A/N: Hey! You guys rock! That pretty much says it all I think! Also I'm sorry this chapter is a little bit long; it was either super short or maybe a little bit too long so I went with long to make up for the filler that was the last chapter. So I hope you continue to read and enjoy and, as always, I'll continue to welcome your thoughts and feedback! Thanks!

Chapter Four

Jemma tells Fitz about the upcoming challenge but she doesn't mention where she got her information from. It seems strange to be actively keeping something from him, to be compartmentalizing her life when they've done everything else together since they were little kids. But things have been strange recently, tense in a way that Jemma can't put her finger on and it only seems to get worse whenever Skye is brought into the conversation. Jemma isn't even sure that it matters, which is why she hasn't mentioned it to Fitz. It's not like she has to figure out how to help her girlfriend and her best friend get along. Skye isn't her girlfriend, not even close. They're barely friends, if she's being honest with herself.

So Jemma just doesn't mention Skye and it never seems to even occur to Fitz that she's not being completely truthful about things. He's too focused on the upcoming competition and what it could possibly entail. Jemma isn't even sure that she really wants to know. The more she thinks about it, the more she thinks she'll never be able to go through with it.

Blissful ignorance is probably the only thing that gets her into Fitz's car Wednesday night and heading toward the center of town. She can think of only one time she's ever even been inside Coulson's and that was when she and Fitz were trying to kill time while Fitz's dad went to the hardware store. And that was years ago. Even then, Jemma had thought everything was so pointless and frivolous but she could see why some people might be interested in having cute little, kitschy objects around their house.

It's not exactly late but there's no one hanging around town; all the stores are closed, the street lights illuminating empty sidewalks. Like with the second challenge, they park a ways away from their destination and walk in silence. Jemma feels like her body is a livewire, taunt and electric with anxiety and a little bit of excitement. But this feels different, somehow. This isn't just a bunch of idiots doing really stupid things; now they're involving other people and Jemma isn't sure how she feels about that.

But she knows, ultimately, that her own guilt doesn't matter. Because she's already come this far. Jemma knows that she's going to do whatever Tripp tells her she has to and she wonders when she became that type of person.

There's already a decent sized crowd gathered outside of Coulson's even though Jemma and Fitz are a little bit early. Despite, or maybe because of, the craziness at Garrett's Field, there is still a large number of spectators. But Jemma can't help but notice that the number of competitors is even smaller still; the players who ended up in the hospital are out but so are two others, including Maria. Jemma realizes that she never knew whether Maria refused to go over the fence or not until right now. But Jemma tries not to let herself get carried away; the people still competing aren't exactly the type of people that Jemma can imagine herself beating. Grant Ward is the type of guy that typically wins The Game year after year. Melinda May is the only one that Jemma could even imagine giving him a run for his money. The others are formidable in their own ways and she's just…Jemma Simmons.

And then there's Skye, who doesn't look any more imposing than Jemma herself. But Jemma has seen the hardness in her eyes, the feral determination that even Ward would be hard-pressed to match.

Jemma tries to stop thinking about the competition as she joins the rest of the crowd. She doesn't need anymore reasons to psych herself out.

From where she's standing, Jemma can't see Skye but she knows that she's somewhere among the crowd anyway. She knows she isn't supposed to be looking for her fellow competitors or mentally wishing them luck in the upcoming challenge. She should be hoping they all fail miserably so she can continue to advance and ultimately win. Seventy thousand dollars. She needs it. She needs it. But still, Jemma can't help but hope that Skye pulls through once more, that they enter the next round together. The Game still seems to be the only thing that is connecting them and even though Jemma would love for that to change, she's not sure how to make that happen.

Once all the competitors have arrived, Tripp steps forward to address the crowd without further ado. Coulson's is behind him and the store is dim and silent, completely unaware of whatever role it's about to play in this insane summertime ritual.

"Okay so the rules are simple this time. You have to go into the store and take something worth over twenty dollars. It has to be worth more than twenty and no trying to switch price tags." Tripp explains.

Jemma worries her bottom lip, glancing toward the store. Stealing. Great. She's never even taken so much as a pack of gum or a tube of chapstick and now she's got to go looking around for something even more expensive. Fitz shifts nervously beside her but she's grateful that he doesn't protest the challenge. He probably knows he wouldn't get anywhere.

