A/N: Thank you to all my readers and reviewers. You are amazing, and I am so honored to receive reviews and messages from you. It's so flattering to know that you're all loving this story as much as I do.
Without any spoilers, I must say that this season of AoS is giving me more reasons to yell "WHAT?!" at my computer screen (I don't have TV) than ever before, and sometimes I like the way that feels... but mostly it's not my favorite. I can't wait to see where we're going next, though - this universe doesn't disappoint.
Enjoy!
The next morning Jemma took stock. The hospital room was large enough, in its own way, especially once the little couch-bed was folded up and moved back against the window. There was a cupboard in the corner that was empty, except for Skye's backpack and the clothes she'd been wearing when she arrived at the hospital, which were folded neatly in a plastic bag marked "Patient Belongings." Jemma shuddered when she realized they were still caked with Skye's blood and vomit, and she resolved to get them cleaned as soon as possible – or throw them out and replace them later.
To that cupboard she added her backpack and the small duffel bag of things Professor May had brought from her dorm. Fitz's shiny metal box went on the top shelf next to Skye's shoes. She folded her blanket and pillow and set them on the little couch. Her folded pajamas went into the duffel.
That task accomplished, she looked over at Skye. During the night, Jemma had been dimly aware of nurses and techs coming in and out, adjusting machinery and viewing different parts of the video EEG. One of them had worked on the ventilator for several long minutes, and another two monitored the IV drips. Jemma didn't specifically remember Skye having any seizures, but she remembered the worried tones of the nurses, and figured there had been some activity overnight.
Skye was quiet and calm on the bed, the EEG wires still trailing in that fat braid from her head. Her face was serene, despite the tube still sprouting from her mouth, and her eyelids moved as though she was dreaming. Whatever it was, Jemma hoped it was peaceful.
"I'm going to get breakfast," she said, fingerspelling the message into Skye's hand as she spoke. "And make some phone calls. But I'll be right back."
Shrugging on a cardigan, she brushed her hair back into a loose ponytail and stuck her wallet in her pocket.
A nurse was standing at the computer just outside the door, drinking from a coffee mug. She looked over as Jemma came out of the room. "Good morning."
"Good morning," Jemma replied. "Um, could you tell me where the canteen is?"
The nurse thought for a moment. "The canteen? You mean the cafeteria?"
Jemma blushed. "Yes."
"Oh, sure. If you're looking for just a quick bite to eat, there's a little café down in the main lobby, right near the gift shop. If they don't have what you're looking for, the main cafeteria is in the basement, across from the surgical waiting areas."
"Thank you," Jemma said. "Um, by the way, I'm Jemma."
"I'm Beth," the nurse answered. "I'll be taking care of Skye today."
"All right," Jemma said.
"And don't worry – she's in the best place possible right now," Beth said. She took a drink of her coffee and smiled at Jemma. "We'll be here when you get back."
Jemma took the elevator down to the main floor and was swept up into a river of people. Nurses, doctors, patients, and even a few cops – they were all moving towards different ends. Jemma slipped into the end of the line at the first-floor coffee shop and waited her turn.
She powered up her phone and was unsurprised to see she had text messages waiting, as well as a few voicemails. She decided to handle the texts first.
The first was from Bobbi. We made it to the pharmacy this morning. The chief pharmacist mentioned that they had been dealing with a few slip-ups lately, due to some staff rearrangement. A few of the pharmacy techs have been coming in from a temp agency. He apologized profusely for the misunderstanding and will be contacting Skye's sister to give her further information on what the other medication might do to her system. There's no indication that anyone involved with Garrett or Ward was responsible for the pharmacy error. Call me if you want more information, or just to talk. Tell Skye we love her.
Another one was from Trip. Hey girl – seems like I spent all night looking for obscure corners of campus where Garrett and Ward could have shacked up. The only place I didn't check myself, haha, is that weird series of tunnels underneath the agriculture buildings. Why are those there anyway? Well, and a few other places, but I'm sure we'll ferret the rat out soon. Nobody messes with my Skye. Love ya.
Two shorter messages were from Mr. Coulson and Professor May.
Mr. Coulson: Jemma – I hope your night at the hospital with Skye was peaceful. Please let her know we are thinking of her. Give me a call if you need an interpreter or a listening ear. Or both. MC out. (That's for Mr. Coulson, but I like it.)
Professor May: Ms. Simmons – I will be at the hospital tomorrow at four p.m. for our normal sign language instruction session. Is there something you'd like me to bring from Harry's Donut Shoppe?
By the time Jemma had her peach-mango smoothie and a muffin large enough to have its own zip code, she had dealt with all of the text messages and listened to the voicemails. As she walked back to the elevators, she returned the only important voicemail call, which was from Skye's sister.
"Good morning, Summer."
"Good morning, Jemma. How are things?"
"It was a mostly quiet night," Jemma replied, and went on to describe the machines and the testing the medical professionals were still enacting.
"Again, I just want to thank you for staying with Skye," Summer said once Jemma had finished talking. "I don't think she knows whether or not anyone's there, but it makes me feel better."
"Me too," Jemma said softly.
"You are a good friend to Skye," Summer said. "She doesn't quite know how to deal with someone like you. She's had a fairly lonely life. But when she talks about you… her eyes sparkle and she's just full of so much joy."
Tears started to form in Jemma's eyes. "That's so incredibly kind."
"It's true," Summer said. "She cares deeply about you, and she's so lucky that you care just as much about her."
There was a short pause, and then Summer said, "I have to get going, Jemma. Will you keep me updated?"
"Of course," Jemma replied.
