Chapter Text
Jemma Simmons stood in front of a tall, full-length mirror scrutinizing her appearance. Her hair was carefully curled and pinned up, her makeup set, and her dress wrinkle-free and tailored perfectly. Everything had to be just so today and go off without a hitch, because it was the most important day of her life: today, she was getting married.
Jemma took in a deep breath and smoothed a hand down the beaded bodice of her dress. She was alone; her parents had gone to greet guests as they came in, her bridesmaids were serving as ushers alongside the groomsmen, and Bobbi, her maid of honor, had left just a minute before to go check on Jemma’s fiancé Will and make sure everything was proceeding smoothly. She wished Bobbi were still with her to provide reassurance. It was normal to have pre-wedding jitters, wasn’t it?
Looking around, she spied the half-empty glass of champagne she’d been enjoying with her bridesmaids as they’d all been getting ready earlier and made a grab for it. A healthy sip settled her nerves slightly. Yes, it was completely normal to be nervous about getting married, especially considering she’d only been dating Will just shy of a year when he proposed. Not that there was anything wrong with that, or that they’d rushed their relationship, but a year and a half total of being together was a small thing compared to the rest of your life.
Jemma took another large sip of champagne before setting the glass down and returning to the mirror, brushing another hand over the full skirt of her dress. She was the picture-perfect bride for the picture-perfect groom. Will was tall, dark, and handsome, and she was sure he cut a dashing figure in his suit. She smiled slightly at herself in the mirror.
It was absolutely normal to feel nerves rather than excitement at the thought of seeing her future husband waiting for her at the end of the aisle.
They were the perfect couple. Will was a successful city attorney whom she’d met while out for drinks with Bobbi and their friend Daisy. He treated her well and supported her ambitions as a scientist. She would be set for life with him.
She took in another slow, deep breath.
Everything about them was right, but ‘til death do us part’ was suddenly feeling like a very long time.
A quiet knock on the door interrupted her thoughts. Expecting Bobbi or perhaps her father, Jemma was surprised to turn and find her best friend, Leo Fitz, sticking his head in the door. Relief flooded her.
“Fitz!” she said, a smile spreading over her face. “What are you doing here? I think the ceremony’s supposed to start soon.”
He froze in the doorway of the bride’s room, utterly transfixed by the sight before him. Fitz had thought he was ready to see her, that his traitorous heart had done all the damage it could muster that day in the tiny bridal shop when he’d been roped into attending her final fitting. He thought he’d steeled himself against the sight of his best friend in her wedding gown, but that had been a foolish hope. His heart was in his throat and it seemed like he had forgotten how to breathe, but he supposed that could be forgiven when Jemma looked absolutely radiant.
“Jemma,” he murmured, taking a step in and allowing the door to swing shut behind him. He couldn’t take his eyes off her and his throat was suddenly as dry as the Sahara. Fitz swallowed and did his best to give her a shaky smile. “Y’ look beautiful. Y’ really, really do.”
There was so much more he’d been planning to say, but seeing her had knocked it all from his head, although that might have been the fear, too. When he’d arrived at the church, dressed nattily in his own three-piece suit to match the groomsmen, he’d had this entire speech planned out but now the reality that he was ready to blow up their lives was making him second-guess everything. He swallowed again, his stomach churning wildly.
“I, ah, I was hopin’ y’ had a minute t’ talk. Before, y’ know.” Fitz nodded vaguely toward the sanctuary and tried not to think about all the guests sitting there, or the very tall, well-built groom. “If that’s okay.”
Jemma took his staring for what it was on the surface—Fitz being in awe—and blushed prettily at his praise, looking down with a smile. Her nerves settled even more. Fitz had that sort of effect on her—he calmed her, grounded her, made everything better.
When he asked to speak to her, she nodded, taking a step toward him. "Of course. I always have a minute for you."
Her quick response sickened him further, his stomach churning wildly. Fitz was tempted to turn and run from the room or make something up and deal with the consequences later, but he knew that wasn’t an option. Not really. He wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he didn’t say something now. Even if he blew up both their lives, at least he’d have an answer. He flashed her a quick smile and took a few more steps toward her.
“I just… Are y’ happy, Jemma?”
Blue eyes met hazel as the question hung between them, his heart thudding wildly while he waited for her response.
Her smile collapsed into a tiny, puzzled frown. What sort of question was that?
"What do you mean?" she asked, twisting her hands together at her waist, her fingers running over her expensive engagement ring. "Of course I'm happy."
