Chapter Text
Jemma huffed out a breath as she skimmed over the statistics generated in her last report. Something was off in the dataset, and she couldn’t figure out what it was. It was too late in the evening to start poring over the raw data, so she set it aside for the night, and eagerly logged into the SciOps forums, instead.
An anonymous message board and data repository, SHIELD scientists were encouraged to post theories, research projects, questions and roadblocks for review and comment by other scientists around the world. With identities and locations removed, and logs to prove who had generated an idea first, the online service had eliminated quite a few departmental and location based rivalries, encouraging cooperation and innovative, cross-disciplinary solutions to development issues.
Being located at the Treehouse, in a remote section of the South American rain forests, Jemma had limited resources at hand. After months of scoffing at the forum idea, she’d finally given in when one of her projects had nearly failed in a rather spectacular manner. Frustrated and terrified of losing so much time and effort, she’d recklessly uploaded the entire thing to the forums one night, desperately hoping someone had an idea of how to circumvent the instability of two of her chemical ingredients.
The next morning she’d been shocked to have a reply from someone suggesting she embed a canister of one chemical inside the container of the other, a funnel allowing a slow, gradual mixing of the two substances and thus controlling the inevitable reaction between the two. It had been such a simple, yet elegant solution, and she’d been entirely impressed. Her effusive thanks to her unknown advisor had led to an extensive private message thread, and while she still had no clue who he - she assumed it was a he, based on the brusque, straightforward and no nonsense replies she got from him - was, Jemma wished the forums weren’t so restrictive about anonymity.
Jemma was a brilliant biochemist, but she wasn’t the best with technology. It would be amazing to have someone more knowledgeable to weigh in on her projects without having to share everything through the forums. Circumventing that to collaborate with this anonymous engineer would make things so much easier, but the penalties for revealing identities on the forums were steep. It simply didn’t work without everyone’s cooperation and SHIELD was always watching. Even the ‘private’ messages were monitored, so she hadn’t even broached the idea with him.
She was due to present her project at a SciOps conference in a few days, and Jemma was hoping he might be there. Certainly he’d seen enough of her work to recognize it in the presentation, if he was there, and if he was interested in meeting her. Despite herself, Jemma felt a little thrill go through her. It was likely foolish to harbor a crush on someone she’d never even seen, but she’d always been attracted to intelligence, regardless of the form it came in, and he was a borderline genius. Just her luck, even if she did meet her anonymous friend, he’d be married and old enough to be her father.
Clicking through the forums, she was disappointed to see she didn’t have any new messages and none of the new projects posted interested her. She logged off again quickly, and headed to bed. Tomorrow she’d need to pack and get herself out to the airport for her flight to the States.
At that exact same moment, a few thousand kilometers away, Leopold Fitz was busying dividing his attention between two screens, alternating between skimming over the data sets for his upcoming presentation and looking over the SciOps forums. It had become something of a habit for him, in the year since the forum had gone live, to spend nearly all of his limited free time perusing the various pleas for advice.
It wasn’t that his work at The Ranch wasn’t satisfying, just that it was… well, mundane. He didn’t get to play with any of the 0-8-4 that were sent to The Sandbox, and he didn’t get the thrill of working on developing new technology to help field teams the way the R&D department at The Hub did, so he subverted his extra energy by trying to help his fellow scientists. It wasn’t as if maintaining SHIELD’s fleet of aircraft and automobiles needed his full attention anyway.
Triplett, or Trip, was the only specialist on base with any mechanical skill and the one person that seemed to be able to tolerate his brusque manner, often teased him that he was merely trying to satisfy his need to be the smartest man in the room, but that wasn’t it, not really. Yes, Fitz was proud of his intelligence, and saw no reason to hide it, but he really did just mean to be helpful, and his friend’s teasing hit on a sore spot for him. He had never had much luck when it came to collaboration, his socially awkward manner and inability to sugar-coat anything often earning him a cold shoulder from his peers.
