.

…You'll never know, dear,

How much I love you,

Please don't take my sunshine away.

He dreams there's a box, sitting in the sand.

He opens it and reaches in, trying to find the right word. He focuses as hard as he can, and pulls out a…

Monkey.

A yellow-tailed woolly monkey, to be precise, who grins at him and happily chitters.

"Well, I'm happy to see you too, but you're not what I was looking for."

The monkey hoots at him inquisitively.

"I don' know. I just… I know it's important."

Nodding, the woolly monkey, who he decides to name Archimedes, scampers off. He sighs, then reaches into the box again.

First, he finds two matching cups of tea (his Early Grey with milk and a scoop and a half of sugar, hers with two squeezes of lemon).

Setting those aside, he pulls out a blue jumper that he knows is his but smells like lavender and apple and happiness.

Then there's a high tech gun (he knows it has a cool name, but he doesn't know what it is), and a briefcase filled with small flying robots.

He grits his teeth and tries again. This time, he hears the crinkle of paper. He slowly draws out a sandwich. The sandwich. It has 'Fitz' written in a curling script, but it still looks… unfinished. Like another name should be there. Her name. He stares at it, willing the second word to appear. When it remains stubbornly blank, he growls savagely and heaves it as far as he can.

Resisting the urge to scream or weep, he hangs his head in his hands.

An insistent chatter makes him look up. The woolly monkey hands him the sandwich with a proud smirk.

"Y' know, Archie, for an adorable monkey assistant, you're not very helpful."

Archie frowns at him, then grunts reproachfully and lopes off.

Sighing, he looks at the items surrounding him.

Tea.

Jumper.

Gun.

Robots.

Sandwich.

Warmth.

Light.

Life.

Sunshine.

They were all hers.

All her.

(His?)

So what was her name?

Frustrated, he runs his hands through his hair and sighs. He feels a light tapping on his shoulder and looks up to see Archie grinning at him. Hooting excitedly, the monkey drops something into his hand.

It's a gem. Perfectly brownish-green with flecks in it.

His gem.

He stares at it, suddenly feeling like he's so close to remembering something important. Something vital.

Struck by inspiration, he holds it to his ear.

"Can you pass me the gloves?"

"Sure, here you go."

"Why thanks. You're such…" he waits with a goofy grin until she turns to him, "…a gem."

She shoots him a sardonic glare. "Ha. Ha. I'll tell you something, Dr. Fitzy, that joke reached the point of diminishing returns ages ago."

"Oh? When?"

"The first time you told it."

He pretends to be wounded until she laughs.

A gem.

A Jem.

Jemma.

Jemma!

That was it!

"Thanks Archie! Always knew having a brilliant monkey assistant would pay off!" He shouts as he runs back towards the blast door, Archie waving in encouragement.

As he wakes, he can hear singing in a trembling voice.

"…make me happy, when skies are grey."

There's a shaking breath before she continues, "You'll never know dear, how much I-"

The song is choked off by sobs. Hot tears slide down his hand as he finally opens his eyes to see her stroking his hand as she cries.

His mind finishes the lyric: "How much I love you."

As he watches her, he knows that while his memories are fractured, broken, there's one fact that his mind has been telling him all along, a fact that remains immutably true.

He loves her.

Totally. Completely. Irrevocably.

And he finally has a way to say it.

He squeezes her hand gently, then waits until she looks at him, eyes red, hair limp and mussed.

She was the most beautiful thing he's ever seen.

With a small, tender smile, he speaks her word softly, lovingly.

"Jemma."

She freezes, and he's afraid he's said the wrong word again. But in his soul, he knows it's right. The same way he knows that she has been etched into his very being.

"Jemma." He repeats, trying to tell her everything in that single name.

There's no movement from either of them, then he swears she must have teleported, because he didn't even blink and suddenly her lips are on his.

His arms find the strength to bury themselves in her hair as he holds her as close as he possibly can.

He can feel his stubble scratching her cheeks as salty tears fall onto his face.

"I thought I'd never… I was so afraid you'd…"

He shushes her gently as she pulls the rest of her body up on the bed to curl next to him. Kissing her forehead, he says her name one more time, marveling in the sound of it.

"Jemma."

Jemma gives him a watery smile before returning the favor.

"Fitz." She holds his hand and whispers, "You came back to me."

He brushes the side of her face with his free hand. "Y'askt." He replies.

The corner of her mouth turns up. "You've gone rather Scottish." She teases gently.

He shrugs. Perhaps he's left with just the essence of who he is. Scottish and in love with Jemma.

He smiles. He could live with that.