Given that they were returning to the base with one surprisingly sarcastic assassin and one formerly dead double agent, Jemma had hoped that Fury's reaction to their assembled party would be more than a mere eye twitch.

She was, of course, disappointed.

Though he did give her one of those solemn nods he only ever seemed to give Natasha, which was nice.

Bucky disappeared with Steve (which was hardly surprising), though Jemma doubted that they would have much time alone, given the determined look that Natasha was wearing as she skulked after them. She might not be part of their triad, but it was obvious that she had a certain amount of unfinished business with the pair of them that might or might not involve bloodshed.

Jemma thought that bloodshed was unlikely, actually. Natasha had been carrying a bottle, and it had looked suspiciously like some of the Asgardian liquor that Thor favored. She made a mental note to see if it would be possible to stage a small experiment regarding a super soldier's tolerance of non-earth origin alcohol. It would be nothing she could publish, really- the scientific community did frown on doing such experiments- but as a fugitive, she doubted anyone would publish her work, anyway.

Jasper and Phil had a debriefing to attend to, and Fitz had been complaining about the relative lack of food on board the Bus for the past two hours, at least, which left Jemma walking back to her quarters all by her lonesome. It was nice, actually, to have a moment to herself. Privacy on the Bus was so often only to be found in one's head, and even tucked in bed she sometimes found it hard to think.

Specifically, because of Phil. Not because she didn't want him to be there, but it was sometimes simpler to find solutions to her more personal problems when he wasn't curled against her back. She would become distracted by the feel of his lips and nose against the back of her neck, or find her concentration waning as his warmth lulled her to sleep. Either that, or he would catch her thoughtful mood and stay awake himself, asking her if she needed to talk.

Which she did, really, but she didn't think he would want to know what she was considering. Because it was radical, and very uncomfortable for her, and even Phil occasionally displayed the kind of alpha-male mentality that could be exciting in small doses but absolutely insufferable in the long-term.

And it was her body, after all.

For the greater good, and all that.

She had to speak with Bucky first, anyway, and he would be tied up for the foreseeable future. But she could plot, and she-

The dull doorplate for Vault D caught her eye.

"Have you spoken with her?"

Jemma didn't flinch as Audrey stepped up beside her, the other woman's attention also focused on the door. "Once," she replied. "She was SHIELD, you know, before Whitehall got ahold of her."

"Clint told me." Audrey shrugged when Jemma gave her a questioning glance. "They abducted me a few nights ago. I'm not sure what I said to convince them that I wasn't here to break up your marriage, but after a few minutes Natasha switched from glaring to pouring me shots of vodka."

"She's a quick study, Nat."

"Yep." Audrey grinned, though she looked a bit ill. "The hangover, though- I'm too old to pound back that much alcohol in one night. Natasha's tolerance is superhuman."

"So I've been told." Jemma looked back toward the door. "Do you want to talk with her?"

"Can we do anything for her?"

"I would like to think so." Jemma considered the machine locked away in one of the labs, the same one Phil had once experienced. "The easiest way might be the most dangerous."

"No need to start with the nuclear option." Audrey stepped ahead, placing her hand on the doorknob. "Are you ready?"

"Yes."

They walked quietly together down the stairs, stopping in sync before the opaque screen that lay between them and Agent 33. "Do we even know her name?" Audrey asked quietly.

Jemma thought hard, and realized with a sinking feeling that she hadn't a clue. "No."

"We'll have to do something about that."

Agent 33 barely reacted to the screen shifting to clear between them. She blinked up at them, halfway through downward-facing dog, before smoothly transitioning to lotus position on the floor. "You're back."

"You remember me?" Jemma asked, lowering herself to the floor to copy her position. Audrey followed suit. "My name is Jemma, and this is Audrey. Do you remember your name?"

"Agent 33."

"Is that your only name?" Audrey asked.

The other woman seemed to consider this for a moment, before giving a minute shrug. "I am Agent 33." She looked up at the ceiling. "Are we on a fault line?"

