"So do you actually have a plan? Because right now, I'm getting the vibe that you're just some psychotic woman with a glowing stick," Mack announces, and Jemma has to try hard not to stick her ttongue out at him like a stubborn playground child. Instead, she settles for wrinkling her nose at him. Triplett had warned her about Alphonso Mackenzie. Loyal to a fault, but undoubtedly opinionated and blunt; known for his honesty.
Then again, he may indeed speak the truth. So instead she waves the sonic at him cheerfully. "It's a screwdriver, actually."
"Jemma."
Oh, and that would be Coulson. She can see why he's the leader of the organisation (although she'd been torn between May at first). "I know that you're Fitz's friend, and I know that he trusts you, and I also know that you're experienced in these situations, given your.. well, rather questionable space ship. But I've also heard about your thoughts on SHIELD, and I need to know.. Can we trust you?"
It's a heavy question, and for a few moments she hesitates. Because this is the simple weight of the matter - can anybody trust her? After all the things she's done, all the things she's seen, all the civilisations she's failed and the enemies she's gained in her long, long life... Is it honestly right of her to ask these people to lay their lives down for her?
So instead she swallows her doubt and looks him straight in the eye. "I don't know," she answers truthfully. "But I know that I'm going to try."
And unexpectedly, out of the blue, "I'm with you." May stands, gaze unwavering as she cocks her pistol.
Jemma's not entirely sure how or why she's convinced May to side with her, but a smile curls it's way onto her lips regardless. "Thank you. But, uh," she pauses with a nervous look, "no guns. Or any weapons at all, actually."
Bobbi frowns slightly as she folds her arms like a disapproving mother (ah, mothers. a universal understanding). "I thought you said these aliens were dangerous?"
"They are," Jemma admits. "Actually, they can order you to anything you want. You won't even remember it. Also, they have a rather fascinating ability to kill with an energy discharge."
"And you're asking us not to arm ourselves against these creatures?" Lance splutters.
Jemma can't help but sigh. Sometimes humans really are all the same. Dense. Honestly, why should she bother saving them over and over again? Moments like these make her question her choices. But then she catches a glimpse of a team photo on Coulson's desk, notes the way Bobbi sneaks her hand into Lance's to calm him, gaze lingers over Fitz and Skye and the rest of their team, and she's reminded again of why she fights so hard for the human race and why she will continue to do so until her very last breath.
"I've been around for a very, very long time, Hunter. I should be celebrating a thousand years in roughly... oh, about twenty-two hours."
"I really need to find out what kind of moisturiser you use," Skye wolf-whistles jokingly.
"I've saved more people than you can think of. I've lived longer than you could possibly hope for. I've gained and lost and fell to my knees without another hope in the world, only to be saved by the people I love." Gently, Jemma reaches forward and plucks the gun out of his hand, placing it on the table with a ginger expression. "So I suggest that you listen to me."
Lance stares at her, astonished beyond belief, but she's gratified when Fitz comes to stand next to her, placing his own weapon onto the table. "I'm with Jemma. I trust her completely."
(she tries not to smile when he slips his hand into hers. the others abandon their weapons without another word - except for Lance, who can't help but complain his way through the whole situation; as per usual)
...
"Oh my god," Skye breathes. "Is it just me, or does it look kinda like that famous Scream picture?"
Jemma can't help but smirk, although they're facing an oncoming attack of three Silents, and the moment she looks away she'll forget exactly why she's running for her life. "Where did you think Edvard got the inspiration from?" It's all camaraderie in the face of danger, playful banter to keep Skye (and herself) on her toes. Rapidly, she draws three quick lines on her neck and then tosses the marker to Skye.
"What, so he could remember them?" Skye asks as they scramble backwards, furtively trying to get away.
"No, he couldn't. But they've always been in your self-conscious. Ever wonder about the men in black? Or perhaps those funny grey things with big eyes that you humans seem so determined to label as Martians? What about ET? Hel-lo!" With a sinking feeling, Jemma swallows as they stumble back and suddenly hit the wall. Dead end. This is not how it ends. It can't possibly be, not with all these people counting on her.
"Always? What do you mean by always?" Skye's voice is strong, but it's a higher pitch, and Jemma knows enough to tell that the other girl's reached the same conclusion.
"I mean, this isn't so much of an infestation. More like, well, an uprising."
"What?"
"They've been here for as long as you," she explains, clicking on her screwdriver and pointing it at the Silent. As she'd expected, nothing happens. "Maybe even longer. You humans have always thought you were alone, but really, you've just been sharing your planet for as long as time can remember."
