Previously on The Door:
During her debrief, Rick explains that Simmons had been witnessing glimpses of alternate universes through a malfunction of the door they'd been working on. Realizing it was her decisions that created all those horrible alternate worlds, she resolves to push Fitz away to keep him safe.
While Fitz works on fixing the 084 with May on the Quinn Jet, he becomes suspicious of her intentions. Too late, he discovers that she has been replaced by a shapeshifting Skrull. When he fails to escape, they try to force him to help their cause by making him watch his own Skrull-double get closer to Jemma. He has mixed emotions when Simmons shuts his advances down hard.
Mac is tired. Not just the kind of tired where he would close his eyes and succumb to sleep if he had the chance. He's tired in the most frustrating of ways. He's fed up. Though he can't explain why exactly, his instincts are telling him that something strange is going on at the camp. The surprise of the dimension-hopping doorway was not great, but adding another alien into the mix - a Kree no less - was definitely crossing a line. Now he's expected to trust these new people? As much as he's happy that things appeared to be working out with Simmons, that she returned relatively unscathed, something about the whole situation is rubbing him the wrong way.
He sits in stony silence in the corner of the medical tent. The Kree is in the other corner, still unconscious. Kesia dotes over him.
"He's not blue," Mac notes grumpily, breaking the long silence.
"No," Kesia says. "He's a different race. White Kree. The same in every other regard, though."
Mac grunts in acknowledgement but says nothing else. He didn't realise there was such a thing as different races of Kree, but it makes sense. Enough. Still aliens, though. Kesia turns away and doesn't try to pursue conversation, which suits him just fine. He feels better just sitting here as a guard in case the Kree wakes up and tries anything funny.
There's a slight rustle at the door, and Mac turns sharply towards it, standing, his nerves very much on edge. Fitz slinks into the side of the room quietly. At Mac's alert stance, he grins sheepishly. "Hi Mac. Didn't think you'd still be here."
Mac allows himself to relax, rolling his shoulders to release some tension. "Nowhere else I'd rather be," he says wryly. "I thought you'd be off with Simmons reuniting or something."
"Yeah, well I'm not." Fitz says a little too firmly.
He doesn't miss the slight darkening of his friend's expression. "What happened?"
The scientist blushes a deep crimson almost instantly. "Nothing," he mumbles, then quickly changes the subject. "Actually, I came here to check if the Kree is awake yet."
Mac gives Fitz a long look, but knows not to press the Simmons matter when he's in one of his moods like this. He looks over to the bed in the corner. "Nope. Still out like a light," he gestures.
Fitz lets a flash of irritation cross his face. "Fine." He turns instead to Kesia. "Question for you then. How do we get access to more vibranium here?"
The woman presses her mouth together in concern. "Why do we need access to more vibranium?"
"Just working on something with Agent May. She thinks we'll need some more."
"Don't tell me you're working on another project here?" Mac whirls around. "I thought we were headed back as soon as possible!"
"Well you were the one that said we should be more helpful, as Shield Agents," Fitz folds his arms over his chest, frowning.
"Yeah, but as a Shield Agent, I'm starting to feel like something fishy is going on here," Mac retorts, lowering his voice so only Fitz can hear. "The sooner we get out of this place, the better."
"Just calm down and sit tight a bit longer," Fitz says patronizingly. "Kesia, can we have a private word, actually?" He shoots Mac a look. Mac looks between them in disbelief. When neither offers any more information, he lifts his arms up in defeat. He grumbles and turns on the spot. Fine. He can play along. If he sits around any longer he's going to start hitting things anyways. Mac steps out to wait in front of the tent, alone, incredibly less happy than before.
Tapping his foot, he tries not to overhear the hushed tones on the other side of the tent's wall. What project would possibly cause their team to stay in this unknown place with these less than trust-worthy people, he's not sure, but it's making him all the more tired. Stewing in his own frustrations, Mac almost doesn't notice the small woman stroll up to him. Wringing her hands, she clears her throat again. "Mac?"
He has enough control not to jump, but he's still startled. "Simmons! Sorry. What's up?"
She gives him an apologetic smile, realizing she's caught him off guard. "Do you know if MarVell is awake yet? I was hoping to have a brief word with him."
"Everyone wants a word with the goddamned Alien!" He lifts his arms in frustration, starting to pace.
