Chapter Text
Fitz hated first days. First day of school, first day on holiday, first day at a new job. They all filled him with a kind of looming dread. There were too many variables and only so much data you could collect in advance, making it impossible to accurately predict how the day would go. He knew he didn’t make a great first impression. He was more of an acquired taste. Being socially awkward by nature, he valued structure and predictability to get by. But developing a routine and proving yourself took time.
On his first day at The Shield, though, Fitz got the feeling that even with all the time in the world, he’d still be out of his element. He’d applied for a job at the online news site as a network security specialist. It wasn’t exactly his dream job, but that wasn’t an option right now thanks to the accident that still sometimes caused his hands to shake and his words to fail him. He was making progress and getting better every day, but he still had a long way to go. Protecting a system from hackers, spammers, cyber criminals, and the like seemed like something he could manage for the time being.
But when Fitz arrived his new boss Mack immediately informed him that they already had a crack security team working on all of that. What they needed instead was someone to handle communication monitoring and fortification. Which was just a fancy way of saying his new position would mainly involve reading other people’s email. If he hadn’t needed the job so badly, if he wasn’t making his first tentative step back into the workplace following his injury, if Mack hadn’t been so nice to him after he was certain he’d buggered up the interview, he would have quit then and there.
He spent most of his first day in the building’s dark, dingy basement shadowing Mack, who introduced him to the rest of the IT team and got him situated at his new workstation. They never ventured to the well-lit upper floors where the rest of the site’s employees worked. Mack said it was probably better if he didn’t get to know them personally, and vice versa. Fitz didn’t have any issues with that in itself, he preferred to work on his own anyway, but it didn’t reassure him about the ethical quagmire he was potentially stepping into. He went home feeling anxious about the next day, when the real work would begin.
“I could just not go back tomorrow,” Fitz said to his roommate later that night over drinks. Hunter had insisted on taking him out to celebrate his first day, though Fitz was hardly in the mood. “Do you think they’d notice?”
“Sorry, but I think they would, mate,” Hunter said. He took a sip of from his bottle of beer, then pointed it toward Fitz. “May I remind you that you only got the interview because Bobbi vouched for you. You might be able to walk away and not look back, but she still has to work there.”
Fitz hadn’t considered that. Bobbi and Hunter had both been there for him throughout his recovery, no matter the state of their own relationship. When he’d mentioned to them one night after a few drinks that he might be ready to start thinking about going back to work, Bobbi made it her mission to find him something at the website where she worked as a copy editor. It was less than a week before she sent him a link to the posting for a network security specialist.
“I can get you through the door,” she’d written in her email. “The rest is up to you.”
Fitz picked at the label on his beer bottle with a shaky hand. “I’m grateful, don’t get me wrong. You’ve both been really patient and helpful through all this and I know I haven’t always shown my . . . appreciation. It’s just, when I said I was ready to go back to work, this isn’t what I thought I’d be doing. I’m an engineer. I should be designing and building things, not . . . not conducting electronic sur . . . sur . . . spying on a bunch of journalists.”
“First of all, it’s a website, so maybe ‘journalists’ is overstating it a bit. And secondly, do you really have an ethical objection here or is it just your ego talking?”
“Both, I guess.”
Hunter turned on his barstool so he could face Fitz directly. “Look, we both know I’m better at drinking away problems than solving them, but I’m going to give you some advice anyway. Maybe this job is a waste of your talents, but it could be exactly what you need right now. You’ll get your mojo back eventually. In the meantime, get off your moral high horse, collect your very generous salary, and work on your engineering projects in your own time.”
The next day, Fitz went back to work with renewed dedication. Hunter had a point. This didn’t have to be a permanent solution. He wasn’t quite ready to go back to engineering anyway. So he might as well stay at The Shield for as long as he could stand it and see what happened. Maybe it wouldn’t be so horrible. At least he didn’t have to talk to anyone. He’d be the best bloody email screener they’d ever seen, and perhaps eventually he could show them what he was really capable of.
Mack was already there when he got to the office. Fitz greeted him with a nod, dropped his backpack off in his assigned cubicle, and fixed himself a cup of tea in the break room before settling down at his desk to get started. The tracking program, enigmatically called Directr, had already been installed on his computer. He logged in and checked the folder filled with all the emails that had been captured overnight by the filter. All he had to do was scan the messages from the day before, determine which ones violated company policy, and send an anonymous warning to the offenders informing them as such.
He took a sip of his still-steaming tea, opened the folder, and began reading the first email in it.
