A/N: Fitz and Simmons have their long awaited reunion, but there are still a few trials to face even now.

Chapter 4: Open Arms

The minute Jemma begins sprinting toward the twin monolith, Fitz takes off toward the storage room containing its counterpart. One of Coulson's stipulations had been to control this final attempt from the safety of one of the other bunkers. Sensing that he wouldn't get anywhere if he argued anyway, Fitz had quickly relented even though he wanted to be in the room at all times. Coulson did have a point. If something went wrong, it would be better for all of them to be as far away from the stone as possible.

Although Fitz had doubted it more than once given the director's actions, Coulson would have been the first to admit that he wanted Simmons back as much as any of them if asked. She was usually the most even-tempered and honest of his agents, and he has missed her sincerity and blinding smile in the months since her disappearance. Still, he couldn't in good conscience risk what remained of their team on the slight possibility that this final attempt could find her, and he knows she would understand his choice if she were there.

Now that he's found Jemma and she might actually be able to return to them, Fitz doesn't care what the director thinks about being close to the monolith. Tearing down the hallway with his team trailing behind, her enters the room and splits his attention between the tablet display and the gyrating alien material. He waits desperately for her to reach the portal on her end, and his heat begins beating wildly as the figure grows closer and closer to her. When it throws her off balance, he can do nothing but yelp out a powerless denial as the universe once again positions itself to tear them apart just when they might finally find their way back together.

Light years away from her distraught teammates, Simmons refuses to have survived so much and to have come so far to let her chance at freedom slip away now. With what little remains of her strength she thrusts the balls of her feet into the ashen ground and vaults into the flowing material, her would-be captor barely failing to grasp her limb as she disappears into the void, though his touch does send searing pain through her leg.

The two drones follow after her in quick succession, but the rover suffers the displeasure of the figure, which cannot enter the mass to follow its quarry. Its purpose is to guard this world and destroy whatever emerges, not to follow the portal back. Stripped of its long-awaited victory, it tears the rover to shreds before marching calmly back into position and returning to its form as a stony sentinel to await the next arrival. Next time whatever materializes will not escape.

With little idea of how long the delay might be between the images he sees and her reality and no way of knowing how long it might take to transport her back to this room if she does manage to escape, Fitz waits in tense silence, one hand reaching toward the monolith as though that gesture can will her back.

Fortunately for his shocked system and overstressed mind, the wait is almost nonexistent. Less than 10 seconds after her terrorized face freezes on the display, Jemma's momentum carries her through the portal and back into the base where she hurtles into Fitz. The force knocks the tablets from his hand, and they crash onto the floor in a tangle of limbs and heaving chests.

Just after they hit the ground, the two DWARFs also fly through the portal, but unlike their creators they come to rest gently on the floor due to their meticulous programming. Completely unconcerned about whether or not the rover Fitz had built will follow, Mack keys in the sequence to return the monolith to its solid state, and he takes great pleasure in once again closing and locking the container. Now that Simmons is back, they shouldn't need to tempt fate by ever interacting directly with this accursed stone again.

The room is quiet save for the labored breathing of the two people sprawled across the floor. Stunned into silence by the startling arrival of a teammate they all genuinely though was dead and lost forever, the team makes no motion to separate their prone bodies.

Confronted with the truth of Simmons's continued existence, they feel nearly overwhelmed with shame. While Fitz had risked life and limb to rescue her, they had pitied him and made no secret of their doubt of his sanity. No matter what Jemma had meant to them or done for them, they had effectively written her off after only a few fleeting weeks. Regardless of what Fitz said or how often he'd been right, they had ignored his increasingly impassioned pleas, preferring to believe Simmons was dead than to join him in suffering with the belief she was alive but they were incapable of finding her.

They hadn't been strong enough to weather that emotional turmoil, but he had for her sake. He had borne it all with steadfast determination and unwavering belief in both her continued existence and his ability to find her while they returned to their lives as if her loss had no effect on them. Quietly, each plans to make amends for their lack of faith in the both of them. Some team they turned out to be.

