One shot,
Two shot,
Red shot -
Blood.
And then it was dark.
Coulson's screams for Jemma echoed around her brain. Jemma was terrified, of course, but she expected to find someone injured and in need of her help.
Someone, not Skye.
Injured, not -
No, the wound was too fresh, the word too sharp. She refused to say it, to even think it. Words only have the power we give them, she recalled. If she said it, it would be true.
There were no words.
Jemma screamed instead.
She didn't hear the frantic footsteps running to her pod. She didn't feel the shock of someone kicking in her locked door. She barely registered the strong hands grabbing her and pulling her away.
When her lungs were empty of breath and her throat empty of sound, she found herself in the padded interrogation room. There were voices outside the door - May and Fitz.
"She said she wanted to be alone, so I just decided to let her…" Fitz's trembling voice trailed off.
"You - you idiot!" May shouted. "Being alone is the last thing she needs! She could have -" May stopped suddenly, taking a deep breath. "I'm sorry, Fitz. You've never been here, but I have. We're all mourning. But Skye and Simmons - well, you know. But we can't let Simmons be alone. Not yet."
"Alright," Fitz agreed. "You're right. I was being stupid. I just saw the pain in her face, and Skye's body, and I just couldn't think anymore." His voice cracked, and Jemma knew he was on the verge of tears.
"We'll take turns sitting with her," May replied gently. "Do you want to go first?"
Apparently, Fitz had said yes, because moments later he enveloped Jemma in his arms. She tried to cry, but the sobs stuck in her throat. Instead, she clung to Fitz, digging her nails into his back. He was the only thing grounding her thousands of feet in the air.
Neither of them said a word for what felt an eternity. Finally, Jemma broke the embrace.
"Jemma?"
She shook her head. There were no words.
"I understand, Jem. Take as long as you need, okay? I'll be here." Fitz's concerned expression brought tears to Jemma's eyes.
"Why can I cry for Fitz when I can't cry for Skye?" she thought.
She buried her face in her arms, curling up as small as she could against the padded wall.
"I'm going to get something for us to eat, Jem. Tea? Would tea be good? Nod if it's alright."
Jemma paused before nodding. She could barely even conjure the taste of tea into her empty mind, but she knew that Fitz desperately wanted something to do.
As Fitz slipped out the padded door, Jemma caught a glimpse of Coulson standing outside. They had a brief but hushed conversation before the door opened again and Coulson entered. He had a book in one hand and a pillow in the other. Tossing the pillow to Jemma, Coulson sat down against the opposite wall.
"It's not very comfortable in here, so I thought that might help," he said, nodding toward the pillow. "And the book - well, it helped me. When I was here."
Jemma just stared at him.
"Fitz told me you don't feel up to talking, which is fine. I thought - if it's alright - that I'd read to you?"
Jemma nodded, since it seemed like the only possible answer. Coulson picked up the book and began speaking.
"It's called The Things They Carried - by a guy named Tim O'Brien. Short stories about the Vietnam war. I know it's not cheerful," he said with a slight smile, "but there's this one part that always helped me."
He flipped the grey book open to the already bookmarked page near the end and began to read. Jemma barely listened, but she figured out that the story was about a girl that the narrator loved when they were little. When Coulson read out that the girl died of a brain tumor, Jemma's breath caught in her throat. In what universe was this helpful?
Jemma wanted to say so, but stopped herself. How could she explain the way she felt? There were no words.
"I loved her and then she died," Coulson read, and Jemma froze. The words stuck to her brain.
Could it be that simple?
Coulson finished reading, but Jemma didn't hear him. Her eyes were fixed directly in front of her. She turned the phrase over and over in her brain like a rubix cube.
"I loved her and then she died."
I loved her.
She died.
Coulson had left and Jemma was alone in the room. Her eyes slid closed, but instead of seeing Skye as Jemma had last seen her, she saw Skye as she had once been.
Vibrant. Beautiful.
Loved.
"I loved her and then she died."
Jemma's eyes opened, but she still saw Skye, sitting in the corner of the room. Skye's eyes were bright, and the corners of her mouth were upturned into a faint smile.
"Skye," Jemma croaked. "Skye." Jemma reached out a tentative hand before letting it fall.
It was then that the tears finally came. Jemma's entire body trembled with every sob, but her eyes remained fixed on the vision of Skye in the corner.
There were words.
"I love you."
The funeral was beautiful. Everyone said so. For Jemma, the details were a blur. There was black and there were flowers. The sky was grey. Jemma had written a eulogy. She was prepared, in theory. But when she stood in front of the mourners, the words vanished. She simply stared at the crowd, wishing they could read her mind, to look through her memories, to see exactly what Skye meant to her. As her gaze fell on Coulson, Jemma took a breath.
"I loved her and then she died."
Author's Note:
"The Things They Carried" by Tim O'Brien is a real book, and a good one as well. The quote I used in this story can be found on page 232.
As always, any comments are greatly appreciated. Thank you for reading.