"So we're forcing them out of their own home," Skye says, and Jemma's surprised to find that the other girl's tone is serious, maybe even a little sad.
"This isn't exactly the best time for you to feel sorry for them," Jemma shouts, as the Silent creeps forward ever so menacingly, taking it's sweet time as the pair frantically search for a route of escape. "They support an organisation that's trying to kill me! You know, just as a point of interest!"
"Sorry," Skye winces. "It's just.. I know what it's like to be kicked out of home."
Jemma lowers her defences in empathy, suddenly finding a new light in this girl and the SHIELD she supports, the very things she (and her entire species) represent.
Not exactly the smartest move, considering their current predicament. Before she knows it, a thousand volts of electricity are charging through her veins, spilling into her soul and her brain. Dimly, through the pain, she registers the screwdriver slipping from her grasp, and a high-pitched noise splitting the air. She isn't quite sure whether it's herself screaming or Skye.
Reality fades in and out. Flashes of past lives, past companions, all the things she's ever seen and done and survived. This is what happens every time she regenerates. In some ways, it's worse than the pain of dying. At least then, there's no guilt. When you're a thousand years old and counting, there are things far worse than death.
There's a shout.
She hits the floor.
...
When she wakes up again, she's draped in a blanket. It's an unfamiliar experience for her, wrapped up safely in bed, feeling like she's protected from the world. The perks, she supposes.
Before she can register much, a familiar face swoops in and stares down at her, locks of brown hair tickling at her nose, and eyes crinkled in obvious relief.
"Oh my god, I'm so glad you're awake. We didn't think you were going to make it. All our equipment started going haywire when we hooked you up to it, and I'm pretty sure Fitz was losing his mind with stress," Skye sighs.
Jemma's eyes fly open and she jolts up, even though her mind is still frazzled and she's seeing three of everything (unless Skye has taken some tips from one of the Koenigs?). "Fitz!" she gasps, attempting to throw the sheets off and organise a search party.
Skye rushes forward just in time to catch Jemma as she all but collapses, knees weak with the effort and her head beaded with perspiration. "Hey, take it easy, okay? You somehow miraculously survived that weird bolt of laser energy from those Silence things. You have to be careful."
"But - Fitz... Is he alright?" she manages blearily, pausing between words as she starts to slip back into the realm of sleep, even as she fights desperately to stay awake. Skye helps her back into the hospital gurney gently, patting down the blankets for her.
"He's okay," she assures. "He saved us, you know. I could barely get him to leave your side, but he's a little.. busy right now."
Jemma wants to tell Skye something useful, like a tip on how to destroy the Silence, or a warning to protect Fitz, or some sort of magical serum to make everything better. Instead, her eyes flutter back closed.
...
This time, there's no face hovering above hers. At least the headache and wooziness have subsided, although the lights still seem far too blinding and she's not sure whether the ringing in her ears is supposed to be there or not.
With a small groan, she pushes herself up, blinking blearily at the lights. Skye's not here anymore, but a familiar figure hovers at the end of the gurney. He's got his back to her, tapping away at some sort of Earth tech with concentration, but she's certain she could recognise those curls and that pearly grey sweater from a mile away.
"So I hear you saved the day."
Fitz whirls, his eyes wide. "You're awake!"
He rushes forward and then halts at the last second, like he's unsure. With a laugh, she pulls him in for a tight hug. It's another one of those things that she hasn't had in a long time, unfamiliar like Earth rituals or the various new pieces of tech humans keep popping out like babies.
"Of course I'm awake," she tells him comfortingly, hands tightening around him. "Honestly, did you think a little bit of eletrocution would stop me?"
"It almost did," he mumbles into her shoulder. "One of your hearts stopped. We tried everything, but we didn't know if you were going to make it. I thought.. Well, I thought you were going to leave me."
"Leopold Fitz. Would I ever do such a thing?"
"You are kind of unexpected like that."
"That is true," she concedes. Suddenly, the gears in her mind click into place and she jumps, tearing herself away from the hug. "The Silence! We have to stop them - how long have I been out?"
Fitz reaches out to still her movements with a hand and a smug smile. "Jemma, it's fine. The Silence are gone. Didn't I tell you that I saved the day?"
Slipping back into bed with wide eyes, Jemma is reminded once more how impossibly brave humans really are, with their tiny brains and their singular heart. "And I slept through the entire thing?"
He grins. "Now you know what it's like."
...
Despite the antsy feeling in her gut telling her to flee, they stick around to help repair the base. Fitz sweeps and clears up debris, while Jemma flies around fixing up anything she can with the screwdriver.
