She picks him up like she did with all the other strays - in the midst of terrible, immoral danger (and also because she's curious).
He's brave (all of them are) the first time she finds him, stubbornly fending off a Sontaran with nothing but the end of a stiletto and his own wits. Jemma swoops in to save the day, as per usual, with her cleverness and her charm and her sonic screwdriver.
They lose someone in the process (they always seem to lose someone, and one day the weight of it might tear her apart, but for now she takes that weight and expels it at her enemies), a young, intelligent girl with curly hair and a dress adorned with flowers.
"I didn't even know her name," he whispers when they've won, when they're cleaning up the mess, when they're watching as the officials gently cover up the traces.
She offers him a sad smile. "I rarely do."
He gives her a once-over and then softly kneels down to the girl's body, closing her eyelids with a gentle sweep of his hands. She's struck by how touched she is when she spots the tears tracking his features.
"I forget sometimes," she remarks.
He glances up at her, eyes blue like her beloved TARDIS, hair golden like her regeneration energy. "Forget what?"
She can't help but laugh lightly. "How human you lot really are."
It's not until she's walking away that she hears him shift, hears him jump up and chase after her. "Where are you going? You can't just leave! You still have to stay for police questioning! And what do you mean by human? You don't mean to say - you're not an alien, are you?"
He says the word like it's taboo, and she freezes for a split second. Then she pulls out her sonic screwdriver and whirls around to him with a giddy grin, all propaganda and show.
"You're quick on the mark, aren't you? Might be a new record for me, oh yes. Still, I'm afraid I can't hang around. Things to do, planets to save. You're not the only lot that needs rescuing, you know. The universe is a bloody whiney place, isn't it?"
She's searching for a spark, for a connection, for the signal in the back of her mind that's saying, yes, him! he's the one! without even meaning to. And oh yes - she can sense it, tingling at the back of her neck. What would humans call it? Spidey-senses? She's not entirely sure but she likes the sound of that, so that it is.
"Sorry - did you say planets?" the man splutters again, and oh yes, the spark returns in full force. And it scares her. It scares her because this is how it always starts, how she always ends up digging herself in a hole too deep, but instead of getting herself out she ends up suffocating in the dirt, alone and cold, the last Time Lady in the Big Wide Universe, a murderer in her own right.
So instead she taps him on the nose with the sonic. "Oh, yes. Billions and billions, all waiting for you, Mr Clever Man with your big ideas and your tiny, tiny human brain and your singular heart. Maybe one day, if you're lucky, you'll see a shooting star. Or a meteor. Or perhaps another Dalek invasion - but we'll save that one for another century, shall we?" He blinks at her in confusion and suddenly she sighs, clicking her sonic screwdriver on. "When you wake up, you won't remember me. Well, perhaps a little bit, if you're not one of the dim ones, but I'll be nothing more than a dream. A lovely old dream, yeah? The one where some daft woman swoops in with her pretty blue box and her clever ideas."
She leans into his ear and whispers, "I'm the stuff of fairytales. Remember me, Jemma, and remember the adventures we never did have, the monsters we never did face, the stories we will never create."
Jemma drops her arm. His eyes go foggy, and she trails her arm down his, pressing a kiss to his cheek as golden energy flows from her lips and seeps into his very being like magic.
Then she's off, skipping towards her little blue box on another merry adventure. Humans, and their tiny minds. How is it possible they feel so much emotion with only one heart?
...
She's nearing her thousands when she meets him again. She's here on pure accident, having given in to impulse, and is now dancing through the gardens of planet Earth like she knows it better than the back of her hand.
(which is probably accurate; regenerations are ever so disconcerting)
Somehow Jemma's managed to stumble into trouble again, because suddenly there's a high-pitched scream and then she's running, crashing through the luscious greens and yellows and reds to stumble into a clearing and -
"Nobody blink!" she shouts. "They're Weeping Angels, and if you stop watching them even for a moment you're out. And trust me, you do not want to be out."
"It's her," breathes an awed voice. "It's her, it's really her."
...
They've defeated the Angels, saved the day. But for Jemma it's one never-ending mystery, one eternal merry-go-round until the day she finally dies. She rounds on him, him with the blue eyes and the curly hair and -
"You know me," she says fiercely, "how do you know me?"