From: Daisy Johnson
To: Jemma Simmons
Sent: Monday, 9/21/2015 10:24 AM
Subject: Where are you?
I’m bored and you’re not in yet and I have no one to talk to. What are you doing this morning that’s keeping you away? Did you oversleep? Were you out partying until all hours of the night? Oh, wait, I forgot who I was writing to. I bet you probably stayed up late watching a 5-hour documentary on Jane Goodall or something. Am I close? Write me back as soon as you get here.
<<Jemma to Daisy:>> Not even remotely close. I had an interview at the university this morning for a piece I’m writing about Jahn-Teller metals. A researcher there is studying this totally new state of matter in which localized electrons on the fullerene molecules demonstrate coexistence with metallicity. Isn’t that exciting? It could completely change the way we think about superconductivity. I can’t wait to get started. But for now you have my complete attention, so proceed.
<<Daisy to Jemma:>> I think we have very different definitions of “exciting.” I have no idea what any of that means, but if you’re excited, then I’m excited for you. Okay, here’s the deal: I have a crush!
<<Jemma to Daisy: >> Oh, dear. Who is the lucky individual this time?
<<Daisy to Jemma:>> Would it kill you to fake a little enthusiasm?
<<Jemma to Daisy:>> Oh my goodness! Wow! So amazing! (Was that enthusiastic enough for you?)
<<Daisy to Jemma: >> You can’t see it, but I’m rolling my eyes so hard at you right now. Anyway, you know that sexy guy in ad sales with the gorgeous smile? Trip?
<<Jemma to Daisy:>> I know of him, yes. We’ve never been properly introduced. What did he do that’s got you all twitterpated? Should I get to work planning your bridal shower? I am going to be your maid of honour, aren’t I?
<<Daisy to Jemma:>> Duh. Of course. And I’ll be yours. Wait, no, actually I’d rather be your flower girl. I think I’d be awesome at sprinkling the petals all artistically down the aisle.
<<Jemma to Daisy:>> Don’t get sidetracked. You were going to tell me your meet cute story. I wasn’t completely faking it before, I really do want to hear.
<<Daisy to Jemma:>> Okay. Well. I was passing him in the hallway on Friday at the end of the day and I was in a good mood because it was almost the weekend and I’d just turned in that story on interconnected cars and Coulson said he loved it. So I was kind of smiling to myself and then I looked up right as Trip was passing and I guess he thought I was smiling at him and he smiled back.
<<Jemma to Daisy:>> He smiled at you? That was it? I think we may want to hold off on the bridal shower plans for a bit.
<<Daisy to Jemma:>> Oh no, that wasn’t it. He also spoke. Do you want to know what he said?
<<Jemma to Daisy:>> I’m on the edge of my seat.
<<Daisy to Jemma:>> He said: “Hey, girl.”
<<Jemma to Daisy:>> I take it back. Let the bridal shower preparations begin!
<<Daisy to Jemma:>> I know you’re joking, but I’ve got a good feeling about this one. And don’t think I didn’t notice you changing the subject when I mentioned your potential future nuptials.
<<Jemma to Daisy:>> Yes, because I don’t want to talk about it. Milton’s never going to ask me to marry him. And the worst part is, I’m completely fine with that. I know I want to get married someday, but when I think about my wedding, I can’t picture him as the groom.
<<Daisy to Jemma:>> Sorry to be blunt (you already know how I feel about him, so I might as well) but why the fuck are you still with him then?
<<Jemma to Daisy:>> I don’t know. To be honest, I guess I’ve been hoping he’ll break up with me so I don’t have to do it. He must be as unhappy as I am, but he never shows it. He’s so bloody agreeable all the time. It’s weird. Like when I ask him what he wants to do for dinner he always says, “Whatever you want.” And then it’s on me to make the decision. What I wouldn’t give for him to say, just once, “You know what? I feel like seafood tonight.”
<<Daisy to Jemma:>> But you don’t like seafood.
<<Jemma to Daisy:>> Exactly! Then at least we could argue about it.
<<Daisy to Jemma:>> You’re saying you actually want to fight with your boyfriend? Shouldn’t that tell you something about the quality of your relationship?
<<Jemma to Daisy:>> I’m probably not explaining it very well. I’ve got to get back to work now. This interview isn’t going to transcribe itself.
<<Daisy to Jemma:>> Come on, I didn’t mean it like that. You know I’m only looking out for you, right?
<<Jemma to Daisy:>> I know. And I appreciate it. But I really do have to get some work done.
<<Daisy to Jemma:>> Okay, fine. But I’m going to expect some spectacular bridal shower theme ideas by lunchtime.