Chapter Text
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In a world where soulmates are predetermined by cosmic ink, Fitz can’t believe Simmons is arguing with him about something as obvious as the fourth dimension.
“It’s simple maths; how do you not see that? The future is fixed.” Fitz believes in math. It’s steady. It’s predictable. Just like the spacetime line he drew on the side of that paper stack. He’s known, ever since that world-shifting day in the lab at SciTech, that there’s no changing destiny. And even if he wanted to forget, every time he’s let himself start to question it, the universe has found some fresh, new, horrible way to put him back in his place.
Jemma’s familiar sigh brings him back to the conversation at hand. “You’re assuming that because one part of our lives is fixed, that all of it is. But you’re not allowing for the existence of choice, Fitz!” She huffs, putting her thoughts in order. “Take our time at the Academy, for instance. Why did you push me to seek Will out, if you were so sure everything would happen as it should? What’s more, why would you join SHIELD in the first place, if you didn’t believe that we can change the world?” She regards him with a small frown. “I refuse to accept that anything is completely inevitable.”
“We’ll see.” He looks at the ground and tries to hide the worry coursing through him. Because regardless of what Jemma thinks, tonight’s gonna play out just as Daisy saw, and none of Coulson’s or anyone’s plans can make a difference.
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It’s not that she can’t understand the concept of spacetime. She helped him explain it to the team, after all. It’s just that she can’t willingly admit that their lives, their actions, even seemingly random events, can’t be altered, or that the universe gets any say in determining the course.
She refuses to accept that Fitz isn’t just as special to her as Will.
She’s trying to be patient while they work on repairing themselves, but there are still so many things she has to say.
Obviously, she’s known for a while that she’d have to convince him. She loves him. It’s not even close to being enough, but she’ll make sure he understands that she’s chosen him.
She just didn’t expect to have to convince him it’s even possible for her to choose him.
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“Not all the servers. Got it?”
May stalks off, her trademark calm momentarily turbulent, before Jemma explains about the search for Dr. Garner. Before she can even ask, Fitz agrees to leave those servers alone. He knows how important it is to find Lash, and not just for May. Jemma still can’t stop replaying the selfish decision that led to all those Inhuman deaths.
But this isn’t the time to wallow in her own guilt. They’ve got a fight to stage, a man to save, and something to prove.
“Do you think we can do it?” Jemma asks quietly, walking over to where May is staring angrily at a computer screen. They could both use a win. “Change the future?”
“Every move we make changes the future.” May meets her eyes, her face a lake of pained exhaustion and pure resolve. “The real feat would be changing the past.”
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“It’s not snow.” It’s not snow, and Daisy’s not dead, and Jemma looks at him in wonder.
“I think we're supposed to hold hands now.” She reaches for him, smiling.
He tells himself she’s only doing it because she has to, because it’s preordained. But then, Jemma doesn't believe that, so… doesn’t that mean she must have wanted to hold his hand? And the way she said it, half playful, half uncertain, it squeezes around his heart. Like she really doesn’t know he’ll hold her hand. If she was really set on proving him wrong, she’d keep her distance, not grab onto him like she’s just won a prize and can’t wait to collect.
God, the way she’s gazing at him now, he finds it all too easy to read into. To think that the need to disprove Daisy’s vision gave way under her desire to touch him. His fingers tighten around hers.
“Maybe some things are inevitable,” she says.
Damn it. Hope is a hell of a drug.
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