"Also," Tripp continues, "once the store alarm goes off you'll have about three minutes before the police arrive. So I'm going to have to tell everyone who isn't playing to leave." A few people start to grumble and Tripp just shrugs. "Sorry. Judge's orders."

Jemma wonders, for about the hundredth time, who these mysterious judges are and how they come up with these stupid challenges. At least there aren't any angry dogs involved this time but it feels equally dangerous for different reasons.

"It should go without saying that if you are grabbed by the cops you're out of The Game." Tripp adds. "And if you do get caught, don't say a word."

Even though everyone already knows that rule, it still sounds ominous when Tripp says it. There was a story circulating a few years ago about one of the competitors mentioning The Game to their parents; he ended up in the hospital due to the beating he'd received from the mysterious judges.

Tripp starts herding the spectators away and Fitz hesitates, glancing at Jemma. She just gives him what she hopes is a reassuring smile. "It's alright, Fitz." She nods. "I'll find my own way back home."

But still Fitz doesn't move. "Jemma…"

"I'll text you when it's all over." She gives him a quick hug. "I promise."

Assuming, of course, that she's not in the back of a squad car in twenty minutes.

With everyone else gone, it's even eerier and Jemma finally feels like she's doing something really wrong, something she's definitely too smart to be doing. At least with all the other people around, cheering them on and laughing and carrying on, it all seems like fun and games. Now Jemma is seriously reconsidering.

Suddenly Skye is standing beside her and Jemma jumps in surprise when she reaches for her hand, giving it a squeeze before pulling away. Jemma's heart is hammering in her chest for an assuredly different reason now, she thinks. At least her mind is off The Game.

Momentarily, anyway. But then Tripp is smashing the glass on the front door, reaching his hand through to unlock the door and push it open. The alarm is already blaring, seeming almost painfully loud in the quiet around them. As soon as the door is open, Ward and several other competitors immediately go running for the store but Jemma freezes because instead of thinking seventy thousand dollars like she often does, all she can think is three minutes. Three minutes until the cops arrive. Three minutes until she gets arrested for breaking, entering and theft. Then it won't have mattered if she's disqualified from The Game or not because she's not going to have to worry about paying for college anymore.

Jemma feels Skye move beside her, nudging her before making a beeline for the store along with the others. Jemma feels something inside of her click and she stops trying to think, stops trying to let herself panic. Instead she just moves and she's inside, studying all these stupid kitschy things with renewed interest.

Ward pushes past her to grab a quilted, monogrammed purse off the shelf behind her and then he's gone, out the door and running. Jemma envies him because she feels like she can't think fast enough, can't move fast enough. Not with her heart hammering in her ears and the goddamn alarm blaring endlessly.

Jemma grabs a ceramic bulldog without thinking and flips it over. She can't imagine why anyone would pay fifty bucks for this stupid thing but she'll take it. She clutches it to her chest, glancing around. There's a door behind her marked employees only and it would take Jemma longer to get to the front door than it would that one but there's no way of knowing where that door leads to or if there's a way out.

But it quickly becomes a nonissue when the store is filled with flashing red and blue lights. There's no way three minutes could have passed already, it just doesn't seem possible. Then again, it also feels like she's been standing in this store holding the stupid bulldog for three years so Jemma might not be the best judge of time.

Jemma ducks into the backroom but doesn't have time to shut the door all the way before the cops are moving inside, flashlights up and guns out. She crouches down, hugging the stupid bulldog and trying to consider her options. Thankfully there's a window above the desk and filing cabinets. Jemma has no idea how much noise she'll make trying to climb out but hopefully she can be on solid ground before the police make it into the back room.

Jemma turns to move but then she sees Skye, hiding behind a display of greeting cards. There's a flashy, floral printed scarf wrapped around her neck and anxious look on her face as she listens to the footfalls of the police officers. They're only a few feet away from where she is now and Jemma suddenly feels, with absolute certainty, that there's no way they're going to miss her.