He had hoped that once he arrived at the SciTech Academy that would no longer be the case, but much to his dismay, he’d found his fellow cadets to be just as cliquish as the classmates he’d left behind in Glasgow. Fitz winced as he recalled the only successful collaboration he’d had while at the Academy, a mechanical device that allowed for a controlled freezing reaction. The project had been with a cadet his age, and it still pained him to think about how badly he had bungled his attempt to even speak to her. She hadn’t been rude, but she’d made it clear she wanted no part of him, and Fitz decided then and there to keep to himself from then on. Naturally, they’d been assigned to the same Hub lab on graduation, but by then it had been too late. Fitz found it nearly impossible to even try communicating with her, and the experiment had been short lived, resulting in their lodging mutual requests for transfers.
But even he needed social interaction, despite what Trip might say, and Fitz had rather taken to the idea of the anonymous forums. The fact that he could review what he was saying before posting removed any anxiety he experienced in face to face social interactions, and for the first time, he found himself forming acquaintances far more easily than ever before.
Satisfied that his data was well-analyzed and ready for the upcoming conference, Fitz closed out of the program and devoted his full attention to the forums. He made a few comments here and there on projects that seemed to be struggling with the more technological components, but his eyes kept glancing up toward the message notifications, hoping to see the little envelope light up. The back and forth he’d had going with the anonymous biochemist was one of the few things he really looked forward to, enjoying her (he assumed it was a her, given the way she’d gone on and on thanking him) obvious wit and eagerness to explore. She felt like a kindred spirit, and Fitz was torn between being glad to have found her and troubled that he’d only been able to find that kind of connection once his identity had been removed from the equation.
More often as of late, he found his attention wandering to her outside of the forums, and mentioning things she’d said in his everyday conversations. For instance, he’d found himself wondering aloud one day what she would make of his idea for tracking drones, startling the hell out of the junior scientist who’d been working at the bench across from him, and Trip had elbowed him more than once during the lunch when he’d gone on at length about her opinion on the level of field training science operatives needed.
But it didn’t stop there. He also found himself wondering what, exactly, she looked like, not that physical appearance, or even age, was much of a barrier for him. In the past, the women he’d been attracted to had covered a wide range, what with his priority being whether he felt comfortable speaking to them and if they could carry on their fair share of the conversation. He figured that much was taken care of, given how quickly he and this woman exchanged messages and how often he found himself smiling at her responses, so he wondered about other, more trivial things. Like the way her mouth curved when she was pleased with something, and if he’d ever been lucky enough to put such an expression on her face.
Eventually, once it was well past one in the morning, Fitz gave up hope of hearing from her. He signed out and put his computer into sleep mode so he could slip into bed. He didn’t have time to be distracted, he told himself; he had his presentation to prepare. Being distracted by a nameless, faceless someone could only ruin his chances of making a name for himself and finally being transferred out of The Ranch, anyhow.
A few hours after Fitz went to bed, Jemma bounded out of her own and out to one of the many balconies that lined the Treehouse’s perch above the rainforest canopy. She still hadn’t discovered who was responsible for setting the living quarters up above the trees like this, but Jemma silently blessed them every day she got to watch the sun slowly light up the skies. As much as the rain forests fascinated her and provided endless opportunities for exploration and discovery, the thick tree cover, filtered light and still, humid air could be oppressive after a while.
Here above was an entirely different world.
It rained of course, heavily and often, and those were the days Jemma skipped her half hour on the balcony and took her coffee straight downstairs to her lab. Not that she could do that today. There was enough time to pack, and probably to look over her presentation materials once more, before catching her SHIELD transport out to Bogota and then onto a commercial flight north to Miami. Since Jemma was the only person from the Treehouse presenting this year, the supervisors hadn’t bothered with providing her private transportation all the way there and back.
Jemma didn’t particularly mind. The staff at the Treehouse was limited at best, so getting to mingle with strangers was a rare treat she intended to enjoy.
The hours ticked away, and Jemma was disappointed to find she still didn’t have any messages from her anonymous friend when she finally logged back into the forum. It had been almost two days, and nothing, but Jemma also hadn’t sent him anything. It was frustrating, being this blind. What if she was annoying him? Jemma sighed and scowled at the screen, catching her roommate’s attention.