At first, Fitz and Simmons are too stunned by their unexpectedly rapid and painful reunion to do more than lie there as they try to regain the breath that has been knocked out of them. When they come back to themselves almost simultaneously, Jemma latches onto Fitz with a death grip and proceeds to burst into nearly hysterical sobbing as she buries face into his shoulder.

Her touch-starved body craves human contact. That the contact is with him is even more meaningful and restorative. Deprived of interaction with any living thing other than whatever was trying to kill her, she had begun to question the reality of her being. Without touch, she felt dissociated from her body. But now, with the length of her plastered to the length of him, with their breaths synchronizing and their hearts once again beating in tandem, she knows without question that she is real and she is here in his arms. Determined to remain in the warmth of his sheltering embrace for as long as possible, she wraps her weary arms tighter about him.

When he feels her tears running down his neck, he runs a shaking hand through her matted hair. He can feel the stiffness of her clothing and the grainy layer of dust covering her skin, but he can't bring himself to care. She could be covered in the most repulsive substance he'd ever seen her examine in the lab and he would do nothing except clutch her tighter. He's been imagining this moment for months, and it's everything he'd hoped for and more. She's here in his arms, alive and coherent enough to hold on to him. Even though she is clearly injured and shaken, this is one of the best-case scenarios he hoped to face. Physical and mental wounds can only heal if the person is alive. No matter how long her recovery might take or what it might involve, he'll be there every step of the way in whatever capacity she needs. For now, all she apparently needs is for him to continue holding her and he's happy to oblige.

Sensing that she is in no shape or hurry to move, he uses his now sturdier build—the result of all his effort and adventures to get her back—to shuffle them into a more upright position. He levers her to one side to shift her weight onto her left hip so her legs can curl together underneath his bent right knee. This way, he can support most of her body as she curls more comfortably on one side of his chest. Once she settles, he brackets her body with his limbs, hoping that she'll find the shelter of his form comforting.

Huddled in his arms, she realizes that she finally understands why he made his confession at the bottom of the ocean. Faced with the certainty that they would be lost to each other forever, he had laid his soul bare so that she would know the depth of his feelings for her and the place she held in his heart. He hadn't said those words to surprise or confuse her. Expecting no response, he didn't consider how she might interpret them with only seconds to infer meaning. He had shakily confessed his feelings in that way because the words represented the fundamental truth of his being. There at what seemed to be the end of all things, his final thoughts were not for himself or his imminent death, but for her and how much loving her had meant to him. Having just faced her own probable demise, she too had stared down death only with thoughts of her love for him.

When she finally regains enough control to speak, she begins repeating, "I love you. I love you. I love you," into his neck. The others can hear her, but she says the words only for him. With all that has happened in the past year, she knows now that every moment is precious and not to be wasted. She refuses to allow another minute to pass without Fitz knowing that she finally understands what he has known for so long and embraced with open arms. Though their scientific minds would normally shy away from such nonsense, they are soul mates in every sense of the word. They belong to each other and with each other. They will never be better separated than they are together. They are two halves of one soul.

In response to her tearful and open confession, he grips her tighter, his own tears of relief and happiness mingling with hers. In all his wildest imaginations, this had never been part of their reunion, but he's grateful and elated by the surprise.

"I love you, too" he whispers back, feeling her smile against his neck. The last knot in his chest finally loosens. They will get through this and anything else the universe throws at them because there is nothing they can't face and overcome together.

Their joyous reunion comes to a screeching halt, however, once several of their teammates shake off their guilt and jump back into action.

Despite the pain it causes in her still recovering knee, Bobbi crouches down next to the intertwined pair and strokes a careful hand down Simmons's back, mindful that there may be injuries she can't see in addition to the ones that are already concerning her. Jemma is far too thin and her skin is a patchwork of bruises under the layer of grime covering her entire body. Bobbi knows her younger teammate will feel much better once she has access to a shower and the medical care she so desperately needs.