Skye glances in her direction and Jemma sees that some of the bravado that's usually in her eyes has been replaced by fear and Jemma feels her chest tighten, making it hard to breath. Jemma points over her shoulder. "There's a window," she mouths out, slowly, deliberately, and Skye nods.

Of course, there's really no easy way for Skye to move from where she is now to the back office. Not without running right by the officers. Jemma glances around and grabs the first thing she can put her hands on; she throws the doorstop as hard as she can into the store and it knocks into a shelf of figurines, sending several of them crashing to the floor.

The cops turn in unison toward the sound and Skye is up and moving, rushing across the store faster than Jemma would have even thought possible. She's by the window faster than Jemma can even blink, dragging over the desk chair and pushing open the windowpane.

Skye turns back to face her. "Come on!" She gestures desperately for Jemma to hurry and Jemma realizes that she's been just standing there, frozen in place all over again.

But Skye's voice and the look on her face spurs Jemma into action and she joins Skye by the window. Skye takes that stupid ceramic bulldog from her arms and Jemma is suddenly boosting herself through the window, unsure of when she even made the move to hoist herself through. It's a bit of a tight fit but she makes it, landing gracelessly on the other side. Jemma groans as she pushes herself to her feet and Skye tosses the dog statue out to her before pulling herself through the window. Of course, Skye makes it look easy. She even lands on her feet.

Jemma follows Skye's lead and takes off running, ignoring the shouting of the police officers, calling for them to stop and return to the scene of the crime. Jemma wonders if anyone actually listens to those ridiculous commands and she feels laughter start bubbling inside her chest and she doesn't know if laughing at her thoughts or the fact that she's running from the police because she just stole something from a store.

Finally they stop running and Jemma slumps against the brick wall of the building they're currently taking shelter behind. She's half panting, half laughing, clutching the dog statute tightly to her chest. "That was insane." She manages as she struggles to catch her breath. "I can't believe I just did that."

Skye sits down beside her, nudging her playfully. "What? You've never run from the cops before?" She teases.

Jemma just scoffs and shakes her head. "This might surprise you, but I don't exactly take part in many bad girl shenanigans."

Skye gives her a faux-shocked look. "You? No! I don't believe it."

Jemma just gives her a playful shove in return, rolling her eyes. Skye laughs and the sound seems to move through Jemma, sizzling her already taunt nerve endings.

"So then, what, exactly made you decide to play The Game?" Skye questions. "Wanted to break that good girl image?"

For a moment, Jemma thinks about telling her everything but the words freeze in her throat and she knows that she won't easily dislodge them, not when she has to go back several months to even begin to answer Skye's question. So she just shrugs. "Well, if I told you that, I'd have to kill you." She teases.

Skye just smirks, arching her eyebrows. But she doesn't press the issue, even though Jemma can tell that she's captured Skye's interest. It's insane to even think about, that she, of all people, would be able to intrigue someone like Skye.

They sit there in silence, both still struggling to return their breathing and heartbeats to normal and Jemma pulls out her phone to text Fitz so he doesn't have a heart attack while he waits to hear from her.

Fitz calls her immediately. "Where are you?" He questions without preamble. His tone makes it obvious that he's been hanging around, ready to swoop in and be the getaway driver if necessary.

That's actually a question that Jemma can't easily answer. It takes her a few minutes of wandering around to figure out where she is and Fitz tells her to stay put and he'll be by to pick her up. Jemma sits down on the sidewalk, setting the ceramic dog down beside her. Once again, Skye joins her and Jemma barely manages to hide her smile. She figures this is probably pathetic in some way, that she's getting this giddy over just sharing the same space with Skye.

Skye pats the head of the dog statue, smirking at Jemma. "Interesting choice."

"I just panicked and grabbed the first thing I could." Jemma admits. "I wasn't thinking practically." She points to the scarf around Skye's neck.

"Well, I got lucky. I can't imagine why anyone would pay thirty dollars for this but I definitely lucked out." Skye tells her with a smile.

There's a pause and the smile slowly fades from Skye's face, her expression becoming serious. "Listen I…thanks." She clears her throat, glancing down at her hands. "For sticking around. To help me. I don't know anyone else who would have stayed."

Jemma just shrugs but she can feel a flush of pleasure spreading across her chest, making her heart quicken. "It was nothing." She mumbles.