(it's not a lot of help - the sonic doesn't work on wood)
Oddly, she's found that the people of SHIELD have started to grow on her. While there's still a large part of her heart that hates them for what happened to Triplett, she's started to notice the little things about them. It's only the little things, only the things that are infinitesimal on a big scale that really strike her hard.
They're not so much an organisation but a family, and that's so purely human that she can't help but hate them just a tiny little bit.
Because they have what she never can, not when she's so terribly alone in such a vast universe. There are brief moments when Jemma is left to her own devices, when she's left to contemplate her lonely life and her sad story and recount all the losses she's ever suffered, ever endured.
And then there's Fitz; sweet, innocent, grumpy, Leopold, as he waves her over to join him in his recounting of the fantastic tales that they've lived.
"...and there were monkeys too, can you believe that? I mean, sure, they were kind of purple and sort-of alien, but they still had those adorable little monkey hands," Fitz is just saying when she wanders over.
Skye is slightly wide-eyed as she sweeps shards of glass into a dust and pan absent-mindedly. "That's so cool," she laughs. "Are you seriously saying you can go anywhere in space?"
"And time," Jemma quips helpfully.
"And I thought Thor was cool," Skye remarks. Abandong her cleaning without second-thought, she throws her arms around Fitz in a tight hug. "I'm going to miss you, little guy. You better visit at least once every two months, okay? I know saving the world is all important and all, but if you forget all about us, your DWARVES are going to get some serious renovations."
"Yes ma'am," Fitz teases, but Jemma's heart warms when he squeezes Skye's arm. "I'll miss you too. We'll bring back souvenirs next tine, yeah?"
"Practically guaranteed," Skye announces. Then, unexpectedly, she flings her arms around Jemma. Awkwardly, Jemma leans into the embrace as Skye leans down to whisper in her ear. "Look after him, okay? He's kind of grumpy sometimes and you should never disturb him before nine o'clock, but I've seen the look in his eyes, and.. I know he'll follow you to the ends of the Earth. So here's my request - don't let him. He's brave, but he's stupid for such a clever guy. And if there's one thing I know about love, it's that... it makes you do stupid things. So yeah. You look after him, okay?"
"Skye," Jemma breathes. "I would never let anything happen to him. Ever. I've had a lot of.. travellers, but this is different. Fitz is different. He has a family here. I promise, I'll return him to you safe."
"Um, guys?" Fitz pipes up, and Skye pulls away with a satisfied smile.
"I promise I will," Jemma reassures.
"I'm holding you to that promise, Time Lady."
"What promise?" Fitz frowns. "Hang on - Jemma! You can't just say that and not tell me anything. Skye! Why does nobody ever tell me anything? Guys?"
...
She's standing beside the TARDIS, leaning on it's sturdy blue walls while she watches Fitz hug and laugh and stumble his way through goodbyes to the rest of the team. She'd be lying if she says she doesn't feel left out, but the truth is she's used to it by now.
Because this is the reality; her lonely old self travelling all by her little old lonesome. She remembers something a girl had said to her once, a long time ago.
("we're just stoppers for you, aren't we? us companions. you keep us to plug up the holes.")
"It's not like that," she'd said back then, but she knows now that it is. Countless others. All unforgettable, all astonishing in their own, complete way.
"Will we be seeing you again, Jemma?" Coulson's voice snaps her out of her thoughts and she starts.
"Sorry? Oh - I mean - possibly. Maybe. Of course, Fitz will come back for visits and aliens will inevitably return with a new masterplan to destroy the human race," she rambles cheerfully, but upon the agents' slowly whitening expressions, she gives them a bright big smile. "But yes. For now, this is goodbye. We'll meet again. Of course, I can't guarantee that it'll be in the right order - time travel is tricky that way - but if you ever need help, you know who to call."
"Thank you," May speaks up, even as she holsters the gun that makes Jemma (more-than) uncomfortable. "For everything."
"I'll miss you," Skye says with a smile. "If you two don't come back, I'll be the next monster wanting to destroy Earth."
"So come with us, then," Fitz says unexpectedly. Then, as if seeming to remember himself, "if that's okay with Jemma."
"There's always room for more," Jemma nods her acceptance.
"Then come with us, Skye. Just for a little bit. Just to see what it's like. You've always wanted to travel - now we're offering you all of existence, all of creation."
"And more," she adds helpfully.
Skye stares at them with wide eyes, mouth parted ever-so-slightly. "You're actually being serious? I mean - don't get me wrong, I'd love to, but I have a job here now. Responsibility. A life. And a lot of figuring out to do, because," she flexes her fingers, "as cool as these bad-boys are, I don't want to accidentally topple Mount Everest over or anything."