"How did you - I mentioned that two days ago," he frowns.
"That's not important!" she snaps, eyes tracing his figure so closely that she's standing nose to nose with him, him flattened up against the wall with his hands in the air and her with her sonic out and her best thinking face on. "The real question - how do you remember me? I wiped your memories!"
He has the nerve to grin at her. "Guess I'm not as dim as you thought."
"This isn't funny," she retorts, but slowly she backs away, lets him drop his hand and straighten his sweater. "Who are you?"
"Fitz - uh - Leopold Fitz."
She scans him with a confused frown. "You're just a human. So why can you remember me?"
"Um - did you say just a human?"
She holds a finger up to his lips. "Shush, I'm thinking." After a moment, she spins to stare at him thoughtfully. "How long has it been? Since we last met?"
"Uh, almost two years, I think," he shrugs.
"And you managed to remember me for two whole years? That's impossible," she says incredulously.
"Not impossible," he starts, a small glint of mischief working it's way up his features, "just genius."
For the first time, she cracks him a smug smirk. "You haven't seen genius yet, Leopold Fitz. Oh, you humans think you're everything, don't you? Centre of the universe."
And now it's his turn to be incredulous as he snorts at her. "You're talking as if we're not the only ones out here."
She merely gives him a suggestive grin and spins away, patting a little girl on the head and sending her away with a few coins to get an ice cream for trauma purposes. To her annoyance (but not her surprise), he trails after her, all full of questions and wonder and disbelief. This one's prime to peacocking, isn't he?
"Um - excuse me! That's the second time you saved me from those.. things. Those weird things. Are they aliens or what?" When she simply bends down to pick a flower, he shouts after her impatiently. "Hey! You've got to tell me something. And you can't exactly wipe my memory again. Look how well that turned out last time! For gods sake, I don't even know your name, how am I supposed to - "
"Jemma."
"What?" He blinks at her, clearly startled.
"Jemma. That's my name."
He seems stunned for a minute (oh, finally he's shut up), but then he shakes himself and advances forward. She can't help but roll her eyes and quicken her pace away from him, making a beeline for her beloved TARDIS.
"Alright then, Jemma. I have a lot of questions, and I think you owe me some answers."
Jemma smiles to herself.
Humans.
Such little brains, and yet such big capacity. Easily, she marches right up to the TARDIS and throws the doors open. He follows her in without hesitation, and she has to bite back her laughter when she hears his stutters of surprise.
It never gets old.
"But - but it's - "
" - bigger on the inside, yes," she finishes. "I've heard all the creative ones already so you might as well just not say anything at all."
Fitz shakes his head, eyes impossibly wide. "What is this, then?"
"The TARDIS. My TARDIS. Time And Relative Dimension In Space," she says giddily as she pulls a lever and dances around the console, fully intending to just drop him off at home, but the words spill out without her permission anyway. "Or, in simple human terms, it's a time machine."
Fitz looks utterly shocked, but she's not surprised to see the small smile curling up on his features. Humans all react differently, but Jemma picks her companions well.
"Who are you?"
"I'm a Time Lady. Two hearts, one brain, the last of my kind. I've got all of time and space at the flick of a button, so," she turns to lean against the console with a cheery smile, "where do you want to go, Leopold?"
She's done it again. Picked up another stray when she hadn't entirely meant to, when she'd promised herself that she was done saving the world, done dragging innocents to the end of their days, done weeping over the faces she could never, ever see again.
But here she is, grinning excitedly at Leopold Fitz from across the console room as the TARDIS lurches and groans as per usual, skyrocketing through the Time Vortex like they've got nothing to spare.
...
"Planet Earth, 1946, New York City," Jemma says with an excited expression, running down the steps with her coat trailing behind her and a hat perched on her head. Fitz is dressed in typical 1940's attire, looking dashing in a grey suit as he trails after her.
They grind to a stop in front of the TARDIS doors, where Fitz looks suitably anxious. "This is it, then. This isn't some big wind-up? We've really travelled through time?"