"No it wasn't." Skye tells her, finally looking back up at Jemma. "No one else would have done that."

Jemma gives her a shy smile and the way that Skye is looking at her makes Jemma feel like she's struggling to breathe all over again. She suddenly feels like Skye is going to kiss her, that she's about to close the distance between them and press their lips together and a momentary flash of panic spreads through Jemma's body but it's quickly replaced by the realization that she really wants that to happen.

But whether that's what Skye intended to do or not will remain a mystery because Fitz chooses that exact moment to arrive, pulling up beside the curb. He doesn't exactly look surprised to see Skye there but he doesn't look happy about it.

Jemma holds up the dog statute for Fitz to see. "Ta da." She deadpans.

Fitz just shakes his head but he looks relieved, though Jemma doesn't know if it's because she got away with it or because she completed another challenge. "You're turning into a world class criminal, Jemma."

"Hardly." Jemma mutters. She opens the passenger side door and glances over her shoulder at Skye, an unspoken question on her face.

Skye pauses for a moment before getting into the back seat of the car, slamming the door shut behind her. Jemma doesn't even bother to glance at Fitz; she can easily picture the slightly annoyed but resigned expression on his face.

"So," Fitz says as he pulls away from the curb, "where to?"

"Food." Jemma is surprised when the word passes her lips. "I'm starving." It's not until she gives voice to the idea that she realizes that it's true. She's absolutely ravenous all of the sudden, craving the type of food that she never wants ordinarily. Must be the adrenaline and the close brush with the law.

So Fitz heads to a place that's open all night and serves disgustingly greasy food and Jemma is pretty sure that she's never even thought about eating here but now it sounds like the best thing that she can imagine. It seems like she's not the only one who's had the same idea; almost every booth and table in the restaurant is occupied by their classmates, several of them participants in The Game. Everyone is laughing and carrying on, the somber atmosphere from only twenty-five minutes earlier completely gone. It's almost impossible to look at Ward and May and some of the others and remember that they just committed an act of theft twenty minutes before.

Of course, so did Jemma. So she figures there's some merit to that whole throwing stones and glass houses saying.

They manage to find a small booth anyway; it's designed for two but Skye squeezes in beside Jemma anyway and Jemma really doesn't mind. She and Fitz both order far too much food but Skye insists that she isn't hungry and seems content to stir the ice cubes around in her water. But Skye's assurances that she isn't hungry don't stop her from stealing fries off Jemma's plate whenever she thinks that Jemma isn't paying attention. Jemma doesn't mind; she just leaves the fries for Skye to munch on.

Once they finish eating and walk out toward Fitz's car, Jemma suddenly finds herself feeling exhausted and even though it's not even midnight, she still feels like she could fall into bed and sleep for twelve hours straight.

"We could give you a ride home, Skye." Jemma offers and she can feel Fitz glaring at her. "If you'd like."

Skye shrugs and waves the suggestion aside. "I can walk." She tells them. "It's not very far."

Jemma wants to insist but there's something in Skye's face that makes her bite her tongue. Instead, she just gets back into Fitz's car, studying Skye in the review mirror until she can't see her any longer.

"You know," Jemma begins, glancing over at Fitz, "you aren't very nice to her."

Fitz scoffs and rolls his eyes. "Why should I be nice to her?"

Jemma purses her lips and then sighs. "I like her, Fitz." She says softly. It's the first time she's spoken those words out loud, admitted the way that she feels about Skye. It's impossible to ignore those feelings now.

But Fitz just pretends like he doesn't hear her.

The following night, after Jemma has already submitted the picture of herself and her stolen item to the mysterious judges, she puts the dog statue into her backpack and rides her bike back into town. It's not exactly a short ride but there's something about being out so late, after everyone else is asleep and there's nothing around her but the sounds of the crickets and the stars overhead, that makes it not so bad.

When Jemma goes to place the ceramic dog outside the door of Coulson's, she's surprised to see that someone has already tied a very vibrant, floral patterned scarf around the door handle.

