TW for brief reference to violence

By the time May tramped back into the house late Saturday morning, shaking flecks of chilly, October rain from her hair, she was ready to be inside for the remainder of the day. The weather had taken a cold dip towards the end of the week, and the rain that rolled in the night before had a frosty bite to it as it pounded against the windows. Phil had taken the girls to go and buy winter coats that morning, leaving May to do the grocery shopping, and by the sound of laughter drifting out from the den, it seemed as though they had finished their errand much quicker than she had.

"I'm home!" she called, hoping to rally the troops into helping her carry the rest of the groceries in from the car. They were buying a lot more food these days, now that they had three extra mouths to feed, which meant extra trips back and forth from the car. With the weather as nasty as it was, May wasn't especially interested in making all of those extra trips herself.

Luckily, Phil was intuitive enough to interpret her call, and the sound of several sock-covered feet padded down the hallway, bringing Bobbi, Skye, and Jemma to meet her.

"Hi May," Skye beamed. "Phil said we should come and help you with the groceries. We're in the middle of Uno, but you can play next round if you want."

"I could use some help," May agreed. "And Uno sounds great. Let's get this food in the house, first, though." They all started towards the door, scooping up shoes, but May held an arm out in front of Bobbi. "Why don't you stay in the kitchen and put things away while the rest of us carry them in. You don't want to work your knee too hard."

"Dr. Gambhir said I was supposed to walk normally," Bobbi said. If May hadn't known any better, she would have said Bobbi was almost pouting. The idea amused her, but she forced herself to keep a serious face.

"He also said not to overexert yourself. We have enough other people who can carry groceries in, and I need someone putting things away so the ice cream doesn't melt before we bring everything else in."

"You got ice cream?" Skye asked excitedly. "What for?"

"For… eating?" May tried and failed to mask her confusion. "I thought it might be nice to have something sweet for after dinner some nights. Phil can usually go through a pack of Oreos by himself in just a few days, so we don't always have things like that around, but there was a sale on ice cream…"

"So, it's just for regular days?" Skye scrunched up her brow. "It's not for something special?"

"I guess it could be for something special if we wanted it to be, but there wasn't something in particular that I had in mind," May said. "Sometimes it's just nice to have treats on hand."

"We almost never get ice cream," Jemma said, her eyes aglow with delight. "Only for holidays and the birthday party."

"The birthday party?"

"There were too many kids to do birthdays for everyone, so the nuns picked one day a year to be the birthday party for everyone. We got ice cream on that day, in those little cups with the wooden stick, you know?" Skye explained. "It was kind of fun, I guess. They did it in the summer, so we'd get to eat it outside, and Sister Beatrice usually blew up a balloon for everybody. It was nice, but Michaela Dodson always popped mine and Jemma's before the end of the day."

"I don't like the sound," Jemma piped, for clarification.

"One year Sister Beatrice found out that we didn't have our balloons anymore, so she snuck us into the kitchen for extra ice cream instead," Skye smiled. "That one turned out okay."

"So, you've never had a birthday party?" May asked. "For yourself, I mean?"

"I remember a few from when I lived with my parents," Jemma said quietly, lost in thought. "They invited some of the neighborhood children and we played pass the parcel."

"I don't even know when my birthday is," Skye shrugged. "So I guess I never really cared that much about parties for them."

"What about you Bobbi?" May wondered. "Did you have birthday parties?"

"A couple, when my mom was still around. She didn't really like party planning very much, but she threw me a Star Wars themed one when I was six. My dad showed up late and they got in a huge fight and the cake ended up on the ground before we could eat it, so she didn't try to throw a party after that." Bobbi's cheeks pinked. "I tried to bake myself a cake when I was ten. I guess it seemed like a good idea at the time. Maybe I thought turning double digits was a big enough deal to deserve a cake, I don't really remember. We didn't have any eggs in the house, so the cake turned out really bad. It was like a crumbly brick, and it fell apart when I tried to cut it. My dad got mad at me for wasting the flour and sugar, so I never tried again."

May swallowed down the outrage and sadness that clawed at her throat at the idea of the three children in front of her never having a day to celebrate themselves. She certainly wasn't one of those birthday fanatics, who went all out on a party or who used the day as an excuse to get away with doing whatever she wanted, but at least her parents had given her a gift, had sung to her and let her blow out candles. At least Phil cooked the two of them a nice dinner and shared a glass of Haig with her each year.