But her nerves had swelled back up. Thinking of Will, the idea of spending the rest of her life with him, had her heart beating fast—not in what she would consider a good way. "I mean, I'm nervous," she tacked on quickly, feeling like she was explaining it more to herself than Fitz. She put on a smile. "But all brides are on their wedding day, right?"
If she'd said yes outright with no hesitation, he would have put a stop to everything then and there. He would never stand in the way of Jemma's happiness.
"I suppose," he said. He could feel the anxiety beginning to roll off her and took another step closer. His wingtips brushed the edge of her dress now and he could see the faintest hint of her freckles beneath her makeup. "I just needed t' know before I told y'—"
His throat closed up on him again and Fitz could feel the tears prickling at the corners of his eyes now. It was now or never and he was utterly terrified. But her hazel eyes were rife with concern and anticipation and he couldn't stop now. His tongue was running away on him.
"I'm sorry, Jemma. I'm so sorry that I never had the courage t' say this sooner but y' mean everythin' t' me. Truly everythin'. In every possible way." Fitz glanced down at the tips of his toes in a feeble attempt to hide his tears but they were beyond hiding now. "I love y'. I just—I'm sorry, but I needed t' say that aloud just once before—" He swallowed again and swiped at his eyes with the back of his hand. "Before the day was out. I love y', Jemma. I'm in love with y' and I just wish I'd told y' sooner."
The longer Fitz spoke, the more Jemma felt her heart hollow out and old grief and long-buried feelings rush in to fill the open space. By the time he finished and he'd said those three little words, she was a broken wreck.
"How could you do this to me?" she whispered, her voice trembling. Fitz’s head snapped up, his expression stricken, and she blurted, "I waited for you! For years. For any sort of hint or sign that I meant more to you and there was nothing…" She blinked rapidly as tears filled her eyes. "I even asked you out once and you turned me down! So I forced myself to move on."
She looked down at where she was twisting her hands anxiously into each other. "And you went that whole time saying nothing and decided to wait until now? " She looked back up at him, tears streaking her cheeks. "On my wedding day? "
Fitz' brow knit in confusion. If she'd ever asked him out, he'd have remembered it. He would have said yes in a heartbeat, but the distraught look twisting her features demanded his immediate attention. He'd mourn missed opportunities later.
"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I'm so sorry, Jemma. Tell me what y' want me t' do. I'll leave if that makes it easier. I just needed t' tell y' just this once."
Jemma was distraught. She’d been in love with Fitz almost as long as she’d known him, but she’d boxed those feelings up and shoved them away when she’d resigned herself to the fact that he didn’t feel the same. Bobbi told her on several occasions that he did, she was sure of it, but Jemma just didn’t see the evidence. Being his best friend would have to do.
And it did. Jemma adored Fitz. He was funny, thoughtful, and the best lab partner a scientist could ask for. It just hurt when she tried dating other men. Less and less over time as she distanced herself from her feelings, until she found herself saying yes to Will’s proposal with an unburdened heart. Now it felt anything but.
“Sorry?” she cried, dry-washing her hands even more. “You’re not sorry, or else you wouldn’t have—” She took a step back and started to pace. “Oh, I don’t—I can’t—I don’t know what to do. Everyone’s here. They expect me. Will expects me. But I don’t—” She blinked again as fresh tears fell down her face. “I don’t think I can get married.”
His belly tightened painfully as his mind whirred over what Jemma had said. Part of him wanted to protest that he was sorry. He loved her more than anything, both as his best friend and as a woman, and knowing that he’d caused her pain was abhorrent to him. But, Fitz couldn’t deny the slight vein of hope worming through him, too. She hadn’t said she loved him in return, but she hadn’t said she wanted to get married. That was something.
“What do y’ want?” Fitz asked, reaching out to gently lay his hands over hers before she rubbed them raw. “Forget what anyone else wants, me included.” He wasn’t foolish. He knew that he’d put serious pressure on her with his declaration but he wanted Jemma to know that everything was her choice. “What do y’ want, Jemma?”
You.
She almost said it, spilled it right out in front of him. But she couldn’t. What sort of woman would that make her? One who left her fiancé at the altar because her best friend made an 11th-hour declaration of love, that’s what. And that wasn’t a very good one, in her mind. Not when her family and her friends were all out in the church sanctuary waiting on her.
But Fitz… she couldn’t turn away from him and go out to say her vows, spending the rest of her life wondering what could have been. Not when he was the most important person in her life, no matter what lies she told herself. Not when she still loved him and his confession had both destroyed her and galvanized her heart.