A few days have passed since the third challenge and Jemma finds herself slipping back into that weird, holding pattern stage. It's not that she's looking forward to what will happen next in The Game because she's actually, honestly terrified of what she'll have to do next. It's just that she's halfway through now, she's made it through three challenges. And she wants to make it through four.

Jemma knows with each passing challenge, her chances of winning continue to go up. The idea of winning, of getting the money and getting the hell out of here, is slowly starting to take root in her mind, refusing to let itself be shaken away easily. Jemma is still trying to be practical; she knows it's dangerous to stop hoping too much and let herself get carried away. But it's getting closer, she can almost taste it. She wants it.

And when Jemma walks into Fitz's bedroom one morning and sees cardboard boxes stacked up in one corner, she remembers exactly what she wants and what will happen if she doesn't win.

Fitz follows her line of sight and almost looks guilty. "Sorry." He mutters. "I…my mum thought it was a good idea to start getting stuff together…"

But Jemma just nods and forces a smile. "It's fine, Fitz." She mutters. "It makes sense."

Because summer is steadily approaching its end. And whether Jemma wins The Game or not, Fitz will still be leaving. He'll be going to Stanford and she might be staying behind.

Jemma sits down on the edge of his bed, suddenly heavy with the reality of the situation. The Game is the only chance that she has. How ridiculous is that? Fitz sits down beside her and puts his arm around her shoulder, pulling her into a half-hug.

"We'll figure it out, Jem." Fitz assures her.

Jemma nods. They keep saying this but it hasn't been true yet and summer is halfway over. She can't even imagine the things she'd have to do to earn enough money for tuition; The Game would be a breeze compared to some of the things she can envision.

"You could win." Fitz points out, as though reading her mind. "You could. You're getting close now."

Jemma can hear the desperation in his voice, mirroring the way that she feels whenever she thinks about what's going to come next. She nods again and looks up at her friend. Fitz gives her a forced smile. "I don't want to go without you, Jem."

"I could win." Jemma means for the words to be reassuring and full of conviction but they just sound uncertain and breathless with possibility.

I could win, Jemma thinks again. I could.

This the thought that takes over her mind most nights when she's trying to sleep, when she finds herself laying in bed and staring up at the ceiling. She could win, the likelihood is growing larger all the time.

But Jemma also finds herself thinking about Skye and how if she wins then Skye will have to lose. She knows that it shouldn't matter, it shouldn't bother her. But it does.

Rumors of the beginnings of the individual trials start to circulate and Jemma finds that she has a whole new set of anxieties to occupy herself with. It's only a matter of time before it's her turn and she'll have to compete in a task alone, in something that is tailored specifically to the things that she's afraid of. At least, that's what the rumors say anyway. Jemma wonders how anyone could know exactly what scares her but she still finds herself feeling anxious and worried, wondering when it'll be her turn and what she'll have to do.

If the rumors are to be believed, several of the competitors have already been put through their challenges. Ward apparently passed his with flying colors while Kate and Tony both failed their tasks. Jemma wonders what could be so horrible that they couldn't pass. But she also thinks two down.

They come to get her in the middle of the night. Jemma is so surprised, so seized by fear, that she can't even cry out when she feels someone grab her shoulders, jerking her upright. Her eyes fly open but her vision quickly goes dark, obscured by the thick, black fabric that is being tied around her head.

Jemma opens her mouth to shout for help, to hope that her mother is still aware enough to hear her panic, but someone claps a hand over her mouth. "Don't scream." It takes Jemma a second to recognize the voice in her ear. It's Tripp. "It's all part of The Game."

Somehow that doesn't make Jemma feel all that reassured but she lets them pull her out of bed anyway. Someone is grasping her upper arm tightly, like she's going to try and run and Jemma turns her head, trying to figure out how many people are in the room with her. But it's impossible to see anything. She can't help but blush at the thought of Tripp and the others (the judges, she thinks) seeing her dressed in nothing but a tank top and the shorts she used to wear in gym class. It's too hot to wear much of anything but if she had known she was going to be kidnapped tonight she would have dressed for the occasion.

Tripp collects her phone and her keys and he's the only one that talks to her as they lead her out of the house. Jemma's heart is hammering in her ears as she walks the familiar path down the hallway toward the front door. The blindfold and the stranger holding her tightly are making it hard for her to remain composed and keep her cool. It makes everything seem so much worse.

