Jemma sent Skye back to her bunk while she worked on the results. "I think we'd both be more comfortable discussing the results in private, don't you?" Comfortable doesn't enter into it, both women thought, but neither one voiced the concern. Skye just left the lab while Jemma stayed. It was actually easier than she thought it would be. Some forward-thinking quartermaster had actually stocked the Playground with a few test kits. Fury really does think of everything, I guess.
It wasn't long before Jemma found herself standing outside her own bunk, nervously fumbling for her key card. Entering the room, she saw that Skye had fallen asleep on the bed. She looks as exhausted as I feel. I could let her sleep, should I? No, she deserves to hear this. She laid a hand on her friend's shoulder, and Skye's eyes opened.
"What did it say?" she immediately asked, sitting up and scooting to the edge of the bed.
Lowering her voice almost to a whisper—she did have neighbors, after all—Jemma said, "Positive."
Tears were the first reaction. Sometimes, mothers are happy to hear these things, Jemma thought helplessly—uselessly, really. She passed Skye the box of tissues and sat next to her on the bed, putting an arm around her shoulders protectively. Clearly this isn't happy news by any stretch of the imagination.
It took Skye almost ten minutes to collect herself. She leaned against Jemma for support, blowing her nose loudly. She whispered, "Sorry, I just . . . I sort of knew already but I guess it's different to have it confirmed."
Jemma took a deep breath. I should've taken more psychology classes when I had the chance. Is there such a thing as a class about how to have difficult conversations? "Listen, I know you've probably already guessed this, but you need to make some decisions. As soon as possible. If you're keeping the—uh—it, we need to get you off field duty and start focusing on your health."
"Keeping it?" Skye sat up and looked at Jemma. "How on earth could I do that? I'm training to be a field agent. We have less than ten of those available. If I take nine months off I'll be seriously compromising S.H.I.E.L.D. And what would I do afterwards? Go on missions with a kid strapped to my back? This place doesn't exactly have on-site daycare."
Jemma gathered her nerve and pressed on. "We could talk to Coulson, maybe figure something out—"
"Sure, maybe I could quit S.H.I.E.L.D. and go back to living in my van. Convert the passenger seat into a nursery! Or better yet," Skye scoffed, "go down to Vault D and tell our prisoner he's going to be a father! Get him to take care of my baby while I'm off fighting his friends. 'Don't worry honey, the only monster under your bed is your daddy, and he's securely locked in!' No way, Jemma, I can't keep this."
"It's not all or nothing, Skye. Doesn't California have some kind of law saying you can anonymously put your kid up for adoption?"
"I got dropped off at an orphanage anonymously. I refuse to put another kid through that."
"I see your point," Jemma said slowly. It's not the choice I'd make. I don't think. Maybe if it were Ward's baby I'd be tempted. She shuddered involuntarily at the thought of Ward. But this isn't my time to choose. So focus on the logistics. "If you want to terminate the pregnancy, we're going to need help. It's harder to get that done in Mexico than it is in the US. We'll have to do some research on the closest places . . . and you'll need some time off, plus permission to travel, which means," (she took a deep breath), "One of us is going to have to tell May about this."
Skye swallowed a lump in her throat. "I'll do it, Jemma. This is my screwup. Thanks for the help, but you should go to bed."
"You have to go to bed too," Jemma said firmly, "Doctor's orders. Tell May tomorrow. You've got five whole weeks to arrange this."
Five weeks. Because there's a baby growing inside me and it'll get too human-like to legally kill. No way am I sleeping tonight, Skye thought. But she said, "You're right. We should both get some rest."