The Violence and the Lamb

"Good evening, Jemma."

Ward doesn't turn around, but somehow Jemma feels like like he can see her swallow, voice caught a moment in her throat, even though his eyes are fixed on the solid wall of Vault D.

"I thought you might like pictures, Ward." Jemma's training for infiltrating Hydra helps to keep her voice even, though she is trembling inside. She lifts the photographs of the team members he'd been pushing for, her eyes on them so she doesn't have to meet Ward's when he turns around and steps just shy of the barrier. "Just until Skye sets up your view," she finishes lamely.

"How very thoughtful," Ward murmurs like a caress, before his voice hardens slightly, a warning. "Or did Skye send you here for one last wheedle - before you're both reassigned?"

"No, I came on my own."

"People will say we're in love." There's a wistful tone to his voice, but he's too practiced a liar for her to put any stock in his words. He claims to love her. She's not sure he's even capable. "There's one of you, I trust?"

"Yes." Skye had taken it, against her better judgment, a declaration she'd repeated even as she put the photo paper in the printer.

"Good, that's good," Ward smiles, and all Jemma can think of is a wolf's sharp teeth. "Pity for poor Bobbi. Tick-tock..."

"Are you going to help me?" It hurts to come here, to play a little deeper into his game every time she comes here, but she can't leave Bobbi to Hydra's torture, not when they have her only because she put herself in danger to get Jemma and her hard drive out. Whatever this costs her, Jemma will pay it.

"Your problem is you need to have more fun in life."

"I think you were telling me the truth the last time - or starting to. Tell me the rest now." Jemma wets her lips. "Please."

"I've studied the case file. Have you? Everything you need to find Bobbi is right in these pages."

"Then tell me how," she begs.

"First principles, sweetheart."

Jemma flinches at the endearment, at the reminder that once she used to long for that from him, for him to look at her like he looked at Skye. The way he looks at her now is different, more than the awkward longing he'd done as his cover, but it's tainted by the monster she knows lurks underneath. The monster she hates herself a little more each day for still being drawn to, despite all she knows.

"Simplicity" Ward continues. "Read Marcus Aurelius. Of each particular thing, ask: What is it, in itself, what is its nature...? What does he do, this man that has your friend?

"He brainwashes-"

"No," Grant cuts her off sharply and she takes a step back, even though he is still behind the force field that will keep him from harming her, though he's repeatedly said that isn't what he wants. His tone softens. "That's incidental. What is the first and principal thing he does, what need does he serve by erasing people and putting them back together new, the way he wants?"

"I don't know. Servitude. Total devotion."

"No, he covets immortality. That's his nature. And what are the other ways he might go about looking to achieve that? Make an effort to answer."

"Looking for the miracle experiment to lengthen life. Make your ideas immortal, so your name is written on the pages of history." His eyes on her are fond. That isn't the answer he's looking for, as he tilts his head slightly for her to continue, but it is close. She searches her mind for other ways to write your name on the scrolls of time. "Children! Does he have children?"

"Very good, sweetheart."

"All right yes, then, tell me how to find-"

"No. It's your turn to tell me, Jemma. You don't have any more views to sell. How did it feel, in that pod?"

"Ward, we don't have any time for this-"

"But we don't keep time the same way, Jemma. This is all the time you'll ever have."

"Later, now please, listen to me, we've only got-"

"No. I will listen now. When the pod didn't float, when you were there on the bottom of the ocean with Fitz, what did you feel?"

"I was afraid. I thought I was going to die."

"Not just afraid, sweetheart. You were afraid when the Chitauri virus coursed through your system, but you held onto hope too, as you rushed toward a cure. I want you to tell me. What was it like?"

"It was cold. Dark."

"And Fitz?"

"He was… he was afraid."

"But just like with the virus, you worked together for a solution, didn't you?"

"Yes."

"And you found one, didn't you? Like you did with the virus."

"Yes."

"I knew you would, sweetheart. You know I didn't mean to hurt you, don't you, my brilliant Jemma? You found a way to survive. I gave you the best opportunity to be safe."

"No," she closes her eyes, gasps it out because she can't absolve him. "No, Fitz found a way to make me safe. He told me he loved me, told me to leave him, but I couldn't. I couldn't. And it was very cold. And he got so heavy. So heavy... I didn't give up."

"But it didn't make you love him, did it, Jemma? Didn't change the feelings he wanted so badly to be there, for him?"

Jemma swallows hard, wraps her arms around herself. She wants desperately to be able to feel for Fitz the way he wants her to feel, but she doesn't. She can't. Whatever spark is there for him has never been lit inside her for him in return. She can't set it ablaze any more than she can douse the other ember inside her, the one she's tried to bury and snuff to no avail.

"Do you think if you save poor Bobbi, you could stop feeling the weight of it all? If Bobbi lives, you won't wake up in the dark, ever again, from the dreams of tumbling through the sky, relief to feel your heart pounding in your chest, because it means you are still alive and knowing to whom it bound you to first?"

"I don't know...! I don't know."

Her lips are pressed together and she can't stop the tears from leaking out of her closed eyes. She lets them fall because she can't bring herself to stop holding herself long enough to wipe them. It's different from the way her arms wrapped around him, in the air as she plummeted to what she thought would be her death, the way he held her against him in the ocean when she came awake, hand soothing through her hair on the raft as they awaited rescue. She can't look at him, can't let him know how much of her heart he still owns.

"Thank you, Jemma."

He knows anyway.

"Give me their names, Grant." Her voice is shaky and rough, but it comes out strong, and for that she's proud.

"Ah, Director Coulson."

Jemma's eyes fly open in dismay.

"Okay, Simmons. Let's go." She can hear the frown in Coulson's voice, coming from the top of the stairs.

"It's your turn, Grant," she steps close the the barrier, so desperate to get what she needs before her unhappy boss makes it down the stairs that she barely notices her own slip at his name. He smiles, pleased by the implied intimacy. "Tell me a name."

"Simmons. Out." Coulson's voice is sharp.

"Sorry, Simmons," May says softly but firmly. "You know you're not supposed to be here."

"My brave Jemma. Will you let me know if the dream ever changes?"

"Yes. I'll tell you," she says as May and Coulson begin to pull her away, toward the stairs. She can see Skye hovering at the top, shifting her weight nervously, a stricken-looking Hunter pacing just behind.

"Jemma, sweetheart," Grant calls. "Your case file?"

It's surprise only, she knows, that keeps Coulson and May from snagging her before she can run to the cell's barrier, snatching up the tablet on the way.

She types a quick command and a small panel opens, large enough for him to hold out the file. She slips him the promised pictures as she takes it, then for a moment, he curls his hand around her wrist, fingers tracing lightly over her stuttering pulse. He lets go before May and Coulson wrap their hands around her arms to pull her back, hands raised mockingly as he steps back. Coulson gently takes the tablet from her fingers as May's grip loosens even as she guides Jemma back to the stairs. Jemma grips the file tightly to her chest, knowing she's only scratched the surface of the price she'll end up paying for it.

"Say hello to Bobbi for me, Jemma," Ward calls out. "I'll be seeing you soon, sweetheart."