She offers him a smile. "We've really, properly, travelled through time. If you don't want to see it, I can take you back home. You can go to bed, wake up in the morning and recall all of this, all of me, as a dream. You don't have to come with me."
He thinks for a moment. She can see the look in his eyes, brooding, pinching his nose in and his forehead creasing. Then he looks straight at her. "1946 - would it cause a paradox if I took back a souvenir?"
She laughs. He pushes the doors open.
(it all goes on from there)
...
"So, the 1940's," Jemma remarks as they stroll down the street, mingling after his wide-eyed discovery of time travel, "what do you think?"
Fitz glances about like he's scared someone's going to overhear them in a city full of bustling, busy people, leaning over to announce, "it's brilliant. Honestly brilliant. How is your - how does your box do that? Did you make it?"
"The TARDIS," she corrects, "and no, of course I didn't make the TARDIS. I borrowed her. Or rather, she borrowed me. We're on the run, her and I."
"And now I'm running with you," Fitz points out, suddenly all curiosity and naivety in that specifically human fashion. "So what, are you some intergalactic criminal or something? Should I be worried?"
Jemma watches as he just about walks into a lamp post and stumbles his way through a crowd with a million apologies. "Not at all."
As if on cue, gun shots sound from nearby. An abrupt yell splits the air, and Jemma abandons the newspaper she'd been examining. "Okay," she amends. "Maybe a little bit."
She takes off at a run.
("Hey!" he shouts after her. "Why, exactly, are we running towards the inevitable danger?")
...
They round the corner to see two humans (or at least, human on first sight). They're standing by a car, the male in a suit searching through the boot, and the woman in the red hat blowing the smoke away from her pistol.
"What are you doing?" Jemma demands as she crashes into the scene, Fitz right on her tail.
The woman looks surprised to see them there. "Who are you?"
"Doesn't matter," says the man, pulling a device out of the car. "They're civilians. They'll go blabbing to the police, and then where will we be?"
Another man gets out of the car, looking slightly concerned, but before anybody can do anything a button is pushed and Fitz crumples to the floor. Heart in her throat, she lurches to his side and scrambles for his pulse. Not here, not now, not on their very first escapade -
"He's asleep," she says in shock. She glances to the new trio. "What was that?"
"He'll be fine," drawls the man who pushed the button. "I invented it myself. He's just going to sleep for a little while."
"Be quiet, Howard," the woman says, glancing suspiciously at Jemma and Fitz. "You said your device puts people to sleep. So why is she still awake?"
Jemma grins. "Let's just say I'm not quite people."
...
They've landed in probably the worst possible time, but quite frankly Jemma's okay with it. The TARDIS always takes her where she needs to go, so she puts her faith in the time travelling machine (as she always does) and settles down to solve the mystery (again, like always).
Their names are Peggy Carter, Edwin Jarvis and Howard Stark, and quite honestly she's hitting herself for not having recognised them sooner. They're some of the greatest names in history - and while she may not agree with their morals, they've certainly got their alliances in the right place. Jarvis and Stark have taken off, but Carter sneaks them into her apartment with warnings of the rather obstinate woman who runs the place.
Fitz is curled up on the bed, but Jemma paces, running her hands through her hair.
"I'm sorry about your friend," Carter says. "But who are you?"
"Hmm? Oh, I'm Jemma," she answers distantly. Suddenly getting a bright thought, she leaps to the window, poking her head out as she surveys the city below. "All of New York City. You're busy people, aren't you. Working for SHIELD and what-not. So what were the three of you doing down in an old, grungy alley?"
"It's silly," Carter says with hesitation. "You'll laugh."
Jemma offers Carter a small smile. "Look at my clothes, Margaret. Do I look like I come from this area? Silly is my middle name."
"Okay," the other woman relents. "There's been reports of people disappearing off the streets. Vanishing from graves. When I went to visit a friend of mine.. anyway. There's been strange disruptions all over the city. Vibrations where were they shouldn't be. Shadows in the streets. I've seen them. We were attacked, once. Howard, Jarvis and I. They got away, but they left something behind."
"Show me."
Carefully, she moves over to a painting on her wall and unhinges it. Slowly, she pulls brick by brick off from the wall until there's a small hole in which she pulls out something wrapped in cloth. "Here it is." She hands it over.