"Simmons, we need to get you to one of the quarantine rooms and treat your wounds. Do you think you can stand?"

Bobbi's tone is gentle and she thinks only of Simmons's comfort and wellbeing, but Jemma reacts as if she has been threatened. Quarantine means separation. Separation means letting go of Fitz, and letting go of Fitz might mean this has all been a dream. She isn't ready to let go. She won't. Whimpering in response to the perceived threat, she grips Fitz tighter.

Sensing that Bobbi isn't likely to get anywhere with their clearly distressed colleague, Mack tries to appeal to Fitz's sense of logic, though he needn't have tried. As they used for the majority of their relationship with each other, Fitz's thoughts mimic Jemma's.

"Come on, Turbo. You know the procedure. Until Bobbi clears her, she has to go into quarantine. It's for her sake just as much for ours. She'll be in the best hands. Bobbi won't let anything happen to her."

As gently as he can, Mack tugs on Fitz's arm in an attempt to loosen his hold and prompt his friend into helping them. If Fitz cooperates, Simmons will as well. But Fitz has no intention of cooperating. At this point, letting go of Jemma will feel like loping off one of his limbs. She is an integral part of him, and now that he has been reunited with that part, he is in no hurry to be separated from it again.

A quiet but growling "bugger off" is his only response as he shrugs away from Mack's hand and pulls Jemma closer still.

"Fitz," Bobbi admonishes lightly. "Look at her. She's covered in injuries and she's going to go into shock sooner or later. I think we'd all feel better if that happens somewhere that I can actually do something about it rather than here. She's suffered enough."

In any other circumstance, Jemma would be quite offended by Bobbi speaking as if she can't hear her, but in this moment, her words are nothing more than an irritating buzzing in her ears. She knows Bobbi has a point, but she is also aware that none of her injuries are life-threatening enough to warrant moving her in the next few minutes. She too has the necessary education and experience to effectively and accurately assess the severity of a person's injuries, even if that person happens to be her. Surely the team can allow her and Fitz a little while longer to simply rest here and breathe. She isn't actually causing any more potential harm here on the floor than she would be in a quarantine room. Using her own perhaps faulty logic as her guide, Jemma chooses to ignore Bobbi's reasoning in favor of the comfort she finds in Fitz's hold. She's in no hurry to be poked and prodded or separated from him.

Frustrated with the lack of response from either of his teammates, Mack redoubles his efforts. He is convinced that Fitz is too caught up in the heady euphoria of having Simmons back to think clearly, and he knows Fitz will be upset later once he realizes that he prevented Simmons from receiving the care she needed. Mack would much rather have Fitz upset with him now than watch him descend into another round of self-flagellation later.

"Seriously, Fitz. She needs to be in quarantine. We can't help her with the two of you fused together like this. I know you want what's best for her, so help me out, man." Tugging harder, he manages to extract one of Fitz arms, and Jemma feels the loss immediately.

Reaching the end of what little patience he has for any of them, Fitz shouts at Mack as he struggles against his hold: "Then put me in the bloody quarantine room with her. I'm not letting her go!"

He and Mack play what might otherwise be a comical game of tug-a-war until Jemma releases a second louder and more painful whimper. The fear and distress evident in that one desolate sound finally put an end to further arguments. Bobbi and Mack resign themselves to the fact that FitzSimmons aren't going to move from this spot until they are good and ready, and even once they do they won't stand to be separated from each other, protocol be damned.

It doesn't take nearly as long as they feared for Fitz to coax Jemma into un-tucking herself from his body. Despite what Bobbi might think, he isn't oblivious to her condition. It's clear that she is malnourished and extremely dehydrated. What he knows that Bobbi apparently doesn't is that Jemma is exceedingly tactile when she's upset or ill, but only with a select group of people. She needs constant contact with someone she trusts when she feels compromised in anyway. Trying to pull them apart was possibly the worst tactic anyone could have taken.