"Well," she said, clearing her throat a little. "We'll have to make sure we celebrate the right way when your birthdays come around, won't we?"

All three girls wore expressions of varying shades of bashfulness, and none of them met her eye. Maybe they didn't believe her. Maybe they were doubtful they'd still be here by the time their birthdays rolled around. She wished desperately for something to say that would quell all their fears, assure them of her good intentions, and help them trust in her words, but she knew she couldn't conjure a magic phrase out of the air.

"So what kind of ice cream did you get?" Skye finally asked, breaking the tense silence.

"Oh, uh, Neapolitan," May spluttered, snapping out of her reverie. "I didn't know what people liked, so I went for one that had choices."

"Cool." Skye looked pleased, then tugged on her sneakers and headed outside to start bringing the groceries inside. Jemma followed suit, and Bobbi, under the raised eyebrow of May, retreated to the kitchen to do the unloading.

With all four of them working, it didn't take long to get the food inside and put away. They enjoyed a raucous game of Uno afterwards, which Bobbi won, triumphantly snapping her final card – a wild card – down on the deck and emptying her hand.

"You can't save your wild card for the end," Skye pouted, crossing her arms stubbornly, "that's cheating."

"Is not," Bobbi teased. "It's strategy."

"Well, it should be against the rules," grumbled Skye. "There's no way to stop you winning if you play like that."

"That's the point," Bobbi grinned. "It's not my fault you burned through your good cards at the beginning of the game."

"I'm still not over you hitting me with two draw-threes in a row," Phil complained to May. He had close to twenty cards still in his hand.

"I don't think you would have won, regardless, dear," May needled playfully. "The fact that you have all those cards and not one yellow among them is astounding."

"Maybe we shouldn't play Uno anymore," Jemma suggested gently. "Everyone gets so competitive…"

"I think that's supposed to be part of the fun," Phil laughed. He started collecting the cards up and shuffling them back into a full deck. "But we should probably take a break, anyway. I have homework to grade and lessons to plan."

"I have reading to catch up on for English," Bobbi admitted, pulling herself to her feet and making for the door. "It's more than I want to try and fit in tomorrow, so I think I'm going to read some now."

May watched Bobbi and Phil drift away, then turned her gaze on Skye and Jemma, ready to ask a question. Skye's eyes immediately narrowed with suspicion.

"You're not going to say we should do our homework now, too, are you?" she asked dubiously. "Saturdays aren't for homework. It's just wrong. Like, against-the-laws-of-the-universe wrong. Saturdays are for fun stuff."

"Don't worry, I wasn't going to suggest it," May chuckled. "I know you'll do it tomorrow afternoon. No, I was going to ask you something else, Skye."

"What?"

"I've been busy at work this week with a new case, but now that it's the weekend I have a little bit of free time and I was wondering if you wanted to help me look through that list of names you gave me from the hospital. I know I promised you we would work on this together."

"Oh." Skye looked surprised. May watched as Skye rubbed her thumb absentmindedly across a spot on her hand that had the faint smudges of not-quite scrubbed off ink still etched onto it. Skye hadn't struck May as the type to doodle on her own hands, but the other day she had come home with a flower inked onto her skin. May hadn't said anything; she remembered very well the fights she and her own mother had gotten into the year that May decided that her own hands and arms were the best place to take notes, and she had no desire to replicate the experience with Skye. It didn't hurt anyone for Skye to draw on herself, and she might outgrow it, as May had. Still, it was an interesting new piece of Skye that May hadn't seen before.

"You don't have to if you don't want to," May said quickly, misinterpreting Skye's reserved response. "I just thought you might be interested in working on it with me. I wanted to keep my promise to you."

"No, I do," Skye assured her. "I just… I guess I didn't expect… whatever. Yeah, I… I want to help. I'll get my list."

"Can I help, too?" Jemma asked tentatively. She was looking at Skye for an answer, not at May, so May stayed quiet. She might technically be the adult in charge of the investigation now, but it was still Skye's mystery to solve, and they all knew it.

"Yeah," Skye smiled. She caught herself, and looked over to check with May. "I mean, if it's okay with you. It's just, Jemma's been kind of helping me with all this before, so she already knows…"

"Of course it's okay," May said gently. "We may need an extra brain working the problem. I don't think any answers we're looking for are going to come easily."

