Jemma wasn't one for anger, generally. A brief flare-up, perhaps, and then back to the relatively even keel that her mother had praised her for as a child.

In comparison, her fury over TAHITI fueled her for over two days, and she wasn't even sure if her outrage stemmed from the project in general, or the fact that the man she loved and relied on as a safe haven had once overseen an experiment that had depended on human trials.

Human trials. The thought left a bitter taste in her mouth and kept her tossing and turning at night in her cheap little hotel rooms as she made her way west across Canada. She threw up one morning after a particularly nasty dream, one which wove together her new information with Phil's memories of what had been done to him. He had overseen the initial trials, he had overseen the first attempts at salvaging those wrecked minds, and a part of her wanted to weep against his shoulder even as another shuddered at the fact that he had ever touched her in the first place.

Jemma seemed to run out of emotions entirely the evening of the third day. She had her cash spread neatly onto the bed in front of her, what little remained, and for the first time she realized several very important facts: that she had no passport or driver's license, that her money would not last for any longer than two more days, and that subsisting solely on peanut butter and crackers was really not ideal for a grown woman.

She was fucked, in other words. Turning around was an option, but she bridled at the idea of showing up at the safehouse like some shamefaced child. They would let her back in, there was no question about that. She could sleep on a couch or one of the spare beds while doing her best to avoid Phil, but there would be no avoiding Phil. He would haunt her with well-meaning gestures until she crawled back into his arms, and she would hate herself for that.

She still wanted to.

Jemma carefully gathered up the bills, stacking them neatly and tucking them away in her billfold. Her head was spinning (insufficient calories, she thought carelessly), and she lay back on the hard bed, thinking of very little.

She fell asleep at some point, sinking heavily into a dreamless void that made the sudden burst of music from the alarm clock even more startling a jolt. Jazz man take my blues away, the woman crooned, and she slapped at the snooze button in desperation.

"You're shaking."

The words were soft, and for a split-second Jemma thought she might actually be dreaming- but then a knife was at her throat, and that sliver of metal was no dream.

"Tell me where to find Agent Coulson," the woman beside her said, and no amount of self-preservation could make Jemma open her mouth on that topic. Even as wounded as she felt, that was a line she would not cross.

The pressure of the knife increased slightly, a sting shivering through her nerves. "I'm not a patient woman."

"Then you might as well slit my throat now."

After a brief pause the pressure against her throat disappeared and the bedside lamp clicked on. The woman met her gaze impassively, red hair falling around her face. "Good answer," she said with the faintest hint of approval in her voice. "A pleasure, Agent Simmons."

There could be no mistaking that face. "I wish I could say the same, Agent Romanov."

The Black Widow's mouth quirked into a grin. "I get that a lot."


He hadn't expected her to leave, but she did. Right when he needed her most she had disappeared into thin air, leaving him with empty hands and an empty bed that was much too cold, even with the spare blankets still piled on top.

"It wasn't my intention to chase her away." Fury appeared beside him outside the house, where he had been staring at the space where the missing car should have been. "I should have showed you that video in private."

Phil wasn't sure it would have helped. He had no memory of how Fury had convinced him to lead that project in the first place (what kind of man had taken that order?), but Fury's cynical comment about Jemma's character had been correct. Her mind would have qualified her as a Guest House researcher. Her integrity would have made her reject the offer immediately. "I would have told her, eventually," he replied, his voice flat. "By evening at the latest."

And she would have… done something. She would have been angry, for certain, but he wasn't entirely sure that she would have packed to leave with him looking on, or tried to sneak out of the house after midnight with him sleeping in the same bed.

Maybe that was for the best. She should be able to run without feeling she was tethered to his side, even if every cell in him wanted to reel her back so that he could curl up across her lap. "Why did I say yes?"

"Because I asked you to," Fury replied after a long pause, and that sounded about right.

It figured that he had destroyed his long-term chances with Jemma before even meeting her. He wondered if he had taken that into consideration on that day years ago, when he had let Fury coax him into doing such work.

"It's only been a few hours." Fury cast him a side-long glance. "You going after her?"

It was a tempting notion, if only because he feared for her safety, alone on the road. Did she have enough money? Jemma Simmons no longer existed, not really, and if she was pulled over or asked to provide identification, only trouble would come of yet another of his decisions.

