would choose a mousy biochemist over a vivacious hacker?
Skye knows exactly what she's doing around men, and she's just dangerous enough to drive them wild. Her only consolation is that Skye doesn't return Fitz's interest. In fact, Skye might be more to blame for this whole situation than Jemma originally thought, because she's been prodding at Jemma's feelings ever since this whole mess began. Jemma has no idea how much teasing she'd be in for if Skye knew about the second kiss.
But that doesn't matter, because Skye is back at the base, and Jemma needs to focus on what's here. Well, she needs to focus on Audrey, and completely ignore Fitz.
He fancies Skye, she repeats in her head, he fancies Skye. I'm not even a girl to him.
That's enough to slow down her heart to normal speed, and she lets out a breath as Audrey starts playing. This is it, this is the moment, and she finds herself looking over to Fitz despite herself. He nods back, and she's sure they'll be fine.
There's something odd about listening to the smooth notes from Audrey's cello in a moment like this. It should be a lullaby, but it's not. It's the soundtrack to a horror film, lulling them all into a false security while the monster gets ready to strike. The music crescendos as she hears the snick of a light going out.
He's here.
She swallows and tightens her grip on the light. She has to wait for him to get in range, but he's not there yet. The music stops, and Audrey must know he's here, too.
"No!"
It's a plea, as if Daniels is just a boy who's had a toy taken away.
"Keep playing," he begs, "I'm sorry I scared you. I know I'm a monster. But you're the one . . . that can save me."
There's something in his voice that almost makes Jemma feel bad for him, because he really does sound like a child, and what child deserves to be called a monster? Maybe Daniels is—maybe he simply doesn't understand.
But then Jemma sees Audrey's wild eyes, and the sympathy melts away. Maybe, in another world, in another life, this could be romantic, but in this one, Audrey knows there are consequences to saying no. In this one, Audrey is a prisoner.
In this one, Audrey keeps playing.
And maybe that's why Fitz nearly scowled at her earlier, when she'd remarked on the almost-romance of this situation. There's no romance where there's coercion or fear. That's the difference between a dream and a nightmare.
Jemma's own fear is flushed out by anger as she prepares to fire.
Daniels smirks to himself as he continues to descend the stairs, so pleased that his tantrum got him what he wants. Jemma looks back at Fitz again, taking strength from his nod again, and her finger itches to flick the power switch as desperation seeps through Audrey's skin.
Closer . . .
Closer . . .
Now!
She doesn't hesitate, though there's a little kickback from the stage light. She holds firm, hoping her beam will burn right through him. Daniels manages to summon his powers, but she doesn't stop when a tendril of Dark Force shoots towards Trip.
She does, however, stop when the darkness comes towards her at full speed.
She lets out a yelp of pain and fears he'll follow the sound to her, but he doesn't. He merely takes Fitz out, too.
"Fitz?"
"Jemma!"
It's all happening so fast—the way the pain shoots through her, the way Fitz scrambles over to save her, the way Audrey leaps back as Daniel circles his prey. Jemma dropped the light when she fell backward, so there's nothing she can do to help now. Does Fitz still have his?
No, he doesn't.
But he does have her head in his hands.
She dares to look up at him through her eyelashes, and she wonders if this is the third time, if he'll kiss her and prove that this isn't an anomaly—this is a pattern. He's looking over her for injuries, but she wants him to look at her. Just as the anticipation becomes too much, his eyes meet hers, and he must be drawn to her, because he—
"No! Please!"
Her head snaps towards Audrey and she knows his goes with her. Jemma's so selfish, so powerless, and Audrey is so far away.
But there's a light in the darkness Daniels brought to this theater, a light that's almost blinding, and Coulson is wielding it. It's joined by Trip's light, and Jemma cowers with Fitz as Daniels cries out in pain. When the cry amplifies to an all-out scream, she lifts an eyebrow at him.
It's working.
Daniels screams as tendrils of Dark Force escape from him and explode, sending out a concussive force that knocks her over and brings Fitz right on top of her. She blinks up at him and feels his heavy breath against her cheek. She's not sure what they are, or what they're doing, but he leans closer to her and—
"Ahhh!"
And they're SHIELD agents. And Audrey is screaming. He scrambles up instantly, pulling her with him. She catches a glimpse of his questioning look before she has to clamber towards the stage. Coulson got there first, but she can't see him, and he steps back just as she slips in.
"Phil."
Audrey sighs like she's addressing an angel, and Jemma feels as guilty as sin. She can only offer a tight smile and hope her lack of focus didn't stop her from preventing any pain.
"Are you okay?"
Audrey looks to her, then to Trip, who is perched precariously to Jemma's left. Fitz, she knows, is standing somewhere behind them. Neither of them are Coulson.
"I thought," Audrey breathes, "he was here. Seemed so real this time." Jemma doesn't think she imagines the glint of a tear in Audrey's eyes as they stop looking for the man she lost. Audrey gives the smallest of shrugs. "See what we want to see, I guess."
Jemma tries to smile, though she feels like crying herself.
"I guess so," she offers.
She wonders why she was chosen to handle Audrey in the first place. Was it because she was the only woman on the mission? They must have known how clumsy she'd be, because she's all thumbs when it comes to the human heart. She clearly can't manage her own. But she's assigned to be on point for this, so she stumbles through it the best she can. Trip helps, and she manages a few grateful glances his way even as she seems unable to shake her awareness of where Fitz is at any given moment.