Skye's smile widened into a grin and she scampered up to her room to grab the list she had compiled at the hospital not so long ago, while May retrieved her computer from the office. When they both returned to the den, Skye was clutching several pages of notebook paper close to her chest. The pages had been ripped out of the notebook, so they still bore the straggly ends that came from being pulled loose from the spiral, and there were obvious creases where the papers had been folded and unfolded over and over again. May wondered briefly if Skye had been carrying the folded up list around in her pocket.

"I… I don't know how much help it'll be," Skye started, hesitation tripping up her voice. "But I thought it was better than nothing."

"It definitely is," May nodded stoutly. "I can't promise we'll find much, but we're in a much better starting place now than where either of us was last time."

May popped open her laptop and logged into her work database.

"I think the best place to start will be plugging each of those names into a search in the Sheboygan county records. Check them for birth certificates or any other significant records, like marriage licenses or—"

"Death certificates," Skye said matter-of-factly. When May raised an eyebrow at her, Skye shrugged one shoulder up and down. "We might as well check. I know there's a chance that's what we'll find. You don't have to baby me about it. I know I might not get a good answer when I find them."

"You're right, I'm sorry," May apologized. "I know you can handle this. I just want to make sure you're prepared for… whatever we might find." What would they find, exactly? Was she herself prepared for whatever they might discover? Dead parents, or deadbeat parents? Parents who didn't care that their daughter had endured years of mistreatment in the foster system or parents who wanted nothing more than to get their baby back? Or what about parents with a connection to a mysterious, unethical doctor that May had yet to find any real information on or mention to Skye? A shiver ran down the length of May's spine. She wasn't sure which potential answer she would consider the worst of the bunch. She wasn't sure which one Skye would consider the worst, either.

"I'm ready," Skye promised, recalling May's focus to the task at hand. "Really."

"Okay," May said. She took a deep breath in through her nose. Focus. "Let's get started, then."

It was slow going, picking through Skye's list of names. It didn't help that Skye's handwriting was difficult to read at the best of times, and she had clearly been hurrying to get down as many names as she could at the hospital, nor did it help that many of the names turned up dozens of results with no clear way of winnowing out the ones that weren't actually related to their search.

"The next one is Mc…McKniley?" Skye said uncertainly, squinting at the paper.

"I don't think I've heard that one before, will you spell it for me?" May asked, her fingers hovering over the keys.

Jemma leaned over and peered at the list over Skye's shoulder. "McKinley," she said helpfully. For whatever reason, Jemma almost never had trouble reading Skye's writing, a feat that no one else in the family had yet to manage. "Like the president."

"There was a president named McKinley?" Skye looked surprised. "When?"

"The 1800s maybe?" May suggested. "Phil would know, we can ask him."

"He must have been one of those grumpy guys who all look alike and didn't do anything exciting," Skye smirked.

"He was assassinated," Jemma said delicately. The playful smile slid off of Skye's face and she blanched slightly.

"Oh. I didn't know that. I feel bad for making fun of him now."

"I don't think anyone will hold it against you," May reassured her. "It happened over a hundred years ago." She finished typing in the name and scanned over the multiple results that now populated her screen. "Okay, so there's about 8 different McKinleys with records in Sheboygan county. Death certificates for three of them… two of those happened more than 20 years ago, so I doubt that's what we're looking for." She continued scrolling as Skye and Jemma watched intently. Unfortunately there wasn't much to do in the way of collaboration at this point, since it was mostly just plugging in names and trying to narrow results, but May was determined to include Skye at every step of the way.

"All right here's some birth records," May nodded, her eye catching the new entry. "Let's see if we can find the one that matches the hospital record." She clicked through a birth certificate from the previous year, one from five years ago, and then landed on one from thirteen years ago. "Doug and Angela McKinley, parents of Kinsey Rae McKinley. 7 pounds, 2 ounces."

"Kinsey McKinley?" Skye asked, wrinkling her nose. "Poor kid."

"You'd think they'd pick something that had more than one letter difference from their last name," Jemma mused.

"You'd think."

"Do you think that could be your real name, Skye?" wondered Jemma. It was the question that Jemma had asked after every new name had come up. "Do you feel like a Kinsey?"

"Not especially," Skye deadpanned. "I guess it's still better than… well, you know."