It had been clear from the beginning that an immense amount of intelligence lay behind the woman's blank eyes, but this was, as far as Jemma knew, the first actual question that the woman had asked any of them. "Not exactly," she replied, unsure how to explain Skye without actually revealing important secrets. "Have the quakes been disturbing you?"

"The walls are sound. My bed is warm." She tilted her head to the side, her gaze still directed upward. "Only silence here."

Those were the last words she said, though they spent a further ten minutes trying to engage her. Finally, Agent 33 turned her back to them, and they left.

"That was a small step forward," Jemma said after they had ascended to the main hall. "She's never asked questions before."

"'Only silence here'," Audrey quoted softly, looking as if she were considering the phrase quite seriously. "She doesn't see many visitors, does she?"

"I-"

Jemma paused, reconsidering the words she had almost said. "No," she said eventually, the word tinged with surprise. "At first, yes, but once it became clear that she had nothing to say-"

"-and you were all needed elsewhere-"

"-I'm not sure she's seen anyone other than for meal delivery." How long had it been since anyone had spoken with her? Jemma's brief conversation with the woman had been several weeks previous. It had been a month, maybe, since anyone had spoken more than a few words to her.

It was entirely possible that someone had taken the time to converse with (or at) Agent 33 during all the time Jemma had been off base, but she thought it unlikely. Skye's father, on the other hand, was probably still receiving daily visitors in the form of interrogators.

"We're terrible good guys," Jemma concluded glumly.

"Could use improvement, for sure." Audrey crossed her arms over her chest, biting her lip. "I wonder… if she might like some music."

Jemma thought over the notion. "The only possible way it would hurt the status quo is if Hydra programmed her to react violently to the cello, which seems unlikely. If you're willing, I think you should try."

"It will do me good to practice in front of an audience." Audrey quirked a smile, the expression on her face soft and fond. "Bruce insists on being complementary."

"You are a professional musician," Jemma replied dryly. "And he's hardly the type to nitpick."

"He is a very kind man."

They exchanged looks, neither pointing out the obvious implication. Jemma felt oddly as if they had come to a silent and very agreeable understanding.

"You never even had a chance to unpack," Audrey said, gesturing toward the duffel bag that Jemma had left next to the vault door. "See you at dinner?"

"Yes."

Maybe they could be friends, after all.

"Good job getting busted," Nick said dryly as they took their seats in his office. "You used to be better at blending in than that."

"I think it's more likely that the media was tipped off." Phil shot Jasper a sly look. "You didn't make any last calls before leaving the coast, did you?"

"And irritate Agent Simmons? No, Phil." Jasper shook his head, leaving no doubt that wherever the tip off had come from, it had not been his quarter. "She shot me once; I don't want to give her a reason to do it again."

Wise man. "We were already on the radar of several agencies, Nick. That could have happened anywhere."

"Getting caught climbing into an invisible plane with Captain America and an unconscious man didn't really help." Nick sighed, looking as if he needed a stiff drink. "But we got our Winter Soldier, at least, and from what everyone has said he seems to be in his right mind."

"Or thereabouts," added Jasper. "I'm guessing that little scene has caused a stir?"

"A stir is putting it mildly, Agent. I've intercepted several classified documents screaming for our blood, a Hydra cell sent out a message claiming responsibility, and Victoria Hand emailed me wanting to know if all of our rescues were going to be so dramatic from now on." Fury glared at them both impartially. "As far as I can tell, Talbot believes Hydra's claim. Those documents I intercepted? As far as several governments are concerned, you and your wife are now evil masterminds. Opinions are split as to whether our favorite American hero has been brainwashed, or whether he's changed sides entirely."

"Steve work for Hydra?" Phil said with an incredulous laugh, feeling a tiny spark of panic. "How desperate are they?"