They take her outside and the driveway is rough against her bare feet. Someone forces her hands behind her back and Jemma tenses when she feels cold metal encircle her wrists. She's being handcuffed. Why are they handcuffing her?

"Where are we going?" Jemma questions as they put her in the backseat of a car, hearing the scared and panicky edge in her voice. "What do I have to do?"

"You'll find out soon enough." Tripp tells her from the front seat of the car.

Jemma wishes that she could see something, anything at all. But the blindfold is too thick and tied too tightly. She tries to tell herself that she's safe, tries not to let the feelings of panic completely take over because if that happens she knows she won't be able to think straight, she won't succeed. But it's hard to put her safety in the hands of the people who have already put her through so much.

They only drive for about ten minutes, though it feels like a lifetime for Jemma. No one speaks; the only sound Jemma can hear is the pounding of her heart and her own ragged breathing.

When they pull her out of the car, the smell of chlorine hits her noise and Jemma instantly tenses. There's no mistaking where they are now. Jemma tries to twist away from the person holding her arm, feeling the panic harder to squash down now.

"No." Jemma protests as they lead her through the front gate, trying to plant her heels on the rough ground. "You can't do this."

"Don't panic." Tripp says and his voice is oddly soft and comforting, like he genuinely wants to reassure her. "You'll be fine."

Jemma turns her head in what she judges to be his direction. "Please." She says softly. But she doesn't even know if she's talking to anyone or just speaking to empty air.

"You have forty seconds." Tripp tells her and he takes one of her hands in his, pressing something small and cool into her palm. He closes her fingers around the object. "Then we'll get you out."

"Wait-" But Jemma doesn't get a chance to finish her sentence because suddenly she's being shoved forward and she hits the water.

All she can think about is being here, at the community pool, with Fitz and both their families when she was ten years old. She wasn't a strong swimmer, mostly because she hated getting wet and submerging herself in the water. She was content to just sit on the edge and let her legs dangle while Fitz swam around her and splashed her. Someone had pushed her in on accident, one of the bigger kids who was running around and roughhousing despite the lifeguard's warnings. Jemma knows that she wasn't under for long but in her surprise and panic, she hadn't been able to do anything but let herself sink. She inhaled water without thinking and had been so certain, so overwhelming sure at ten years old that she was going to die.

Surely it had only been seconds before her father had pulled her out and laid her out on the warm sidewalk but it had felt like forever. And it had been like someone flipped a switch in her brain because she had never set foot near a pool again.

Until now.

Jemma feels like she can't think. It's like a wall of blackness in her brain and she can't push through it. She can't swim, she can't move; her pulls against the cuffs but it's useless. All the thrashing and panic is making her useless. She's going to drown, she's going to drown here in this stupid community pool with her hands cuffed behind her back and a blindfold on, looking like an idiot who deserved to drown.

Suddenly Jemma thinks about her father, the way it had felt to see him swimming toward her that day that now seems so horribly long ago. The relief that had coursed through her body, the certainty that she wasn't going to die, that she was going to be okay because her dad would save her. Only now her dad is gone and it's only her.

Jemma tightens her fingers around the object in her palm and realizes that it's a key. The key to the cuffs around her wrists. Jemma stops, she tries to clear all other thoughts from her mind except for the one that tells her that she can do this, she just has to work the key into the lock and then she'll be free.

There's one, horrifying second where Jemma almost drops the key. She can feel it slipping from her grasp and knows that if it falls, that's it. But she manages to twist her palm so she can catch it again, holding it tightly between her fingers. When the key finally gets into the lock, Jemma wants to cry in relief. She twists and the cuff comes loose and Jemma swims toward the surface.

Her lungs feel like they're on fire by the time her head is finally above the water and she exhales deeply, coughing and spitting water. Jemma yanks the blindfold off, whipping her head around, looking for the judges. She hopes they're pleased with her performance.

But the only person still there is Tripp. He's smiling at her and she wants to punch him in the face. "Congratulations." He tells her. "You passed. Thirty-three seconds."