She looked down at his hands covering hers before lifting her eyes to meet his, and they were round and anxious, her eyelashes rimmed with tears. “I don’t know,” she said. “I love Will, but… you… since you said…” She swallowed thickly against the lump in her throat. “Fitz, I loved you first. I can’t marry him now and spend the rest of my life wondering.”
Relief flooded through him, pure and sweet, and left Fitz feeling absolutely giddy. He felt invincible and before he could think better of it, he brought his hands up to cup her cheeks and drew Jemma into a desperate kiss. The slide of her lips against his was impossibly sweet and he couldn’t resist the temptation to chase after it. He swept his tongue against her full lower lip, seeking entrance.
He was so entranced by her that he didn’t hear the sharp rap of knuckles against the door or her name being called out until the voice was in the room with them.
“Jemma, they—Oh, shit.”
Fitz broke away from Jemma, panting slightly as he turned to face Bobbi and automatically put himself between the two women. He’d always had a soft spot for Jemma’s maid of honor but a healthy fear of her, too. He had seen the way she’d taken Hunter to task and had no doubt she’d have zero problem turning that on him as well.
“Bobbi, we need a minute—”
He shut his mouth the minute her intense blue gaze was turned on him and instinctively stepped back so she could get to Jemma.
“Jemma,” Bobbi asked as she ducked down to see her face, “are you okay?”
Jemma was verging on a panic attack. For one brief, beautiful second while Fitz had been kissing her, all of her worries had fallen away leaving just his warmth and his hands on her face. Then Bobbi had walked in and now reality was crashing down on top of her. Whatever was happening with her and Fitz wasn’t between just the two of them anymore.
“Um—uh—I—Fitz, he, he—” Jemma stammered, close to hyperventilating, her hands fluttering at chest level. Bobbi, assuming the worst, placed protective hands on Jemma’s shoulders before turning a nasty glare on Fitz.
“What did you do? ” she demanded. “Did you force yourself on her? Fitz, I swear to god—”
“No!” Jemma yelped just as she saw Fitz open his mouth to defend himself. “No! He—he said he loves me!”
Bobbi relaxed slightly, though she didn’t look surprised; if anything, she just looked disappointed. “Okay,” she said, lowering her tone, and turned back to Jemma. “Okay, babe, just look at me and breathe. What do you want to do?”
Jemma shook her head, struggling to catch her breath. “I don’t know. Everyone is out there, waiting on me. I don’t know.”
“Breathe,” Bobbi repeated, rubbing Jemma’s arms. “Forget about everyone else. What do you want?”
Her eyes cut over to Fitz, who was watching them. Her upbringing and her innate need to follow the rules and do what was expected of her was telling her one thing, but her heart was saying another. She sagged in Bobbi’s hold. “I can’t marry him,” she whispered.
The fear that had curled its fingers around his heart and squeezed mercifully loosened its hold. Fitz visibly sagged in relief and took a step toward Jemma, needing to be closer to her. He was keenly aware that Bobbi was watching him like a hawk, but he ignored her. Jemma mattered more than his possibly being glared to death.
“What do y’ need from us?” He purposefully kept the focus on Jemma’s wants and needs. He had just upset her entire world in the space of a few short minutes. His desires needed to take a backseat for now.
Jemma knew what she needed to do, but she couldn’t bring herself to take the first steps. Thankfully, Bobbi took charge for her.
“We’ll get you out of here, get you home,” she said. “Fitz will take you.” She turned to him. “You have your car keys? Good. Hand them over.” Once Fitz had dropped his keys into Bobbi’s outstretched hand, she said, “I’ll get Hunter to bring it around and transfer Jemma’s things over. I’ll keep everyone distracted while you talk to Will, and you—” Bobbi shot Fitz another glare. “You and I will have a talk about your shitty timing later. Okay?”
Jemma mumbled her assent, trying to breathe slowly and not panic again. She had to go tell Will they weren’t getting married. There was no world in which this ended well.
Bobbi paused on her way out the door, coming back to Jemma and squeezing her shoulders. “Everything is going to be okay,” she told her quietly. “It might not seem like it right now, but it will be. I promise.” Then she was gone.
Jemma took in another deep breath, shoring up her composure, then looked at Fitz. “I suppose… I should go talk to Will now,” she said feebly.