He calms her frayed nerves with soothing words and gentle strokes up and down her spine. He'll worry later about why he can feel each and every one of her vertebrae so clearly. For now, it's enough that she relaxes her hold little by little and eventually pulls back far enough to look into his eyes.

Staring into the icy blue of his gaze, she finally believes she is home. Her hallucinations of him had always been faded, as if the overwhelmingly grey world that had become her prison had bled the color from every aspect of her life, real or imagined. Now that she can bask in the vibrant azure of his eyes, the color she most associates with comfort and security, she manages a tentative smile and reaches out to cup his check. When she wipes his tears away, all she ends up doing is smearing dirt across his face, but he doesn't care. He knows in this moment that eventually they will both be okay.

Tangling their fingers together to give them both a clear point of contact, he shifts slightly backwards before asking, "Do you think you can stand?"

He doubts sincerely that she has the strength left, but he also knows that she is stubborn to a fault and will raise hell if doesn't at least present her with the option.

She aches in places that even she can't name, but holding his hand and looking into his eyes after months of isolation and fear makes her believe she can do anything at the moment.

"I'll try," she responds quietly. Words are still difficult for her to manage, and she's in no hurry to complicate the understanding they appear to have reached by adding more than necessary.

With his help, she manages to stand without issue, but the moment she attempts to take a step, the parting injury from the figure flares uncomfortably and her leg buckles. She's more than a little surprised when he not only catches her from falling, but also manages to hoist her up into a bridal carry without much effort. Of course, the fact that she weighs considerably less than she should even with the muscle she's managed to build is probably helping. Still, he brawnier than she remembers, and she takes comfort in knowing that he is willing and able to support her both literally and figuratively.

Without so much as a stumble, he whisks her easily down the hall and into one of the unoccupied containment rooms designed for the new Inhumans. He may be relieved to have her back, but he is also aware enough to realize that she has spent months on an alien planet and they will all probably be safer if she and he remain in one of these specially designed rooms until she passes the battery of tests he knows Bobbi wants to run. The planet may have affected her in ways they can't imagine, and he doesn't want to risk her health by ignoring too much protocol. Those procedures are in place for a reason. He also refuses to subject her to the kind of quarantine Daisy experienced. They have better facilities now, and if anyone deserves to have the best it's Jemma.

Of course, other more practical considerations—like her need to bathe and the room's ability to run the basic series of medical examinations without direct human interaction—also influence his decision. She hadn't reacted adversely to Bobbi's touch back in the storage room, but Fitz does not expect Jemma to display that level of placidity for long. Right now adrenaline, exhaustion, and lingering fear are very likely dulling her responses. Under normal circumstances, she is a holy terror when she has to be a patient. Having been her primary caretaker for the few times she became ill since their friendship began, he knows well that none of their teammates are truly prepared to handle her.

Of course, the ultimate driving force behind his actions aren't really about their safety or even her almost guaranteed adverse reaction to being subjected to examinations. If he is really being honest with himself, he just wants to have at least an hour or so where they can remain wrapped in the little cocoon they've created without interference from anyone else. He needs time to process that she is back, and he imagines she does as well. He breathes an audible sigh of relief when he hears the door close behind him, effectively cordoning them off from anything and everything at least for the time being.

Safely ensconced in his arms, she completely understands the sentiment. She knows the rest of their team has only the best intentions, but for now all she really needs and wants is Fitz. She'll make time for them, but later, after she has reconciled her new existence with the threat she still feels lurking around each corner. One cannot spend months in a constant state of terror without becoming more than a bit paranoid.

She isn't surprised in the least when he carries her immediately to the attached bathroom and sets her down on the edge of tub. She is desperate to be clean for the first time in months, and she appreciates that he knows her well enough to bring her here first.

