Jemma tsked. "Look at those boring food coloring drops, how they just sit there in the milk," The camera panned overhead to better capture the reaction. "But all it takes is one tiny drop of dish soap," she dipped the glass rod into the Palmolive, "to send those fat molecules scurrying around like they're playing musical chairs." A few of the kids in the audience gasped as the milk swirled the colors around in a madcap tie-dye. "Isn't that fun?" she smiled, moving on to the next experiment.

"Now, children, remember how we talked about endothermic and exothermic reactions? I'm going to demonstrate a small exothermic reaction, and then we'll get our Science Sidekicks up here to check our findings! Ready?" She nodded to the day's volunteers, a pair of eager-faced young girls, adorable in their clip-on capes that mimicked Jemma's own.

"Ready for science, Captain!" they chimed with infectious enthusiasm, and Jemma couldn't help the grin that broke over her face like the tide.

Crossing one arm over her chest and locking her other hand on her waist in a superhero salute, she grabbed the pre-measured tube of liquid and dropped it into the powder.

Jemma touched the outside of the clear container with a gloved hand. "Now, this is going to get briefly warm, as one would expec-" Crack. The liquid inside began to bubble, hotter than she'd anticipated. "What the-" Crash. The side of the graduated cylinder lightninged with a jagged, silvery break, before collapsing into a pile of large glass fragments, dumping out the strange solution - which now smelled distinctly off - all over the tabletop. "Bloody hell! Girls, get back! Skye, get them back!"

Jemma whirled, shouting for help from the backstage manager, trying to assess everyone's position in the room. Luckily, the spill had missed her, but at the moment she was more focused on making sure none of the kids remained on stage or at the front of the audience - she wasn't sure what this stuff was, but it was clear that someone had tampered with her chemicals.

As she spun, though, her stretchy cape snagged on some of the broken glass, dragging the pieces off the edge of the table only to have them tumble onto the floor with a dissonant clash. Jemma jumped clear of the mess and waved the young sisters away, wriggling out of her coat almost instantly, the attached cape dripping who-knows-what down her back and legs. She had a half-second's hesitation about her trousers before kicking off the shoes and stripping down to her knickers. In the face of possible chemical burns, what was a little thing like modesty?

That was how Jemma Simmons, the youngest Captain Chemistry in the history of the show (so, out of three) ended up standing in a TV station in nothing but her underwear and her beaker-and-test-tube emblazoned spandex shirt.

Her very large underwear. The ones she wore when she was experiencing a bit of bloat. Jemma looked down at her bare legs, then up into the audience of 4- to 14-year-olds, then past them to the camera, where the tiny "record" light was still blinking red.

Fiddlesticks.

-o-

"Well, someone must've messed with my lab setup. Honestly, it's a television station, and we don't have footage of this anywhere?"

"Jemma." Skye tried to placate her new friend as she fielded calls and delegated responsibility, somehow keeping her attention in careful balance between her walkie-talkie, her headset, the crew, and the distressed woman in front of her. "Calm down. We'll figure it out, okay?"

Jemma froze as a thought occurred to her. "It might've been that televangelist - the one who hosts the call-in show about creationism. He's been giving me dirty looks every time we cross paths."

"Garrett? Nah, he wasn't here today." Skye flicked through the screens on her phone.

Jemma blew out her cheeks, visibly at a loss. "People could've been hurt, Skye! Children could've-" she cut off, upset. "Who would do such a thing?"

"But no one was hurt. And you said yourself that gunk turned out to be pretty much harmless. The stage just needs a good scrubdown." Skye shrugged, pushing her headset back over her dark curls, and gave her arm a reassuring squeeze. A moment later, she was holding up one finger in the universal I-need-a-second gesture as she moved a ways off down the hall, barking out instructions to her staff about the ads set to air during that evening's primetime lineup.

"I saw someone skulking around set earlier." Their middle-aged intern, Vaughn, had been following silently behind them for a few paces, presumably at Skye's beck and call.

"You did? Why didn't you say something sooner?"

Vaughn pursed his lips at her tone. "Excuse you, Miss Thing, I have a life. So do you wanna know who it was?"