Bobbi sat up and peered over the back of the couch in their shared suite, eyeing the biochemist. “Whatever it is, it can’t be that bad, Simmons,” she said immediately. As one of the few Specialists posted at the Treehouse and in charge of the mostly male security team, Bobbi’s common sense and practicality was a good balance for Jemma’s occasionally too analytical mindset. “Is it that engineer again? Just send him a message. You’re overthinking it.”
Eyeing her friend, the tall blonde climbed up from the couch and circled around to lean against the back of it. Jemma was friendly enough, but she didn’t form attachments easily - especially not to fuss over someone like she did with this anonymous guy. Every time Bobbi turned around, Jemma was on the forums, typing rapid-fire responses to his messages. And she mentioned him in conversation. A lot. Which was odd, given that Jemma didn’t even know his name.
Jemma knew Bobbi was likely right, and said as much. “It’s just… This forum is supposed to be completely anonymous. Do I mention the conference? What if he’s attending too? He’ll recognize my project and then know who I am and will SHIELD be upset about that? I can’t afford to lose this job and I don’t want to be reassigned,” Jemma babbled out.
“Simmons!” Bobbi cut her off. “Just send him a message. SHIELD can’t expect to put a forum like that online and not expect its best minds to never figure out who anyone is.”
That made a lot of sense, actually, and Jemma gave her roommate a tremulous smile as she clicked into a new message.
Hi! It’s been a busy few days. I’m heading to a conference for the next few days and will be mostly out of touch until I get back to base. Nervous about presenting, but excited too. Thanks again for all your help - the suggestion about the funnel is the only reason I made it this far! Hope you worked out the thing with the drones. I’m more than happy to take a look again if you think they’re still not collecting the right readings. Have a great week!
Jemma reread it twice, critical of any potential flags for SHIELD. Even though this was the largest gathering point for the SciOps group each year, there was no guarantee he was going. Just saying she was presenting didn’t give away any identifying information. Thinking she was likely safe, Jemma clicked send and glanced at the clock. Just another half hour and she’d be on her way. Setting the engineer aside, she double checked her room, making sure she had everything she needed, before heading upstairs to the landing pad.
Fitz had made a crucial mistake while packing his bag, one that he really should have known better than to commit: he opened his damn laptop and checked the forums. The grin that stretched his mouth when he saw the new message notification, and saw that it was from her, was wide and a bit goofy. The biochemist. Bringing his hand up rest across his mouth, he read and reread the message, trying to glean any information he could from it. He was so engrossed in going over her words that he didn’t sense the danger waiting for him.
Whack.
“Trip! Wha’ the hell was tha’?!”
Fitz whirled in his seat to face the taller man down, his irritation, both at being interrupted and his friend’s generally sunny disposition, plain for the world to see. The specialist just smiled behind his coffee mug, taking a long pull of the drink before he flopped down right next to the suitcase that had been left open on the bed.
“That was your gray cardigan,” Trip retorted, setting down his drink on the bedside table and rearming himself with a balled-up pair of socks, “but it’s about to be your socks, too, if you don’t get your ass in gear. Get going, man. We have to be out of here in an hour.”
Fitz scowled, and turned his attention back to the screen. Trip was right, naturally, but that didn’t mean he had to admit it. “I know, I’ll be on time. Dinnae have much left anyway.”
“Fitz… your bag is empty.” His protest going unnoticed, Trip wandered up behind the engineer to read over his shoulder. It took him all of ten seconds to realize what had the younger man’s attention, and he clapped him on the back in response. “It’s her again, huh?” He’d watched the Scot chase himself round in circles for the past few weeks, hanging on every word of an invisible someone. A part of Trip found it cute, that Fitz was so hung up on someone he’d never met, but another part of him was worried, too. There could be a lot read into online exchanges that was never meant to be there in the first place.
“Yeah, i’s her again,” Fitz replied, utterly distracted. “She says she’s presentin’ in the next few days- you think i’s the same conference?”