"There are no death records for Doug or Angela, and nothing in terms of divorce records, arrests, things like that," May informed them, finishing her inspection of the remaining McKinley files.

"How do you spell 'Kinsey'?" Skye asked. She was hunched over her paper, carefully writing out the names of the people on the birth certificate. Jemma spelled the name out loud for Skye and added: "There's an 'o' in Doug. It's different than like to dig a hole kind of dug."

"I knew that." Pink crept up Skye's face as she scrubbed at the paper with her eraser and corrected the spelling of the man's name. With a pang, May was reminded of how much they needed to figure out a way to help Skye with her reading and writing. They hadn't had much in the way of further conversations since meeting with Polly last week. Phil had filled her in on what he and Skye had talked about that night, so May hoped that there was at least a small window of opportunity that they could use to help Skye see that going to a doctor wouldn't be the worst thing in the world, but she knew there was a strong possibility that they still faced an uphill battle on that front.

"I'm sorry this is such slow going," May said, after a while. Their progress had been minimal, aside from giving Skye first names to add to her list. "The county records don't really give us much in terms of showing us whether the children on the birth certificates are still with their parents or not. I might be able to run the names through a more powerful search at work, especially now that we have full names, but…" She trailed off. She didn't know how to break it to Skye that their search might turn up even less than they'd hoped for.

"What if…" Skye started speaking, but faltered. Her eyes were sparking with an idea, but something was holding her back. May looked at her expectantly.

"What?"

"It might be a stupid idea…"

"I doubt that," May smiled. "We're still in the early part of an investigation. Sometimes the wildest ideas are the very thing that a team needs to jumpstart a discovery."

"Alexander Flemming accidentally grew mold on his bacteria samples, and he when he saw that the mold prevented the bacteria from spreading, he got the idea that you could use the mold to cure infections. That probably seemed like a silly idea to the other people in the lab, but without it, we wouldn't have gotten penicillin," Jemma pointed out.

"Plus, I trust your instincts," May said seriously. "What are you thinking, Skye?"

"Well, I just thought, if you're looking for information on the families today, to see if they're still together and stuff like that… why not google them? A lot of them probably have social media. I bet a bunch of parents like to post things about their kids, and grownups are usually pretty bad about restricting their privacy settings. We could start with Facebook. That's the one old people mostly use."

"I'm going to ignore the old comment," May smiled wryly, "mainly because I think that's an excellent suggestion." Not that she would ever admit it, but May was a little embarrassed that she hadn't thought to peruse the internet for signs of these people's lives. One of the main things she was supposed to be able to do as a detective was use the tools at her disposal to uncover and piece together any and all relevant information, and she had completely overlooked one of the most information-rich tools on the planet.

She opened a new tab and plugged the McKinley family's names into the search bar. It didn't take long at all to find a public Facebook profile from Angela McKinley, which was emblazoned with family photos, questionable political takes, and, strangely enough, several pictures of those little yellow cartoon creatures wearing goggles and overalls. She wasn't positive, but May thought they were from a series of kids' movies, which didn't help to clear up why exactly the yellow tic-tac shaped critters were paired with text boxes about drinking wine or shopping for shoes.

"Grownups are weird," Skye said, wrinkling her nose as she craned her neck to get a good look at the computer screen.

"You're not wrong." May could feel her eyebrows creeping further and further up her forehead as she skimmed over Angela McKinley's page. "For what it's worth, none of this makes any sense to me, either."

"There," Skye said suddenly, holding out her hand for May to stop scrolling. May followed Skye's gaze to a photo on screen. In it, a middle-aged couple, Doug and Angela, presumably, were posed under an autumn tree, laughing and smiling at a blonde-haired, pink-cheeked daughter who looked about Skye's age. The girl was beaming, a sparkly crown jauntily perched on her head and a sash reading "Appleton Jr. Harvest Queen" slung over her shoulder.

"I guess they don't live in Sheboygan anymore," May said. She didn't know what else to say about the picture in front of them. The picture was idyllic, an All-American family with their Apple Queen of a daughter and two, loving parents. It was almost sickly sweet, in a way. May could practically feel the scorn and sadness radiating off of Skye's body, and her heart ached. She wished she could have rewound the clock a few minutes and kept the picture from Skye's view.

"What's a Jr. Harvest Queen?" Jemma asked gingerly.

