He was still with her when she woke up, despite the fact that it was at least an hour past the time when he traditionally rose. Phil wasn't even reading one of those ever-present files, which in itself was rather like a miracle. "Good morning," he said softly, one arm draped over her waist, his hand stroking her hip. "How are you?"

"Settled," she answered after a long moment of thought, her voice scratchy from the hours of disuse. "I would like to say I feel triumphant, but I don't."

"But not regretful, I hope?"

"No. It was the only option available to me that felt powerful." She stretched and then rolled onto her side, resting against him. "Are you angry, now? Because I would do it again, Phil, if necessary."

"No." They were almost nose to nose, and his expression was still as gentle and loving as it had been when she had woken up. "I'm very proud of you. That was incredibly brave- not that I expect anything less from my wife."

"You keep saying things like that. One of these days I'll do something incredibly cowardly and prove you wrong."

"I doubt it, though if you do I would probably end up thanking you for not scaring another five years off my life."

She shut her eyes and snuggled closer, catching a glimpse of the small grin he had given her at those words. Warm bed, warm husband- two very nice incentives to try and forget the world outside their door for a little longer. Her overactive mind did not cooperate. "We've probably received something by now," she muttered against his neck. "I suppose we should get up."

"Fury has been sending me increasingly agitated texts for the past several hours," he agreed, but the arm he had around her merely tightened. "I know his codes, though. He hasn't hit on anything that requires an instant reaction, not yet."

"So we could stay here for another few minutes?"

"I think so."

A few minutes turned into ten, and then into twenty, and at that point Jemma could no longer rationalize staying in her safe, warm nest. "Damn," she sighed, pulling herself from her arms and moving to sit at the edge of the bed. The air was chilly, as usual, and she sighed again before glancing back at her husband, who was watching her from under rumpled blankets. "I never thought I would be the kind of woman to send dirty pictures to men," she told him ruefully. "Especially of myself."

He frowned, shedding the blankets and coming to sit beside her. "Jem-"

"I'm fine, Phil. I was just reminded of what my mum would say." Her mum would never have admitted that the sending of such images could be justified. "Propriety, and all that. Not that Hydra gives a damn about propriety."

He was giving her a very peculiar look. "If it makes you feel any better-"

He stopped abruptly, but she picked up his train of thought well enough. "Natasha will carve out the eyes of every recipient?"

"Something like that." He shrugged. "Maybe I should be the one digging out eyeballs, but in all honesty I'm more comfortable with a straightforward punch."

She smiled at that, and leaned in to kiss him on the cheek. "In all honesty, Phil, I much prefer a husband who doesn't go around collecting eyeballs on my behalf."

"Are you sure? Because a spork works wonders."

"What a wealth of information you are. Next time I have a dead body on hand I will give it a try." She tried to repress her smile as he began to laugh. "I am serious, Phil."

"I know." He took her hand and lifted it to his lips, pressing a kiss to her knuckles. "That's why I'm laughing."

"I hope she doesn't bring them to me." She shook her head slightly, calculating just how many eyeballs that might come to. "Not even I need that many eyes to use as research materials."

"Just the fact that you said that makes me think you have an experiment in mind." He tickled her palm. "Unless you've always had a stock of eyeballs on the Bus?"

"No, and I regretted it when Akela came on board." She shot him a look that was more teasing than anything else. "Try not to ask me to do impromptu surgery again, Phil. I might be a biochemist, and I might be a well-trained field medic, but I don't actually have a medical degree."

"I shouldn't have thrown all of that onto your shoulders," he replied, sounding regretful, which had not been her intention. "I could have been so much better to you, in the early days."

"Well, yes," she admitted easily, watching as he winced. "And in return, I could have been more forthright with my feelings, and there was that whole running away incident. No fear, Phil." She moved closer until they were hip to hip, and rested her chin on his shoulder. "Husband."

He leaned his forehead against hers, smiling once more. "Wife."

"Perhaps you could wait here for a few minutes while I run into the loo?" she asked, thinking of much more pleasurable things to do than listening to Fury recount whatever information had come from the virus. "We could seduce each other and then nap until noon."

"Two things I would love to do, if the odds on Fury breaking into our room at some point weren't so good."

"I would like to think that if he actually interrupted us mid-coitus I would just throw a pillow at him and tell him to go away," she said, amused. "But I take your point."

He kept hold of her hand as she stood and began moving away, gently holding her in place. "I would be more than happy to seduce you this evening, or let you seduce me," he offered, and when she turned back to meet his eyes she saw a welter of emotions there: love and wistfulness and an honesty that was very pleasing. "Raincheck?"

"Deal." She stroked her fingers over the pulse-point on his wrist, not at all ready to abandon this moment for what the day might bring. "Maybe once all this dies down… maybe we could escape to a safe-house somewhere? Spend a few days together in the quiet."

"I would love that. Pick a country, I'll find a place." He drew her closer until she stood between his parted knees. "Once we've cleared our names we could settle somewhere," he offered, releasing her hand to settle his own hands on her hips. "Under different names, if you like. Have a few babies, grow vegetables, adopt a small menagerie of animals…"

"Or we could take over a floor in Stark's tower." She smirked at his grimace. "Lovely lab space, and Fury will have to stay in touch with Tony, if he intends on staying in the Avengers' good graces. You could be the SHIELD diplomat."