"That's an awful lot of security for one measly thing," Jemma remarks lightly.
"It's part of the job description when you work in my line of business."
"I should imagine." Jemma unwraps the cloth, a small smile playing across her lips as she examines the silver mask in her grasp. "Oh, I haven't seen you in a very, very long time."
"You know who they are?"
"Silurians. They're coming back for what was theirs."
...
She saves the human race (as per usual). All in a day's work.
She receives hugs from Peggy, a kiss from Howard and a polite handshake from Jarvis, and then they're back in the TARDIS, her flying around the console and Fitz perched on the seat with a blanket around his shoulders and a mug of tea in his hands, hair ruffled and a disappointed expression written all over his features.
"You're telling me that you negotiated your way out of human enslavery by the lizard people, scored Margaret Carter's number, managed to snog the father of Tony Stark, and I slept through the entire thing?"
He looks grumpy, and she suddenly feels a pang of fondness, followed by an even sharper pang of fear. It's happening again. She's getting attached, and the same thing always happens when she gets attached. People get hurt. Lives are lost. The blood on her hands could fill up a river. But Jemma is (around) a thousand years old, and she is nothing if not brave. So she plants on an excited expression and flips a switch and smiles at Fitz. "In your defence, you were under the influence of one of Stark's creations. Humans. They're oh so finicky, aren't they?"
Fitz shifts, tea forgotten as he leans forward curiously. "You said you were a Time Lady. That means you're an alien, right? But I've seen enough aliens now to know what to expect. You just look like a normal human. Why?"
"Leopold Fitz. There is nothing normal about humans. Just wait till you see yourself in the future. Besides, I'll have you know that it's not us that look like humans. Really, it's the other way around. We were here first, you see."
"Right," he says, but his tone suggests that he's absolutely clueless. "So you're a Time Lady with.. two hearts. And you travel time and space in a blue police box that's bigger on the outside."
Jemma grins brightly. "Now you're getting the hang of it!"
...
"Okay Fitz. We've got all the time in the world, so where would you like to go?"
"Anywhere. Everywhere."
...
So that's exactly what they do. Jemma and Fitz (her Fitz) travelling the universe, seeking out adventures, running off on new escapades.
They war with the Daleks, trick the Slitheens, re-inspire Shakespeare, rescuethe Silurians. They ally with the Judoons, save Cleopatra from the Vashta Nerada, and dance with Napoleon (who's totally in love with her, by the way). People are saved, battles are fought, secrets discovered and friends lost.
Then there are those days. Days where they don't do anything but sit in the TARDIS listening to its gentle thrum, or go somewhere completely boring and peaceful, like an intergalactic park or planet of the coffee shops.
One particularly uneventful afternoon they sit in the TARDIS, Fitz with his drawing pad and a million sketches thinning out on the paper, and her running around the engines like there's no tomorrow (which technically there isn't, not when you're flying a time machine).
"What are you drawing?" she asks curiously as she runs past, throwing herself at a connection of wires before they short out and implode the universe - as you do.
"Um - nothing," Fitz says. There's a light pause, and once Jemma's finished routing the wires together she pops her head up to frown in concern.
"Is everything okay? If this is bothering you, I can - "
"It's not that," Fitz interrupts hurriedly. He fidgets with his notepad, before he suddenly lurches forward, with all the adorable nerves and anxiety of a human that she can't help but smile. "It's just.. Um.. We're always going off on adventures. You know, imminent danger, creepy new aliens and lots, lots of running. And that's great and all, but.. I was just thinking. About - about home."
"You want to go back," Jemma realises, and with a sinking feeling of regret she finds that she's disappointed. She doesn't want Fitz to leave. Almost a thousand years and she's still so, so selfish.
"Yes! No! Well - yes, but not like that," he blurts. "I want to go home, but.. just for a visit. And I want you to come with me. To.. to get to know some of my friends."
It takes a moment, but slowly Jemma feels her features spin out into a broad grin. She leaps up and spins a dial on the console. "Homeward bound! Pack your things, Leopold Fitz. We're going back to Earth, 2015."
...