He couldn't discount his other reasons for wanting to follow. Empty arms and an empty bed and no soft-eyed soulmate to stroke his hair and tell him that it would be all right, it would be all right. No absolution from the one person he wanted absolution from.

"No." He turned away from the bare parking space. "I'm going to take down Garrett."

There would be no dragging Jemma back. Garrett, though- if he could do anything for her, it would be to neutralize the man who wouldn't hesitate to do her harm. It would have to be enough.


Natasha stuck to Jemma like a burr, and after the initial mix of irritation and fear Jemma found herself just accepting the situation. One of the best assassins in the world had evidently decided to adopt her, and there were worse fates. Natasha believed in regular meals, for one, and she had deep pockets.

"I could push you over with my pinky," she said the first day they traveled together, glaring at Jemma until she took the proffered sandwich.

"You could probably do that on any day," Jemma sassed back complacently after the first bite. "Did Phil send you?"

It would be just like him, to give her space without actually giving her space. "Nah." Natasha broke apart a chocolate chip cookie, examining it with every indication of delight. "But I've been trying to find Phil, and you're the next best thing."

"So you figured out that he's alive."

"About a year ago." Natasha shrugged. "He hasn't exactly been subtle about it. And," she continued, nodding at the edge of black script peeking out from under Jemma's blouse, "there is that."

Damn Phil and his distinctive handwriting. "You've been keeping tabs on me, then?"

"It was curiosity, at first. Coulson isn't exactly your average man. He has hidden depths."

Words truer than Natasha possibly knew.

"Why did you run?" Natasha leaned back in her chair, watching her with an assessing gaze. "He's never been one to make a woman purposefully unhappy, and he's definitely not the type to beat one."

Jemma kept her gaze on her hands, silent.

"Very well."

That was the nice thing about Natasha. She knew when to back off, just as she knew the perfect time to arrow in for the kill.

"There is a job you could do, you know," she said- not the first day, or the second, but the third, as they drove into Victoria. "Unless you have plans."

Jemma's only plan had been to get out get out get out, which had worked surprisingly well, given that she had fled from a nest of spies into the web of another. "What is it?"

Natasha slowed conscientiously to a stop at a red light. "You could take down Hydra from the inside," she said, red lips curving upward slightly. "Imagine how quick they would snap you up- Coulson's brilliant scientist with an axe to grind."

The quickening of Jemma's breath was not from fear, but, unexpectedly, interest. "And wear turtlenecks to the lab everyday?"

"No." Natasha shimmied her own shoulders slightly, lowering the neckline of her shirt even as she made the move look natural and easy. "Let them stare. Make sure everyone knows."

"But-"

"Make sure everyone knows," Natasha repeated firmly, turning her attention back to traffic. "Tell them about her- about the cellist. About how much he loves her, and how he murmurs her name in the dark."

"Excuse me," Jemma gasped, furious all over again.

"It isn't kind," Natasha admitted, dropping the act. "It isn't true. But I would guess that every male member of Hydra's top brass will believe every word. It's what they like to think about women, after all- that we're jealous little creatures intent on a ring."

"I wouldn't have minded a ring," Jemma said softly after a moment. The ache of missing him was almost physical, and only grew worse by the day.

"It isn't too late to go back."

"I ran away like a child pitching a fit." Nearly a week after leaving, and there the truth was. "It's terrible- the entire project was terrible- but he doesn't remember it and it hurt him so much, and I just left him there."

Tears didn't seem to bother Natasha. She didn't ask Jemma what the project had been, but Jemma assumed that she had known all along. "We all have red in our ledger," she replied soberly, digging a packet of tissues out of her purse and handing it to Jemma. "Even you."

Jemma wiped the tears from her cheeks, remembering when love had seemed easier and she had slept safely at night. "I'll think on it."


Leaving the safehouse was harder than he had expected. Plans had been made- good, solid plans- and he had faith in his team's ability to succeed, but once they left that house they would not be coming back. It would just wait, empty and stripped bare, for the next agents in need of shelter- and if Jemma came back, all that would be waiting for her would be dust. Leaving a note of any kind would be too dangerous.