"They're scared, Phil. Scared men do stupid shit and believe even stupider theories. Because of that, I'm grounding your team for at least a few weeks, maybe months. I'm bringing in Isabella Hartley and her mercs to take up the slack."

"And what does Hand think about that?" Phil asked. "I can't imagine she'll be pleased that you're bringing Hartley back into the fold."

Even Phil, with his connections, wasn't quite sure what had split up that soul-bonded pair, but the rift between them was vast.

"Hand will deal with it, because she's a professional. Hartley's loyal, and she has the skills we need." Fury jotted a note down on a nearby piece of paper, the letters spiked and angular. "Barton and Romanov will be tag-teaming with them. Phil, you're back to being the voice that guides them home." He glanced up, a wry expression on his face. "Partially because, once she heard of my plans, Natasha refused to work with anyone else."

Out of all the erstwhile agents he knew, Natasha was definitely Phil's favorite.

Other than his wife, obviously.

"Natasha knows her own mind," was his diplomatic response, and the stink-eye Fury gave him immediately outstripped every single disgruntled expression he had ever received from Nick over the course of his career.

There were new agents walking the halls, which in some ways was a relief- new blood, and thus less of a chance that Fury would decide to send Phil off on some kind of long-term mission- as well as a source of discomfort. Jemma was determined to not disgrace herself with another public panic attack, though she knew that good intentions would not make dealing with a trigger any easier. Box her in an elevator with several strapping, unknown male agents for the space of a minute and she would likely be fine; stall the elevator between floors for an hour or more and she had a feeling that she would be folding herself into a ball in a corner.

Which was okay, she reminded herself. Not optimal by any means, but understandable.

She caught up with Skye on her way to dinner, and for a brief moment they exchanged measuring looks. Jemma thought that they were both considering ducking down a nearby hallway, but with a surge of newfound bravery she stepped closer and threw her arms around the woman in a hug.

Skye stilled, her body stiff under Jemma's hands. "Hey," Skye said warily, the floor shimmering under their feet. "You're back."

"Yes." Jemma stepped back, just enough so that she was outside of Skye's personal space without retreating. "How are you?"

"Oh, you know. Rocking and rolling." Skye shifted her weight in a nervous gesture, glancing down the hall that led to the less-frequented parts of the base. "I guess we're both going to dinner."

"I suppose we are."

They continued toward the kitchen in step, Jemma ignoring the considering looks Skye kept sending her way. The floor did continue to roll, if slightly- which for Jemma was a particularly uncomfortable feeling. She might have once been close friends with Skye, but her nightmares were no joke.

"So. A Vegas wedding. Not quite AC's style, or yours."

"It was quick, and the safest method we could think of."

"You didn't take us."

Jemma slowed her steps, finally stopping entirely in the middle of the hallway. "Skye-"

"I wanted- I would have wanted to be there. For AC." Skye examined her nails, studiously keeping her gaze from Jemma. "For you."

"We would have preferred that." Jemma shoved her hands into her pockets, acutely aware of the pressure on her left hand when her wedding band caught against the fabric. "But to have everyone we love there- the team, the Avengers… we couldn't take the risk." She took in a breath. "And I wanted- I wanted those legal ties, even if they've made life a little more dangerous. I wanted to be able to call Phil my husband, and to wear his ring and see him wear mine. Maybe it's silly."

"Your wedding," Skye said with a shrug, but the set of her shoulders eased a little. "How does it feel, to have made the most wanted list?"

They continued walking once more, Jemma feeling a bit lighter. "Like my bad-girl shenanigans have gotten out of control."

"Possibly the understatement of the year." The look Skye shot her was almost like the Skye of old. "Only you would risk imprisonment over a marriage certificate."

She seemed to fade, at that, her expression turning distant once more. "Anyway, congratulations."

Skye swept ahead of Jemma into the kitchen, but Jemma couldn't help but feel pleased by how the conversation had gone. It was certainly the most companionable few minutes she had spent with Skye since before the temple.

