Jemma found her GH325 enhanced honeymoon to be blissful, but utterly exhausting. The GH325 worked well, perhaps too well, as John was keen and eager… like a hormonal fifteen year old boy. While she appreciated his carnal interest as she was currently feeling awkward and uncomfortable and… appearing distinctly unsexy, her husband was a bit too exuberantly ardent. She was just about to toddle off to bed for some much needed rest when John bequeathed her a slanted grin.
Oh no, she knew that grin. Its appearance predicted that she'd be in bed and carnally worshipped in the near future.
And while normally she would have raced (waddled) him to the bed or any available flat surface, she was …. KNACKERED.
"You finally look pregnant," he murmured. He then stood behind her and wrapped his hands around her belly. "The belly is in the house."
"I didn't look before?" She protested.
"You were hiding it. Now it's obvious, you're pregnant." He kissed her neck even while he rubbed her belly. "Very sexy, very pregnant, and all mine for the loving."
Typically she would have been thrilled by John's desire, not now. Now, she yearned for that oh so elusive temptress - SLUMBER.
He kissed her a few more times then he ceased kissing her when she failed to respond.
"What's going on in that overclocked mind of yours? Tell me," he softly requested as he gently turned her around to face him. With a gentleness that still surprised her, he placed his fingers under her chin, and lifted it so she would look at him. "Brains, talk to me."
"I'm exhausted," she softly admitted. "Flattered but absolutely knackered, John. Can you put your new toy away for a few hours?"
The bastard smiled; no doubt because he was proud of himself. His conceit earned him a poke in the ribs.
"What?" she asked.
"Does this mean I can get eight hours of shuteye?" Garrett questioned. "I'm exhausted, Brains. It's grueling keeping you sexually satisfied. As your adoring husband, I'm delighted to do it, but, Brains… I have to confess, I'm in dire need of a nice long nap."
"You're tired?" Jemma repeated.
"Brains, as much as today was magnificent, I think seven times is my limit. I'm not sixteen anymore," he explained. "It's just since today's our first full day being married I thought I should keep you in a state of carnal bliss so you'd know… that I really love you. Plus find you erotic as all get out, especially now."
A pop of his eyebrow, a shit-eating grin and a shrug of his shoulders.
"It's not just because we're having a baby together," he softly informed her. "I really do care for you. Never ever doubt that. Sometimes, you make me wish…"
Garrett stopped and shook his head.
"I make you wish what?" Jemma asked. She put her hand on her distended belly which seemed to have grown substantially since they were married. Or maybe it was the lingerie which accented her bump.
"I wish that I had taken a sharp left at one time, instead of the right. Things… would be different," he softly confessed. "However, you never would have looked at me. Certainly, we wouldn't be like this. However, in the here and now, you look exhausted, Brains. Why didn't you tell me that I was being too exuberant?"
Because when John was loving her, he kept her churning thoughts away.
Jemma softly admitted, "I like it when we're close. I feel safe when I am with you. Since… since everything happened, after Ward… after… I am always afraid… except when I'm with you…. "
She began uncontrollably trembling, as she remembered… her friends dying…. GARRET… HYDRA…. Ward…. Ward… Jemma Simmons fiercely loved her unborn child, but… HYDRA…. JOHN GARRETT…. Her heart was pounding so fast… so fast… Her imaginary though still suit clad Sunil Bakshi began imploring her to "Breathe in…. breathe out…."
Sometimes, she believed that there was another screaming Jemma Simmons deep inside of her, who was screaming and wailing in futile protest. Sometimes, she deeply feared that Jemma Simmons, gaining control, because how would that Jemma react to the baby?
"You're breathing too fast," a very concerned John remarked. "Did you bring the CDs?"
Jemma shook her head.
He held out his hand. "Come on, time for bed. Let's get you comfortable and work on slow, deep breaths. For now, remember the 5.2. ; inhale for five, hold for two, and exhale for five. Inhale…. Slowly…. "
John Garrett positioned her carefully on the bed, and then sat next to her. Her breathing was racketing up and she just couldn't catch her breath.
"I can't breathe," she said. "Though if I can talk, I can breathe."
"Shhh…." John whispered. "Listen to me… inhale…..through your nose….one….two….three…four…five…. hold…. One…two….. now slow exhale…one…..two….three….four….five…." Jemma just focused on breathing and after a few minutes, her heart no longer felt as though it was about to escape from her chest.
"Better?" John asked.
"Yes," she whispered.
"Good, now close your eyes, and I want you to listen to me," John suggested. His voice was soft and loving as he walked her through a mental relaxation exercise. Her tense muscles relaxed and she felt as though she was close to sleep… and then she was. She slept soundly for hours, and she dreamt of a little boy with dark brown hair with startling blue eyes who intently stared at her from the edge of her bed. The little boy looked exactly like a very young Garrett except for his serious mien. In all of recorded history, John had never ever been that serious.
The little boy looked very… sad…, not serious…. but sad, she realized… and scared. As though he was convinced that his Mum didn't love him.
She held out her arms. 'Come here,' she whispered. 'Mummy loves you so much. Mummy does, she really, really does.'