He could see the worry in her eyes and automatically opened his arms to offer her a hug. As pleased as he was that she wasn't going to be getting married today, Fitz did feel guilty for the role he'd played in causing her distress. As Jemma stepped into his hold he realized he didn't know if she'd ever forgive him for this, but he pushed that fear away as he tightened his arms around her and provided as much contact as he dared.
Jemma closed her eyes and rested her cheek on Fitz’s shoulder, allowing herself a minute to accept his comfort. He loved her. She didn’t know what that meant for the two of them going forward, but in this moment it meant he could help give her strength. He would be waiting on the other side with open arms, wouldn’t he?
At long last she stepped back and stood straight. “I should go,” she told Fitz with a shaky smile. “Before he comes looking for me. I shouldn’t put it off any longer.”
Fitz just looked at her for a long moment and nodded. Since he’d done it once, he was desperate to kiss her again but he told himself there would be time for that later. Right now, Jemma needed him to be her best friend more than anything else.
“Do y’ want me t’ come with?” he asked. “Or just be nearby?”
He didn’t want to intrude on what she needed to do, but he couldn’t leave her to deal with it alone. Not when it was his fault that she was going through this.
Jemma swallowed. “Oh, I don’t know if…”
Her rational mind was saying that Fitz didn’t need to be anywhere near her telling her fiancé she wasn’t going to marry him. But the part of her that was small and terrified wanted to know that he was close by, just to take comfort from his presence. So she heaved a deep breath and nodded once.
“Nearby,” she said quietly. “That would be nice.”
She turned and left the bridal room, trusting Fitz to follow. It was a short walk across the church to where Will was being kept, and Jemma was glad that the doors to the sanctuary were closed and that they didn’t run into anyone else on their way. She didn’t know what she would have done if they had.
At the door to the groom’s room, she paused and held a hand out, motioning for Fitz to stand back. “Stay here,” she whispered. Then she faced the door and inhaled, her pulse pounding in her ears. She felt faint. She couldn’t do this.
Fitz loves you, she reminded herself. He’s right behind you.
She knocked softly on the door, opening it as she did so. “Will?”
He was on the far side of the room standing in front of his own full-length mirror, fussing with his bowtie. He startled when he heard her voice, turning to face her and holding a hand up to shield his eyes. “Jemma! Hey, I’m not supposed to—” Then the tearful waver in her voice must have registered, because he dropped his hand with a concerned frown. “Hey, what’s wrong?”
Jemma closed the door quietly behind her and took a few steps forward into the room. She couldn’t speak. Will looked so worried, so innocent, and it tore at her. She was about to break his heart and she couldn’t go back from it.
When she didn’t speak and just stood there silently, Will frowned deeper. “Hey, Jemma, what is it?” he repeated, crossing to her and taking her by the shoulders. He swept a light thumb under her eye. “Have you been crying?”
She just had to go for it. She couldn’t beat around the bush. “I don’t think we can get married,” she blurted, her voice breaking.
Will’s jaw dropped in shock. “What? ”
Jemma’s eyes filled with tears again. Her heart was breaking, too. “We can’t get married,” she repeated.
Will recovered quickly, swallowing and giving her shoulders a squeeze. “Hey, it’s just cold feet, right? You’re just nervous. Everybody gets cold feet before they get married. Come on—what’s got you feeling like this?”
Jemma shook her head. “Fitz came to talk to me—”
Will’s expression immediately collapsed into a scowl. “Oh, great.”
That pulled Jemma up short, a thin thread of annoyance weaving through her bruised heart. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Will let go of her to cross his arms. “Fitz. Let me guess: he confessed his undying love for you.”
Jemma blinked. “Well—”
“Or better yet, the two of you have been cheating behind my back this whole time and he’s finally convinced you to run off with him.”
This time it was Jemma’s jaw that dropped. “Will!”
“What other explanation is there?” His entire demeanor had changed, from soft and concerned to sneering and derisive. “I’ve never liked how he always hangs around you, the two of you off giggling about your science jokes. I guess I just tricked myself into believing I was the better man.”
Jemma was still mostly speechless with shock and outrage, even if she had no room to be. “I have been completely faithful to you the entire time we’ve been together!” she cried.
“So what were you coming in here to say, then?” Will shouted. “Because it sure sounded like the start of a confession!”
“I told you, I’ve never cheated on you!”
After the door clicked shut, Fitz had done his best to not show too much interest and listen in. It was a private conversation Jemma needed to have with Will and nothing—not his curiosity or fear that the other man might change her mind and persuade her to go through with the wedding—was going to convince him to violate that privacy.
At least until he heard raised voices.
