"Let's see what's going on with you shall we?" Jemma said kindly to the woman who sat on the bottom bunk between her children and her husband. "Mrs. Foster was it?"

They were in the family's room, the open window providing light in the absence of electricity.

"Jen is fine," she told her, smiling, and her husband took her hand.

"Alright Jen, I'm going to need to see your arm please," Jemma requested. "We're just going to take some blood."

The woman nodded and Jemma took a blood sample before checking her temperature.

101 degrees fahrenheit, she definitely had a fever. Now she was gazing just above Jemma, a bewildered expression on her face.

"What's on your head?" She mumbled fogily.

Jemma ran a hand over her hair but there was nothing.

"There's nothing on her head Jen," Mr. Foster told her, shooting Jemma an anxious gaze, demanding without words for an explanation.

"Some of the others have began hallucinating," she informed them solemnly. "Before they fall asleep and..." she stopped herself from finishing because the older child was looking at her with wide, frightened eyes.

"So that green thing's not really there then?" Jen asked and Jemma and Mr. Foster shook their heads.

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "Al, could you... take them, go play at the arcade or... or catch that movie with the talking guinea pigs."

Jemma watched with a hot lump in her throat as Jen said goodbye to her family. She managed to fool the younger child with a small smile but her eldest and her husband shot her a troubled look as they left.

They had to stop this thing Jemma resolved determinedly, whatever the hell it was.

"How long?" Jen demanded once they'd left.

"Until you're-" Jemma began.

"Until I'm like the others," she finished, visibly struggling to remain calm.

Jemma sighed. "It seems to take around eight hours from the onset of the symptoms. Memory loss, disorientation, little things most people may not have noticed. A few hours later there's a fever, hallucinations."

"I've been forgetting stuff since after the audio tour," she informed her. "This morning Al took the kids to mini putt so I could go. He doesn't really have the patience for tours anyway and those damn headphones would have set him off on a rant." She shook her head.

Jemma scoffed. "I know! Almost five dollars and they barely even work."

"What a scam," Jen smiled. Then her eyes grew bright and her expression darkened. "That gives me maybe what? Four hours?" A trickle of blood dripped out if her nose as she spoke. "What is happening to me?" She exclaimed fearfully, touching her upper lip and seeing the red on her finger.

"It's alright," Jemma assured her. "It happens with this... illness. Usually earlier on, but it seems benign. It's probably just for show, the parasite is designed to scare people."

"W-what do you mean?" She wondered shakily as Jemma handed her a tissue.

Oh right, the passengers didn't know.

Her and her team were guessing that this was the result of the biological weapon being released in the ship. The sabotage of the power supply, which Leo was now trying to Fix along with Oscar who was a retired electrician, and the jamming of the communications devices, which Skye and Coulson were still looking for the source of, pointed to this being an intentional release. They had been wrong about the nature of the crime planned for this trip. This wasn't a purchase, it was a demonstration. Or an attack.

"It's... Well..." Jemma fumbled over what to tell her.

"This is an attack isn't it?" Jen guessed, still dabbing her nose and she sighed before nodding.

"We believe so, yes," she told her.

Jen closed her eyes and her lip trembled. "But you're Shield right?" She inquired opening them and staring hopefully at Jemma. "You can fix this?"

"We're going to do the best we can," she assured her, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder.

Jen sniffed and took her hand. "Thank you," she whispered but Jemma didn't really feel as if she deserved it yet.

She gave the woman's hand a squeeze and forced a smile before packing up to move on to the next infected person.

They were nowhere near close to saving anyone so far. The blood samples of the infected passengers had been free of any sign of bacteria or viruses but high in eosinophils and basophils (kinds of white blood cells involved in allergic reactions and fighting off parasites) suggesting the disease was parasitic. Which would be very helpful if the bloody ship had any sort of antibiotics or was able to radio anyone on the mainland who did but they were stuck in the middle of the ocean without anything to treat it or even a CT machine or an MRI to get a better look and they had painfully few diagnostic tools to figure out what it was.

And now this poor brave woman was sick and so was Oscar's son and almost a quarter of the 82 passengers and crew and there was absolutely nothing she could do about it.