"I'm assuming it's a prize they give out at a festival in Appleton," May said, after a moment. "A lot of towns around here like to have different festivals and celebrations during the year. You should get Phil to tell you the story of the time he tried to ask the New Holstein Butter Queen to prom."

"You made that up!" Skye swiveled around and looked at May incredulously.

"I wish I did, but it's true. She said no, by the way."

The girls started to giggle, and May was happy to see that the stormy look had dissipated from Skye's eyes. Skye had promised her that she was ready for whatever she might learn about her parents, but May realized now that neither one of them had thought to prepare Skye for what she might learn about the families that weren't hers. The families that could have been.

"Do you want to keep going?" she asked Skye. "Or do you want to stop for the day?"

"We can keep going," Skye decided. "We didn't get through very many yet."

They plunged ahead, sifting through name after name. Most families turned out to be like the McKinleys – no notable records, easily discoverable accounts of their current family makeup scattered across the internet for them to pick up and sift through. A few had some noticeable differences. One family, the Highbens, had a death certificate for the father of the baby girl a few years after her birth certificate was issued, and the mother was listed on a marriage license to another man a few years after that. Their google search revealed that the mother and stepfather seemed to still be happily married, and the girl Skye's age now had two younger brothers.

Several families had records of divorces and remarriages, and there were even a few that had arrest records connected to one or both of the parents listed on the birth certificates. Some were minor traffic offenses or things like public intoxication, but a few were more serious crimes that could have carried jail time. May kept her own mental list of those names, for further investigation. Sometimes when parents became incarcerated, their children were placed into foster care if there was no other family able to care for them. Maybe that was what had happened to Skye.

"Go back to that one," Skye interrupted, as May clicked quickly through an arrest record for a man who had been charged with assault with a deadly weapon. She knew Skye was made of tougher stuff than a lot of people had given her credit for, but she wasn't interested in lingering on a report of a brutal stabbing while her 13-year-old daughter was reading over her shoulder.

"It's a report about a violent crime, Skye, are you sure you need to see that?"

"I just want to see the name again," Skye told her. May acquiesced and returned to the page. It was just a text report of the charges and arrest, not the full file, so there was no picture and a lot of legal shorthand jumbling up the page.

"There," May said, pointing. "Johnson. Calvin. Cal for short, it looks like."

"He was on our list?" Something about Skye's voice set May's ears on high alert. There was a breathlessness to it, an uneasiness.

"As far as I can tell, he's the same Calvin Johnson from the birth certificate, yes. But without looking deeper at the records I can't say for sure. It's a common name. Why, what's wrong?"

"Nothing," Skye said quickly. It was an obvious lie, but May didn't know where to press on it. She had no idea what had set Skye off.

"Can I see the birth certificate again?"

A bad seed of a feeling planted itself in May's stomach, her spidey-senses tingling hard. Against her better judgement, she clicked over to the birth certificate bearing Calvin Johnson's name.

"Calvin Johnson. Jiaying Johnson. Daughter Daisy Louise, 8 pounds even."

Skye's face was unreadable, which May found unsettling. She thought she had been getting better at picking out Skye's emotions recently. She noticed as Skye drug her thumb across the inky patch on the back of her hand again, almost as though she didn't realize what she was doing.

"Is everything okay, Skye? You're scaring me a little."

"It's… it's nothing. I just…" Skye wasn't looking at her. She was staring hard at the computer screen, then at the floor. Her shoulders caved inwards slightly, hunching Skye in on herself. She was shutting down. May was losing her.

"Skye?"

"I… I think I want to stop now," Skye said finally. Her voice was flat, tired. Alarm bells were clanging in May's head, but she didn't know what else to say but "Okay." She didn't know what questions to ask, she didn't know how to peer inside of Skye's mind and pluck out whatever it was that had caused such a drastic and sudden change in her demeanor.

"Skye, is there something about those names? Do they mean something to you?" It was the best May could muster. She couldn't let Skye disappear again. Couldn't let her walk away without at least trying to untangle the new mystery in front of her. The last time she had left Skye alone with her thoughts like this, she had ended up pulling a soaking wet child off of a street corner in a town miles from their home. She couldn't let that happen again.

