For tardisandjam over on Twitter.
- Illusinia
She isn't a doctor.
It's what Jemma wants to tell the SHIELD upper echelon (well, scream it really) as she picks up yet another medical record to peruse. It wasn't so much that she was asking to take on some basic medical needs for the team. Stitching minor lacerations and the like was easy enough. But to ask her to update the team's medical files? She wasn't a doctor! (Well, she had an MD along with her PhD's, but still!)
Tossing the file onto her desk, Jemma flipped open the front cover and scanned the name along the top. 'Ward, Grant' was printed in bold letters along the top line, posted beside a photo of the agent. When HQ had transferred her the medical file copies, they'd transferred everything in paper format. And she meant everything. X-ray copies, prior medical visits and stints, the works. Of course, she and Fitz had remarkably small files, but Grant, Coulson, and May had files nearly quadruple the size of theirs.
And between the three specialists, Grant's file was the worst. Even May's folder was smaller than his. It was really a little ridiculous.
Undoing the bindings, Jemma began pulling out pages of the medical report to scan into the lab's computer system. Why HQ couldn't just send the digital copies to begin with, she had no clue, but it meant she now needed to digitize the files to update them for rapid access and that she'd need to print the digital records and add them to the file. To say it was annoying was to say Fitz somewhat liked monkeys.
Carefully, she lay five of the pages on the scanner, noting it was the previous check-up files from their yearly physicals. It was basic information only: height, weight, vaccinations, etc. Nothing particularly interesting. Given how long Grant had been with SHIELD, there were bound to be a lot of those pages. Sure enough, just flipping though the file, she noted at least five more 'yearly physical' entries. Those were barely the tip of the ice burg when it came to his file though. The rest looked to be injury reports from field and ground missions.
For a moment, Jemma paused and simply stared at the file.
It had started nearly three months ago after he jumped from the Bus to save her- this strange connection that seemed to form from that heart stopping, terrifying mid-air moment. They'd begun dating a week following that and had steadily gotten closer. Still, there were some things she still didn't know. Things such as where his many scars came from (and there were many) or what sent him bolting up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat. She had ideas of course, but she didn't know for sure. This could be her chance to find out.
Still, looking through that file with the intention of learning more about Grant's past would be a violation of his privacy. On a social level, she knew that. But his history was one thing she'd never managed to get out of him, either. And everything she'd seen just made her more and more curious. He didn't want to discuss it, she could understand that. But maybe this would be a way to sate her curiosity without having to ask him to explain.
Glancing around the lab to ensure she was truly alone, Jemma flipped past the first stack of pages (all yearly physical exams) until she began to reach the mission injury reports. Those were more horrifying than she'd been expecting. Shootings, broken bones, and a slew of other physical injuries were documented in black and white in front of her, more than she could imagine. Those didn't surprise her though; many of the scars were ones she saw all too often in medical reports for SHIELD agents. Even Agent Coulson's own medical file had a slew of medical reports that told similar stories. No, what disturbed her about Grant's file was the notable trend in his actions. Namely, he showed signs of taking unnecessary risks.
He's a hero. That was just the type of person Grant is. He would give up his life for others, as he proved when he dove out of a plane after she jumped. As he has every time he's put himself in danger to save the team. The clear marked lack of consideration for his own life was what upset her.
It had been bothering her since their relationship began that he didn't seem to care much for his own life. It was also something she couldn't understand. He was such a kind, caring person even if he didn't show it. Yes, there was a darkness that haunted his eyes at times that made her shiver, but she never felt unsafe around him. No part of her ever felt at risk. He would never hurt her and she knew it.
Continuing to flip through the file, Jemma paused as a page near the end caught her eye. It was the entrance exam physical, which was a far more extensive physical than the yearly one. It made note of all injuries and diseases the individual was showing upon entrance as well as condensed their medical history into one, concise entry. It also involved a lot more invasive tests such as x-rays among other medical checks to ensure all field agents were in complete health.
Flipping to the next page confirmed Grant's entry tests were also included. And what she saw was disturbing.
There was nothing inherently wrong with him of course, otherwise he couldn't have obtained a position of any kind. But the evidence that his past hadn't been kind to him was blatantly written across the report's pages. It was very clear that his life before SHIELD hadn't been polite.
Worse, she recognized many of these injuries. They were the same injuries she knew were in Fitz's own medical history. Marks and injuries that clearly spelled out a young life at the hand of one or more violent individuals and an introduction to that violence at too young an age. It made her feel sick and she had to quickly close the file to avoid worsening the churning in her stomach. She'd suspected he was abused at a young age of course; his behavior alone suggested it. But to see it spelled out so clearly in x-rays and medical files was disturbing in a way she hadn't been expecting.
The computer beeped angrily at her, reminding her that, yes, she had been doing something. Something important that she needed to finish. This report needed scanning and updating and she needed time to process what she'd seen.
But more than anything, once her work was done, she needed to speak with Grant. At minimum, he needed to know that she now knew. More importantly, more so than anything, he needed to know she was there for him. He needed to know that he wasn't alone.