Why hadn't she been more prepared? Why had she assumed she would have access to the equipment she needed? Why couldn't she remember what she'd brought along with her? She kept needing to recheck her supplies.

Among other things, she had pain medication, a microscope which was hooked up to a battery now and being used by the doctor (John) and a small diagnostic kit she'd forgotten she'd packed until John had asked.

To make matters worse she couldn't keep from seeing the nasty bite on Leo's neck whenever she closed her eyes. He probably hadn't caught what the other passengers had but there was a good chance it would become infected which was just as dangerous. How long would they be stuck out here?

Was she going to have to watch helplessly as the sick passengers turned into screaming, unrecognizable versions of themselves? Was she going to have to watch, unable to stop it, as Leo became sicker and sicker until...

'Stop it,' she scolded herself. 'This isn't helping.' But her thoughts were not listening to her, their direction seemingly out of her control, and she fought to keep her expression calm.

Jemma bid Jen goodbye and felt the world spinning around her as she made her way to the washroom. She was so upset and disoriented she went the wrong way and had to turn around, however when she arrived the wonderful darkness told her she was alone (no one with a flashlight) so she locked the door behind her and slid to the floor trying to cry quietly.

She pressed her back against the wall which felt cool on her skin, even through her shirt, as her mind raced out of her control.

She saw the faces of Jen's family as they'd said goodbye, the look in Madeline's eyes as she watched her brother snarling and snapping like a rabid dog. She heard Leo's screaming as Milo bit into his skin and saw that horrible wound all over again. It was all too much and it was overwhelming her.

'What is the matter with you?' She thought angrily. 'There are people depending on you, get a hold of yourself.'

But she couldn't and she continued to cry into her knees in the darkness. She felt dizzy, unable to focus.

The lights flickered back on and she sniffed as she glanced up at them and heard the hum of the engine resume.

Leo and Oscar had done it. They'd fixed it and now the ship was moving again.

She laughed, feeling a rush of affection for her wonderful, clever love.

Grinning and feeling hopeful again, she rose to splash cool water over her hot face.

A chill ran down her spine as she caught her reflection in the mirror and she brushed her fingers under her nose, her breath quickening as she felt her warm sticky blood on their tips.

She tore through her bag to find the thermometer and shoved it under her tongue waiting impatiently until it beeped to see the temperature.

101 degrees, she had a fever. Her nose was bleeding, she was forgetting things and as she gazed back at the mirror she saw hazy light blue ribbons dancing around it which she knew weren't actually there.

"Oh no," she gasped.

She was infected.

/-/-/

"Stop looking at me like that," Leo told Trip over his shoulder as he examined the power grid.

"Looking like what?" Trip asked feigning innocence. As if he didn't know.

"Like I'm about to start screaming and snapping at people like poor Old Yeller," he informed him grumpily. "If you shoot me because I had to sneeze-"

"I'm not going to shoot you," he assured him. "Fitz you know that's the last thing I want to do, even with an ICER."

"Yeah, but if I do turn you'd better," he warned. "I won't have you letting me gnaw people to bits because you got sentimental."

"So yes, on the shooting?" He clarified with a note of amusement.

"If I'm all zombie yes," he agreed, matching his friend's tone. "Just listen for the urggg!"

"You're not going to be a zombie," Trip asserted but Leo saw his hand float over the ICER out of the corner of his eye.

"If I do though," he said, becoming serious. "Keep Jemma away from me. I don't want her to remember me like... like that. And if I... Just keep her away."

"Fitz-" he began.

"Trip I can't hurt her," He interrupted. "I can't hurt anyone but if I..."

"I'm not telling our biochemist to stay away from you if she can help you," Trip objected. "I'm not telling my friend she can't be there for someone she loves when he's sick."

"We have a doctor," he muttered but he knew Trip was right. Jemma wouldn't let anyone keep her away. He just couldn't stand the idea of her last memory of him being an unrecognizable screaming mess. He couldn't stand the idea of becoming that as it was.