"We'll find her." May stopped by his shoulder, her voice low. He was too tired to continue to be angry with her; it was obvious even to him that he needed a keeper of some kind, at this point. "Jemma Simmons isn't the type of woman to stay in the shadows for long."

"I know."

He was placating May, really. He wasn't entirely sure that it would be fair to track her down, if she really wanted to stay hidden. "Why did I say yes?"

She was quiet for a few precious seconds, and finally took a step forward and turned to face him. "You aren't quite the same," she said, her expression almost blank. "You've always been a good man, Phil, but it used to be that you thought the ends justified the means."

"I've done some pretty crazy things in the past year or two."

"Not dumping infected cargo isn't the same thing," she said with meaning. "Going the extra mile to save Skye is not the same thing. The Avengers are important, yes, but would you, now, agree to lead a project that required injecting the dying with alien biomaterial?" She shook her head slightly. "Willing test subjects, yes, but the dying are often desperate, Phil. They aren't always thinking straight."

"No. I couldn't do- that." Maybe it was a shift made during his resurrection, maybe it was the knowledge of his own procedures, maybe it was Jemma's own principles sneaking in, but he wouldn't take the same orders now. He wished he could remember exactly why he had agreed the first time around, because he couldn't help but hope that his reason had been in some way noble.

"She'll figure that out."

She drifted away, leaving him staring at the empty house in the last minutes before leaving. Jemma was alive, at least. The black around his arm testified to that.

It was a slim lifeline, but it was the only one he would be getting.


She hit her breaking point eight days after leaving, when she was toweling off after a shower and spent far too much time examining his handwriting in the fogged mirror.

"I need your phone," she told Natasha bluntly, appearing in their hotel room after hastily pulling on her pajamas. Her shirt was on backward, she knew that much, and it felt almost as if she had pulled a sock on the wrong way around. "Right now."

"Finally." Natasha tossed the cell onto the adjoining bed and sauntered toward the door. "Take your time."

She almost lost her nerve with the phone in her hands (and there was the knowledge that dialing his number would give Natasha that added edge- but then, Jemma was fairly certain by that point that Natasha had known exactly where Phil was, and hadn't made a personal appearance for reasons of her own). She didn't particularly like admitting when she was wrong, but she disliked missing him even more.

He answered after three rings with a crisp, emotionless, "Coulson."

"Phil?"

She squeaked. How embarrassing.

"Jemma."

The startled exhale and rush of emotion in his voice made her hands shake. She had to speak before he could gather his thoughts, because he would just start in on his own list of apologies and she did not deserve that, not at this point.

"I'm fine," she said hurriedly. "Phil, I'm so sorry. Running off like that was terrible of me and I never should have done it." The words were barely audible, near the end. Her throat felt so constricted that she could barely hear herself. "Please forgive me."

"Yes. Yes, Jemma, yes. Please tell me you're safe."

For all she knew he had been asleep when she had called, but now he was frantic and- if she knew him at all- pacing. "Safe. I'm with Natasha-"

He made a strangled noise that might have been a laugh.

"Phil, where are you?"

"About to take care of some unfinished business." His voice dropped into what was practically a caress. "And then I'm coming for you, sweetheart."

That was a promise, and a heated one at that. A day before she might have felt indignant, but now the tone in his voice was almost enough to make her melt. "Natasha had an idea," she began, curling up around a pillow on the bed. A poor substitute for a person, but that was her own fault. "Would it help, to have someone in Hydra's labs?"

This time the noise he made was most definitely not a laugh. "Natasha is shit at giving gifts, sweetheart. Take her advice on clothing, on lingerie, on vodka, but not on apologetic grand gestures."

She had a feeling that she had just given him a minor heart attack. "I'll admit that part of me is interested," she said quietly. "I want to help, Phil."

"And the other part of you…"

"Wants to give you a hero's welcome, the old-fashioned way."

That was rather bold for her. She made a mental note to discuss lingerie with Natasha.

"Can we do the welcome and then discuss putting your life into danger?" he asked, sounding a bit desperate. "I would prefer if this was something we considered in person."

"You mean that you would prefer to wear me out before giving me a hopeful puppy dog look and handcuffing me to the headboard."

She had been joking, but judging by his sudden intake of breath he fancied the idea. "Is that on the table?" he asked hopefully.