He just looked at her, refusing to come closer.
'Come to Mum,' repeated Jemma.
He carefully crawled into bed and she cuddled him close to her. 'I love you, Sean. I truly do.'
She was rewarded with a shy smile from the little boy.
'I can't wait to meet you,' she whispered.
When she woke, Jemma was disorientated, as for a moment, she thought her dream had been real. Then the aching, painful reality returned, nineteen more weeks of appearing less than svelte with assorted body aches. John was sitting next to her in their bed and he was intently reading a rather thick book. When he realized that she was awake, he closed the book, leaned over and buzzed her on her head. Then John helped her into a comfortable sitting position, for which she was quite grateful as she was as graceful as a stoned sloth.
"Morning," he greeted her. "Should I say, afternoon? I think you slept very well. "
"I had the oddest dream," Jemma admitted. "There was a little boy and… Sean looked as though he could be our son."
"Sean?" John asked.
"He looked like a Sean," she admitted. "I know we haven't really talked names, but…"
"Sean is a good name," John easily agreed. "Did Sean give you a middle name?"
"No. But he smiled at me," she gushed. She placed her hands on her expanded equator and gently pressed. Sean responded back by wiggling. In response, she deeply concentrated on how much she loved Sean and then fiercely warned that other Jemma, the protesting, annoying Jemma to shut the hell up as she was scaring Sean.
As Felix anticipated, the kids weren't happy when they realized that Simmons had not been rescued and instead they had captured two dope smoking seniors. The kids were vocal, they were strident, and they were most assuredly insubordinate. Finally he had enough, as really, Coulson was The Director. For better or for worst, GOD HELP THEM ALL, Coulson was the Man in Charge.
"Enough!" Felix growled. He put all his physical comfort into the growl, so he was surprised when Hunter didn't pee on the floor like a badly trained Pug.
The children ceased their squabbling and Felix gave the brats his best don't you think of fucking with me glare. They settled down except for the agent that he had nicknamed Shakes. Shakes, believing herself unique and protected in her role of Coulson's Special Snowflake, was about to lead the children in rebelling against their bedtime when Izzie stepped in.
"My apologies, Director. We all think the world of Simmons and we're worried. Quite worried about her."
The Director and his personal gadfly then left the room.
"Thank you, Agent Blake," Coulson stated. "Your support in there was appreciated… and surprising."
"Fury would have slapped them down, HARD," was all Blake said. However his unspoken disapproval was loud and clear.
"I'll take that under advisement, Director," Coulson murmured.
"You hired me because you wanted me to keep your ego under control; I wasn't hired to stroke your ego or anything else," Felix reminded his former subordinate. "I was willing to retire someplace flat with no steps."
"I'll get the elevator fixed," Phil promised.
Felix just rolled his eyes.
The months passed while Jemma focused on her new life. There were monotonous days at work (which was ridiculous as she could still science, even with child!), and nights with John, unnerving obstetrician visits where Raina was omnipresent and the occasional lunches with Barbara, who had rapidly become a much needed friend and sounding board.
Well, truth be told, Jemma had exactly two friends. John and Barbara.
Certainly Grant Ward was not considered a friend even though he was John's protégé. No how, no way, not after killing Fitz. He made her uneasy the way he smirked at her increasing awkwardness as though her pregnancy was a source of extreme amusement for him. There was a thousand small jarring observations about his odd behavior combined with his unnerving relationship with Kara, Jemma avoided him as much as possible. Seriously, was Kara brainwashed? She must be; the way she clung to Ward and every single word he said? The nauseating way she called him 'Baby'?
He was a mad dog, and she feared being alone with Ward.
Thank God, she was married to Garrett. They had a real connection.
Kara, his soul mate, the love of his life, was dead. He had shot her three times in the chest because that bitch Melinda May had tricked him, forced his hand. Really, bedding May had been a chore…
Grant Ward was in a dark, murderous rage as he drove toward his unsuspecting victim.
"You were played," Garrett had informed Grant when he reached out for sympathy from the man he viewed as his father. "You were weak and you were stupid. You completely underestimated Melinda May because you're an idiot. I wasted my time on you as you constantly make excuses for your fuck ups. Blaming May for Kara's death? I'm sorry about Kara. I am, because she deserved a better boyfriend than you. Fuck, even Posh Boy would have been better for Kara, he wouldn't have filled her full of lead. I figured the way you went on and on about how hot the sex was, I figured you had a safe word."
Garrett had leaned back in his chair before he had delivered the final verbal blow. "Thank God, my son won't be as pathetic as you are."
Well John, wouldn't it be heartbreaking … when you came home to your knocked up Simmons and discovered that she was the victim of a robbery gone horribly, horribly wrong.
Jemma Simmons was reading a magazine when she realized that she wasn't alone. Grant Ward was in her house and he appeared to be in a daze.
"Well, look at you, Simmons. Quite knocked up, aren't you?" he asked. He snapped his wrist and Jemma saw he was holding a wicked long knife. "Must be quite tired of being pregnant by now. Let me help you with that."