“I don’t know, man. Could be. But there are a lot of scientific conferences at any given time.” The hope in his tone was too much, and Trip found he couldn’t bear to bring him back down to earth with everyday concerns, like how she might not be as interested in Fitz as he was in her, or that she might not even be a woman, or that he was meant to be going to present his latest innovations in micro drone technology, not trying to hunt down a nameless, faceless SHIELD scientist. Trip turned to go, unable to watch his friend struggle with the decision, and tossed back over his shoulder, “Send her a message if you want, but hurry up. We’re wheels up in 54 minutes, and believe me, I have no problem hitting South Beach without you.”
That caught Fitz’ attention, and he tore his eyes from the screen just in time to watch Trip disappear around the doorframe. His eyes darted over to his still-open, mostly empty suitcase; he thought the specialist was joking about leaving without him, but he couldn’t be too sure. More than once in the months approaching this SciOps conference, Trip had expressed his anticipation of seeing palm trees in place of mountains. It hadn’t seemed like he was joking then. That decided him, and Fitz hurriedly typed back a message.
Hi yourself. No need to keep thanking me. I’m happy to help. I’ll be off for the next few days, too. I’ll be getting live feedback on the drones in the next few days, and once I’m back, I’d like to hear your take on the feedback I receive. Cheers!
He scanned the message, wondering if he was being too informal, but hurriedly clicked send and shut down. Fitz kept going back and forth with himself whether he was foolish to hope she’d be in Miami. He had no idea who he was speaking to, for all he knew whoever it was could be completely unhinged, but he couldn’t give up the chance to meet her in person, either. He’d find out soon enough, he supposed; Fitz had certainly seen enough of her work to know it on sight. One glance through the conference’s program once he arrived should tell him everything he needed to know.
Another glance at the clock sent Fitz flying away from his desk and over to his closet. He now had 40 minutes to pack, and he’d be damned if he missed his chance to meet his mystery woman because he hadn’t been on time to make the plane.
Jemma’s flights, into Bogota and then into Miami, were uneventful. She spent the time with her headphones on, classical piano concertos - she had an affection for Rachmaninoff, thanks to her parents - tinkling through the earbuds. The music helped her focus on her project notes, organizing the last several months of work into a coherent presentation. Given the setbacks and numerous recalculations, Jemma decided to lump them into one area of her explanation of the experimentation process without going into extensive detail. If anyone was curious, they’d ask.
She’d much rather focus on the successful route she’d found to her desired result, and centered the presentation on explaining the overarching project and demonstrating the chemical reaction via a computerized simulation. Given the eventual result was a gaseous neutralizing agent similar to surgical anesthetic, with paralytic properties, the last thing Jemma wanted was for a live demonstration to go awry.
Once she was satisfied with that, Jemma turned to the preliminary conference materials in her email. There was a framework for the schedule and a list of presentations, but the specifics of each, like the timeslot and presenters wasn’t included. She wasn’t entirely surprised - schedules often changed last minute with travel delays, project interference and so on. The last time she’d come to a conference, someone had put the entire schedule on an app, so changes were made and updated on the fly. Hopefully the same thing would be true here, if there were complications.
As long as her own presentation didn’t get moved around, at least. She was nervous enough as it was. Jemma’s presentations were never terrible, but given the reactions to her senior presentation with Leo Fitz back at the Academy… She always felt like she was never quite living up to expectation after that. This one was the first time she felt like she might have developed something of a similar caliber to that crystalline nucleation process. The irony of it being another project she’d collaborated on with an engineer…
Jemma grimaced, remembering that project with Fitz. She’d been so hopeful going in, given how much they had in common, and then how well their thought processes dovetailed. But the Scot had been unpredictably moody and changeable, and Jemma had left the lab most days confused and saddened by his behavior. By the time they’d been done, Jemma had long since reached complete frustration with Fitz’ attitude and been ready to wash her hands of him. The few times when he’d made shy overtures of friendship had been totally overtaken by the times when he’d been gruff and rude and uncommunicative.
The project had been such a success though, that SHIELD tried to make them permanent partners after graduation. Needless to say, neither of them had wanted any part of it. She’d been shipped off to the Treehouse shortly thereafter, to gleefully dig into the secrets of the Amazon rainforest. Fitz had gone somewhere called the Barn at first, and she’d tried to at least keep up with his work - that had been admittedly impressive all along - but lost track of him when he was transferred again later.