"Oh?" She looks oddly shaken.
"Fitz was just here asking too," Mac explains. "He's in with Kesia now, discussing some other project he's roped us into."
"Oh," Simmons says quietly. "Well in that case I had better give them space…" Shrinking back, she starts to turn away.
"Hold on," Mac stops her, giving her a long, careful look. "What happened between you two? You were gone for a while. I thought by now you'd be - "
"No! No, nothing happened," she cuts him off. "We were just…" Simmons trails off, looking very flushed, and shrugs a shoulder.
Mac sighs audibly. He'd hoped that the only good thing to come of this whole mess would be that the two of them would have at least had their reunion or whatever. They were worse than Hunter and Bobbi.
Simmons' head snaps up. Her eyes go wide and she splutters. "That's not fair. We're nothing like Hunter and Bobbi!"
He turns to look at her, and then snorts, shaking his head. "No one said you were." At least Hunter and Bobbi gave themselves some relief from all the tension once in a while.
"Tension!" Simmons coughs. "Well that's just - there's no tension between us, not like that. We're just - It's…"
"Ah, Simmons?" Mac stares at her pointedly.
"What? I-" she freezes. "Oh."
"I never said any of that."
Her eyes go wide, but she tries to cover up her reaction with a quick smile. "No, of course, I was simply…" she casually tucks a strand of hair behind her ear.
"Simmons…" He looks carefully at her, and then closes his eyes, drawing on all of the patience he has left. "Can you… Lord help me, can you tell me what I'm thinking right now?"
"I-" she starts, but realizes there's no way to think or talk herself out of this one. She lowers her head. "I don't think it works exactly like that."
Mac crosses his large arms over his chest and glares at her. "Why don't you tell me exactly how it works then?"
Simmons brings a palm to her forehead and smooths back the hair out of her face. She lets out a sigh. "Ever since I got back I've been getting these headaches and… well, I thought I was going mad!" She smiles nervously at Mac, but he simply raises an eyebrow at her, prompting her to go on. Her smile slips away, and she continues. "I thought it would go away, that it was an environmental side-effect, similar to the visions in the Negative Zone. But," she looks up, defeated. "Those visions have all but stopped, and this just keeps getting stronger." She starts gesturing as she talks, her mind racing. "It must be something that happened when I came through the doorway. There are simply no studies of the effects crossing dimensions will have on human anatomy, and the methods used were particularly experimental, so perhaps- "
"Simmons," Mac says slowly. "Just get to the point, please."
She wrings her hands together. "I suppose I've been getting… basic glimpses or images of what people are… thinking," she winces. "I don't think it's mind reading exactly, not yet anyways. But I can sort of tell what people are… well, thinking about… For example, when Rick asked if-"
Mac rubs his eyes with one hand and holds the other up to stop her. "You know, I really don't want all the details," he chuckles dryly. "This world just keeps getting stranger and stranger." He was going to need a long vacation when this was all over. With a lot of beer. He looks back up suddenly with a mischievous grin, realizing something. "Hold on. Seriously though, how has none of this helped you sort things out with Fitz?"
Simmons' mouth drops open in indignation. "That's hardly - I would never! Well… I -" she drops her hands to her sides in a huff. "To be honest, it doesn't always work when I'd like. Besides, I doubt I would even want to know what he's thinking…"
"Simmons," Mac chuckles. "The rest of the world knows what he's thinking about you, and they're not actual mind-readers. It's about time you got on board."
"I really don't think-" Without warning, she stumbles before she can finish her thought, someone bumping into her from behind. She hadn't realized she was standing in front of the doorway, and as Fitz stepped back outside without looking properly, he walked right into her.
Regaining their balance and righting themselves awkwardly, they both freeze as though they've been caught. They stare at each other uncomfortably for a few moments, and when Mac lets out an amused grunt, they leap apart. Mac rolls his eyes. Yep, no tension there whatsoever. Simmons' eyes flash to him in irritation.
Fitz appears to have an inner debate with himself, and then steps forward. "Jemma, I-" He reaches a hand out to her, but she quickly jumps back, away from his touch, with a nearly imperceptible flash of fear in her eyes.
She turns away from him, trying to cover her blatant snub. "Thanks for your help Mac," she says a little too brightly. "I think I'd better go check on something," she turns and briskly walks off down the path.