Steve and Bucky were absent, for obvious reasons. It was just their little team again, for the most part, though occasionally one of the new agents would come in for a sandwich or a cup of coffee before scuttling off awkwardly. They didn't intend to do so, Jemma could tell, but even she could spot the way they tensed slightly on entering the room and observing the group around the table, the way they exited with quickened steps.

Of their team, Trip was the bright light, the one who seemed cheerful despite all else. Somehow he managed to balance out the rough edges everyone else seemed to display, even making Skye chuckle at a joke or two.

"I think that went well," Jemma said once she and Phil were back in their quarters, Phil sitting in an armchair with a file in his lap. "Skye even smiled at me once. Or grimaced, it might have been a grimace."

She tugged her sweater up over her head, feeling the camisole she wore underneath ride up to brush against her ribs. "Did Fury threaten you with death again?"

When she turned back to Phil he was staring at her with fascinated interest, an interest that only deepened when she stripped off the camisole as well and began unbuttoning her jeans. "I've been roundly scolded," he replied, gaze fixed on her breasts. "Going to bed?"

"Or something." She wriggled out of her jeans, tossing them and her socks to the wayside. "Move your file, dear. I'm going to sit there."

"And what do you have in mind?"

He was careful as he put his arms around her, but Jemma wasn't in the mood for carefulness. "You're my husband, you know."

"I have very vivid memories of our wedding, yes," he said, quirking a small smile.

"Well, I'm going to sleep with my husband," she stated firmly, beginning to undo his tie. "With your permission."

He nodded, hands settling more firmly on her hips.

"Verbal consent, please."

"Yes, Jemma." His fingertips slid beneath the waistband of her underwear, brushing purposefully against her skin. His voice, when he spoke next, was low and much to her liking. "Please."

"Do you feel like we have a power disparity in the bedroom?" she asked curiously, aware that the balance had tipped rather drastically since her time with Bakshi and Ward. "You can take control sometimes, you know. I'm not interested in dominating you on a regular basis."

"I want you to be comfortable. If being on top makes you comfortable, that's what we'll do."

He made it sound so simple. "I like being on the bottom sometimes, too."

"Okay."

"And when I'm in the right mood, being on my knees is very exciting."

"Just tell me when."

"You would let me do just about anything to you, wouldn't you?"

He considered that briefly. "As much as I love you… no."

That was the right response, actually. "Good." She kissed him heatedly before drawing back and speaking again. "Because there are things I don't want you doing to me, either." Pain, mainly. A good, rough shag was fun, but actual pain- even a spanking- was not something she was eager to indulge in recreationally, in either role. "You understand, I think."

"Yes, I do." He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her firmly against his chest. "You look beautiful, sweetheart."

Her own ability to measure her own attractiveness had been damaged by her ordeal, but she believed him when he spoke like that. "And you look very handsome." She brushed a hand over his hair, smiling as she took in her favorite face. "How lucky I am."

It wasn't fast or rough, partially because neither of them were in that kind of mood, and partially because she was, as usual, a bit oversensitive after the end of her menses. A pleasing mix of tender and firm was exactly what she was looking for, and judging by the look on his face it fit his mood, as well.

She rolled over onto her stomach afterward, feeling much too boneless to even consider cleaning up for at least a few minutes. She felt him settle onto his side beside her, his fingers tracing light patterns across her back. The streets of a long-dead city, she thought sleepily, and decided not to mention it. It was likely just a bit of muscle memory coming to the fore while his guard was low, and nothing more.

"Phil, I'm going to do something," she said after a minute or so, turning her head to peer at him. She hadn't intended to bring this up at all, but the idea of keeping entirely silent until after the fact rubbed her the wrong way. She didn't need his permission, but keeping secrets never ended well. "I don't think you'll like it."

"Planning on selling us out to Hydra?" he asked, covering a yawn.

"No, not at all."

"Okay. That's the worst I can think of."