"Restraints might be interesting," she said in a murmur, blushing.

"Nat is probably recording this entire conversation."

That was a safe bet. "I don't want to even find a scratch on you, when we meet again." Taking care of old business almost certainly meant something dangerous, and she suspected that it would involve going head-to-head with Garrett. "I'm quite serious about that, Phil."

"I'll do my best." He took in a deep breath, the sound clear despite the somewhat shoddy connection. "I don't know why I did it, Jemma."

"I know." She wasn't entirely sure how she reconciled the knowledge of his actions before his death with the man he was now, but it had become clear to her during her many sleepless nights that she couldn't hold a grudge over something done by a different man. Not entirely different, judging by May's loyalty, but different enough. "And I should have stayed so that we could talk through it. I love you too much to quit over this, Phil."

"Can you forgive me for it?"

It seemed strange to offer him forgiveness for something that had never affected her in the first place and had done him so much damage in the long run, but she understood the underlying question- could Jemma the scientist and soulmate forgive such a lapse in judgment, and the answer was simple.

"Yes, I forgive you. I hope you forgive me, for my reaction."

A sigh of relief, this time. "Yes. I absolutely forgive you for your completely understandable reaction."

She brushed a few tears off of her cheeks, feeling shaky and grateful all at once. "Good. Now you should go and take care of whatever business you have, because I'm told that make-up sex is excellent and I would like to experience it."

"I'm looking forward to it." He was so very good at promising so much with just his voice. Just those few words left her flushed and full of butterflies. "Will you let me speak with Natasha, sweetheart? I owe her apologies and thanks as well- and a good-natured threat to keep you safe, for good measure."

Unsurprisingly, Natasha was waiting outside the door, lounging against the wall. She accepted the phone from Jemma with the air of someone who had been expecting just that trade-off, eventually. "Phil, you son of a bitch."


"Leave my mother out of this," Phil replied with a roll of his eyes, slumping back in his chair. The relief of making up with Jemma had him feeling more relaxed than he had in days. "Nat, you know that I was just following orders."

Something that kept getting him into trouble.

"I know. I'm still pissed off." She chuckled dryly. "I like your soulmate, Phil. She's sweet, but I'm betting that she can pack quite a punch when necessary."

"Verbally, yes. We're still working on the physical angle, though she very nearly attacked Fury before she left."

"Wish I could have seen that."

A tiny part of Phil wished that he had just let Jemma fly at the other man- it wasn't as if getting court-martialed for attacking a superior officer was a real threat, at this point- but he was glad he hadn't given in to that urge. "Thank you for taking care of her, Nat."

"Like I said, I like her. She has potential," she added slyly, and he could almost see the look in her eyes as she said it. "Not much of a liar, but sometimes that's a benefit with someone as earnest as Jemma."

Perhaps in another universe he might have agreed with her, because she had a point. Someone like Jemma could be an excellent double agent, in the right circumstances. Sweet, honest, seemingly harmless- but as the saying went, it was always the quiet ones.

"Don't you dare, Nat," he replied sternly. "Keep up that line of thought and we will be having a full-out brawl the next time we meet, and you know I fight dirty."

"And I don't?" she asked, amusement clear in her voice. "Don't worry, Phil. I'm not going to ship her off to Hydra's headquarters before you get back. It was just an idea."

An idea that terrified him, but Nat's word was good, at least on this. She wouldn't be delivering Jemma into enemy hands, no matter how beneficial it might be. "Nat, if I don't make it-"

"Hush," she snapped, then dropped her voice. "I don't want to hear it, Phil."

"But-"

"But if that happens, I'll take her to Stark and the others," she said solemnly. "What she does after that is her business, but if she lets us we'll keep her safe."

That was the best fall-back plan Phil could think of. Between the Avengers and Stark's army of lawyers, she would be as safe as anyone could be. "Thank you, Nat."

"I take care of my own," she said, her tone allowing no argument. "Try not to die again, Phil. It's a tired old trick."

The call ended at that, and he allowed himself a minute to rest and process both conversations. Going up against Garrett and Cybertek would be incredibly dangerous, with the limited force they had, but at least now he could walk into danger without fear for Jemma nagging at his mind. Some regret, yes, because there was no guarantee that he would make it back to her, but no fear.