For all she knew, he’d left SHIELD entirely. Fitz might have been an utter arsehole to her, but he was a bloody genius. Too much of one for her to not have heard rumors of his work, years later.
Shrugging out of her thoughts, Jemma pulled a thick novel from her bag, intent on whiling away that last hour or so of her flight.
Upon arriving in Miami and collecting her luggage, she called Bobbi to let the overprotective Specialist know she’d made it stateside without issue and glanced around the busy terminal. SHIELD was supposed to have sent someone to pick her up - likely one of the Ops agents assigned to run security - but she didn’t see anyone. None of the suited chauffeurs had a placard with her name, and there was no one she’d obviously place as an agent around.
With a sigh, she stepped off to one side to dig into her email and see if she had any further details.
Fitz quickly found, after landing in Miami, that he had been hasty in turning down Trip’s help. Still, it wasn’t until he dropped the case carrying his prototypes (he really needed to come up with a name before he presented) for the third time that he called out to the specialist.
“Trip! Wait, will you? I-” Fitz looked up, meaning to fix his so-called friend with as withering a glare as he could manage, when he happened to look past him and blanched. All of his luggage, save the backpack he’d slung over his shoulders, hit the ground. There was no way in hell she was here. He paused for a moment, staring and trying to get his bearings, when he realized she could see him, too. And that his luggage had made an awfully loud crash.
Trip had drawn closer, his expression clearly amused by the Scot’s struggles, and Fitz quickly moved to try to block himself from her view. “Did she see me?!” he hissed, frantically trying to gather his scattered belongings without leaving the safety of Trip’s shadow.
“Did who see you?”
“Her!” He insisted, eyes flicking back to the pretty twentysomething standing to the side, scrolling through her phone. “Behind you at your 8, no, 11, fuck, behind you, to the side. On her phone, ponytail, pink top.” The words came out in a rush, and Fitz finally managed to gather his belongings and stand as Trip turned around to survey the indicated girl. Much to his dismay, the specialist let out a low, appreciative whistle.
“She’s cute, Fitz. You know her?”
“Yeah, I know her,” Fitz grumbled, peeking out from behind Trip’s broad shoulder. “We were paired together, when I was at the Academy. I’ was a nightmare, I cannae believe Jemma bloody Simmons is here- Trip? Trip! Oh, wha’ the hell…”
The engineer had just enough time to duck behind a pillar and he watched his now-former friend approach his old rival. Fitz meant to keep his eye on the situation, silently praying that Trip wouldn’t offer her a ride, but just as he entered her personal space, Simmons looked up. And looked dead at him. Fitz registered her eyes go a bit wide in shock and he turned away, back pressed against the pillar and heart pounding, as he began imagining all of the ways he could make Trip pay for this later.
It wasn’t possible. Or it shouldn’t have been. What were the odds that the young man Jemma had been thinking about on the plane would be here at the airport, likely on his way to the same conference? She’d recognize those bright blue eyes and shock of curly hair anywhere, even though Fitz was apparently keeping them shorter now than the messy mop he’d had at the Academy. He looked good, she reluctantly admitted.
Before she had a chance to think on it more, there was a tall, dark figure in front of her, wearing an utterly charming smile that had Jemma blinking in surprise - and a little wariness. “Um, hello.”
“You look a little lost,” Trip said easily, shrugging and shifting to one side so he wasn’t blocking Jemma’s view of the rest of the terminal - and so he could keep an eye on what was going on. “You’re here for the SciOps conference, right? My roommate recognized you. Do you need some help?” He went to motion toward Fitz, but the Scottish engineer had dropped out of sight. “Ah. Fitz. He’s around here somewhere.”
Jemma’s heart sank at the confirmation that Fitz was here. His roommate seemed… nice, though. “Oh. Well, yes. But I- well, I was told there’d be transportation arrangements made, but I didn’t get any additional details. How are we to get to the hotel, do you know?” She caught herself a moment later and made a face. “Where are my manners? My apologies - it’s been a long day. Jemma Simmons, biochemistry.” She reached her hand out, pleased when the man took it without question, shaking firmly without any nonsense of squeezing too tightly or limply, as though he might hurt her fragile female bones.