"But you trust that I won't do anything too rash without good reason, right?"

He blinked, seeming to wake up a little. "Yes. You're still not thinking of going undercover, are you?"

"No."

He nodded, still moving one hand gently against her skin. "Okay, Jemma. I trust you."

"Even if it's embarrassing?"

"For me, or for you?" he asked, and then shrugged. "I trust you, Jemma. Do you want to tell me, or…?"

"I'm not sure if it can be done, yet." And to know, she would need to consult with Bucky, and with Skye, a meeting which she thought would be very interesting. "I need to do some research, but I promise that I will tell you before the plan is actually executed."

"I can live with that." He brushed a kiss against her shoulder, beginning to look sleepy again in that very pleased kind of way he tended to look after an orgasm. "I love you."

"I love you, too."

She finally tracked down Bucky the next afternoon, and after explaining her idea to him in hushed tones he regarded her for a long moment, the seconds ticking by.

"That's pretty extreme, doll," he said finally.

"The pictures are going to get out eventually," she replied stubbornly. "Better if they give us an advantage in the process."

"You've got guts." He nodded in a jerky fashion, and she could tell that as much as he disliked the idea, he also admired its brazenness. "They're yours to take, if this is what you really want."

"I think… I think it is."

"Be sure. Can't take this back, once we send them out."

"And we can't stop the people who already have them from distributing them." She smiled sadly, remembering all too clearly the worst of the images. "Come and meet Skye. If anyone can do this, she can."

"She the one shaking the foundations?"

"Yes."

"Huh."

He followed her through the base, glaring at any agent who had the misfortune of coming across their path. Not that anyone in the Playground would be foolish enough to offer him insult, but Jemma thought it was a defensive measure, all the same.

Skye was alone in her room when Jemma knocked, and after giving them both a startled glance stepped back so that they could enter. "This our new buddy?" she asked dryly, her gaze lingering on his metal arm. "Aren't you… tall."

"Thank you."

That hadn't been the response that Skye had evidently been expecting, and she narrowed her eyes as she considered the two of them. "What's up?"

"I need you to build a virus."

The weight of Skye's entire regard fell on Jemma at that. "A virus?" she replied flatly. "What kind?"

"Something that will destroy Hydra's servers, after transmitting copies of their files to us." Jemma shifted her weight, seeing the unimpressed look in Skye's eyes.

"I've tried that," Skye said dismissively, turning away slightly. "Not even the dumbest Hydra lackey is going to open a mystery attachment."

"They will if it looks like it was sent from the top brass."

She turned back at Bucky's words. "You know how to help me fake that, do you? What are we sending?"

Jemma and Bucky exchanged a look, the latter shrugging minutely. Jemma took in a deep breath before replying, feeling as if she had reached a point of no return. "My pictures."

Skye looked baffled at that. Not because she didn't understand the implications, but because she understood the implications all too well. "No," she said quickly, bafflement turning to anger. "I'm not sending those out. Forget it."

"They're already circulating." Jemma ignored the way that the little hula dancer's skirt on a nearby shelf was already bobbing back and forth, and stepped forward to lay a gentle hand on Skye's arm. "Please, Skye. This is our advantage."

"I don't like it."

"You think I do?" Jemma snapped, removing her hand. "Have you seen those pictures, Skye? Have you? I don't like the idea of anyone else seeing them either, but I'll sacrifice what remains of my dignity if it will save even one life."

What tremor there had been abruptly stilled. "Yeah," Skye sighed, sounding both defeated and a little bit amused. "You would."

Skye walked the few steps to the small desk where her laptop sat and tapped a few keys. "I guess you're here to give me the files, too?" she asked Bucky, and backed away when he approached. "Best not to make this a straightforward virus," she mused, leaning back against the wall as he worked. "Those photos should have some kind of embedded code that I can work with. I'll add in a time delay- an hour, maybe- then the program executes a search and destroy while pilfering Hydra's files." Her grin was sharp. "Like can find like."

