Before You Go

Nothing Lasts Forever

"Fitz," she manages, hesitant in the entrance to the lab.

Said engineer looked up, blue eyes exhausted and over worked. He was hunched over a pile of wires and metallic pieces, pliers in hand. "Simmons,"

He looked so drained it nearly physically pained her. Jemma still didn't understand why she felt so close to him - yes, they were married. But that didn't automatically give sixteen year old her the opportunity to like him. Or to even to strive to make him happy.

"I, um," she cleared her throat. "I was wondering if . . . While Lizzie's down, if we could talk," her hands were woven together over her stomach that was just beginning to swell. "If you're not busy, of course,"

"No, just a few things. If you'll let me clock out here, I could meet you back at the bedroom," it was more a question than an statement, one which she nodded eagerly to.

"Yes, of course." She blurted in a rush, heading off to the bunks.

Passing Lizzie's room, she made sure to peek in and ensure the young girl was still asleep. A smile graced her at the sight of her curled around her stuffed monkey.

Reluctantly letting the door slip shut, she padded into her own room and toed off her shoes to sit atop the mattress.

I've mucked this all up, Jemma clenched her eyes tightly shut against the burning. Her head hung in her hands.

After all they had been through, she was about to destroy it all. Fitz was going to be torn apart, and Lizzie -

Oh, god . . . Lizzie.

She was her daughter biologically. But in her head, she was still just a sixteen year old girl. A child, if she was being completely honest. Not a twenty eight year old mother to be.

She just couldn't . . . Be there. Be the mother that either of them wanted or needed. She simply wasn't strong enough. Wasn't old enough at heart.

Fitz was neglecting his duties to SHIELD to spend time with her and Lizzie, and then working horrid hours of the night on what he could attempt to salvage of the machine.

She was hurting him.

And then Skye was missing, something that was mainly her fault. If she hadn't of been so helpless, the Inhuman would still be here. Lincoln wouldn't be missing his fiancé.

In the process of tearing apart her own family, she had also ripped someone else's.

---

Fitz dragged his feet in closing up shop in the lab. The talk with Jemma was long over due - their little scuffle had taken place over forty eight hours ago - so it shouldn't come as much of a surprise. Still, a small part of him had still been hoping she'd given up.

He paused outside their closed door, softly running a hand through his loose curls. Here goes nothing.

Jemma was lying on the bed, reclining peacefully against the pillows. Her hands were folded over her tiny bump, hair haloed around her on the pillow.

He caught his breath; she looked just like that first day, their first night.

--

"Fitz," she looked sadly up at him with round doe eyes, frightened, but masking it with faux bravery. "We need to talk,"

He gazed down at her, feeling the pit opening in his stomach. Here comes the pain, the inevitability that they could never be a them. "I know,"

"My room," she spoke, softer with relief. "Tonight, after dinner,"

"Alright,"

--