When at last Fitz is quiet, she starts, “I was monitoring you and her. I saw and heard everything.”
“Of course you did,” he whimpers, because of course someone was going to monitor them, and he realizes both that and that it would be her.
“I’d like to say for one thing that the way you behaved to her, up until she showed herself to be a threat to all of us, meeting her with the kind of compassion only one man in a thousand could’ve found in him, especially given the wrongs she’s done you, should tell you something about what sort of person you are right there.” His mournful noise there is not encouraging, but Jemma continues. “Also, you made one assumption about me that’s dead wrong.”
He makes a feeble attempt to slip free from her grasp, still not looking at her. “Don’t, Jemma,” he says. “I’ve got the look on your face when I was holding that gun to your head burned across my brain. You might be telling yourself you can forget all that, you can forget seeing me murder Agnes, you can forget…” He gets caught up in a sob too hard to continue.
For this to work, she can’t be anything less than honest. And the truth is, much as she hates his inability to look at her, right now there’s a small part of her that’s relieved at it. And she has to say, “No, Fitz. I’m not coming in here absolutely confident we can get past everything that’s happened. I don’t know if…” and now the sobs are threatening her too; it’s agony to have to acknowledge that harsh truth out loud.
But when Fitz tries to pull away again, she tightens her grip, and hisses in his ear, “But what the bloody hell made you think I wouldn’t try? That I’d just say, ‘that’s over, then’ and walk away from the man I love? There was exactly one moment where I thought I would have to, and that was when we both misunderstood your words and thought you were proclaiming your love for her instead of me. But now you’ve said the exact opposite, and I’ve heard it, and if there’s any possibility the two of us can survive this, I’m not giving up on you.”
“You’re not giving up on me right now…” His voice is still choked.
“And I won’t for the foreseeable future, either.” She can’t say never, unfortunately, but she can get close enough. “And don’t you go thinking I will. And don’t you *dare* give up on yourself.”
Fitz breaks down again, crying his heart out once again, loud, ugly sobs. But after a moment where it looks like he’s going to try to wrench himself away from her completely, he instead turns his head and leans in to bury his face in her neck, burrowing into his skin.