Jemma gave her a quizzical look, unsure what that meant, but Bucky nodded in approval. "The codes embedded in the pictures will search out the same code," he explained, minimizing a window on the screen and stepping away. "The men who already have those photos also have access to far more in-depth information than your average grunt."

"It will take me some time." Skye settled in front of the laptop, but made no effort to open the files Bucky had procured for her. "I'll let you know when it's ready. Have you told Fury, yet?"

That had almost slipped Jemma's mind. "I'll tell him before we send anything," she said. She would tell Phil first, if Skye came up with a workable program. Then Fury.

Skye kept her hands away from the keyboard while they were still in the room, but Jemma knew exactly when she opened the first picture. They were halfway down the corridor when the building shuddered around them with a quiet groan.

Bucky looked up at the ceiling and then back at her. "Gonna go find the punk," he said, his eyes dark and tired. "Let me know when she's ready."

Jemma spent the rest of the afternoon in the lab, researching possible memory aids for Agent 33. "How do we not know her name?" she muttered at one point in frustration. "It's like she was wiped from the face of the planet."

Some Hydra hacker, perhaps, had taken care of that information. Perhaps Skye's virus would retrieve the name along with Whitehall's method of memory erasure. Knowing how the deed had been done might give Jemma the key to unlocking the woman's mind.

That was a good goal, she decided. Even if they gained nothing else from this, if Jemma could bring 33 back to herself, that would in itself be worth the trouble.

He found the feed by accident. Sometimes, when he needed a brief break from paperwork and communiques, it helped to check the feed from the security cameras on base. Something about the sheer banality of absolutely nothing happening was very soothing.

Normally the feed from Vault D was unexceptional. Agent 33 slept, or stretched her way through a variety of yoga poses, or simply stared at the wall. Today, though, she had a guest.

He unmuted the sound, unsurprised when Bach drifted over the speakers. Audrey tended to fall back on his solos for the cello when she was looking to play simply for the joy of playing; they were so familiar to her that sheet music was unnecessary.

And Agent 33 sat inches from the barrier, watching with more alertness than he had seen her display in quite some time.

Interesting.

There was a knock, then. "Come in."

To his surprise, Jemma and Skye stepped in, side by side. "Hey, AC."

He glanced quickly at Jemma, taking stock of her expression. She looked tired, and less hopeful than he might have expected, given that she and Skye had evidently opened some line of communication again. "We have something to show you," she explained, and Skye's expression immediately turned alarmed.

"Yeah, I'm not going to be in the room for this." She shrugged when Jemma turned to her, and held out her laptop. "I mean, you don't really want me here when he sees, do you?"

Jemma hesitated, then finally accepted the laptop. "No, I suppose not."

"Right. So, AC, I built the virus. I still think this is a bit extreme, but Jemma insisted and- well, you'll see. I'll be outside."

Skye walked quickly out the door, drawing it closed behind her.

"This is what you were talking about?" Phil asked Jemma, thinking that perhaps he had an inkling of the plan, now.

"Yes. It's-"

She broke off, obviously unsettled, and set the laptop in front of him. "You don't have to look if you don't want to."

He placed one hand lightly on the lid, but did not open it. Instead, he asked in the gentlest tone he could manage, "What are we doing with your pictures, Jemma?"

"Sending them out to key members of Hydra." She paused, considering him. "Men whom Bucky thinks will actually open the files, if presented with certain phrases. And once the files are opened, Skye's virus will do the rest."

"Do you want me to see, Jem?"

"It only seems fair," she replied, tipping her head forward so that her hair fell in front of her face. "And I thought that it might eat away at you, eventually- knowing that those pictures existed and never seeing them for yourself. They're bad, Phil, but now that I've had time to consider them, I have to admit that I imagined them to be far worse. I won't leave you in the dark."

He drew her down onto his lap and brushed the strands of hair out of her face. "Okay."

