"Boo!"

Fitz paused mid-step in the empty hallway, frowning at the unexpected sound. It was getting late, most of the base had tucked in for the night and, adding to his confusion this voice didn't sound human.

"Get off the stage!"

'What the hell is that?' he thought. 'Is this some sort of prank? If it is, it's not very funny.'

Following his ears, and hoping he wasn't about to become the punchline, he peeked in through the door of the lab, surprise to spot Jemma, standing on an upturned crate with an upside down test tube in her hand. Her lips were pressed together in a tight line, jaw clenched in frustration, however her eyes shone determinedly as she took a breath and tried again.

"Did you know that Hydra scientists wear black lab coats?" she asked the empty room, speaking into the test tube as if it were a microphone. "When I first began working undercover I assumed the dark colour, obscuring our ability to see potentially dangerous contaminants staining it, was a message that we were all expendable." She bit her lip, holding in a laugh at whatever she was about to say. "I think the clearer signal that we are though, is that their first aid kit is a drawer with a gun in it."

Fitz wasn't entirely sure where that joke had been going, and rather than drag up a chuckle the thought of how much truth was probably behind it made his stomach churn. He wasn't sure if it were better that he hadn't know at the time what she was doing, or if it would have made it easier to bear now if he'd been allowed that information as it was happening.

"You suck!" The non-human voice deadpanned another insult. Though the words were cutting, they were void of any actual emotion and seemed disembodied until he caught sight of the glow from one of the computers and realized it must be some sort of program.

What was she doing? Why had she set up a computer to… to what? To make fun of her as she told it jokes? What was she hoping to gain from this?

As he watched, still unnoticed in the doorway, Jemma pressed her palm to her temple, a hiss of frustration blowing out through her teeth. Then she shook her head, pasting a neutral expression onto her face, fists clenched at her sides telling him that her agitation had not been completely shed.

"I went skydiving once," she tried and through years of friendship and experience he caught the subtle tightness in her words as she spoke. "I think it would have been a lot more fun if I'd been wearing a parachute."

"Go back to England!" the speakers jeered and when that made her shoulders droop, face falling in disappointment, at last Fitz decided he'd had enough.

"Why don't you go back to the scrap heap!" he shot back, striding across the lab to position himself between Jemma and the disagreeable machine.

He wasn't sure what he'd expected, but even though the simple green line across the black screen seemed like the obvious thing for him to have found, the absence of a mocking, troll-like face still threw him off.

"That might have been funny if I were inebriated," it offered and the line scrambled into sharp points and dips, shifting with each word. "Since I am a computer however, it was rubbish."

"F-Fitz…" Jemma's voice was high with alarm and he spun around when her feet tap danced against the lab floor to see her stumbling off of the crate, hastily placing the test tube onto a desk only to have it begin rolling towards the edge. She scrambled to catch it, shoving it into her pocket instead and ducking her head. She tucked a loose strand of hair back into place behind her ear, fidgeting nervously. "What are you doing in here?"

'I heard this thing insulting you and I came in to stop it.' That was the truth but he wasn't sure how she'd feel about it and she seemed self conscious enough as it was. She didn't need to be thinking that he thought she needed anyone else fighting her battles for her. Or for her to think he thought she couldn't win an argument with a computer.

"I was on my way to brush my teeth," he said instead. Not a lie, but probably not the answer she'd wanted either.

She nodded absently, eyes glued to the floor. "Oh."

For a moment they stood in silence.

"So what were you-" he began.

"I'd rather not…" she interrupted, although when his mouth closed so he could listen she faltered. Swallowing anxiously, she glanced towards the row of chemicals, neatly organized on the shelf above one of the workspaces, her eyes running over them as if she were taking inventory. "Please don't tell anyone," she mumbled at last.

Fitz smiled, trying and failing to catch her wandering gaze. "Who would believe me?" he kidded.

"Hah." The computer barked. One syllable, sounding more like a conditioned response than a laugh but making Jemma's teeth clench, annoyance flashing across her face.

"You're joking?" she huffed at it. "I've been trying all evening and you think that's funny."

"I don't joke," it told her flatly. "And neither do you."

"Ugh!" she seethed. "I can too tell a joke!" she shot back. "Anyone can tell a joke! It's just a matter of following the correct formula."

