A/N: Hello everyone! So, I decided that even though the BioSpecialist ship is pretty much dead, I'm still going to write what should have been. Anyway, this will be an AU featuring superpowers (as per the summary).
IMPORTANT NOTE: This fic is co-authored by therealshawn, and she and I are also co-authoring the other side of this fic on her account. It is called "Monsters in your Head" and shows this same story from the Skitz viewpoint. I strongly suggest reading them both! This fic will be a complete story by itself, as will the other one, but they will complement each other, give you scenes that you normally wouldn't see, and give you large parts of the story that happen when the characters are split up.
Anyway, enjoy this first chapter and leave a review!
The music coming through the iPod speakers soothed Jemma as she stood in the bathtub, letting the warm water wash off the chemical decontaminant still coating her skin.
It had been quite a day. First, her experiment had failed after countless days of testing, so she had been forced to stay in the lab late to try and isolate the problem. Well, not forced, but she knew that she wouldn't be able to take her mind off the issue and focus on anything else until she had figured out what had gone so terribly wrong..
Fitz, being that good friend he was, had stayed with her, and that's when things had become even worse.
"You already showered at the lab. I don't see what shampoo is going to do that the soap there didn't."
Fitz's voice, coming from outside the door, startled her and she nearly slipped, but caught herself with a hand on the side of the tub. "Go away, Fitz," she ordered, though without malice. She had showered in the lab after the rather spectacular explosion, (which was obviously Fitz's fault), but she could still smell the acrid scent of decontaminant in her hair. And besides, the warm spray was soothing after the stress of failure and a long, hard day.
The sound of Fitz slamming cabinets in the kitchen broke into her concentration and she sighed, realizing that he was probably going to need her help soon.
Reluctantly, she turned the water off and stepped out of the shower, automatically reaching for the fluffy brown towel she always kept hanging on the hook right outside the bathtub.
"Jemma!" Fitz bellowed from the living room. "Did you move the popcorn again?"
She rolled her eyes and shouted back, "One second, Fitz." She wrapped the large towel around her body, leaving her wet hair loose and dripping on her shoulders.
Changing into the fresh clothes she had brought into the bathroom with her - just sweats and a loose T-shirt - she looked into the mirror and took a deep, calming breath. It frustrated her that she still couldn't figure out the problem with her experiment, and, no matter what she did, she just couldn't let it lie.
Turning on the ceiling fan to defog the mirror and yanking a comb through her wet, tangled hair, she strolled out of the bathroom and into the living room, her eyes automatically landing on her bag, resting on the couch. Her detailed notes on the experiment and the explosion were there, and she wanted to take another look now that she had fresh eyes.
Fitz gaped at her from his position on the couch in front of the TV. Out of the corner of her eyes, she saw "Agents of SHIELD" playing on ABC. She gave him a funny look in response to his expression, but he didn't seem to notice.
Defensively, she reached for her bag and told him, "I'm just going to go over the experiment one more time, and then we can watch your silly show." She plopped down on the couch next to him as she pulled out the folder containing her research and observations.
His eyes only widened, if that was possible. "Er, Jemma?"
"Oh come on, Fitz, I said this was the last time," she replied, crossing her arms in front of her. "And then I promise that I'll put it down. Okay?"
"No, uh, Jemma, I think that-"
"-I'll be really fast, Fitz, I promise," she interrupted, the folder already open on her lap.
He cut her off, pointing impatiently at her right side, "Your arm, Jemma!"
Narrowing her eyes in confusion, Jemma glanced down at her arms and gasped in surprise as she noticed only one was visible. "Oh no," she muttered in dismay. "That's not right."
"Not right? Jemma, your arm is gone! I don't - what happened?"
"I can still feel it," she continued, ignoring him and wiggling her invisible arm. The folder slid off her lap, but she barely noticed. "It's never done that before."
Fitz threw his arms up in exasperation. "Oh, well that's okay then. As long it's never happened before then it's totally - -Jemma! Your arm is missing!Could you please quit being so calm?"
"I wonder," she mumbled thoughtfully, focusing her attention on her invisible appendage and trying to figure out if she could isolate the cause and possibly even replicate it, all thoughts of the failed experiment vanishing from her mind.
"Yes, well, I wonder, too. But I am experiencing a healthy amount of panic, and not just gazing at my nonexistent arm like it's the best thing since CERN invented the Large Hadron Collider." He continued muttering something about "crazy biochemists," but she easily tuned him out.
"This is amazing," she breathed, as her other arm also vanished as she turned her attention to it. "Could I be doing something to the light particles in my immediate vicinity? That seems unlikely, but no other hypotheses are coming to mind." Fitz and everything else around her faded into the background as she pondered the fascinating phenomenon in front of her. "I have to get back to the lab," she finally announced.
Fitz's irritated grumbling followed her out the door.
...Two Weeks Later…
"So, we can cross Sally Markson off our list," Jemma sighed and scratched the name of their latest lead off the paper in front of her. The list now contained more black sharpie marks than names.
"Jemma, I hate to be discouraging," she shot him a pointed look, but he continued anyway, "but that's the thirty-seventh 'lead' we've had that's turned out to be nothing. We've been all over the state looking for something that might not even be there."
"It will be," she promised. She took a bite of the ceasar salad in front of her and chewed slowly, gathering her thoughts. Finally, she added, "Just think, Fitz, about the chance we have. This is groundbreaking research, of course it's gonna take a bit of effort. And besides, we still have three names to go." She kept her tone positive, not wanting Fitz to see that she was feeling slightly disappointed in their progress as well. After all, they had been dedicated to this project for a full two weeks already without so much as a breakthrough.
"G. Thomas. Suspected pyrokinesis. Last known...Jemma, this report is eighteen years old," Fitz pulled the notebook from her and started to read the next item on her list around the half-chewed fry in his mouth, but stopped as he realized that there was even less on Thomas than there had been on Markson, and Markson had died five years ago.
"But our next best lead," she insisted firmly. "The others have even less information than this one."
"You do realize that just because other files have 'even less information' that doesn't make this one a solid lead, right? Jemma, I just think you're going to be disappointed when none of this pans out." She knew that Fitz was just being his usual, pragmatic self, but there was a part of her that resented the fact that he wasn't nearly as excited about this project as she was.
She leaned in, her eyes bright. "No, Fitz, I have a feeling about this one. Please? If he doesn't work out, we can take a break." At least for a little while, she amended her statement silently. In light of recent events, this wasn't something that she could just give up on, especially if there was still a chance of success. A slim chance, admittedly, but a chance nonetheless.
Fitz sighed dramatically and pointed to Thomas' name. "Okay, fine. But this is the last one.
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