He clicked through the pictures quickly, not dwelling on any particular image. Didn't want to dwell on them, really. Bad, as she had said, but some small part of him, the part too well acquainted with the evils of the world, pointed out that they could have been worse.

She stayed curled up in his lap, her face pressed against his shoulder. "The virus will transmit the information to us before destroying their systems," she murmured, pressing one hand lightly over the place where his scar lay. "It's worth it to me, Phil."

He closed the lid of the laptop, trying to put his thoughts together. She didn't need for him to be emotional about this, even if the images made him want to burn and salt the ground Hydra stood on. This could be the turning point they needed. This could be what made the world safe enough for them to clear their names, perhaps raise a family.

He still didn't like it, but then again, this wasn't really his call.

"Then I'm behind you every step of the way."

She lifted her head to peer up at him, uncertainty on her face. "If you are dead-set against it, Phil, I won't."

"This is your choice, and I think it's a very brave one." He ran his fingertips down one side of her face, tracing the line of her cheekbone and the curve of her jaw. "Whatever you decide, I'll back you up."

"Okay." She tucked her head down against his shoulder, releasing a sigh. "Perhaps we could sit here for a few minutes, then, before showing Fury."

Who, even if he had a problem with it, wouldn't overlook the immense boon it would be to SHIELD. Nick was practical like that.

Phil slipped his arms around her, holding her close. "However long you like, Jemma."

"We might laugh about this one day," she said in a hopeful voice. "In a few decades, perhaps."

He rather doubted it.

Fury listened to Jemma's spiel, examined the images, and then leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers under his chin. "You're sure about this? I'm not going to lie, Simmons- I'm desperate enough to use this to my advantage, but I won't do it without your permission."

Jemma appreciated the fact that he was explicitly asking for her permission, and didn't once even glance toward Phil. "I'm sure, sir."

And she was. She might not like it very much, but she felt certain to the core that this was exactly what she needed to do. "It's ready to be sent, if you approve. Sergeant Barnes has already made sure that the wording of the email is correct, and that it contains the key phrases the recipients will trust."

He gave her a long stare, as if assessing how truthful she was being. "Can't be undone, if I press send."

"I know." She took in a deep breath. "And you won't be sending it. I will."

Her choice, after all. Better that she be the one to send it out into the void, claiming ownership in one final way.

He nodded solemnly, turning the laptop toward her. For a moment she stared at the simple little email, looking so innocuous that it hardly seemed the ticking bomb it was. As her fingers hovered over the touchpad, a hand came to rest on her back.

Phil, of course. Not in warning, or as a way to say get on with it, already, but simply a reminder of his warm, reassuring presence.

She hit send.

"Well," she said, taking a step away from the small computer as the email disappeared from sight. "That's done. Are you- are you hungry?" she asked Phil, looking at him for the first time since they had entered the room.

She felt his thumb sweep back and forth across the material of her blouse, a tiny little caress that was surprisingly comforting. "Yes," he said with a soft smile. "Come on, I'll make your favorite."

She handed Skye her laptop outside of Fury's office, giving her a small smile. "Thank you, Skye."

Skye nodded slowly, the tense set of her shoulders relaxing slightly. "You're welcome, Jemma."

As she continued down the hall with Phil she pressed close, smelling his favorite cologne and breathing a sigh of relief when he wrapped his arm around her waist. "Do you think you might have the time to cuddle up and watch a movie this evening?" she asked, trying her keep her voice light.

"Yes." No uncertainty at all in that answer. "Just tell me when, and I'll be there."

And he was. She didn't think that either of them paid much attention to the screen- only her familiarity with the film was helping her keep tabs on the general plotline- but snuggling under the covers with him in their pajamas had been the main point, anyway.

"Thank you," she murmured at one point, head against his chest.

"No, sweetheart." His fingers combed through her hair in steady, gentle strokes. "Thank you."

AN: Many thanks to Selmak, who came up with the idea of the virus in the first place.