"Jemma!" Fitz calls after her, but stays rooted to the spot. He lets his arms fall to his sides, and scuffs his foot in the dirt. "What did you two talk about, then?"
Mac raises his hands in front of him in defense. "Hey, don't put me in the middle of this. You two have to sort out your own issues."
Fitz frowns. His hand goes to his ear and he closes his eyes tightly. "Right." He then turns and walks away in the opposite direction of Simmons without a word.
Mac stands on the dirt path alone, and shakes his head in amused frustration. "I swear, it's like herding cats with those two," he says to himself. He goes back into the tent and sits down next to Kesia who is once again silently tending to MarVell. This could be a long wait.
Jemma pauses and looks behind her to make sure Fitz hasn't followed. The dirt path is empty and silent. She lets out a sigh of relief. What's happening?
If she's not careful, she'll really begin to start losing her mind. She'd been trying to ignore these glimpses into other peoples' thoughts since she got back, but her conversation with Mac really did bring into sharp focus something she couldn't deny. She was no longer simply intuiting how people were finishing their sentences. There was part of her that was actually seeing into their minds, things she couldn't have known on her own. First with the DTPA injector, then with Carol Danvers...
If she could figure out what triggers it, or how to control it, that might be useful. As it is, though, this new ability worked sporadically at best, and imprecisely the rest of the time. More terrifying is what she had just seen in Fitz' mind, though. She's not sure what to make of it, but it sends chills down her spine. Why would he be thinking of himself bruised and tied to a chair? And pleased about it? She shivers.
Looking at her surroundings, she finds herself in front of one of the small tents that make up the site. She glances around her nonchalantly and quietly slips through the entrance.
A cot is in the corner of the small room, and a table full of papers. She moves over to the table and shuffles through them, not sure what she's looking for. There isn't a lot there. Mostly scientific articles, which she would love to pour over if she had the time. Some newspaper clippings, mostly of high-ranking officials. She picks one up and looks closely at it. It would only make sense to have this information at hand if they were preparing to fight the Skrulls, right? There was no reason to believe the invasion would have already...
Something nearby clangs, making her jump. Heart beating, Jemma listens for a moment and then pokes her head out of the tent. The wind had picked up and tossed a loose piece of aluminium-foil, but otherwise the coast was clear. Taking a deep breath to calm her nerves, she slips out of the tent again. She makes it a few paces before someone taps her on the shoulder, causing her to nearly jump out of her skin.
"Looking for something, Simmons?"
"Oh! Sir, you startled me!" She doubles over, trying to catch her breath.
Coulson raises an eyebrow but doesn't hide his amused expression. "I think Rick went to go check on MarVell, if you needed to ask him something."
"Right, good. I was just there, actually. Must have just missed him!" Jemma laughs uncomfortably. Coulson doesn't put words to his question, but simply looks back at the tent and then pointedly at her. "I was just taking a bit of a look around," she says airily. "Getting to know the place. Find my bearings and all that."
He gives her a look that clearly says he doesn't buy what she's saying, but he plays along either way. "Did you find Fitz? I think he's been looking for you."
"Oh, yes," she says. "In fact I only just-" she stops. The space behind her eyes starts to prick, and her hand immediately goes to her forehead.
"Everything okay?"
She considers for a moment before answering. Perhaps she should stop ignoring these headaches and just experiment a little... She closes her eyes tightly, playing it off as a wince of pain, and concentrates. Darkness swims around her, but then an image starts to appear. All she sees is the Quinn Jet and a tinge of either anxiety or anger. Odd.
She opens her eyes again and arranges her face into a smile. "Of course," she says, waving off his concern for her. "Ready to be home soon is all."
"I'm afraid it may be a while still," Coulson smiles tightly. "May's found something worth investigating here. But don't worry, we'll get you back home soon enough."
"Anything I can help with?" She asks brightly.
Coulson looks a little distracted. "I think it's best if you lay low and try to relax. I'll let you know if we need you for anything, but I think we've got it covered for now."
Jemma nods. "In that case, I'm off to continue my stroll. I'll let you know if I see anything interesting."
Coulson grins at her and turns down the path. "Stay safe, Jemma. No adventuring."
"Right, sir. It's the boring life for me!" She smiles and watches him walk away down the path. When she can no longer see him, her smile drops. He wasn't acting suspicious, and yet...