To put it nicely, Fitz's era is... plain. There's no ridiculous wars, no fabulous technology, no beautiful surroundings or amazing sights to see. She can see the self-consciousness in his eyes, the nervousness in his movements as he shows her around. Oh, humans. Even after all this time, she can't help but admire them. Their lives so short, their minds so filled with petty worries that really, it's quite adorable.
So she makes a point to kick up a fuss about how tasty the local fish and chip shop is, chatters on and on about it being the age of 'revolutionary science' and talks all about his generation and the things they'll achieve.
She knows she's laying it thick, but he's grinning widely at her, and really, that's all that matters right in this moment and time.
All of time and space, and after all these years, Jemma's realised the most important time is the present moment and the people you share it with, the people you treasure such memories with.
Their first stop is somewhere in Scotland, parked right on the corner on one of those tiny suburban alleys, those old fashioned ones where the mailman gets around on a bike, where all the people know each other and the local communities are so tiny it's quaint.
Fitz runs straight up to a small little stone-bricked house with flowers in the window boxes and a puff of smoke spiralling from the chimney, and the excitement with which he knocks reminds her of a little kid going to school for the very first time.
The woman who answers the door is kindly looking, with brown eyes and Fitz's golden hair and a scent of freshly baked cookies about her. "Leo? I thought - I thought you were over in America!"
"Well, I'm here now," Fitz announces, and before long they're embracing, hugging so tightly that Jemma briefly wishes she had a mother of her own to return home to. Or even a home, full stop.
It's a long moment before either of them look up, but Jemma's all too happy to sit by and watch with a small smile.
"Leo! You've brought a guest!"
"I'm Jemma," she supplies helpfully. Without missing a beat, she flashes her physic paper.
Mrs Fitz looks pleasantly surprised. "So you work with Fitz?"
"Um.." Admittedly, she's not entirely sure where Fitz works, but she's sure it's perfectly fine. The cons of phsycic paper, she supposes. "Yes," she decides quickly, flashing Fitz a look for him to play along, "I do.. Mrs Fitz."
"Call me Rachel," Mrs Fi - Rachel says with a great big smile. They spend the evening at the cosy Fitz cottage, snacking on biscuits and drinking tea, and it's not as boring as Jemma had pictured normal time to be (in fact, far from it).
When Fitz pops up to go back to the bathroom, Rachel leans over and covers Jemma's hand in her own, offering a warm smile. "I've no clue who you are, Jemma, but you've done my Leo a world of good. I haven't seen him smile so brightly since his gran passed away, the poor wee thing. I think it'd be wise to keep you around, dear. How'd you possibly manage to do it?"
Jemma squeezes this woman's hand, notes her obvious love for her son, notes the way the fire burns bright at the hearth. "Your son is a credit to the human race."
"I'm sorry?" Rachel looks rather confused, but all Jemma does is laugh lightly.
"Inside joke."
...
Their next stop is inside some sort of base. The weapons stored in the corner and the sheer amount of life signs showing up on the scanner are enough to make her uneasy, but this is where Fitz works (and seemingly adores), so she puts up with it and follows him out of the TARDIS. There's something eerily familiar about the place, but before she can pinpoint it a group of people round the corner.
To their credit, they don't seem the slightest bit surprised to see Fitz with a mystery woman, but Jemma's ground to a halt, dread pooling in the bottom of her stomach.
"Hello," greets the man in lead of the group, a wry smile on his features. "I'm Phil - "
" - Coulson. Yes, I know," she finishes, throat dry. Without warning, she grips Fitz tightly by the arm. "Excuse me. We need to talk."
...
"You work for SHIELD?" she all but yells at him, words bouncing off the empty lab they've crashed.
Fitz seems suitably surprised. "Yeah. I've been here since I was seventeen. Attended the Academy before Coulson asked me to join the team. Is there - is everything okay?"
Jemma tugs a hand through her air, pressing her fingers to her temple as she paces. "And you never thought to mention this to me?"
"It didn't exactly come up in a conversation!" Fitz says, voice high in defence. "Besides, I didn't think it mattered!"