She ate her muffin and drank most of her smoothie before returning to the eighth floor. Beth was no longer at her station, and Skye's room was empty of medical personnel when she reentered.
"Hi, Skye," Jemma said, and she sat down in the recliner near Skye's bed and flicked on the TV. While she watched a morning news program, she fingerspelled the other morning news into Skye's palm, telling her about the text messages from Bobbi and Trip, the sentiments from Mr. Coulson and Professor May, and the call from Summer. It made for an extremely long string of letters, but Jemma was glad for the practice.
The rest of the day stretched out long and uncomplicated in front of Jemma. Skye slept and seized, but otherwise made no demands. Jemma could sit by her side and hold her hand for as long as she wanted. And she wanted. Most definitely.
She practiced her sign language conversations, did her homework, and caught up on their Jane Austen readings. At one point she dozed off in the recliner – it was rather comfortable for such an uncomfortable-looking chair – and woke two hours later to realize Skye's fingers were still twined in hers. If not for the horrible hospital setting and Skye's persistent unconsciousness, it could have been bliss.
Around five o'clock her phone vibrated on the bedside table. It was a text message from Bobbi: Trip and I are here with Mr. Coulson. You guys up for a visit? PS We brought dinner.
In ten minutes they were all in the room. Mr. Coulson had bags of Chinese takeout, Bobbi had a book and a small cooler of beverages to offer, and Trip swept Jemma up in a big hug. "Hey, girl," he said, putting her down gently. Then he crossed the room and took Skye's hand. "Hey, girl," he repeated, and Jemma was tickled to note that he was spelling the message into Skye's hand just the way she would have.
They sat and ate Chinese food – Bobbi perched on the windowsill, Trip in the recliner, Mr. Coulson on the little couch, and Jemma at the end of Skye's bed. Jemma had the TV turned to the Food Network, just for something that reminded her of being back in Skye's dorm room; she liked the familiar frying pan sizzles and the whirs of blenders, even though she knew Skye couldn't hear the cooking competitors.
"This is good food, man," Trip said, raising his chopsticks in a salute to Mr. Coulson. "Wouldn't have guessed it from that old lady who was crying at the counter."
"Oh, Mrs. Wong? She just broke up with her boyfriend," Mr. Coulson said. "Normally she's in there in her Jazzercise outfit."
"That seems like it would be just as awful," Trip said.
Bobbi took advantage of the lull in conversation. "Jemma, how are you?"
"Oh, I'm okay," Jemma said. "Skye's been sleeping and she only had two seizures in the last four hours and…"
Bobbi held up her hand. "I asked how you were."
Jemma swallowed the last of her root beer as she thought about Bobbi's question. "I'm tired," she admitted softly. "And worried. Every time she has a seizure I feel like my heart's going to stop. I feel like they're getting stronger. And longer. I know the machine's breathing for her, but during the seizures something must cause her to stop breathing in the right way, because the machine goes off and I just feel like I'm going to fall apart."
Trip nodded.
"All night I felt like I was awake, wondering about Grant Ward," Jemma went on. She felt drained, as though she was a shell, a husk, something that could blow away in the wind. "I wanted him to pay for what he did."
"He didn't have anything to do with the drug mix-up," Bobbi said.
"I know," Jemma said. "I know that now, today, when I'm not consumed with uncertainty and rage. But last night… last night I would have crushed him to death with a bus."
She brushed her hair back from her face. "I realized I can't do anything about Grant Ward… at least, nothing that can help Skye right now. What I can do is be here, monitor the testing, and even if Skye doesn't know I'm here, keep her from being alone."
"We all do what we're capable of," Mr. Coulson said. "For what it's worth, Jemma, you are doing an amazing thing."
They finished their meal and Bobbi and Mr. Coulson took their leave.
"You mind if I stay, girl?" Trip asked, giving Jemma a smile.
"No," Jemma replied honestly. She was glad for the company.
The three of them – Skye, Jemma, and Trip – watched TV together until it was dark outside. Trip introduced Jemma to a new show, "American Ninja Warrior," one that he seemed to both adore and ridicule in the same breath. Competitors were tasked with making their way through a nearly-impossible obstacle course, one that involved ropes, water, dangling chains and bars, and an almost-straight wall that had to be climbed in three jumps.
"I'm gonna do that someday," Trip said as the show went to commercial break.
"Why would you want to?" Jemma asked.
Trip grinned. "My granddad did something like it during the war. My mom's always going on about his athletic prowess. I'd love to see if I could do it."
"You could," Jemma said. "You're… athletic."
"See, girl, that pause is what doesn't convince me," Trip said, and he laughed.
When the show ended, Trip squeezed Skye's hand one more time and turned to Jemma. "You gonna be all right here?"
Jemma nodded. She felt less like a husk and more just plain tired, but she was happy that Skye hadn't had any seizures during the visit from their friends. It was a start. "We'll be okay," she said.
"Well, if you get lonely, or you need anything, you know where I live," Trip said. "And also, you have my phone number."
He hugged Jemma, and then he was gone.
In a reverse of the morning, Jemma put on her pajamas, folded her clothes and set them with her shoes, pulled the couch out from the wall, folded it out into a bed, and laid out her pillow and blanket.
"What a day," she sighed, looking at Skye.
The night shift nurse came in and checked the machines and the drips. She used a small sponge on a stick to swab Skye's mouth, and suctioned out the breathing tube connected to the ventilator. The nurse and an aide shifted Skye's position in the bed, putting pillows under her knees and elbows and straightening out her hips.
When they had gone, Jemma sat cross-legged on her little bed and sighed. "First twenty-four hours down," she murmured. "Let's see what happens next."