AN: Hello! I'm really excited to start posting this story. It's been in the works for a little while now, and the storyline is heavily inspired by a book that I honestly can't remember the name or the author of. I'm terrible. If anybody recognises the general plot, let me know so I can give proper credits to the author!

Really though, this has been a bit of a secret project. I've umm-ed and ahh-ed about whether I should start posting it yet because I'm terrible with updates, but I'm going to do it. It'll motivate me to keep writing!

Please, if you like this story, consider leaving a review! It's not a lot, but it really makes my day. Oh, and don't get too confused - this is only the prologue.

Enjoy!

Also posted on Archive of Our Own.

She lies on her back in the grass. The warm, summer sun beats down on her, but she doesn't say a word. Doesn't even acknowledge the beauty of her surroundings.

It's because her limbs are twitching, her entire body spasming beyond her control. Jemma fights to stay awake, forcing her eyes open and trying desperately hard to prevent what is now starting to look unavoidable. She's dimly aware of a stinging pain in her upper arm, but it fades into the background along with the throng of students circling around her. A few of them gasp, standing there in shock with their faces pale and eyes wide.

Suddenly, someone - a teacher, she thinks - drops down to her knees beside her and starts speaking loudly into her phone with a hand on her shoulder.

"Her name? Oh, God, her name… Jemma… Jemma, uh…" She looks up, clearly panicking as she searches the sea of students for answers. "I don't know her last name!"

For a moment, neither does Jemma.

"Hawke!" another teacher calls out.

"Yes…" she thinks to herself. "That's it… Hawke."

The teacher at her side repeats the information to what Jemma imagines is a 911 dispatcher, her voice shaking. Her movements are slowly becoming weaker and less jerky, and as the ache in her muscles begins to dissipate she's almost glad that the end is apparently nigh. Almost.

"It looks like she's having an allergic reaction to something," she provides, helplessly looking at Jemma as her body slowly begins to stop spasming.

A bee sting, she wants to say, but she can't breathe. The words don't come, and she remain silent. Jemma can faintly hear a wheezing noise, and it takes her fuzzy mind a few seconds to realise that it's coming from her.

A sudden jerk startles the other students around her and they jump back in fear, a few of them making surprised noises. With as much strength as she can muster, Jemma desperately tries to force a breath into her lungs. All she gets is a slightly louder wheeze and a tiny intake of breath, which she knows will be one of her last.

They were only about ten minutes into P.E., and their teacher had told them to jog around the track to get warmed up for their lesson. At first, the fresh air and the beautiful summer's afternoon had been a godsend; Jemma had jogged alone, hanging towards the back of the group and enjoying the peace, when she felt the all too familiar pinch of a bee sting in her arm. Closely followed by several more. She'd managed to hit number one on speed dial just before her body gave up on her and she collapsed onto the grass.

She just hopes Coulson makes it in time.

As a wave of calm spreads over her body, Jemma knows she doesn't have long left now. Her body begins to relax, her movements slowing and weakening to barely anything at all. A small movement akin to a shiver occasionally runs through her, and her eyelids are growing heavier by the second. The crowd slowly closes in, and her eyes bounce off the faces above her. Most of them look absolutely terrified, and a few of the girls are crying. It's funny, really - it's her first day, and they're all still strangers to her. It almost doesn't make much sense that they care about her. The girl that showed her around earlier has a different schedule, so even she's not there.

Teachers try to get the crowd away but they stick to her like magnets, hopelessly captivated by the horror of the situation. Even the boys, who were running around and whooping as they showed off only minutes ago, are silent and clearly rattled by what they're seeing. Two of them are holding onto each other tightly - they seemed quieter, and she knew they were intelligent with an interest in science. Just like her.

"Move back!" someone yells. "Move back so the paramedics can get through!"

Nobody listens. Nobody moves, and without realising it they create a blockade between Jemma and the help she so sorely needs.

Eventually her eyes find a pale girl with a nose ring, whose locker is next to hers. She seemed nice. "Maybe we would have been friends," Jemma wonders. She's not crying, but she looks petrified.

They stare at each other until Jemma's eyes finally close. Everyone gasps.

"Oh God!"

"Someone do something!"

"Help her!"

Faintly, Jemma hears sirens approaching. Tennis shoe-clad feet thunder away from her to wave in the paramedics - whether it's Coulson, May, or the real ones she has no idea. Her body goes completely limp.

"Jemma, please, hold on!" a girl cries out. She thinks it might have been her almost-friend.

Her mind goes completely blank, and the sounds around her have a tinny quality and she can no longer hear or decipher them. The world slowly fades to nothing, and before she has the chance to have another thought...

She's dead.