A/N: Argh, SHIELD is stressing me out like crazy! Anyway, this fic takes place before Tuesday's episode, so Ward is still in the little prison cell in the basement.

Enjoy and review!


She remembers.

It hurt.

Somehow, she ended up in that small room again, the room that held his cell. She didn't know why she was there, but her aimless nightly wandering had brought her there.

He had been asleep, but the sound of her entrance had woken him up. He had always been very sensitive to sounds, being a specialist, and she had expected for him to be aware of her presence immediately.

"It's good to see you again," he greeted her, swinging his feet over the side of his bed.

She didn't respond, didn't even look at him. The tears were starting to pool in her eyes, tears that she couldn't fight.

"Jemma," he tried to attract her attention. "Jemma, please talk to me."

"Why?" she asked, swallowing hard against the lump in her throat.

She heard him sigh. "Because you're here, and...and I want to talk. Like we used to."

Finally, she turned to him and met his gaze, her arms crossed defensively in front of her. Even the sight of him hurt. "We can't."

"Jemma," he insisted, coming close to the invisible barrier separating them, his eyes pleading with her, "I know that I did a lot of bad things. I killed, I lied, I hurt you. But please believe that what I felt for you-"

"-you also felt for Skye," she finished through clenched teeth. "I know. Everything."

"Skye meant nothing to me," he insisted, his voice soothing. "She was a cover. I had to protect you from Garrett, from danger."

"You pushed me out of a plane," she yelled at him, losing all attempts at self-control. "That's not protection."

"It was the best I could do, the only thing I could do to convince Garrett I had killed you while still giving you a chance at survival." He took a deep breath, then returned to his quiet tone. "And it broke my heart."

She couldn't take it anymore, couldn't handle being there anymore. Before she realized she was moving, the door slammed shut behind her and she was leaning against the wall, sobs wracking her body.

"You're cold too," she protested, trying to stop Grant from giving her his jacket.

He shrugged, regarding her with a slight smile. "Take it."

The late autumn night was breezy, and the wind cut right through Jemma's red sundress, making her shiver again. He raised a knowing eyebrow, and she finally caved and allowed him to place the jacket around her shoulders. "Thank you," she muttered, pulling the fabric closer and soaking up the warmth. It smelled like him, a heady aroma that made her head spin.

"I don't know what else normal people do on a first date," he commented as they walked down the street towards the car.

His words surprised her - it wasn't like the confident Grant Ward she knew to admit uncertainty. She smiled up at him, feeling the butterflies start up again in her stomach. She still couldn't believe that this was happening, that she was actually on an official date with him. It just seemed like such a fairy tale, but somehow it was real. "Well," she answered, "we could always-"

"Jemma, stop," he ordered suddenly, halting and falling silent in the middle of the street. In the quiet, she heard muffled screams and angry voices.

"Grant?" she asked, confused and slightly nervous.

She could tell that he was tense and on alert. "Something's wrong," he muttered, his eyes shifting from side to side as he took in their surroundings, looking for the source of the noise.

A screech of tires caught Jemma's attention, followed shortly by a bright pair of headlights that blinded her. Her feet felt frozen to the ground. The car was headed straight towards her, but she couldn't move.

Grant's body slammed into her and sent her flying to the ground. The breath whooshed out of her lungs at the impact. She felt more than saw the car go by, narrowly missing her.

"Jemma, are you hurt?" Grant asked her, frantically helping her sit up.

"They're getting away," she forced out. She couldn't already feel bruises forming on her arms and legs - she was going to be black and blue tomorrow. "And I think that I ruined your jacket."

Grant let out a frustrated breath and pulled her into his arms, holding her close to him. "Forget them. Forget the jacket."

"But-"

"You're safe. That's all that matters."

"But-" she tried again.

"And I got the license plate. We'll get them." His hand stroked her hair. Jemma realized that she was shaking - it must be the shock.

"Thank you," she finally whispered, taking deep breaths to try and calm herself down.

"Jemma, I'll always protect you," he promised. "No matter what."

That promise calmed her more than any number of deep breaths even could. In his arms, she felt safe and protected.

"Trip?" she knocked on the door to his room, realizing that it was late and that he probably was already in bed, but still hoping that he might be awake.

There was a long pause, and she almost walked away, but the door finally opened.

"Everything okay?" he asked, taking in her tear-stained face and ushering her into his small room.

"Yeah," she lied, fully aware that no sane person would believe her. "I just...I just needed…"

"Shush," Trip said, enveloping her in a hug. "I understand."

It felt both so wrong, so reminiscent of Grant, and so right, so comforting, that she didn't know what to do.

Finally, she closed her eyes and relaxed into his embrace, soaking up his comfort.

"You know," Trip whispered into her ear, "you still haven't introduced me to Doctor Who."

That made her laugh - a shaky laugh, but still a laugh. "I think it's time to fix that," she agreed pulling away. "And Trip? Thank you."

"Anytime."

They spent the whole rest of the night working their way through the first couple episode of the reboot, until Jemma feel asleep with her head on Trip's shoulder, feeling more at peace than she had in a while.

She still remembered, but the pain had eased slightly.

Besides, how could she forget?


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