"Of course I want to know," Jemma chose her words politely, showing a few too many teeth for a genuine smile. She didn't especially care for the man, but she had learned early on to be wary of getting on his bad side - apparently very easy to do.

"It was that guy you were eye-banging at the coffee cart. The Amazing Leopold Fitz," Vaughn sneered.

Jemma's head tipped in dismayed confusion. The cute young man from this morning? "That Scottish fellow?" He'd bordered on mute during their interactions, but she'd gathered that much, at least.

"The one and only. Well, around here, anyway," the graying intern harrumphed and started in on one of his long, theatrical tangents. "This town is dead. One of these days, mark my words, I'm gonna run off to New York or LA or Vegas, and I'm gonna make it in this crazy business called show."

"Vaughn - please. I'm trying to make sense of this. Why would that man be mucking with my experiments?"

"Honey, don't you know who your competition is? The Amazing Leopold was the hottest birthday-party performer in Treehouse Falls. Until you showed up."

"Okay, Principal Hand. We'll miss seeing the kids this year." Mack pressed strong, blunt fingers against his forehead, but kept his tone easygoing and light. "Sure. And we've got you down for the May Play Day carnival. Okay, take care, now."

Fitz stuck his head around the doorframe, storm brewing on his brow. "You're being entirely too nice. You practically apologized to her for droppin' us from Science Day!"

"No sense burning bridges, Turbo. It is what is is," Mack dropped easily down into his chair and reached for a granola bar. "Not like you can really blame her for picking Captain Chemistry, you know? It's Science Day."

"Rude. I've made it a special point to include scientific explanations and optical illusions every year, and this is how they repay us? So, yes, I absolutely can blame that pink-haired Judas of a principal, and I do."

Mack shrugged. "What can you do? Captain Chemistry's hot right now. She's a fresh face, she's got that new lab-safety web series…" At Fitz's look of consternation, Mack leaned forward onto his elbows and gave what he hoped was a confident smile. "She's the flavor of the month. Our regulars'll come back; we just gotta keep giving people a quality customer experience. It'll turn around."

"Web series? What're you on about?" And why's he sayin' she?

"Man, I know you've been focused on your special project lately, but you gotta get out more. This chemistry chick's been all anyone can talk about…" Mack pulled open his laptop and clacked away for a couple of seconds before turning the screen towards Fitz. "See? There's a link up on the Channel 3 website. People can even buy posters for their science classrooms."

Fitz elected to ignore Mack's mention of his "special project" and peered dubiously at the image. It was a young woman with light brown hair in what appeared to be a redesigned, more flattering Captain Chemistry costume, standing fists-to-waist in a heroic pose and gazing off into the distance, though the odd angle of her profile prevented Fitz from quite seeing her face. Next to her, a bulleted list of lab safety guidelines corresponded to short, explanatory video segments.

While Fitz moused over the page, still trying to wrap his brain around the fact that this new Captain Chemistry was completely different than he'd been imagining, a video window popped up. The young woman appeared, speaking into the camera and admonishing viewers to practice safe science, before laughing, "And don't get caught with your pants down!" The video showed her moving from behind the lab bench where she was standing, still beaming that glorious white smile, now revealed to be wearing a comically short lab coat and a pair of periodic-table boxer shorts. The picture faded, replaced by various suggestions for other shows on the same channel.

"Fitz? Yo! You all right, buddy? Don't fade out on me, now." Mack waved his hand in front of Fitz's face, to no avail. Fitz might as well have been wearing blackout goggles. Because as soon as she'd spoken, he knew exactly who the woman was. The gorgeous, flirtatious mystery girl. Tea-spiller and coffee-monger. He exhaled.

But she wasn't some beautiful stranger. She was his rival. And the woman currently trying to put them out of business.

Author's Notes:

*cringe* I'm so sorry about the ridiculous "science" in this chapter. I looked at several different options for actual experiments that could have happened to cause the explosion, but they were all very much on purpose, and I needed it to be an accident. So, uhhh... just go with me on this one?
:-D