Suddenly she whirls until she's nose to nose with him (even if she has to stand on her toes), eyes blazing in the fury only one of her age can possess. "Everything matters, Leo. Nothing is a coincidence, and - and - " She can feel herself cracking now, the emotions slipping through her words as she struggles to hold back a thousand years worth of bottled up tears. "I should never have brought you with me."
He recoils like it's a physical punch to the gut. "A thousand years old, two hearts, a time machine and you're still the same as everybody else."
"And how's that?"
"Because you let me down."
Then he's gone.
Now it's just her, sobbing alone in a lab, the oldest, kindest soul in the Big Wide Universe, and not a soul to share it with. Because in the end, like always, everybody always leaves, and she's left to repeat the pattern like an overused record that's long since been broken.
...
He always seems to know where to find her.
She's tucked up in the warmth of the TARDIS, embraced in it's safety, seeking comfort in the one sole companion that's stuck with her throughout the years.
Fitz shuffles uncomfortably at the staircase as he watches her fiddle with the wires and insist on avoiding his gaze.
"I'm sorry," he starts. "I didn't mean - that was out of line."
She offers him a consoling smile. "Fitz, I live outside the line."
"Right. Yeah," he smiles, and she knows he understands that all is forgiven, because human lives are too short to waste on arguments, not when she spends each day watching him fade further and further away. "I'm just - I'm sorry. But the SHIELD you know - or the SHIELD you thought you knew, that's not this. Coulson's a good man. These people.. they're my friends. My family."
There's a long pause. Eventually Jemma pulls off her goggles and swings gently in her harness. "Did I ever tell you about my last... companion?" He shakes his head no, and she laughs softly. "No, of course not. His name was Antoine Triplett."
"Trip."
"You know him?"
"He was the.. the best."
"Wasn't he just? We travelled together, him and I. The unstoppable duo. He had so much charm, so much.. light. I was stupid enough to believe it would last forever. I.. I dropped him off at SHIELD for the weekend. Popped off to celebrate Queen Elizabeth's birthday. When I got back.. Well, you know the story. I never... I never got to say goodbye."
Fitz fidgets, but Jemma's too busy staring at the wires in her grasp to notice. "Were you in love with him?"
"Given more time... I think I could have been," she admits, and it's like a weight lifts off her chest, feels like she's so feather light that she feels dizzy.
"I'm sorry," Fitz says sincerely.
"It's not your fault," she amends. "But now you understand. I can't go back to SHIELD, Fitz. Not again. Not ever."
"You don't have to go back. I'm not asking you to go back," Fitz says, sounding so fiercely determined that she can't help but glance up at him. "But there's something here. At the Playground, I mean. It's alien and it's dangerous, and you're the only person I know who can save us. So - please."
The silence seems to stretch for all eternity, and for a moment Jemma actually considers it. Actually considers running away for once, letting the human race solve their problems all on their own. Why is she the one who's always left to save the day? What would happen if she just disappeared, drifted off in her magic blue box and never came back?
Then, she gets to her feet. "What kind of alien are we speaking?"
...
Surprisingly, Fitz's team are welcoming. She recognises them from a mix of both Trip and Fitz's descriptions. There's Coulson, a kindly man with the weight of SHIELD on his shoulders, and there's May, a poised, stoic woman who seems to hide more than she reveals. Then there's Skye, the witty girl with powers and a comment to make at every turn. The list goes on and on - kickass Bobbi, out-spoken Mack, grumpy Hunter, newbie Lincoln.
A few questioning looks, interrogations of authority and running around the base later, Jemma's seated in Coulson's office, examining the various decoration pieces contemplatively.
The team stares at her, all totally distrusting except for Fitz, who seems incredibly uncomfortable as he shifts from one side to the other.
"You're facing an infestation problem," Jemma announces finally, wincing as she accidentally snaps one of the ornaments, hurriedly attempting to put back into place.
"Infestation? Infestation of what?" Skye asks disbelievingly.
"A race called the Silence. I've faced them before, a long time ago," she explains.
"The Silence," Hunter scoffs. "And you seriously want us to believe that we're being overrun by aliens? Sorry Fitz, but I think your girlfriend has got to set her priorities straight."
