Chapter 2: "No Comment"

I'm beginning to reconsider the importance of this fungus all over again when we're standing outside the door to the cockpit.

"Go on, then. Knock," Skye motions towards the door with her hand.

"I'm not knocking. May hates people coming to the cockpit. You knock." I bite my lip, feeling a little ridiculous.

"Are you kidding me?" Skye hisses, "I'm not knocking. She already hates me."

"Exactly!" I say without thinking. A real ball of tenderness and consideration for others feelings, me.

Skye crosses her arms and glares at me over the top rim of her glasses. I open my mouth to apologize, but still firmly insist that she be the one who knocks when the door opens from the inside.

Coulson's standing on the other side of it, wearing a red bathrobe with a Starfleet insignia embroidered on the left-hand side.

"Yes?" He asks, the hint of mirth in his eyes making it obvious that he'd overheard us.

"Oh, hi, Agent Coulson. I just-"

"A.C., uh, why are you wearing a Star Trek bathrobe?" Skye cuts in, getting to the more pressing issue immediately.

Coulson turns his attention to Skye, "It's one thirty in the morning. Why are you wearing an old rag with a pig on it?"

"Hey!" She defends, "I found this in the dumpster behind the secondhand store while I had my van parked in its alley. Can you believe someone was going to throw it away?" She shakes her head in disbelief. "Good thing I saved it, right?"

Coulson blinks at her for a moment, not saying anything, before he turns his attention to me.

"What did you find, Simmons?"

I glance sideways at Skye, who's rolling her eyes. "Well, I, uh, I found some evidence of gamma radiation in the fungus. It's like nothing I've seen before. Clearly mutated. I think it began growing on some kind of decaying organic mat-"

"Gamma radiation? How much?"

I do my best to come up with an accurate estimate, "Enough. Too much for fungi samples"

"Do you feel sick?" Coulson's expression betrays a hint of concern.

I shake my head, "No, I'm fine. The samples were small and the levels were low. Barely there, really. Someone may want to check up on those hikers, though."

Coulson nods, "I'll get someone on it."

He turns to Skye, whose arms are folded over her chest in a statement that clearly says, 'I'm still mad that you made fun of my pig shirt.'

Smirking, he says, "Skye, keep an eye on Simmons. The last thing we need is our expert down for the count with radiation sickness."

I cut in to protest as Skye nods, "Really, I'm fine. And I told you, mycology isn't my field. I'm not the expert here, we should really get someone who-"

Coulson doesn't appear to be listening as he leans back into the cockpit to tell May that we're going to Manitoba. He turns back to us, clearly not interested in my protests "Good work, Simmons."

"Thanks. But, I'm not sure what, exactly, we're dealing with. I mean, it could be nothing but-"

"But you made the right call. We'll know more when we land in a few hours. Go get some sleep." He gives me one of his signature Coulson tight-lipped smiles and goes to shut the door to the cockpit when he turns back for a moment.

"I mean it, Skye. Keep an eye on her."

Skye salutes, "You got it, A.C."

She turns to me after Coulson's closed the cockpit door. "Well done, Simmons. You're a regular fungal superhero."

She pats me on the back, as we walk back through the lounge towards our pods.

When we arrive, I stop at my door, which is two doors down from Skye's, with May's pod in between ours.

"Well, this is me," I say lamely. Skye stops a few paces in front me at the door to her own pod before turning around.

"You sure you're alright? I mean, what about the radiation sickness?"

I almost laugh, but manage a smirk instead. "There wasn't enough radiation in the samples to make a fruit fly sick. I suspect Agent Coulson understood that and was trying to-"

"Mess with me. Got it." Skye shakes her head and laughs lightly. "So, you'll be alright."

I nod resolutely, "Just fine. Apart from my skin turning green, probably."

Her eyes widen comically.

"Kidding," I add quickly. "Really, it's not a big deal."

Skye still looks skeptical, but she lets it go. "Alright, if you say so. But if you start feeling a little green around the gills, come find me?"

The urge to fake a cough is fleeting, but present nonetheless. Instead I nod, covering my mouth with the back of hand, as a yawn escapes of its own volition. All at once my body seems to become hyper-aware of the fact that it's been a very long time since I've slept.

"You must exhausted. I'll let you get some sleep. Big day tomorrow."

I take my hand away from my mouth and go to open the door to my pod. "Seems that way," I respond, keying in the code to open the door. "Hope you're ready for the cold. Manitoba is pretty frigid this time of year. Or any time of the year, really. It's-"

Skye cuts in, "Simmons, you're bleeding."

Before I can respond, she's in front of me, her face a map of lines that spell out her concern.