Fitz turned then and took a few steps closer. He supposed some yelling was to be expected. It was an emotionally charged moment. But if he heard anything against Jemma—
Just then her voice cut through the heavy wood, her words garbled but her tone sharp enough to galvanize him. Fitz took two quick steps to it and twisted the knob, letting himself in. Two pairs of enraged eyes turned toward him and he immediately regretted his decision. Still, he stood his ground. His eyes on Will, Fitz took a few steps forward and subtly put himself between Jemma and the larger man.
"Everythin' okay in here?"
“You—”
It happened faster than Jemma could blink. One second it was just her and Will yelling, the next Fitz had entered to put himself between them and Will was taking a swing. His fist connected with Fitz’s cheek with a dull thwack and Fitz stumbled backward with a sharp cry.
“Will! ” Jemma shrieked, but her eyes were only for Fitz. She immediately reached for him, trying to see his face and check for injury—which was evidently the wrong thing to do, because it only enraged Will further.
He came charging at Fitz again, fist raised. Jemma saw him coming and quickly put herself between them. “No no no,” she cried, putting her hands up to fend him off, “don’t—stop, Will, just stop—”
In his insistence to get to Fitz, Will missed and his fist glanced off Jemma’s cheek. The sound of skin meeting skin might as well have sounded like a gunshot; Jemma’s mouth dropped in shock as everyone in the room froze.
Will changed tack immediately, his face falling as he reached for her. “Oh my god, Jemma, I’m so sorry—”
She took a step back past Fitz, out of his reach, holding her hands up as though to defend herself. “Don’t,” she managed, panic clawing up her throat. The situation was quickly unraveling out of her control and she couldn’t breathe. Her vision was spotting and she felt in danger of fainting. “I can’t—I can’t stay here, I have to leave.”
She turned to flee from the room, hearing Will call after her, but she ignored him. She had to get out. To find Bobbi, to hide in the bridal room, to go outside, she didn’t know—but she had to leave.
Fitz was aware of Jemma behind him but never took his eyes off Will. He could forgive the other man for punching him—he deserved it for kissing his fiancée on their wedding day—but hitting Jemma even accidentally was unforgivable in his mind. He squared his shoulders and stared him down, waiting to see what Will would do next.
“Jemma!” he called as he moved to push past Fitz. “Jemma, wait!”
Fitz slid over, catching Will in the middle of his chest with his shoulder and halting his progress.
“Don’t,” he said. “Just let her go.”
“I’m sure you’d like that,” the taller man sneered. “Let you play the hero and whisk her away. Finally get the chance to look like the man she deserves.”
“Better than one who hits her.”
That seemed to freeze Will in place and Fitz left him there without a second glance. He needed to find Jemma and make sure she was okay. Whatever the other man had to say really didn’t matter.
Jemma was rushing across the front entrance of the church, tears and panic blurring her vision. She hadn’t driven to the church this morning, Bobbi had picked her up. Her purse wasn’t here. No car keys, no car. No way to leave. Her cheek stung where Will had struck her. He’d been aiming for Fitz, but it had still happened. Maybe they were fist-fighting even now. Everything had gone to shreds so quickly from the time Fitz had appeared. She felt like her grip on her sanity was coming apart.
She was just turning to run back to the bridal room when Bobbi came through the front doors of the church, followed closely by Hunter. “Jemma!” she cried, reaching out and grabbing her by the shoulders, pulling her to a halt. “Did you talk to Will?”
Jemma promptly burst into hiccupping sobs.
“Yeah, I guess so,” she heard Bobbi say. Then, “Oh, good. Hey, Fitz. If you guys are going to leave, you’d better do it now. We’ve got all of Jemma’s luggage moved to your car.”
Fitz just nodded as he approached, his hand stretched out to lightly touch Jemma on the shoulder, just to let her know he was there. Good thing, too, because Hunter was on him, clapping him on the shoulder and causing his already sore cheek to jostle uncomfortably.
“You crazy bastard,” Hunter told him, a nearly manic gleam in his eye as he handed Fitz his keys. “I was hoping you’d say something, but your timing is absolute shite.”
“I’m aware,” Fitz muttered, wishing that Jemma couldn’t hear this conversation. He didn’t mind her knowing that he’d pined for her, but he’d rather it not be as they were trying to escape the wrath of all the attendees waiting inside the sanctuary. He turned his attention to Bobbi and asked, “You’ve got it all handled here?”
“You know we do,” she said with a decisive nod and a gentle push toward the door. “Go on, get out of here. Before there are more questions.”