Fitz opens his mouth, a deep shade of pink, but Jemma spins in her seat and eyes Hunter easily. "The Silence can only be remembered while you're looking at them. You look away - even for a second - and they erase themselves from your memory. It's impossible to tell you what they look like. You won't even know you saw anything."
"Seems like the ideal alien," Bobbi says, scepticism clear in her voice. "We can't remember them. This doesn't prove that they're real."
"With all the things that have been happening lately, I'm almost ready to believe you," Coulson admits.
Jemma leans forward, eyes alight in the way they do once she's discovered something. "But you've already seen them."
"What?"
"Look on your arms," Jemma remarks, peeling her own sleeve back. Black marker lines pattern her arms. "Each tally marks a Silent that you've seen. It's the only way to remember that they're still here."
"Okay," Skye says, "I'm getting seriously freaked out right about now."
"Trust me," Jemma says with a small smile. At the large group's unconvinced looks, she points to Fitz instead. "If not, trust him instead. Fitz?"
"Yeah," he nods, all bravado (and perhaps the tiniest bit of smug pride?) as he lets his sleeve slide back down over his arm. "I trust her."
"Then it's settled." (that's the only thing May's said all day) "Tell us what to do."
...
When everybody's rushed off to set up the ingenious trap that Jemma's concocted, she's more than thoroughly surprised when the girl, Skye, sticks around, hovering at the door.
"There's nothing for me to do," she explains at Jemma's questioning look. "I've set up all the systems already."
Jemma nods and the moment is awkward. A thousand years of experience and yet she still can't quite work out what to say and how to say it. Thankfully for her, Skye seems to know just what to do.
"You're not a human, are you?"
Jemma glances up in momentary surprise, mouth parting as she abandons her work for a second. "How'd you guess? Was it the two hearts?"
"Wait, you have two hearts?" Skye laughs joyously, perching herself on the desk as Jemma returns back to fiddling with the trap systems. "Dude, that is seriously cool."
"Two lessons - I am not your dude, and I am almost indefinitely cool," she clarifies without looking up.
"Okay, you've got some beef with us," Skye allows, shrugging. "It's cool. There used to be a guy in the basement - wasn't too fond of him either. The thing is.. I was thinking we could talk. Or you could give me some advice.. or something."
"Why?"
"Because I'm not human either."
That grabs her attention. She snaps her head up and draws her screwdriver out in a flash, scanning a startled Skye. The readings flash and for a moment, Jemma can feel her exterior melting away for this young girl, some of the previously harboured hatred seeping away, dribble by dribble.
"Oh, Skye. Skye. It's all about you, isn't it? Be brave, okay? Because you, Daisy Johnson, are going to be brilliant."
"How do you - "
"Spoilers," Jemma winks. "What year is it? 2015? Oh yes, you've got quite a road ahead of you. Inhumans, that's what you're calling it, right? Isn't this terribly exciting! I'm witnessing the birth of..."
Skye frowns, looking utterly confused. "Jemma? What's wrong?"
"That's it!" Jemma jumps up and down in excitement. "I know how to defeat the Silence!"
...
Her plan goes wrong.
The traps backfire, and the Silence only get angrier. With every passing moment, more and more black marks begin to appear on people's skin. Her own arms are riddled with tallies, and when she looks into the reflection of the window she can see them spiralling across her face too, beginning to bleed their way down her neck.
"Is this it, then?" Fitz whispers to her, somehow sounding brave amidst all the terror. "The end of the human race?"
"Don't be ridiculous," Jemma says quickly, eyeing his team mates, who are huddled in the corner, looking incredibly scared. "I know how you lot end up. Give it a thousand years and you'll be soaring among the stars, travelling in colonies to find a new home."
"But you said.. You always say that time can be rewritten."
She turns, and now she can see the fear pooling in his blue eyes, the doubt and fright and yet faith. Faith in who, she wonders. Not her, surely.
"Do you trust me?"
He licks his lips nervously, but his gaze is unwavering. "Yeah."
"I won't let anything happen to you," she tells him firmly.
"And my friends? What about them?"
"Nothing will happen to them. I promise," she says stubbornly. "I swear on the rest of my lives."
Her arms encircle him for a hug.
(neither want to let go)
- and later; "wait, you have lives? As in plural? More than one?"