During her exile, she had never had enough water to spare to do anything even as simple as washing her face much less to bathe properly. When she first presses the damp cloth against her cheek, she can't help but release a little moan of pleasure. She vows never again to take even the most basic creature comforts for granted.

When it's clear that she is so covered in dirt and grime that they will need to spend the better part of twenty minutes merely rinsing out the washcloth if she ever hopes to see the true color of her skin again, she struggles back to her feet and wobbles over to the sink. He simply places his hands on her hips to steady her as she leans over to splash and rub the clean water pouring from the faucet on her face until it is finally clean. When she stands, she immediately recognizes that while the action has left her feeling slightly less like a walking dust bowl, it was ultimately in vain. Chalky grey rivulets of water streak down her face from her hairline, effectively negating her efforts.

"That was useless, wasn't it?" she asks quietly though without expecting an answer. He can see as well as she can.

"Mmmm," he hums in agreement before suggesting, "You might try your luck at the shower if you think you can manage it."

She considers her options for a moment. The bath will be easier on her tired limbs, but she can't even attempt to guess the number of times she will need to change the water before she knows she'll be clean. The shower will probably require her to use what little remains of her strength, but it's clearly the more expedient and sanitary option. The sooner she is clean the better.

With his hands still on her hips and his eyes meeting hers in the mirror, she is reluctant to ask him to remain in the room while she completes her ablutions, but she'll feel even more vulnerable and uneasy if he leaves.

"You'll stay?" she questions shyly, lowering her eyes from the intensity of his gaze.

"Of course," he answers with far more ease than he feels. He's secretly thankful that she asks him to remain with her, not because he wants to take advantage of the situation or of her, but rather because he isn't sure that he can be more than a few feet from her even now. The thought of being separated makes him panicky. "I'll just sit right there, yeah?" he motions to the corner of the room nearest the shower. He won't be in her way, but he will be close enough to help her if she needs it.

She leans back into him, grateful for his solid and warm presence and easy acceptance of her needs. Soon enough they break apart. As he settles on the floor, keeping his gaze firmly at her feet, she begins to strip off her ruined clothing. She should probably feel more self-conscious stripping bare in the same room as him, but she doesn't. Having firmly placed her heart in his hands, she knows that she can trust him with every aspect of her being, including this, especially as he keeps up a steady stream of meaningless chatter to help remind the both of them that they have beaten the odds and are finally back together.

His voice takes on a slightly nervous pitch once she disappears from view, so she makes sure to respond every so often to reassure him that she is still there. Now that he is no longer touching her and out of sight, the only thing keeping her calm is the continuous sound of his voice. She imagines he probably feels the same way.

Her joints ache terribly as she moves into the stall, but she lets out a sigh of relief as the jets of warm water come into contact with her body. At first, she simply watches as the slate-colored streams run down her legs and into the drain. Then, once the water has finally warmed her through, she begins the arduous task of cleaning every inch of herself, beginning with her wildly disheveled hair. She's nearly at the point of collapse when she finally finishes, and her efforts have exposed more wounds than she realized she had, including what looks to be a burn on her leg from her pursuer. Still, she feels almost like herself again, and that is no small feat.

He's ready with a large, fluffy towel when she opens the curtain, and she's a little amused at the hint of a blush staining his cheeks as he stares at the ceiling. Only once she is swathed in the soft cotton does he return his focus to her face. Her eyes are a bit sunken in the sockets and she's entirely too pale for his liking, but she finally looks like herself again. He leans forward to place a soft kiss against her forehead, but she pulls back and grimaces.

Immediately noticing the hurt her rejection has caused, she tries to explain: "You might want to jump in, too."

Glancing quickly back at the mirror, he notices that she's correct. He'd only had eyes for her before, but now that he is focused on himself he realizes that holding her close for so long has left him very much in need of a shower as well, and he understands her reluctance to be touched now that she is finally clean again. As he moves to remove his soiled garments, she settles just to the side of the spot he has recently vacated and begins to fill the silence with her chatter, though at a much slower pace. She's struggling to find words that would have once come so easily to her, but he seems to appreciate the effort all the same. He needs far less time to cleanse himself and wrap his body in the second towel he had the presence of mind to throw over the rod before entering the shower.