Audrey is grateful, too, though Jemma hardly deserves it. She even hugs Jemma goodbye, then Trip, and says she hopes they'll stop by if they're ever in town. It'll never happen, of course, since SHIELD agents never happen to be anywhere. But there's something in Audrey's eyes that makes Jemma wonder if she still means Coulson when she talks about them, if she still wants him to stop by, impossible as it is. What Audrey never knows is that Jemma and Trip hope for the same thing, almost as desperately.
It's when they're walking down Audrey's driveway that Trip nudges her with his elbow.
"Hmm?"
He looks down on her and frowns.
"Hey, before we get back to the plane, I just wanted to ask you . . . does Fitz have a thing against new people?"
She furrows her brow at him, puzzled. He'd been thrilled when Skye joined the team, after all. Because he fancies her.
"No," she answers, shaking her head.
"Okay," says Trip, "well, do you think I did anything to bug him? Did I step in his space or anything?"
She blinks, once or twice, trying to remember.
"Because he's been giving me weird vibes, you know?" They reach the plane, and Trip sighs. "Maybe I'm imagining it, but I don't think I am. Do you have any idea what I could have done?"
Jemma can only shake her head again, because Trip is exactly the kind of man that Fitz would like, and she'd assumed they'd be good friends by now. But then, Trip had come to them in uncertain circumstances, and for a moment or two even she'd thought— And some people said they basically shared a brain, so—
Could Fitz be worried that Trip is Hydra?
"I'll talk to him," she promises, adding a smile to mask her unease. "Whatever it is, I'm sure I can sort it out."
Trip only nods at her before heading towards to cockpit, and she's still not sure why people have so much confidence in her these days. They must have no idea that she's always teetering on the edge of catastrophe.
Perhaps the answer is in Audrey's observation. Perhaps people really do see what they want to see.
Anyway, she shouldn't be nervous about talking to her friend, because he is interested in Skye, and has likely already shrugged off whatever happened between them in that theater. After all, people in high-stress situations do all sorts of unusual things. Fitz, she has learned, simply kisses whomever happens to be in arm's reach.
But why is it that she's always the one he grabs?
She takes a deep breath to steel herself when she finds him strapped in, talking to Coulson. They stop when they see her, and she finds herself standing awkwardly in the doorway as Coulson makes his excuses and leaves.
There are a thousand things she could say at this moment, but the words that tumble out are, "We need to talk."
Fitz looks up at her, confused. "We do?"
She almost flushes head to toe, because she realizes her mistake all too soon, and of course he'll think she's come to talk about the very last thing either of them want to talk about. "Agent Triplett thinks he's done something to upset you," she covers. She blinks at him and finds him blinking back. "Fitz, if you're questioning his loyalty in any way, I can assure you—"
"It's not him."
At first, she thought he was going to say it's not that. She was sure he'd found her out, and he'd stand up to kiss her right there. Oh, if only he would. But no, her deception worked far too well. But if he isn't worried about Trip's loyalty, why else would he make Trip feel unwelcome? And then a sharp, strange thought pops into Jemma's head.
What if Fitz is jealous?
It couldn't be, could it? After all, she'd seen a jealous Fitz before. But that was when some other agent got the tech he wanted to play with, and it never had anything to do with her. Besides, what would Fitz be jealous of? Jemma is always by Fitz's side or wishing that she was.
And if he knew what she was really wishing . . .
Fitz makes a small noise of uncertainty as his mouth hangs open before her. But then he smiles.
"You know how I can be," he says, "I hate change."
And he does hate change, that is, change he doesn't have control over. Change that doesn't have Skye's face. But then, maybe he means more than that, maybe he means that he doesn't want them to change either. After all, they've just watched the world crumble underneath them, and the only thing they really have is each other.
But, thinks her traitorous brain, isn't that all the more reason that they should actually be together? Why do they keep secrets when they're the very things that allowed Hydra to fester? She should just come out with it, lay it all bare, and trust him enough to come to her rescue.
In the end, though, the words stick to the back of her throat. If it really means nothing to him, then she could lose the only sure thing she has. She shudders in fear.
"Oh," she says.
She laces her fingers together and swallows. Why does she have to be the one to say it? He kissed her first, after all. He pushed them through this rabbit hole to begin with. And beyond that, everyone knows that of the two of them, Fitz is the one more likely to relent to mounting pressure and explode in emotion. There are very few times when that would be more appropriate than right now.
She stands there, breathing in and out, waiting. Is he waiting, too? Is that what makes him look back at her like that? There's something in his gaze that makes her want to melt, but she holds firm. Fitz started this, and he should know how she feels if he's paying any attention at all. She won't be like Daniels, begging for attention, threatening to take something away if she doesn't get what she wants. No, she will give Fitz exactly what he wants. And now, to her dismay, it seems that he really wants things to stay exactly as they are.
"Well, then," she hears herself say, "I guess I'd better . . ." She has no idea what she'd better, but she gives a vague shrug towards the general direction of the door and hopes Fitz's brain will supply the rest.
"Right," he says, "of course."
But there's a strange way that his lips twitch, and those were the lips that were so close to her not too long ago. She finds herself staring, and shakes her head to clear it.
She hurries out of the room then, silently cursing herself for being so awkward at the worst possible time. How one, stupid kiss could turn her into such a walking disaster is beyond her. All she knows is that the image of his lips follow her wherever she goes.
And that's what it is for a good, solid week after that. That's the one thing she can't stop thinking about.
His lips, his lips, his lips.