"Simmons?"

She takes one more step closer and I think about taking a step back. I could honestly count the number of times she's been this close to me on one hand, I think. I can almost feel my brain buzzing and whirring as it misfires, the urge to step away fiercely battling the one that refuses. By some miracle, my fingers manage to find their way to my face, feeling around for a moment before my index finger happens upon something slick near my left nostril.

I pull my hand away to inspect the damage and, sure enough, I have a nosebleed.

This is not an especially disconcerting development. Nosebleeds are frequent. Not to me, particularly, but seeing as it's hardly gushing like Ol' Faithful, I'm not overly concerned.

I key in the code to my pod quickly, then lean in to grab a tissue from the nook beside my bed and dab away the blood.

"There," I say, standing in front of Skye once again. "See? Nothing to worry about." I attempt to smile, but even as I do so, I can feel more blood beginning to trickle from my nose. Catching it before it can get far, I go over a mental checklist of possible ailments that might lead to symptoms like nosebleeds given my activity for the past few days.

The obvious answers are a) radiation sickness (not likely, considering I'm absolutely positive that the amount of radiation in the samples was well below the 'dangerous' threshold) or b) fungal infection. The latter is plausible, I suppose, but I don't share this with Skye.

Instead, I say, "Really, Skye, I'm fine. It's nothing." As soon as the words leave my lips, I want to take them back. Immediately, as if egged on by my misplaced confidence, my vision darkens around the edges and my lungs feel like the air is being forced from them.

"Simmons, I'm not-"

She stops short when I throw a hand out to steady myself on the threshold of my pod. Before I can say 'What's that bright light?', her hands on my arms, steadying me.

"Jesus Christ, Simmons. Clearly not nothing."

In the next moment, she's steering me into my pod and forcing me to sit on the bed.

Her voice is uneven when she says, "Do you want me to get Fitz?"

I'm shocked at the suggestion. I hadn't even considered getting Fitz, really.

"Fitz? Why would we get Fitz?"

Skye shrugs, "I don't know, because he's-"

"Completely useless in situations involving blood?"

She nods slowly, "I see your point."

A beat passes before Skye crouches down in front of me so she's on eye level. She presses a hand to my cheek, checking my temperature. Her expression darkens when I shiver.

I can tell from her reaction that I must feel a bit warm, which would explain the chills to some degree. Whether or not this is the result of a fever may be up for debate.

"Jemma, there is no way I'm leaving you alone all night."

It doesn't escape my notice that this is the first time she's ever used my first name. "Skye, really, I'm fine. It's just-"

"Listen, it's either me or Coulson. You choose."

I can feel a grimace settle on my face.

"Yeah," Skye smirks, "that's what I thought."

After a bit more useless protesting, I'm crawling into bed as Skye opens her laptop in the corner.

Our pods are just big enough to fit a small bed with about two feet of space at the foot of them. This, I think, is considered our 'living room'. In the living room, there's exactly one plastic chair, lauded for neither its comfort nor its aesthetic appeal. Still, Skye insisted upon staying with me tonight.

"I'm not tired," she'd said, "And I haven't been able to sleep anyway. I'll just hang out on reddit. Besides, my pod's a black hole for wifi and I can't get to sleep without my computer. So you'll be doing me a favor, really."

Clearly, I conceded.

"Are you sure you'll be comfortable there?" I hesitate for a moment, "I mean, if you wanted to take half the bed, it's plenty big enough. That's chair's horribly-"

"Jem, I'll be fine here. Seriously."

If she noticed my relatively sharp intake of breath when she used my nickname, she doesn't let on.

"Besides," she continues, "I'm here to keep watch and make sure you don't die, remember? I mean, do you actually know what's wrong with you?"

"No comment."

I pause a moment before continuing, "Skye, honestly, it's not a big deal. We'll be on the ground tomorrow and I'll make a few calls and figure out what's going on. It's probably just an allergy."

Skye remains unconvinced, but doesn't say as much. Instead, she goes back to typing, probably googling radiation allergies. With any luck I'll be asleep before she finds her way to WebMD.

Giving up, I turn out the lights next to my bed. "Really, Skye, if you get cold or tired, I promise you that I'll be fine. You can-"

"Right. Go back to my pod. I heard you the first four times."

Nodding, I settle into my bed. "Alright. So long as you know."

I can almost hear her eyes roll from across the 'room'.

"I know."

I'm almost asleep when something occurs to me.

"Skye?"

"Hmm?"

"Is your pod really a dead zone? For wifi, I mean?"

She doesn't answer immediately, but I can hear the smirk in her voice when she throws my own words back at me.

"No comment."