"No," Skye said. May waited, the unspoken request for elaboration thick in the air. Skye squirmed a little under May's gaze, but May was determined not to let her off the hook, as painful as it was to keep fishing. "I don't know. I don't think so. It's probably nothing. I just… I shouldn't have looked at the crime report, I guess. I didn't think it would bother me, but I guess I was wrong."

"You're sure that's all that's bothering you?"

"I'm sure." Skye didn't meet her eyes. There was no doubt in May's mind that Skye was very deliberately keeping something hidden, but Skye was already pulling away to the door, head ducked, feet dragging. The conversation was over, whether May wanted it to be or not.

"Skye," she called, in a desperate, final attempt. Skye stiffened in the doorway, but stopped at least, and turned her head back slightly to show she was listening. "Skye, if… if something's bothering you… we want you to be able to tell us. Me or Phil. Someone. You know you can talk to us, right? We want to be able to help you."

"I know," Skye said quietly. "Thank you." She waited for a beat longer before asking if she could go upstairs to her room.

"Of course. We'll let you know when lunch is ready, okay?"

Skye didn't respond, just disappeared out into the hallway. The sound of her footsteps traipsing up the stairs above them carried down, mixing with a light, nervous tap from Jemma, the only noise between the two of them for several minutes.

"Do you have any idea what all that was about?" May finally asked. She didn't love the idea of pumping Jemma for information about Skye, but she was trying her hardest not to repeat her mistakes from last time, and leaving Jemma out of the loop had certainly been a mistake.

"No," Jemma murmured. She was tapping anxiously on her knee. She was always so worried about Skye, so protective of her. May was starting to understand the feeling. "Something's bothering her, but I can't tell what. She didn't like those last names we looked up, though."

"No," May agreed. "Something doesn't feel right." Her mind was churning away, looking for loose threads that she could use to connect the vast collection of untethered dots that made up their current investigation. The assault report for Calvin Johnson bore a few unsettling similarities to the mysterious attack on Dr. Whitehall at the hospital, but without the full file, she couldn't be sure that it was anything more than just a coincidence. Jiaying was a Chinese name, and while Skye had never talked about her ethnicity before, May wondered if there was something about seeing a non-English name pop up on their list that caught Skye's attention. Even if it wasn't that, something had set Skye off about those names, and Melinda May was determined to get to the bottom of it.

"I'll look out for her," Jemma said quietly, turning her warm, worried eyes on May. "I don't want her to run away again."

"Neither do I," said May, a sad smile creasing the corners of her mouth. As much as she wanted to solve Skye's mystery, she couldn't lose sight of the other children right in front of her. "I know you'll look out for her. You always do. You're a very good friend to Skye, Jemma. Not everyone is so lucky to have someone like you looking out for them."

"She's a good friend to me, too."

"I know. And I'm so happy you two have each other." May paused, considering briefly if the question she was about to ask was the right one. "Do you… You know that it doesn't just have to be the two of you against the world anymore, right? I don't ever want to diminish what the two of you have, but I also want to make sure you understand that Phil and I, we're very much in your corner. We want to look out for both of you, too. You and Skye don't have to handle everything on your own anymore. You know that?"

"I… I know," Jemma faltered. "I'm just not used to it, I suppose."

"I understand. It takes practice when you're learning how to let someone else take care of you. But I'll tell you something, Jemma, I've learned from experience that it's so very worth it. It's worth the hard work and the practice, because letting someone into your life who cares about you and who wants nothing but the best for you - the way that you and Skye care about each other - it's one of those things that just makes life so much better. Our lives are enriched by the people we choose to put in them. You and Skye and Bobbi have already made my life and Phil's life so incredible. We're very grateful that you've given that gift to us, and we'd like to be able to return the favor one day."

Jemma blushed furiously, but her tapping slowed and a smile toyed across her face. May reached out and gave Jemma's shoulder a squeeze, and before she could pull her hand away, Jemma leaned into her arm, pressing her cheek against the back of May's hand. Jemma's fingers drifted upwards from her knee and lighted on May's wrist, tapping out a sweet, simple beat on the arm that was still holding on to Jemma's shoulder. She didn't say anything, but she didn't have to. Melinda May didn't know a lot of things about being a parent, about her foster daughters, about how to nurture and guide the three young lives before her, but she knew enough to know exactly what Jemma had just said.

Sorry again that it's only two chapters instead of three. Hopefully you liked these two all right, though! Thanks for reading :)