"Welll, we do have a time machine," Jemma points out cheekily. "We can be back in five minutes. Five seconds, even."
"SHIELD will still be here when you get back," Coulson says when Skye looks to him for approval.
Skye's lips start to broaden out into a thoughtful smile. "There is just one place I'd like to go."
...
They step out into the world, her and Fitz.
"When are we, exactly?" Fitz asks. "And where?"
"China," is her simple answer. "1988."
They stand next to the oddly placed blue box, watching as up ahead, the figure of Skye talks animatedly to a couple and their young baby. Jemma grins as she watches Fitz starting to fit all the puzzle pieces together in his mind.
"Hang on - is that - "
"Skye's family, yes," Jemma confirms with a knowing smile. "That over there is Jiaying, Cal, and their sweet, pretty little daughter Daisy Johnson. This is before it all went down the drain, essentially."
"So they really did love her," Fitz says quietly as Skye offers a stuffed toy to (rather oddly) her younger self. "All this time. She grew up thinking that her parents abandoned her. That she was all alone."
"Nobody is ever completely alone," she tells him gently. Except me, that nasty little part of her mind whispers cruelly.
He seems to read her mind because, shyly, he reaches down and brushes her fingers with his own. "Yeah."
His eyes are the bluest of blue and his brain is spitefully brilliant and his heart is as pure as Jim the Fish's habitat (long story), but she is immortal and he's.. well, he's not, so she pulls her hand away and runs through the field of flowers instead, wind rushing through her hair and a laugh spilling from her lips as she rejoices in the feeling of being alive.
"Wait for me!" he shouts after her.
"You'll never catch me," she taunts as races off. The last time she's done something so completely wild and playful is when she was a child of mere seventy, swooping through the beautiful scenery of Gallifrey with her friends.
"But I can try," he returns, stumbling over his shoes as he chases after her, the time-lady and her companion, an eternal game of Follow the Leader.
(oh, do they run)
...
Later, when they've dropped a misty-eyed Skye back home and the TARDIS is drifting gently in the midst of space, they sit with the doors wide open, their legs hanging out into the black swirls of space and stars and glorious galaxies, a picnic tucked between them and the whole of the universe at their feet.
"What is this?" Fitz exclaims, voice muffled from around the sandwich he's digging into. "It's amazing."
"Prosciutto and buffalo mozzarella - with just a hint of pesto aioli," she answers happily. "Picked that up on a trip to Italy.. oh, I think about twenty or so years ago. The citizens were feeling particularly inspired after I saved them from the Atraxi - for the second time, mind you. Those aliens really do love their pasta."
"You're mad," Fitz laughs.
"No," she considers. "Just very, very old."
They settle into companionable silence, because right now it feels like they have all of eternity ahead of them, just her and this blue-eyed boy with his big thoughts and big brain and bigger heart.
And then, she breaks it.
(all good things come to an end)
"You. And Skye. Um - I was just - I mean.. Were you two ever..?"
"A thing? You mean - romantically?" Fitz asks, eyes wide.
"And - um - sexually," she adds, blushing to the tips of her ears. Honestly, you'd think she'd have a better grip on this by now, after all this time she's spent travelling and socialising, saving worlds and burning civilisations.
"No!" Fitz splutters. "Skye and I - never!"
"So you never..? I mean, she's really very pretty - "
"It's not like that," Fitz says strongly, surprising her (again). "We're friends. She.. Skye hasn't exactly had the best history with love."
"Grant Douglas Ward," Jemma nods knowingly, clicking her tongue.
Fitz blinks. "Right. I keep forgetting that you know practically everything." Well, it's the perks of time travelling, she wants to say. "There was a point in which... well, I had feelings for her. But then..." He trails off, suddenly looking embarrassed as he studies his sandwich a fierce intensity.
"Yes?" she prompts, corners of her lips twitching up into a sun-filled smile.
"Why do you ask?" Fitz switches the conversation suddenly.
"You didn't finish your sentence!"
"You didn't answer my question," he counters with just as much snark.
"You didn't want to finish your sentence," she concludes teasingly.
"And you didn't want to answer my question!" he retorts with a smirk.
In the midst of all their arguing, Fitz's sandwich wrapper slips from his grasp and promptly drifts out into the atmosphere. All arguments forgotten, they pause their bickering to watch the greasy white paper float through space.
"Great," Jemma groans. "Now I'm going to be fined. The police hate littering - wastes an awful lot of time and resources. It's all about recycling and ecosystems these days, really."
"Do you even have money? Wait - scratch that, there are space police? Have you ever gotten a parking ticket? Because the way you fly the TARDIS - honestly, it makes me cringe."
(and on it goes)