Making an executive decision, she heads straight to the Quinn Jet. If only to ease her mind, it's worth it to check things out. At the very least she'll be able to use the comms to get hold of Skye, and see how she had been during her absence.
The back of the jet is already open when she gets there. Coulson must have just come from the jet, which explains why it was so fresh in his mind.
"Hello?" She calls out, just to be safe. "Anyone here? It's just me... Jemma..."
No one answers, yet she still feels unsettled. She looks over her shoulder and steps carefully up the ramp of the plane. There's a table in the middle of the main area sitting slightly askew. She nudges the corner of it, placating herself by making it line up correctly with the wall. Her eyebrows knit together. There aren't normally tables set up in here, are there?
Something catches her eye, and she leans down to the floor. It's a small pile of ash. She dips her finger into it and examines it carefully. There doesn't seem to be anything particularly unusual about it. She sighs. She was being paranoid. Dusting her hands off, she walks over to the controls of the plane.
Sitting down, she tells herself it's a good idea. She reaches out a hand to the dials, but hesitates. She quirks her head to the side, afraid she's heard something rustling behind her. After a minute of silence, she takes a deep breath, trying to shake off her nerves. She quickly dials in the number and waits, drumming her finger tips on the console impatiently.
"Simmons?!" When her friend's face appears on the monitor, she lets out a big sigh of relief.
"Skye," Jemma smiles widely.
"It's Daisy now actually," she says automatically with a grin. "But oh my God, Simmons! Are you okay?" Her face searches for an emotion to settle on, flitting between happiness, concern, confusion, and relief. "I heard there was some mission to Africa to get Fitz back. He's been obsessed over finding you, but I had no idea his hair-brained scheme actually worked! Where were you? Are you hurt? Do I need to come kick some Kree butt?" The words rush out of her in one jumbled stream.
Jemma can't help but smile, but she motions cautiously with one hand to quiet her friend down. "I'm fine, really, for the most part," she says. "Just a bit… rattled I suppose. Please try to keep it down, I don't know how much time I have."
"Is everything okay over there?"
"I-" Jemma's smile freezes. "I'm not sure…"
"Coulson and May got there in one piece though, right?"
"Well, yes…"
"Then I'm sure you guys can handle yourselves," Skye says matter-of-factly. "Wait," Her face suddenly brightens slyly. "Is it Fitz? Did he try something? Did he get fresh with you? Did you let him?"
"Skye!" Jemma feels her face grow hot with embarrassment. Was everyone going to comment on this?
"Daisy," her friend retorts, looking rather pleased with herself.
Jemma rolls her eyes. "Please, it's nothing like that. I'm being serious."
"So am I." The impish grin on her face spreads, but it drops at the look of genuine concern on Simmons' face.
"Honestly though," Jemma says lowering her voice. "There's something really strange going on here. Where I was, there was this other …er… man…" Skye raises her eyebrow and Jemma rubs her eyes. "It's a really long story and I don't have time to go into all of it, but," Jemma takes a big breath. Might as well get it all out in one go. "Suffice it to say, he's trying to stop a group of shape-shifting aliens called the Skrull from taking over the Earth by doubling people, and he wants our help."
Skye - Daisy - stares blankly ahead, clearly debating whether or not to take this information at face value or not. "Er, listen Simmons, I know you went through a lot and all…"
"I know how crazy it sounds, but please trust me," Jemma says. "I think… well, that is… I have reason to believe that these Skrull got a bit closer than we anticipated."
"…Okay." Skye nods slowly, clearly deciding to trust her friend. "What do you need?"
Jemma smiles appreciatively. "I just know I'd feel better if we had some back-up. Even just a few more pairs of eyes to make sure everything is fine here," she says. "If you can spare anyone, that is. It would be great to see you sooner, and it looks like we're stuck here for a little while working on some project. I also may need a few pointers on… some recent developments." Jemma looks at her hands.
"Say no more. I'm in." Skye grins with firm a nod. "Just tell me where to point this plane and we'll be there before you know it."
"Thank you," Jemma breathes, relief flooding her. "I'm patching through our coordinates now, and - Oh!"
The screen suddenly cuts out with a spark. Simmons pushes a few of the buttons on the console, but nothing goes through. "Well that's strange," she says to herself. She starts to turn, but hears a big smack. It's not until she feels the white-hot pain on the back of her skull and the sensation of collapsing back into unconsciousness that she understands someone else was on the jet with her.