“Antoine Triplett, Operations. Call me Trip,” he grinned. Trip liked her. She was cute and that accent was kind of sexy. Fitz had said working with her was a nightmare, but he also knew his roommate. The boy was awkward as hell on a good day and absolutely terrible with women. If things had been a nightmare, Trip would put money on Fitz being the cause of it. Somehow he couldn’t imagine Jemma Simmons being difficult to work with.
“There’s a shuttle bus to get to the hotel. Picks up outside Terminal B. The email just came out this morning,” Trip explained easily. It was a natural segue to offer to help her. “If you wait a second, I’ll find Fitz and we can walk you outside?”
Jemma blushed at Trip’s tone and the way he grinned at her. She might be out of practice, but she knew when a man was flirting with her. And given he knew Fitz, Jemma could only imagine what he’d heard - so why was he being so nice? That made her more nervous than anything… And she definitely didn’t want to force herself into Fitz’ company. She never had figured out why he hated her, and if he still got reminded of their one project as often as she did, Jemma didn’t imagine Fitz’ opinion of her had improved much.
Shaking her head, Jemma eased away from the wall, glancing up at the overhead signs. “I, ahh, no, thank you. I mean, thank you for the information - I didn’t see that email. Surely I can find Terminal B without much trouble, and you still need to find Fitz,” she rambled out awkwardly. “Good to meet you, and thank you. Again. Trip. Perhaps I’ll see you at the conference.” Perhaps, but Jemma wasn’t going to count on it.
Trip stood back, letting Jemma move, his smile faltering. His instincts about people weren’t often wrong, but Jemma’s dismissal seemed somehow off. She was nervous, for sure, and it only made him want to dig in and see what was making her tick. Still, he wouldn’t force his attention or company on an unwilling lady. “As you wish,” he said, holding his hands up and taking a step back.
Relieved by his easy acceptance - and reluctantly intrigued by the unexpected Princess Bride reference - Jemma glanced around again and gathered her things to head for Terminal B.
Trip watched her go, unsurprised when Fitz appeared at his side with his own pile of belongings a moment later.
“Happy now, are you?” The disgust he felt was evident, practically dripping from each uttered syllable. It had been odd, to say the least, to see Simmons again. She had been the first person he could remember actively wanting to be friends with, but each of his overtures had failed spectacularly. He had thought he’d put it all behind him, but watching the easy way Trip made conversation with her had frustrated Fitz. It simply wasn’t fair that the specialist was able to speak to her as though it were nothing, when he had had to work so hard at it, despite all they’d had in common.
Trip raised an eyebrow at his friend and smirked, although not unkindly. “I am, actually. She seems nice. And you should have come over to say hello like a normal human being, instead of hiding behind inanimate objects. Reactions like that are the reason everyone in SHIELD thinks the Ranch is full of nutjobs.”
“No, bein’ surrounded by nothin’ but piles an’ piles of rock is why SHIELD thinks we’re full o’ nutters, no’ me.” Fitz adjusted his grip on his belongings, and satisfied he could manage, continued, “Did you really have t’ flirt with her? My nemesis?”
The side eye Trip gave his friend was a knee-jerk reaction, but to be fair, the younger man was being overdramatic. Which, given Fitz, wasn’t entirely surprising. Although, his response to the mild flirtation did pique his interest, and Trip suddenly began to think there’d been more to what had happened at the SciTech Academy than either of them would ever let on. He felt blessed; not even a full hour on the ground in Miami, and he already had something more interesting with which to entertain himself than simply watching video monitors for his security detail.
“Maybe I did,” he retorted, hitching his duffle higher on his shoulder and leading the way out toward Terminal B. “I mean, if you get to spend your free time chasing down your scientific soulmate, why should I be denied the same opportunity? Fair’s fair, Fitz.”
The engineer spluttered his disbelief, pausing as he processed Trip’s words. In truth, he had no intention of making a move on Jemma Simmons. The girl had seemed uncomfortable enough with the careful, rather innocent overture he’d just made; he certainly wouldn’t push it further than that. But, it was always fun to get Fitz riled, and he didn’t even bother to mask his grin when the engineer finally managed to catch up to him.