Wanweird - An unhappy fate.
Jemma used to think that sharing a room with Skye would be fun – like those sleepovers she missed out on as a child. But now, rooming with her in this nondescript motel while their world was crumbling around them was… awkward.
Jemma tried to pretend she didn't see Skye cry as she came out of the bathroom. Skye tried to pretend she wasn't crying when she wished Jemma good night and turned off the lamp.
Neither of them was fooled.
In the darkness of the room, as she lay on her back, staring at the ceiling motionless, Jemma could hear her friend's soft sniffles, then a quiet "Jemma?"
"Yes?" she answered, turning her head towards Skye's bed. She could barely make out the younger woman's silhouette.
"Do you believe in fate?"
There were at least a thousand things Jemma wanted to say on the topic – probability theory, metaphysical approach, scientific refutation, scientific proof… But she had a feeling Skye didn't want to hear any of it.
"Yes," she answered instead. "Why?"
Another sniff in the darkness.
"It's stupid, but… there was a moment, a moment somewhere around the time he arrived at Providence when I actually thought… When I actually thought that we were destined to be together. That we were made for each other. And I wanted to believe it – oh, God, I so wanted to believe it!"
Jemma didn't need to ask who Skye was referring to – Ward.
She took her time to answer.
"Maybe you were," she said, staring at the ceiling again. "I mean… If destiny does exists… And there are people who are fated to meet and fall in love… Who says that their story needs to have a happy ending?"
Skye was silent after that for a long time.
"Maybe you are right," she said at last, then blew her nose. "Still… I wish we got a different ending." The springs of her mattress creaked, and Jemma knew Skye had turned to the other side, her back now facing her. The conversation was over.
Still, she spoke after a minute. "Skye?"
"Yes?"
"Who says this is the end of the story?"