"But we're out of officers," a voice echoes down the hallway.
Twisting his face in chagrin, Fitz comes to the conclusion that it's rather strange hearing his own voice from far away. Did he really sound like that?
Fitz is lying flat on his back in the cell, knees up and feet planted. His arms are above his head, firmly secured in cuffs that are chained to the wall. He's been here for hours, he supposes, though there is no real light source to properly guess what time of day it is. After being knocked out, he'd woken up in this sparse, metallic cell. His mind was a continuous buzz, trying to figure out where he could have been transported to, how long it must have taken, whether or not anyone at the camp could have noticed something suspicious yet, and if there were any way he could figure out of escaping.
"I was our last Shifter," his voice says again, sounding irritated. "You made the last-minute decision to put me in the field. There are no more cells!"
"I don't need to defend my actions to you," May's voice joins in the conversation. "It was a tactical judgement call, and I stand by it. His position has proven useful."
May. Fitz frowns, mentally berating himself for missing the clues. Were there even many clues to have noticed, though? The Skrull said herself that they duplicate everything about a person, including their memories and emotions. He wondered briefly how the Skrull were able to keep the different identities straight, having essentially another person overriding their personality while keeping to their own mission. He supposed this was merely what it meant to be a spy, just on a far more... invasive level. He shuddered. It was too violating to imagine what his double was doing on his behalf. He wondered who else had been doubled. Was it just May and him? How far back did this doubling thing start? Was everyone on the base still who they appeared to be?
His thoughts were interrupted by a loud shuffling noise. They were coming closer, and there was another person being dragged along with them, by the sounds of it.
"Just throw her in there." They're right outside his cell. He sits up straight. "At the very least we can use her as leverage until the others arrive."
"Won't the camp be suspicious that she's missing?" Fitz' heart starts beating faster. Not Jemma?
"We'll have to go do some damage control. Come up with something believable, a lover's quarrel or whatever." Fitz shoots a glare at the door, unable to protest against the idea. "We need that vibranium, and there won't be much time to prepare. She's alerted her team, so they should already be on the way." Fitz smiles to himself. That-a girl. "I'm making the call. We need reinforcements."
"In the mean time we can at least remove MarVell from the equation before the others arrive. Then it will be time to see if this artifact really works."
The door finally opens with a long metallic creak, and Fitz prepares himself as best he can. He watches his own body holding an unconscious Jemma in his arms, almost tenderly at first. When the Skrull double catches him watching, though, he unceremoniously dumps her limp form on the floor with a snicker and a sneer before walking away. Unable to do anything else, Fitz glowers.
May reaches down and secures Simmons' hands with the cuffs that are along the opposite wall. "We'll be back," she says, standing, not bothering to address him further.
Fitz glares steadily until the door shuts again, then he rushes forward as far as the chains will let him go. Holding his breath, he checks the pulse on her wrist.
"Jemma, please wake up," he whispers, wishing he could get closer.
Slowly, she opens her eyes. "Fitz," she looks around groggily. "Where are we?"
"Not sure," he breathes a sigh of relief, sitting back. "Nowhere good though."
Moving her arms to sit up, she finally notices the chains. "Oh. Oh no," she holds her head in her hands. "Skrull?"
He shrugs. "Looks like we should have moved on that Intel from MarVell a bit sooner."
"They did infiltrate Shield then?" she asks, eyes wide and worried. "I knew I was on to something."
"Well May was definitely doubled," he says, remembering his unpleasant skirmish with her on the Quinn Jet. He had been so close, but despite his training, she was still the better fighter. "I don't know who else has been, but probably more," he shrugs. "You definitely weren't doubled, you'll be pleased to know," his lips twitch up into a grin. "Sounds like they ran out of Skrulls and are calling for back-up because of something you did," he raises his eyebrows proudly.
Simmons nods sheepishly. "I got hold of Skye and asked her to come check things out," she says. "But I got cut off..." She stops, looking around. Overwhelmed, her eyes finally settle on his face. He offers her a helpless grin, hoping to lift her spirits a little. She smiles back tightly, eyes sliding away from his.
All at once, apparently thinking something through, her cheeks turn decidedly pink. "Oh God... Fitz, you were doubled too! When? You didn't-" she covers her mouth, touching her lips with her fingertips, almost like a question.
