Group projects, as a general rule, suck.
They are unbalanced. One person broods unhelpfully in a corner. Another throws up improbable suggestions. A third person - and this one is important - looks around, heaves an exasperated sigh and starts doing the work.
Consequently, it's easy to throw everything off in three easy steps.
1. Lock aforementioned key person in airtight container
2. Throw said container into the middle of the ocean
3. Inject self with suspiciously-derived alien-origin goo
Now, provided you are not immediately overcome by dreams of world-domination, your rival group project is sure to succeed.
A team, on the other hand...
A team is different people doing different things with each other at different times, and despite all these differences forming an indestructible whole. A team is comes together in the tenuous connections that stretch from person to person, strengthening and growing and branching with every shared moment of life until they have the strength of steel.
As I'm sure you're aware, steel is much harder to break.
...
Simmons watches as Skye sweeps through the Bus database, marveling at the sheer amount of information that is pouring down on her – on all of them.
Hydra. The fall of S.H.I.E.L.D. Fury's death.
Skye's fingers falter as she pulls up the next document and it only takes Simmons a millisecond to figure out why.
Director Coulson, it is signed.
Director.
Behind her, she hears May draw in a breath.
But that's only the tip of the iceberg.
The document is about her. About Jemma Simmons. About how she will quietly, skilfully assimilate herself into Hydra's ranks for useful information, leaving the morning after the document is dated.
It is also about the fact that by her own request, she will stay away for the duration of Leopold Fitz's recovery from near-drowning.
Oh, Fitz.
It was hypoxia.
That explains his difficulty in finding words - anomic aphasia probably; the slight trembling of his hand may be due to muscle atrophy. Simmons has studied the topic, pored over a case or two in her pre-field medicine course.
She never imagined it would happen to one of them.
But then, no one ever does.
And as much as she wishes it were so, that world-changing piece of information isn't what affects her the most. The worst bit is the fact that she left him voluntarily. Jemma abandoned her best friend when he needed her most, because what – because she couldn't handle it? Because she couldn't handle seeing him stumble through words he used to race through, couldn't handle his frustration as no one saw that he was still the same underneath?
If that is the reason, she's ashamed of herself.
She turns to him, and the first thing she thinks is - how could she have not noticed it before? Fitz is older, darker, war-worn. The circles beneath his eyes speak of more than just exhaustion and the untidiness of his clothes is more than just absentmindedness.
Simmons sees all the ways her Fitz is different from the person he becomes and wonders if the distance between the two is her doing.
…
Coulson is trying – and failing – to process all the information on the screens.
Fury's death hits hard, but the fact that S.H.I.E.L.D. no longer exists is even worse. The news that he's director makes him lean against the holotable for support.
He watches as Skye similarly gapes at the reveal for a few seconds before resuming her rapid typing and quickly coming up against a brick wall. Classified, it says on the screen in bold black letters.
"A.C., a little help here? You'd know the password."
Coulson still hasn't entirely gotten past the processing stage yet, so May steps in.
"Can't you get past the security protocols?"
Skye gives a rueful shrug. "If you want to wait another ten minutes. Apparently, I've upgraded."
Coulson snaps out of it. He steps forward, typing in the password.
Peering over his shoulder, Skye snorts.
"Seriously? The best you could come up with is –"
He's saved some slight – and okay, slight may be an understatement – embarrassment by the blaring of a digital alarm.
Skye curses and brushes past him, stopping the ear-splitting noise with a few deft strokes before turning back around. "You've changed your password. Hmph. I should have guessed that. You'll have to wait a bit more for the classified data now, though I still don't get why we can't just go into the Cage and ask Ward how much he remembers."
Out of the corner of his eye, Coulson sees May heave an imperceptible sigh.
He grimaces. "Skye, we've gone through this before. Only May or I could have put him in there, and he's obviously been in there for a long time." He gestures to the camera feed from the Cage. "We need to find out why."
Skye stares at him with an unreadable expression before giving a short nod. "Got it. Let me get my laptop, I might have something on it that could cut the hacking time down to under a minute."
He shrugs. "You're the expert in this area."
"Yep."
She slips out and Fitzsimmons take the opportunity to excuse themselves, leaving him alone with May. He lets the uneasy silence continue for a moment before speaking, not taking his eyes off the few dozen documents spread across the screen.
"I saw that you were in contact with Fury."
She returns his gaze steadily. "I was."
"Why?"
"I was monitoring you. Seeing if the program used to revive you had any adverse side effects."
"Did it?"
"Not as far as I know. If we found out afterwards, it'd be in these classified files."
He takes a minute to absorb the information before going back to studying a file on an Agent Antoine Triplett. The face looks vaguely familiar, but beyond that nothing rings a bell.
Beside him, May stiffens.
"Phil."
He follows her gaze to the screen that shows Ward.
Someone is opening the door to the Cage.
…
Yes, Skye knows that this is a stupid idea. An insane idea. Maybe one of the worst ideas she's had since she decided to send Simmons in undercover at the Hub, but come on.
This is Ward, dammit.
Grant Ward is boring, slightly socially inept, and okay – maybe a little hot, but he is in no way dangerous.
Well… he's only dangerous to his enemies. He's not dangerous to S.H.I.E.L.D.
To her.
She breaks through the flimsy security on the door within seconds and creaks it open, studying what she can see of his face. He's blinking at the sudden light at first; his stance is defensive as he tries to make out the figure at the door. As his eyes adjust she sees a myriad of expressions flash across his face. The beginnings of a smile as he catches sight of her. The same impassiveness that she's come to think of as his default mode. And there is a glimpse of something else – it looks like wariness, or maybe even fear but it's gone almost as soon as she sees it.
"Skye."
He makes her name into both a greeting and a question, and she can't help but let a smile slip her face.
"Hey, Robot. Long time no see."