Jemma kicks over to the edge of the pool and drags herself out, glaring at Tripp. "Great." She mumbles. She unlocks the other cuff from her wrist and tosses the key and the handcuffs in Tripp's direction.

The car is still waiting in the parking lot but Jemma can't see who is waiting inside. Tripp verifies once more that she's alright before getting into the car himself and suddenly Jemma is alone with nothing more than her house keys and phone, soaking wet in her ridiculous shorts and tank top with a picture of an atom across the front.

Jemma is shivering even though it's still ridiculously hot; her teeth are chattering and she wants to burst into tears right there in the empty parking lot. Because she could have drowned. Because her father is gone. Because this is a mess that she's gotten herself into.

Instead, she just looks at her phone and her finger hovers over Fitz's name in her contacts. But she doesn't call him. Instead, Jemma scrolls through her address book until she reaches Skye's name and taps her screen without hesitation.

Skye answers on the second ring. "Jemma? Is everything okay?" She sounds groggy and confused and Jemma feels guilty for waking her.

But not guilty enough to tell Skye to go back to sleep. "Can you meet me somewhere?" Jemma questions without preamble. "That place we went to after the second challenge."

Skye hesitates but only for a second. "Yes."

Jemma hangs up because there isn't anything more to say, not right now. She just starts walking, grateful that there's no one else around to see her right now. It's not exactly a short walk but Jemma feels like she can easily run the whole way and not be the least bit tired.

Skye is waiting for her outside. Her eyes get wide when she takes in Jemma's appearance, her brow creasing with concern. "Jemma, what happened-"

Jemma just steps forward, taking Skye's face in her hands and kissing her. She's tired of hoping that will happen. She's going to make sure that it does.

There's no hesitation in Skye's touch, no tension that has to ease from her body, no surprise to overcome. She just presses her lips to Jemma's, putting her hands on Jemma's hips and pulling her closer. Jemma feels hot and dizzy and lightheaded. This is a whole different kind of drowning.

When Skye moves away, Jemma is strangely pleased to see that she's breathing heavily. "I…not that I'm complaining but I still feel like there's a lot of explaining that needs to be done."

They go inside the shed and the lamps are already on and burning brightly, chasing away the darkness. Jemma's eyes fall to the blankets spread out on the ground, arranged in a way that doesn't look careless or casual. Skye snatches one of the blankets up before Jemma can really think too much about it and drapes it over Jemma's shoulders. She wraps it around herself even though it's too hot in this building for that; it makes her feel a little less exposed.

Jemma sits down beside Skye on one of the other blankets and she really wants to kiss her again. She wants to do nothing but kiss her, actually. But Jemma feels like that can wait.

Especially because Skye is looking at her expectantly, worry still coloring her features.

"My individual challenge was tonight." Jemma tells Skye, brushing her wet hair away from her. "They handcuffed me and threw me into a pool."

Skye's eyes grow wide. "What the fuck?" She sounds angry more than surprised and she shakes her head in disgust. "That's crossing a line."

Jemma can't disagree. But she feels a strange sense of pride when she says, "I passed."

Skye smiles at her and lets out a little laugh. "Of course you did." She doesn't seem at all surprised by this fact.

Jemma can't help herself. She leans closer to Skye, kissing her again, slipping her fingers through Skye's hair and pressing their bodies flush together. Jemma feels Skye smiling against her lips and between the near drowning and this exact moment, everything feels so surreal that Jemma worries that she might be dreaming.

But Skye's hands feel real against her back and sides, heavy with possibility. And if this is a dream, Jemma will be really, really pissed when she wakes up.

"I wasn't even sure that you liked me." Skye admits when they finally separate once more and there's a hint of self-consciousness in her tone, like the idea of someone not liking her wasn't much of a stretch. "You're a hard person to read, Jemma Simmons." She teases.

Jemma just laughs and lays back on the blanket, staring up at the holes in the ceiling. "That's definitely something I've never heard before." She mutters.

Skye smiles at her before laying down on her side beside Jemma, curling toward her but not quite touching. Jemma is almost relieved for the reprieve; her body already feels like it's smoldering. One more touch from Skye might set her completely aflame.

"My father died." Jemma blurts out and it's hard to tell who is more surprised by the abrupt change in the conversation or the words that have passed Jemma's lips. Jemma continues to stare straight ahead but she can feel Skye's eyes on her anyway. "Six months ago."