"Yeah, no," he looks down, understanding what she means. "Don't worry, it was before that. I, uh, I was still me before your nap," he offers. He chuckles softly, lifting his eyes up to hers. "I'm actually rather pleased I didn't have to experience one of your smacks first-hand again."
"Oh, Fitz, I'm sorry" her eyes start to well up, and she shakes her head, trying to regain control. "But how do you know-?"
"I, um, saw it," he says, his features grow dark. "They made me watch what the double did for a bit. Their own brand of emotional torture." She winces, looking both concerned and mortified. He lifts his chin and takes a deep breath. "Don't worry it wasn't me that tried to..." he holds her eyes and suddenly doesn't know how to put words to what he was trying to say. He looks quickly away so he can think. "I mean it's not like I wouldn't have wanted to... Well. I just wouldn't have - ah, that is - wouldn't have been that, um, forward... y'know, there was a lot to talk about first."
"Yeah. Of course," she nods along, holding his gaze when he finishes. He studies her eyes, making note of the particular way they look back at him. She's scared too, but also somehow hopeful. Curious. There's something else he can't quite think of the word for… After a moment, she looks pointedly down at her hands. "So, um... Should we talk then?" She lifts her chin and stares right back at him, eyes shining.
His eyes widen and he shifts uncomfortably. "Here?"
She looks around the room quickly and lifts her wrists, shaking the chain. "Not much else to do, really, is there?"
He says nothing for a moment, opening and closing his mouth, trying to decide what to say. "Well," he swallows audibly. "You already know how I feel about the subject," he crosses his arms over his chest, turning to look at the opposite wall.
"Do I?" He can feel her staring at him. He turns and blinks at her incredulously. She rolls her eyes and lifts her hands up in frustration. "Fitz you barely said anything to me for months. You just hoped that I'd put two and two together and left me feeling very confused while you sulked over things that I never said."
"Oh don't you give me that," his eyes narrow at her accusingly. "You understood well enough what I was trying to say. Forgive me for not being eloquent with-with poems and sonnets while trying to save your life. If you'd stuck around after, maybe I could have-"
"Please, let's not do this again," Jemma says, clutching the back of her neck. "I left because I wasn't helping you, Fitz, not because - well. You were doing much better healing on your own without me mucking it all up. Can we please just finally drop it?"
"Fine. It's dropped then," he retorts. "Not like I could have had a say in what was best for me, but fine. You're the biologist." He grumbles and she lets out a huff.
They sit in silence for a few minutes. He tugs at his chain and lets it smack noisily against the wall. She shoots him an irritated glance and presses her lips together, a flush creeping up her cheeks again.
He looks at her sideways. How is she able to make his heart beat like this even when they're irritated with each other? The corners of his mouth twitch into a small smile. "It is a shame we missed that dinner though. I had quite the plan."
"You did not," she rolls her eyes, trying not to grin.
"No, really, there was this whole big reservation with a fancy string quartet and everything," he says, rather pleased with himself. "I know how much you like Italian."
"Oh please," she laughs. "You probably searched online to find which sandwich shops were still open and came back to make me pick one because you couldn't decide!"
They look at each other, smiling. He opens his mouth to retort, but suddenly his breath catches. He remembers the gut feeling of walking into that room and finding her gone. "Well," his smile falls. "I did come back..."
She takes a deep, shaky breath. "Fitz..." she looks at her hands. "Where I was..." she plays absently with the corner of the cuffs, not sure how to say what she needs him to understand. "In the negative zone, that is... I - I saw a lot of things. I relived a lot of moments." Her eyes flit back up to his, and she swallows audibly, returning her gaze down to her hands. "Rick believes I saw some alternate realities too." He nods, not sure where she's going with this. "It made me realize... Well, a lot of bad things happened. Because of me."
"Jemma..."
"No, listen. You always get hurt. This timeline, others. Always trying to save me."
"You can't think that's only because of you?" He looks affronted. "Jemma, you were passed out most of the time under the ocean. I was the one that told you to leave me behind."
She pushes forward, apparently not listening to his attempt at reasoning. "I saw what life would have been like for us if we hadn't gone into the field. If I hadn't made you follow me."
"You didn't make me do anything," he looks at her in exasperation, but the hurt in her eyes makes him pause. "Okay. What happened then?"