"It's just a matter of actually being funny," it droned back.

Hearing anyone talk to Jemma that way, even a computer, stirred something nasty in the pit of Fitz's stomach and against his better judgement, he rounded on it. "Listen you," he spat. "You wouldn't know a joke if it farted on your face." 'Smooth Fitz,' he groaned inwardly. 'You sure told it with your flatulence inspired insult.'

"Hah… hah. How old are you? Nine?" it taunted.

"Jemma what is this thing?" he asked, gesturing aggregately with both hands. "Did you really create a computer program to… to insult you?" It didn't make any sense.

"It's not meant to insult me," she objected. "It's-"

"I am a HeckleBot," it explained, leaving Fitz wondering what had triggered its automatic introduction. "My creator, Jemma Simmons, made me to improve on her stand up comedy. I judge her jokes using a set of preprogramed algorithms. If they are not funny, I initiate the appropriate heckling response."

Jemma looked as if she'd very much like to evaporate. Her chin tucked against her chest, shoulders hunched as she wrung her hands, Fitz was certain that she hadn't wanted anyone to find her here.

"I thought it would help me improve my jokes," she mumbled. "It- it's harder than it looks to-"

"I know," he assured her, once again failing to make eye contact.

She bit her lip, nodding in acknowledgment of his response. "How much did you hear?" she fretted.

"Not that much," he told her. "Just the last few."

With a groan, she hid her face in her hands. "I'm not funny," she lamented. "You can say it Fitz, I know it's true."

"I haven't really heard that many of your jokes," he objected. "I don't think I've gathered enough information to make an accurate assessment," he added, appealing to the scientist in her in an attempt to cheer her up and managing to get her to peek up at him from between her fingers. "Besides you always told the best stories back at Sci-Ops." When that brought out the bud of a smile he was emboldened to take as step forward. "That's all stand up comedy is, it's telling stories that make people laugh. And I know you're good at that."

"I do have one story-type joke I've been toying with," she admitted. "It's…" her mouth twitched. "I'm not entirely sure it's ready yet."

Fitz pulled up a chair by the computer desk and plopped down into it, motioning towards her makeshift stage. "Try me."

Her fingers fell to the test tube in her pocket, twisting it between the layers of fabric as her cheeks filled with rose dust. Not for the first time, he marveled how such a little detail about her could entrance him the way it did.

"You promise you won't laugh?" she demanded.

He rose his eyebrows.

"You know what I mean," she pressed.

"I swear I won't make fun of you Jemma," he promised. He twisted around, shutting off the HeckleBot. "No one's going to make fun of you for being brave enough to try something new." Not on my watch.

A real smile rose on her lips, like the sun spilling over the horizon and, shedding most of her embarrassment, she took out the test tube and climbed back onto her crate.

"Beakers and centrifuges, let me introduce you to your next comedian," Fitz announced, grinning when that made Jemma chuckle. "All the way from Ashburton, it's Jemma Simmons."

"Hello… um… everyone," she greeted, glancing around at the lab equipment as if it were an audience. "I hope you're having a lovely evening." She took a breath, shifting the test tube to her other hand. "You'd think a journey to another planet would be wonderful right? That'd it'd be an adventure. It was not." She scrunched her nose, shoulders rising in a shrug as she shook her head. "It was just dark. The sun didn't come up for six months, do you have any idea what that's like? It's like working in a lab at Sci-Ops. Except instead of deadlines following me around I had a death monster."

Fitz snorted, remembering the dreary labs they'd worked in for all those years, deep underground to safeguard the sensitive information they collected. He hadn't expected her to talk about her time on Maveth and, even though it still unnerved him to think about how terrible it must have been for her, this was her show and he was going to roll with it.

Encouraged, she continued. "And the sand. I spent six months in a desert with no toilet paper. I didn't need to collect samples I took half the planet home with me." She gestured down towards her, now clean, body and Fitz chuckled, earning himself another smile as the tension left her shoulders.

Calmer now, she took a gliding step across the crate, pausing briefly to collect her next joke. "I was a vegetarian once. I had a strict diet of roots and berries the entire time I was on that planet and let me tell you, I'd have killed for a steak. So would the vegetables, the one living in my pond tried to have me for dinner. Unfortunately, I was bit too tough for him, he preferred medium rare. So instead I ended up eating him."