Again, he pulls her prone form from the floor and supports her weight until she is steady on her feet. They slowly reenter the main space, and Fitz is grateful when he notices that someone has brought them each clothes. He grabs both sets before carefully leading her behind the small partition designed to give the inhabitants of these rooms some sense of privacy while dressing.

She'll have to change into a standard medical gown when Bobbi comes to treat her wounds, but for now Jemma is happy to pull on a set of basic scrubs. The loose, clean material feels like heaven against her skin. Fitz, it seems, is relegated to the same sartorial options even though he isn't injured. They may look a bit comical in their matching borrowed clothing, but she doesn't have it in her to care at the moment. She is home, and clean, and with him. If she could just get a cup of tea, all would be right in her world in this moment.

As if reading her thoughts, he speaks, "I'll see if Daisy will bring us some tea after the room runs some initial tests on you. I could definitely use a cuppa, and I bet you could too."

Jemma is more than a little impressed by what they've managed to build in her absence, and she wonders why such advanced quarantine rooms are necessary, but she knows that explanation can wait. If this room is capable of conducting even some of the tests she knows she needs, she'll be thankful for the reprieve from having to interact with anyone else.

She only gets part of her wish once it becomes apparent that Bobbi still has to provide some direction from the lab. With the air of someone both supremely bored and barely able to restrain their irritation, Jemma moves her limbs as instructed for several scans and places her hand into various sections of the wall so automated systems can collect tissue and blood samples.

Throughout the entire process, however, she does not speak. She doesn't feel up to conversation with anyone but Fitz, and honestly what would she say? Though she knows her motives were pure, Bobbi had tried to separate her from Fitz just when they had found each other again. Her distrust and irritation might be mostly irrational, but Jemma doesn't feel like talking herself out of them at the moment. Considering where she has been for months and what she has been though, she feels justified in being a bit irrational, at least for today. Tomorrow, she'll do her best to remember that she is part of the team and act accordingly.

As they wait for the results of the first round of tests, they curl up together on one of the two beds in the room despite its narrowness. In this moment, they simply take comfort in each other's presence. Their bodies don't fit together they way they used to during movie nights at the Academy and Sci-Ops. They have both simultaneously filled out and become leaner, but somehow they fit together better now than they ever did then. When Fitz presses his lips to hers in a soft kiss, the jagged pieces of their souls that have threatened to tear them to shreds for more than a year finally align and fuse back together to form one unblemished whole even stronger than the one their experiences and misunderstandings had shattered.

Though they try to avoid sleep, each convinced that when they wake this will all have been a dream, their bodies quickly succumb to the exhaustion that has been their constant companion since her disappearance. Even as they finally get the first peaceful rest either of them has had in months and their limbs lose some of the still lingering tension, they do not break away from each other. If anything, the longer they sleep, the closer they gravitate, as if through enough effort and time they can merge both their hearts and bodies to reflect what their souls already feel.

The End.

A/N: This chapter totally got away from me. I honestly could have kept going and I probably should have left out some of the detail here, but I think the ending works for the reaction/continuation fic this was meant to be. I didn't want to keep speculating considering the next episode airs tomorrow, but I also didn't want it to end once she get out of the portal since that seemed a little too brief considering the development and cliffhangers present in the other chapters. I think they will both be reluctant to be separated once she returns, and think Jemma will be a bit shaky and unused to being around people for a while.

Anyway, I hope you've all enjoyed this idea of what I hope happens. I am sure whatever we see will be much more complicated and far-reaching in terms of its impact on the rest of the season, but wouldn't it be nice if we could just get these two together already without any more drama?

Thanks for taking the time to read, leave kudos, and comment. I really appreciate your support and encouragement.