"Hello Grant," greeted Jemma as cheerfully as she could as she entered Grant's bunk, offering him a bowl of berries. She'd learned early on that his preference for healthy food wasn't chosen so much as necessary. Junk food seemed to make him physically ill, as she'd discovered after convincing him to watch a movie with her. She'd gotten a bag of crisps and convinced him to eat some. Later that evening, he'd wound up on his back in clear discomfort. After that, she never pushed junk food of any sort on him.
Glancing up from his book, the specialist nodded at her though his look quickly shifted from welcoming to worried. Silently, he set his book aside and leaned forward, reaching for Jemma and gently pulling her to sit on his bed beside him. He didn't speak until she was settled. "What's wrong."
"Wrong?" asked Jemma with as steady a voice as she could. Her hands idly played with the bowl of fruit, tapping at the ceramic. "Why would anything be wrong?"
Grant shot her a look as he gently removed the bowl from her hands and set the berries aside, though he did pop one in his mouth. "You brought me food and are pretending to be cheerful. What's wrong."
"There's nothing-" started Jemma, though a look from Grant cut her off. She couldn't help the sigh that fell from her lips. He was far too good at reading her. "Alright, but please, don't be mad."
"Did you spike my food with unknown chemicals or dump our weapons out of the plane trying to skydive without a parachute?" asked Grant, raising an eyebrow curiously. A teasing smile tugged at his lips though, a touch of amusement dancing in his eyes. "Have you been using me as a human guinea pig of any kind?"
"Hardly," dismissed Jemma with a faint smile, unable to fight the upward twitch of her lips. Despite his jokes though, she still suspected he might be angry. Sighing, she shifted a bit to fully face him, eyes focusing downward on their hands. "I was updating the team's medical files today, which required me to upload the old paper copies to our system for quick access."
"Sounds boring," remarked Grant, though she could hear the hum of tension in his voice. He knew what she'd seen and it only furthered the uncomfortable twisting in her stomach.
"It was," confirmed Jemma softly, taking his hand as she met his eyes. "Do you- what- I mean, who-"
Grant's lips on hers halted her stuttering, though she suspected that was in part to delay answering the question he had to know she was trying to ask. The way his hand tightened over hers confirmed her suspicions. They stayed that way for a long moment before he leaned back again and cleared his throat uncomfortably. His hand fell over hers, fingers curling around her significantly smaller hand.
Taking a deep breath, his eyes fell to the side as he slowly began to speak. "My brother."
It was the only piece of information he offered up and the look on his face said he didn't want to talk about it further. Internally, Jemma winced; she recalled when she got Fitz to finally talk about his own family history and ultimately , she knew it helped. But she also knew that it had to be the other person's choice to speak. That didn't mean she couldn't make it clear she was there for him though.
One of her hands tucked under his chin, tilting his face towards her gently. She was careful to meet his eyes as she spoke, reinforcing her words with her eyes. "Whatever happened Grant, I love you."
It was the first time either of them had used the big 'L' word, but Jemma knew, at least on her end, that it was true. It scared her because, besides Fitz, she'd never really loved a man (and Fitz didn't really count- he was like a brother to her). Still, she knew she loved Grant. He was her knight in dented, robotic armor (Skye's words). And even if he couldn't say the words, well, at least she could. He needed to know someone loved him regardless of his past.
"Jemma," murmured Grant, pulling her close and wrapping his arms around her. "Thank you."
"It's the truth Grant," murmured Jemma softly. "I'm here if you need to talk or when you're ready to."
Leaning his forehead against hers, he took a deep breath and then did the last thing Jemma expected: he began to talk. Words, more than she'd ever heard him say, tumbled from his lips as he began recounting his history. It wasn't everything- she could just tell. The abuse and pain she'd seen written on his body, both in the x-rays and his scars, hadn't ended when he was a child.
Still, she listened to his words, her stomach churning with every story he repeated. Listened as he talked himself horse and stumbled through the events that still haunted his nightmares. It broke her heart and made her want to hug him closer.
When he fell silent a while later, Jemma let the silence engulf them like a blanket. Without words, she shifted their positions and tucked his head beneath her chin.
His head settled against her shoulder, even though his tall stature forced him to bend over to do so, his face pressing against her neck. There was a wetness to his cheeks that made her hug him a little tighter and a sense of almost frailty that was almost scary from the agent. Still, it only made Jemma want to hold him for as long as he'd let her.
The moment didn't last long- he pulled back relatively soon after that. His cheeks looked dry as did his eyes, but she could see the tell-tale redness that said otherwise. He couldn't meet her eyes either, just as he wouldn't when he woke up in tears. "I need to change. Skye's got a second training session soon."
Jemma nodded, leaning over to kiss his cheek softly. She wouldn't object or suggest he cancel simply because she knew the physical exertion would help quiet his demons. "I have a few experiments to check on. Until tonight?"
Grant nodded but didn't verbally respond. She could see he was barely holding it together and didn't expect anything more. Later, after the rest had gone to bed. He would come crawl into her bed and let her chase his nightmares away.
Standing, she squeezed his hand once more before stepping away to the door. Her hand felt cold where Grant's hand no longer was, but she knew she'd see him that night. He'd once said her arms were like a shelter against a storm. She had no doubt he'd find his way into her arms that night. But until then, she had science that needed to be done.