At least he would not be leaving her encumbered with a child.

Though having a baby with Jemma… what a lovely (if impractical, in their current circumstances) notion.


In retrospect, the attack on Cybertek's compound went almost too well. Garrett taken care of- check- their little incentive operation taken down- check- Mike Peterson loosed from his handlers- check, check, check.

Phil was on the verge of declaring the day a success when May called for him, her voice mildly disgruntled. For May, that generally indicated that she was furious.

"You need to see this," she said as soon as he came within sight, and grabbed his upper arm. "And if you act like an idiot, I will knock you out and let you come to your senses in the interrogation room."

He gave her a weary look. "What is it, May?"

"Just remember your soulmark," she said in warning, squeezing her hand, and he realized that she had not grabbed that particular arm by chance. "You don't want to screw this up, Phil."

He couldn't imagine what had her in such a mood, but then he rounded the corner and stopped in shock. Audrey sat on a bed in a small room, her wrists clasped in bracelets that he recognized all too well. SHIELD technology- or maybe Hydra technology, seeing as they were intrinsically intertwined. They were intended to be a way to aid the newly gifted, used to tamp down the effects of dangerous gifts until the wielder could safely control them.

She had her arms clasped loosely around her knees, but she looked up when she heard his footsteps, and her face immediately crumpled into a stricken look. "Phil."

"Audrey?"

He found himself kneeling beside the bed before he realized it, his fingertips pressed lightly to the cheap blanket.
"Audrey, why…?"

After a moment she extended an arm, pushing up her sleeve so that he could see the remnants of her soulmark. By all rights it should have been gray, but instead it was crimson. "I don't know what happened," she said softly, and the lights flickered faintly overhead. "Or how they found out."

It took him a second to realize that the flicker had not been a coincidence. "You did that."

She nodded, her gaze solemn.

It shouldn't have happened. Those kinds of things just didn't happen, even with soulmates. Power was not transferable- except, apparently, in this case. "Does it hurt?"

Audrey shrugged, the gesture unconvincing. "A little."

He hadn't seen her look so despairing since the early days of their relationship, when Daniels had still been an active threat and pulling her into a tight embrace had been one of the few comforts he could offer. Even that was off the table, now. "We're going to help you," he said instead, noting that she was shivering in the cool of the room. "You can learn to control it."

He stood, pulling off his jacket as he did so. After a moment she uncurled herself and came to her feet, allowing him to drape the jacket over her shoulders. "Please don't leave me alone."

If SHIELD were still a whole entity, he would have sent her off to someone more qualified to handle her new powers. He could deal with some gifts, but gifts of her magnitude would have been better handled by one of the academies. There was no one to send her to, now. "You won't be alone," he promised, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and leading her out of the room. "It's going to be okay."

May raised an eyebrow slightly as he led Audrey away. "Idiot," she said quietly in Mandarin, perfectly aware that he could hear her. "Careful, Phil."


Jemma had always considered herself to be a patient person, but waiting for the all-clear after her phone call with Phil was utter fucking misery.

Letting Natasha distract her by dragging her into a lingerie shop helped. Not a lot, but it helped.

They met at one of Natasha's safehouses in British Columbia, and Jemma nearly tackled Phil to the ground when he appeared at the doorway. "Hello, you handsome man," she said as his arms wrapped tightly around her, her lips peppering his jawline with kisses. "Shoot me if I make to run off again, hmm?"

Despite his firm grip, he looked less pleased to see her than she had expected, which made her feel a sudden surge of nervousness. Perhaps he had thought on the situation further and had decided that her actions could not be forgiven after all, perhaps there had been an accident during the attack, perhaps-

"Jem," he said quietly, and she felt his fingers brush lightly against her waist. "I know this will be a surprise, but-"

He had come with team in tow- she could see them waiting in the vehicles- but none of them had come to greet her. Jemma was unsure if that was out of annoyance with her or a disinclination to interrupt the moment. One of the doors opened, and the figure that she had mistaken for Skye slipped out into the sunlight. She met Jemma's gaze over Phil's shoulder, and Jemma took in everything in one quick second: Audrey's pale face, how fragile she looked in Phil's jacket, and her odd expression that could possibly have been strain and the aftereffects of shock.

