An Odd Family Tree
A series of snippets from the lives of the FitzSimmons family, set post 7x13. Also, the series of events that leads up to the birth of their grandson.
Available to read on AO3 and FF.net.
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Chapter 1: Owen
It’s Fitz that first bumps into Owen. Obviously he doesn’t recognise him, but he immediately stands out since there aren’t that many Americans in Inverness.
He’s arguing with the shop lady, of all things.
“Hey, that’s not fair!” The man exclaimed from his position in front of him in the queue. “If you put vegetables outside the store, then someone might get the wrong idea! That someone being me!”
There was something strangely familiar about his tone, but Fitz couldn’t quite place it.
“Look lad,” sighed the nice shop lady, “any other time I would give you the benefit of the doubt. But I’m having a bad day and I really don’t want to deal with bloody Americans right now.”
That’s when Fitz decided to step in, having some experience with bloody Americans. “Is there a problem, Rachel?”
He tried to look intimidating, but he knew he was getting older and that he’d let himself go quite a lot since Alya didn’t require him to constantly play with her. And that had been a good decade or so.
“Oh, Leopold.” Fitz winced at the name. “Would you mind? I’ve had a rough day.”
“Of course.” He answered, because you couldn’t say no to Rachel the shop lady. He glared at the young American and raised his finger like he used to do with Alya. “You come with me, outside, now.”
To his credit, the guy looked kind of sheepish as he followed him outside of the little shop.
“I’m sorry. I really didn’t know.” He paused. “Well maybe I had a feeling but I thought I might get away with it.”
Fitz sighed. “At least you’re honest, but trying to take advantage of nice Scottish shop ladies? Really, son?”
“Well I’m sorry Leopold. At least you can tell the guys at bingo that you tried to defend her.” The lad paused again. “I’m sorry that was rude.”
“That’s okay,” Fitz replied, grateful that there were at least some manners left in the world. He outstretched his hand. “Call me Fitz.”
The guy shook his hand with a surprisingly strong grip. “Owen. Owen Shaw.”
And that’s when it hit Fitz like a truck. A truck that, after hitting him, decided to come back and run over him a second time. And then the driver decided to hop out and jump on his mangled body just to make sure he felt something. And boy, did he feel it.
“Shaw?” He managed to whisper, his throat tight and his face as white as a sheet.
“Yeah.” The young man affirmed, and only then did Fitz bother to take a good look at him. He was relatively tall, slender, and had a mop of scruffy dirty-blond hair on his head that was mostly hidden by a cap. He had a sorry excuse for a beard that was really nothing more than long stubble. Honestly, now that he was looking and from what he could remember, he could see the resemblance.
And that's when Fitz went into panic mode, because the universe was miraculously being kind to him, and he didn't want to risk passing up this opportunity.
"Listen, are you here with anyone?" He asked suddenly.
"What, you mean like in Inverness?" Fitz nodded. "Oh uh… nah, my parents are across the pond. My dad's a Brit and told me to go explore good old In-ger-land. I felt like pissing him off so I came to find the Loch Ness Monster instead."
It was at that moment that Fitz realised that the universe had never actually been kind to him. He felt strangely comforted by that fact.
"Well if you're feeling lonely here, why don't you come and have dinner at my house?" He offered, immediately regretting his decision but knowing that Jemma would kill him if he didn't give him a chance. "It's just me, my wife, and my daughter and we'd love to have you. Keep you company and tell you the best tourist sites and stuff."
Owen looked skeptical. "Is being this forward a Scottish thing, or..?"
Fitz put on his sweetest smile. "Yes, absolutely." It was not a Scottish thing, but if it fooled this goon then it was worth the lie. He hoped it would be enough.
"Okay in that case, sure! I've got nothing better to do tonight."
Fitz felt his tense body relax. Was he really that worried about setting his daughter up with this dude?
"Cool." He said. "Come with me then."
As soon as he returned home he rushed into the kitchen to find Jemma peering out of the window at Owen, who was busy admiring the many flowers in their front garden.
“Who’s that?” She asked, nodding towards the man in the garden.