Skye doesn't say anything. She doesn't blurt out the typical "I'm sorry" that Jemma has come to expect from everyone the second the words leave her mouth. She doesn't offer a pitying look or suddenly seem uncomfortable, like she doesn't know how to deal with this second hand grief. She just sighs. "That sucks."

Jemma barks out a laugh and is surprised by the sound. She's pretty sure she's never laughed at the idea of her father's death before. "Yeah." She says simply. "It really does."

"How did he die?" Skye questions and when Jemma looks at her, she can see concern and subtle sympathy in her eyes. She looks softer than Jemma has ever seen her before, the steeliness in her eyes momentarily replaced by concern.

"A car accident." Jemma answers. "He was coming back from dinner with my mum and then," she snaps her fingers, "it was over."

"But your mom…?" Skye trails off, almost as though she's afraid to bring up what could possibly be another tough subject.

Jemma shrugs. "She was fine. Barely a scratch." It hadn't made any sense but very little about that night and everything that's come after makes sense to Jemma.

Skye reaches for her hand and laces their fingers together and Jemma wonders how she knew that would say more than trite platitudes ever could.

"It was just…unexpected." Jemma hates using that word because it's pretty obvious. Of course it was unexpected; he died coming home from a dinner on a Wednesday night. "He'd just started a business and our finances were tied up in the company and when the business went under…everything was gone. All my money for college…" Jemma just closes her eyes, suddenly feeling impossibly tired. Like the very act of keeping her eyes open is too much.

Jemma always feels like a selfish brat when she mentions the loss of her college fund. There seem to be so many other important things to focus on. But for Jemma, it boils down to something far simpler: she'd lost everything. Her father, her family, her foundation and then her future.

Jemma opens her eyes again so she can look at Skye. "That's why I'm playing The Game."

"For college." Skye states simply and a resigned sort of understanding fills her eyes.

"Yes." Jemma nods. "Stanford. Fitz and I have been talking about going there since we were children. It wasn't supposed to be like this. It wasn't supposed to be about winning this stupid game. And even that won't get me through more than a year. But that doesn't even matter. Just getting there, that's what matters." Jemma is well aware that she's rambling now but she feels like she can't stop herself and Skye doesn't seem to mind, her eyes intently focused on Jemma.

"If I can just make it that first year…I can find a cheap apartment with Fitz, get a job. Or two. Crappy jobs, crappy apartment, it doesn't matter. If I can just get there…" Jemma sighs and closes her eyes once more.

"Yeah." Skye says softy and there's a strange sort of wistful yearning in her tone that Jemma can't quite place. "That sounds nice."

Jemma opens her eyes and gives Skye a skeptical look. "Really?" She smirks. She wouldn't exactly call it nice. She would call it altering her vision of the future; she would call it lowering her expectations.

But Skye just nods. "Your own place, living with someone who cares about you. Working and college and…just doing something that matters." She shrugs and waves her hand dismissively, suddenly seeming almost shy. "Or whatever."

Again, Jemma feels the overwhelming urge to ask Skye why she's playing The Game. She wants to ask why they're laying in a falling down shed in the middle of the night. She wants to ask about all those secrets that Skye prefers to keep close to her heart. But she doesn't ask, mostly because she feels like Skye might not tell her even if she did.

They lay in silence for a while instead, Jemma still holding Skye's hand tightly in her own. "Thanks." Jemma finally says, her voice quiet. "For coming to meet me tonight."

Skye smiles at her. "I didn't exactly need a lot of convincing." She points out. "Why did you call me? Why not Fitz? You guys seem pretty tight."

Jemma just shrugs. "I don't know." But she feels like the words are a lie. What she means is I don't know if I could put it into words.

But Skye seems to understand anyway. She leans closer, resting her hand gently against Jemma's cheek. Jemma closes her eyes, moving into her touch. Skye's lips brush softly over hers, a fleeting caress. Jemma wants to pull Skye closer to her, kiss her harder and longer, to drown in her all over again. But this is nice too, she thinks, just being here like this with things soft and quiet and gentle.

tbc.