Fitz laughed. "Go Jemma," he cheered.

Her eyes sparkled. "When I returned home, my friend had changed her name. That wasn't the strangest part of course." Truly immersed in her act now, she leaned to one side, shaking her head in mock annoyance. "The strangest part was when she brought me flowers thinking I'd need a visual aid to remember her name was Daisy." Her free hand flew up, in exaggerated exasperation. "I have 2 PHDs and I'm still the youngest graduate of the Academy to date, I'm not sure why she thinks I can't remember her name. I've memorized the entire periodic table including the chemical and physical properties of each element, but remembering that her name is Daisy is apparently something I need assistance with now. I'm afraid to ask what they think happened on that planet."

Breaking out of it for a moment, she placed a hand over the top of the tube, as if to muffle a microphone, and leaned towards Fitz. "That doesn't sound mean does it?" she checked uncertainly. "I really did love the flowers-"

"Daisy knows you loved the flowers," Fitz told her, still giggling at what she'd said. "And Jemma, that's not really a microphone."

"I'm visualizing the prop Fitz!" she defended. "Sometimes preparation involves a bit of imagination."

He wondered what exactly it was she was preparing for, but he thought it'd be better to let her continue while her confidence was up rather than interrupt to ask.

"My boyfriend thinks we're cursed. I don't know what he's thinking. Although it might have something to do with the fact that when he finally asked me out on a date I was taken to another planet by a thousand-year-old rock." She shrugged. "Except I try to be optimistic. I'm sure it was only trying to tell us not to take anything for granite."

It didn't feel like it was appropriate to laugh at that one, but he couldn't help himself, shoulders shaking as he did and Jemma beamed at him, clearly enjoying this.

"But either way," she went on, her eyes narrowing in soft affection when they fell on him. "You know you've found your soulmate when you find a man ready to jump through a hole in the universe for you. However, I would have been fine figuring that out over a game of Scrabble or a glass of wine."

He laughed at that one too, even though it hurt a little, strangely juxtaposed to the way his heart leapt when she called him her soulmate. He found his ears burning as it played over and over in his head and he stared down at his hands, hoping she wouldn't see on his face all the things those few sentences had made him feel.

Her feet clapped on the hard floor, her warm hands weaving into his when she stopped to stand over him.

"I thought I asked you not to laugh," she teased lightly.

Fitz smirked. "I'm sorry, it's just that my soulmate's really funny." He shrugged helplessly. "What else was I going to do?"

Jemma smiled at him, hopeful. "Do you mean that?" she whispered.

He wasn't sure if she was asking if he meant she were funny or if he meant she was his soulmate, but the answer to both was the same so he nodded, their shining eyes exchanging moonbeams. "Yes."

/-/-/

A few weeks later, Jemma stood in front of a small assembly of agents, a real microphone in her hand and a sturdy stage beneath her feet which Fitz had hammered together just for the occasion. She still wasn't ready to do this in front of a real audience, not strangers, and anyway the things she was about to say would only really make sense to the people currently waiting for her to begin.

However, the evening still felt special and she had taken the time to do her hair, to put on a nice blouse and even some makeup. Daisy had insisted on calling it her debut, printing posters advertising the evening which she and Fitz stuck up all over the base. Coulson had made everyone dinner and May, Bobbi and Hunter had set up the sitting room for the show. She was fortunate, Jemma thought, to have all of them.

It was good, to be able to make her friends laugh, to hear it fill up the room, a rare moment of joy when she could forget about how much she still hurt, how much pain was still buried inside of her.

And when she felt her nerves twinge, a spark of doubt in her chest, she looked to Fitz, saw the way his shoulders shook and his eyes danced with his laughter, and thought that right then, right there, life was good.

/-/-/

According to the Marvel Cinematic Universe Wiki, Jemma was born in Ashburton, Devon, England. Sorry if this wrong.

Thanks agI03 for letting me bounce some jokes off you. I have never done stand up comedy but I've seen a few shows and it' looks like fun :D

Jemma named the HeckleBot Hector.