"Oh," Jemma said faintly, her fingers clenching against Phil's back.

"I couldn't leave her, not with her new gifts," he murmured in her ear, and Jemma could almost see her hopes of a happy reunion dissolving into dust. "I have to teach her some control."

That would take time. Lots of time, and plenty of gentle reassurances as struggle slowly shifted to competence. One-on-one lessons, midnight scares when nightmares made her gifts spiral out of control, quiet chats so that Phil could keep tabs on her mental state.

Audrey never left him, her mind noted quietly. Audrey never failed him.

"Of course," she said finally, striving to keep her voice level. "Of course."

She pressed her face against his shoulder, masking the flustered moment as an embrace. She couldn't fuck this up even more than she already had. "Everyone is well?" she asked, the words muffled against his shirt.

"Some bruises and cuts, but nothing major." One of his hands brushed down her hair in a comforting gesture, but he stood stiffly. There had been a time when he would have practically wrapped himself around her.

Natasha was standing nearby when he pulled away and Jemma caught a glimpse of the tight set of her jawline. It was barely perceptible, but there nonetheless. "I'm coming too," she said suddenly. "Give me a minute to pack."

"I won't lie, we could use you." Phil smiled slightly, fatigue evident in his expression. "We've got an organization to build from the ground up, and I know that you know a number of SHIELD's secrets."

"Fury has a plan?"

"He's gone."

Natasha and Jemma both gave him their undivided attention (though he had already had Jemma's). "Not dead. Apparently he's decided to retire," he clarified, a wry twist to his mouth. "And Hill refused to take control."

"Director Coulson is going to be a prick to work with, isn't he?" Natasha asked after a moment, a flicker of amusement in her eyes.

"You'll be there to keep me honest," he shot back.

Jemma kept quiet and still. There went what little time he might have left over. He would be an excellent director, she had no doubt, but this put an end to what private life they might have had. No house, no settled life, no children.

Then again, he would be spending a large portion of his free time with another woman for the foreseeable future, a woman who had been special to him, and there were certainly accounts of a romantic soulbond turning platonic. Those accounts rarely ended well, but they existed.

He walked back to the convoy as Jemma and Natasha gathered their things, and Jemma paused in her packing to watch as he lingered by Audrey's side to say something.

"I hope you're not planning to give up the field so easily as that," Natasha said mildly, holding out a crumpled sweater which Jemma accepted and automatically folded. "Jealously is a very human emotion; don't beat yourself up for it."

"I acted very badly."

"You left on a rash impulse because you needed to pull yourself together." Natasha shook her head. "You didn't sell secrets to the enemy. If he can forgive you then you have to forgive yourself."

Still, she glanced at the door, narrowing her eyes slightly. "Don't step back," she said after a long moment. "Stay steady."

It was one of the most uncomfortable car rides of Jemma's life. Audrey, who looked as if a sudden gush of wind might knock her over, kept the front passenger seat. Jemma found herself in the far back, squished between Natasha and Trip.

"Hey." Trip greeted her easily, his smile fond and earnest. "Good to see you in one piece, Jemma."

"You, too." She brushed a kiss against Trip's cheek and then tutted over a cut on his forehead. "This is the worst of it, I hope?"

"A nice bruise on my ass, but other than that…"

He and Natasha were exchanging assessing and appreciative looks. Jemma faintly regretted choosing to sit between them.

The convoy returned to the reclaimed Bus, where Audrey trailed after Phil to his office. It was understandable, Jemma thought, scrubbing her damp palms against her jeans. Trip had given her the quick version of events, and Jemma knew well-enough that a nervous Audrey might accidentally short out one of the plane's systems. If she was more comfortable with Phil (which she obviously was), then it would be safer for everyone if she stayed tucked away with him.

That didn't mean Jemma had to like it.

May greeted her as she always had, Fitz gave her good-natured grief, and Skye rolled her eyes and called her out for having bad girl shenanigans without her.

"With the Black Widow, no less," Skye added. "Damn, Jemma, you don't play around when you decide to get into trouble."

That was funny, really, because Jemma had been in a great deal less danger than any of them during the past few days.