"Yeah and she'll definitely let him be the one in charge you," he replied sarcastically. "I'm not arguing with her. I'll shoot you though," he added. "With this," he held up the weapon.

"You know I made that," he joked. "Me and Simmons."

"Yeah I heard," he chuckled.

Leo let himself laugh for a moment before frowning again. "Just... just don't let me bite anyone or anything." He begged.

"Oh stop being dramatic 98.5," Trip rolled his eyes. "You're fine."

Under Jemma's instructions Leo had been taking his own temperature every half hour and it was remaining reassuringly at 98.5 degrees Fahrenheit. On top of that his friend had been quizzing him and his memory was perfect. Trip was right, he was likely worrying for nothing.

"Got it," he said declared, fastening the last wire in place. "It's more of a patch up, we won't be at full power, but it should get us to shore even if it's a little slower. Oscar you can turn it on now!" He called down the stairs to the man who was helping him fix the ship's power source. Oscar was a good man and it was really sad about his son but he had faith Jemma would help him.

Oscar gave him a thumbs up and flipped the switch.

The lights turned on slowly and the engine resumed it's hum. The three of them cheered.

"Am I ever glad I joined your team," Trip grinned as he and Leo high fived.

"So you could get stuck on a broken boat full of zombies?" Leo teased.

"So I have someone fixing it when I do," he teased back.

They gave Oscar a high five and rechecked the power grid. The ship ran entirely on electricity so they really needed their work to hold if they wanted it to make it to shore.

Skye came crashing into the room after about fifteen minutes and from the awful look on her face he could tell something was horribly wrong.

"What is it?" He demanded, dread creeping over him.

Her eyes were bright and a few tears spilled out of them.

"It's Simmons," she told them quietly and he felt as if someone had punched him in the stomach. "She's sick."

/-/-/

Jemma smiled bravely at him as he came in and he did his best to return it.

She was sitting on the lower bunk in her room, a bloody tissue in her hands.

"Jemma," he breathed, sitting beside her and staring at her face. She didn't look sick but as her lip trembled and he pulled her into his arms he could feel she was burning up. She rested her head against his chest and he buried his face into her hair, rubbing her arm gently.

"It's going to be OK," he tried to assure her but his voice shook.

He felt her nod however she remained silent.

The others left them alone for a while and he tried not to cry as he held her and thought how horribly backwards this was. What kind of stupid zombies were these? He was the one who'd been bitten not her. She shouldn't be sick right now, she couldn't...

His tears leaked into her hair and she moved her head up carefully to kiss his face.

"I'll be alright," she murmured. "You got the ship working again didn't you? We'll get back to shore and fix everyone up. Just don't try kissing me when I'm all growling and snapping my fangs alright?" She kidded.

"Fangs?" He teased, sniffing and gazing fondly down at her. "Jemma I'm sorry to be the one to tell you, but you don't have fangs, I'd barely call those beautiful little pearls canines."

"Are you mocking my teeth?" She challenged playfully, sitting up and raising her eyebrows. "I'd make an excellent vampire, I'd drink cerebrospinal fluid though. Blood is much too overdone."

"When did beautiful little pearls become an insult?" He asked, chuckling at her and watching her wonderful face light up.

She scrunched her nose at him and leaned back against his chest.

"Will you stay with me?" She inquired softly, and he could tell she was afraid. "Until I... Until..." she let out a sob and he wrapped her in his arms, rocking her soothingly as she cried. A few of his own tears escaping onto her head which was pressed against his cheek.

"I'm not going anywhere," he vowed.

/-/-/

Thanks for all the likes, reviews, reads and follows! You guys all would be spinal fluid vampires. The coolest of vampires.

The Fringe reference is the cerebrospinal fluid sucking vampire. In the first season episode, Midnight, a woman is infected with a virus that makes her super strong and needing to feed off cerebrospinal fluid. That is the fluid around your brain and spinal cord. Yum...

Also the idea of Jemma turning into a vampire makes me think of notappeper's story Green when Fitz thinks Triplett is trying to make her his vampire queen.

Also I have no idea what Jemma's (or the actress who plays her) teeth look like. Maybe she has fangs.

Also tada! Fitz is not a zombie.