Fitz took in a deep, shaky breath. His eyes wide, he gently took the carrot and peeler from his skeptical wife’s beautiful hands and put them on the marble counter so that he could put his hands in hers.
“That’s Owen. I invited him round for dinner.”
Jemma let out a scoff of disbelief. “Since when are you being social? We don’t know him, and Alya’s never mentioned an Owen.” Her face then hardened and she pulled her hands back so she could place them on her hips. “Are you trying to set up our daughter with a stranger? Because Alya’s old enough to find someone herself, and we can’t look after her forever.”
Trying to calm his nerves, Fitz flapped his arms around as if they would convey what he was trying to say. Sadly, in this case, they didn’t and he would have to actually say what he was simultaneously excited for and dreading.
“No, Jemma, you don’t understand. Th-This is Owen Shaw.”
A beat. Then Jemma gasped.
“Shaw?” She whispered, her face paling. “As in… Shaw, Shaw?”
“Shaw, Shaw.”
And then his wife’s eyes steeled with a determination that he had grown so accustomed to, yet never failed to impress and scare him. She grabbed him by the arm and started to march towards the front door, yelling: “ALYA!”
She then leaned into a speechless Fitz’s ear and whispered “Come on, that man is marrying our daughter.”
“Uh, hi Mrs Fitz?” Owen asked as Jemma dragged him into the garden, smiling a smile that was equal parts friendly and threatening. “I’m Owen. Your husband invited me over, I hope that’s not a problem?”
“Not at all! And please, it’s Jemma.” She said. “The casserole might take another twenty minutes though, so why don’t you go and talk to my daughter? She’s about your age, and I think you two would get on rather well.”
Fitz cringed. His wife was very subtle.
As if on cue, Alya emerged from the front door. “You called, Mum?” Then, after catching sight of the stranger in their garden, “who’s this?”
He sighed. “This is-”
“I’m Owen.” Owen interrupted, leaping towards her. “I’m travelling the world and got called over by your Dad.”
Fitz turned to look at Jemma, mouth gaping open. Jemma whacked him on his arm.
“I’m Alya. I’m a marine biologist.”
Owen’s face lit up. “Oh, like a scientist? That’s so cool! Have you seen the Loch Ness Monster?”
Alya laughed nervously, as unsure as her parents at whether he was being serious or not.
“Alya, why don’t you take Owen inside?” Jemma asked, somehow managing to steer the conversation away from awkwardness. “Keep him company while your Dad and I make dinner.”
“You don’t need two people to make a casserole-” Fitz tried to mumble in protest, but he only received another playful whack on the arm for his troubles.
Their daughter skillfully managed to hide a sigh. “Sure, Mum. This way, Owen.”
Once the pair were out of sight, Jemma immediately turned to Fitz. “Where did you find him?!” She quietly exclaimed.
Fitz shrugged. “He was bothering Rachel the shop lady, and then he told me his name and I panicked and brought him home.” He paused as the adrenaline of first hearing the name wore off and doubt started to softly trickle into his brain. “Oh god, should I have left it alone? What if they were supposed to meet by themselves and I’ve screwed everything up? I-”
Jemma interrupted his rant with a gentle hug.
“Don’t worry,” she assured, softly squeezing his shoulders, “if I’m being honest I’d given up hope that we would ever meet him since the world isn’t ending.”
“Oh yeah, I’d forgotten about that.”
She kissed his cheek. “You might’ve just introduced Alya to her soulmate.”
Fitz snorted. “Are we sure that soulmates would be able to create Deke?”
All of a sudden, the couple froze. They hadn’t said that name aloud in years. It was like an unspoken agreement between them, that they would both lock that name and the memories associated with it in the deepest, darkest corner of their hearts. It stayed that way for just over twenty years. They had moved on and had tried to forget.
The worst part was that they had forgotten, and they knew that, from this moment on, they would never be able to forgive themselves.
Jemma sniffed, her eyes beginning to well up with tears, and Fitz pulled her close. They could worry about Owen and the casserole later. For now, they needed to mourn their grandson.
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