They landed at the Playground shortly after midnight, and she was escorted to a small bedroom near the rear of the staff quarters. The bed was not quite queen-sized, and she spent a few amused moments trying to figure out how both she and Phil would fit on that surface. It was a good thing that they liked to cuddle, because that mattress wouldn't give them much of a choice.

She briefly considered changing into something provocative, but she was tired and she guessed that Phil would be even more weary. She would save the lace and silk for a different night and stick to flannel for now, especially given how cool the stone walls of the place kept the room.

Jemma wasn't entirely surprised that he hadn't shown yet- there were things he had to attend to, and Audrey to settle- but waking the next morning and finding the other side of the bed untouched was a shock.

"He fell asleep in his office," she told herself after a moment, muttering aloud. "No need to fret."

She dressed and went to brave the halls, resigning herself to getting lost at least once as she made a mental map of the place. Skye and Fitz were quartered nearby, she knew, but the other doors were a mystery. It was tempting to push them open one by one, but if they were all bedrooms she might accidentally disturb a sleeping teammate.

It was as she was wandering past one of the last doors in that wing that it opened and Phil gestured her inside.

"I was hoping you would come by." He looked a bit more relaxed, at least, but a quick glance around the room told her that it had been no accident that she had slept alone. His things were scattered neatly across the dresser, and the blanket on the bed was still rumpled. "Did you sleep well?"

She had slept cold, and it appeared that she would be for the foreseeable future. "Fine," she replied, her throat tight. "And you?"

How polite they were being. She wanted to scream.

"I only got a few hours." He was holding her waist loosely, brushing his thumbs against her sweater. "I didn't get a chance to speak with you last night, but I think this might be best, for the moment."

"Why?" she asked after a moment, lips numb. Was this base always so cold?

"Because Audrey is unstable." Her gaze snapped up to meet his, darting away from the bed for one. "I'm worried seeing us be us might not help."

A very logical decision, but Jemma didn't particularly care for logic, at that moment. "For how long? It could take weeks to stabilize her- possibly months."

"I doubt it." He released her to turn toward his dresser, fastening the clasp of his watch. "No need to be jealous, Jemma."

He was facing away from her, and so didn't see the moment when she jerked slightly at the scold. She caught a glimpse of herself in the nearby mirror, taking in her white face and the black lettering peaking out over her blouse. She buttoned her cardigan to the top (seeing us be us, oh God).

"I don't like it either," he admitted, turning back toward her. "I've missed you, sweetheart."

He finally slipped his arms around her, and she pressed himself against him, trying not to cry. "When this is all over, you and me and Vegas, hmm?" he said, tunneling his fingers through her hair. "And it will be over, Jem, someday."

No, it wouldn't- Audrey might stabilize, but she wouldn't be going anywhere. Where could they send her, with SHIELD in tatters? No academy, no safe outpost. Just the odd secret base, and a limited number of people who would be willing and able to act as her handler.

"I don't want to do this, Phil," she tried again, thinking of Natasha's words. "We can be professional in the halls, but please let me stay here."

"She's next door; she would know."

She would see, she would hear. Just like that Jemma was being hidden away, lest Audrey take out the entire electrical system.

"It's not like she doesn't know about us."

He withdrew from her with an irritated sigh. She had taken it a step too far, obviously, but she wasn't inclined to back down. "She nearly got me killed," she reminded him quietly, holding her ground. "She's seen the mark, Phil. This isn't something you can hide."

"It isn't just us, anymore," he replied, frowning. "And it isn't as if we're just some small arm of SHIELD at this point. Fury left everything in my hands, and that would have been hard enough to deal with without an ex-girlfriend who can fry a power plant."

Her parents had raised her to be respectful of duty, and now she hated every lesson they had ever instilled in her. "For the common good, then. Is that what I'm hearing?" She wasn't the only one who was in pain over this. She could see the reluctance and heartache in his expression. "You shouldn't have to carry this alone, Phil."

"With a team like this, I'm never alone," he said lightly, obviously purposefully missing her point. His gaze softened, one hand coming up to caress her cheek. "I love you, sweetheart."

Her reply was not automatic. "I love you, too," she said, the words more mournful than they had any right to be.

And then she was in an empty hall with the door shut behind her, walking back to her little room with dragging feet. The light above her head flickered as she turned a corner.

After she closed her door, it went out entirely.