"It was nice, actually, that reality. Really nice. We eventually moved back home, avoided the whole Hydra mess. Got a nice house for the three of us near your mum... "
"Okay..." He swallows. Three of us? "Oh."
"It's not important, really. None of that happened to us, obviously. Well, not this version of us. It's just - it's my fault. If I weren't so pushy in making us go seek out adventure and save the world, we could have…" her voice catches. He nods, looking away, trying to process what she's saying. "Anyways, we're here in this reality. We're stuck in a dangerous life where anything could and literally has happened. It just - it made me realize some things."
"What?"
"Well, through all of that, through all of what I saw, the different versions of realities, and the memories and, well…" she takes a deep breath. "The thing is, I think I've been in love with you for a really long time. I just didn't know what it was."
She waits a beat and then lifts her eyes to his. He realizes he's forgotten to breathe. This is the most vulnerable he's ever seen her. She's waiting for his reaction, but he's lost his words again. He's not sure how to respond. But he is certain of one thing, absolutely, without question. His eyes soften and he smiles back at her. "Sort of snuck up on you too, yeah?"
She lets out a soft laugh, joy filling her eyes. "Yeah," she tries to move closer to him, chains sliding against the floor. He inches forward too, heart hammering. "When did you...?"
With a sudden bang, the door to the cell swings open, and the two jump, crashing back to the reality of their current situation.
May strides in and grabs Fitz by the collar of his shirt, dragging him to a standing position. Jemma lets out a cry in protest, but May ignores her. "Alright, human. Now or never. We need you to fix the artifact."
"I already told you," he all but spits. "Never." May glares at him for a moment, then she sneers and punches him in the stomach. Hard. He gasps and doubles over, bile rising in his throat.
Jemma shouts and immediately stands, hands straining against the chains. "Stop! Stop it! What do you need? I'll help. Let me do it."
"No, Jemma," Fitz coughs, trying to fill his lungs with air. "It's a weapon. It's similar tech to the door we brought you through. It's supposed to give the Skrull some sort of powers. We can't."
May turns her hard gaze to Simmons, and Fitz' gut drops like he's been punched again. Before he can regain his breath, May leans down and unlocks Simmons' cuffs. She grabs Simmons by the hair and drags her towards the door, out of his reach.
"Actually, there is something you can help with." Jemma squirms, eyes on Fitz.
In one swift flash, May pushes a blade into the skin of Jemma's forearm. A crimson streak tears its way through her soft flesh, and Jemma bites back a shout of pain. He can do nothing, and it tears at his insides.
"Stop, no!" He cries out.
May flashes an evil sneer to him and pulls the blade further along Jemma's arm, tearing the sensitive flesh, slowly, in a deep red line. Jemma screams in agony. He's shouting too, trying to get to her, but the cuffs hold him steadily back against the wall.
It suddenly stops and they're both panting. Fitz watches Simmons frantically. May holds her hand over the bleeding cut, putting pressure on it, and looking to Fitz with a smug expression. "Shall I continue, or are you ready to join me?"
"Please, let her go. Stop it. I'll help you, anything you want, just stop!" Fitz begs.
"Fitz, no!" Jemma warns, shaking. She holds her head high and gasps out dryly. "That actually wasn't so bad. She's going easy on me. I can definitely handle this."
May's eyes flash, and she pulls out the blade again, pushing it into Jemma's arm. He watches as she bites back the pain as long as she can, finally giving in with a long shout of agony. May's eyes go back to Fitz, ready to drag the cut deeper and longer unless he agrees to help.
"Jemma, she'll kill you!" He says through tears.
"And she'll kill you if you go with her," she says through gritted teeth, trying not to look at her arm.
"Jemma, please. Please. Trust me." He holds her eyes steadily for a few moments, willing her to understand what he's thinking. She struggles against May's tight grasp, her jaw set with anger and frustration, but she doesn't say anything more when he stands calmly and lifts his wrists, presenting the cuffs to be unlocked.
May throws Jemma forward again and locks her back up. She immediately grips her arm, stemming the flow of blood and holding back sobs. She and Fitz try to move towards each other, but their chains hold them back yet again. May watches, amused, then turns and removes Fitz' cuffs from the wall. She shoves him forward before he can try anything, holding his arms behind him. His eyes don't leave Jemma's until he's pushed out of the door.