"Only if Pepper is my contact." His pained look doubtlessly had to do with the idea of working solely with Tony- and she couldn't blame him, really. "Though we never hashed out my whole dead alive thing."

"Should I be jealous?" she asked teasingly. She had no reason to be jealous of Pepper, who was bonded with Tony, after all, and it would be hypocritical of Jemma to be truly jealous of Phil's female friendships when Jemma herself had Fitz. "I'm sure she'll forgive you, Phil."

"I hope so, and no, there is no reason at all for you to be jealous. You're going to like Pepper, and I know she'll like you." The way he was stroking her sides was not at all conducive to actually leaving the bedroom. "You can't help but impress, sweetheart."

"Hmm." She ran her fingertips over the scruff on his jawline, traced the curve of his lips. "Well, if we can't have a lovely morning in bed I insist on a shared shower. Come on."

"Well, if you insist."

Their shower saved neither time nor water, which did not surprise Phil in the least. It did result in a fierce desire for a nap once Jemma had finished with him, but the equally sleepy-eyed, contented look on her face was worth it.

That and the languor he felt was of the most pleasant type. "You are amazing," he informed her with a happy sigh, trailing kisses down her neck and across her shoulder. The water hitting his back was beginning to feel more cool than hot, but Jemma was pressed up against him, soft and warm. A pity that Nick really would burst in on them if they lingered for much longer, because it would be very nice to tuck his wife under the covers and soothe her back to sleep, skin to skin. "My sweet Jemma."

"Your sweet Jemma is going to have to wear a very high-necked blouse," she replied, sounding amused. "And trousers, because I can't risk stepping over an air vent and revealing the love bites on my thighs." He felt her nip at his own neck, her hands keeping him close. "Staking your claim, I think?"

He covered his stammered response by turning off the water and wrapping her in a towel. She was not angry, thankfully- she looked just as amused as she had sounded, and her overall expression was one of understanding. "I'm not married to a saint," she continued, droplets of water slipping down her face and neck, tracing over the dark marks he had left in his enthusiasm. "This has been difficult for you, I know."

There were no immediate words for that, not when she had been so brave and a part of him was stuck on the fact that he had failed to protect her in so many ways.

And there was the fact that, in truth, he didn't like the idea of other people leering at his wife, particularly not when she was vulnerable and scared.

"I'm sorry, Jem," he said eventually, brushing a thumb lightly over one particularly livid bruise on her neck. "I got a little carried away."

"No apologizing for that, Phil. I liked it." She began rubbing a towel over her hair, smiling in a way that communicated just how pleased she had been by the interlude. "And if there were pictures like that of you being sent around to a bunch of mystery women, I think I would have some issues as well." Her smile dimmed. "I'd rather have you be a bit clingy than angry at me."

"I'm not at all angry at you, Jemma." He wrapped his arms around her, gathering her and an assortment of towels close. "I love you so much, sweetheart, and you've turned a terrible situation to your advantage in the most brilliant way."

"Well, good. I'm glad you still want to touch me; it would be terrible if you didn't."

He hid his face against her damp hair, troubled that she might worry that he found her tainted in some way. "Why wouldn't I want to touch you? Keeping my hands off of you is a far greater struggle."

"You are sweet."

"To you."

"Yes, I suppose some people would argue otherwise."

He let her go reluctantly, at that, and they both began to prepare for the day. He stayed in her orbit as she applied what little make-up she wore and dressed, shrugging when she shot him an amused look.

"You watch me like I'm an art exhibit," she commented at one point, walking toward him in just the very distracting lingerie she had donned a few minutes previous. Crimson lace- the most daring thing he had seen her wear in months. "It's very flattering."

She took hold of his tie, still draped loosely around his neck, and began to tie it in quick, efficient movements. Before Jemma he had never really considered how intimate tying a tie could be, but now it was a move he understood very well. "I'm lucky enough to share my life and quarters with a gorgeous woman. I'm just making the most of every second." He laid an index finger lightly on the lace that curved over one hip, hoping she would be willing to let him strip it off of her that evening. "I like this."

She smiled as she tightened the knot just so, and rested her hands lightly against his chest. "I know. I like it, too."

He waited for her as she finished dressing, watching unashamedly as she pulled on tights, a warm, high-necked dress, and boots. "Well," she said finally, brushing invisible creases from the skirt, "I suppose we should face the day."

"We should." He took her arm in his as they left the room, walking at a sedate pace down the corridor toward Fury's office. "What genius do you plan on accomplishing today?"

"I'm hoping something regarding Agent 33 will turn up in the mix." She glanced up at him, determination written across her face. "I don't like seeing her penned up in the vault, Phil. If we can reverse what Whitehall did, even a little, that would be worthwhile."

"I agree." Remembering his discovery from the day before, he asked, "Did you put Audrey up to playing for her?"

"No, Audrey decided that herself. It hasn't caused a problem, has it?"

"From the glimpse I got it looked as if 33 were responding positively."

"Good."

Fury's expression, when they entered his office, was of restrained impatience. "About time. Your ploy worked, Agent Simmons. We've received everything from dead-drop instructions to base locations." He tossed his pen onto the desk, a flash of irritation crossing his face. "And the name of a mole at the Fridge who is now cooling her heels in a cell."

"But you still look displeased," Jemma said, her arm tense in his. "Why is that?"

"What we've gotten is immense, and it's certainly enough to take out a few heads- but not enough to take down the beast entirely."

"A crippling blow would hardly be a failure," Phil noted mildly, annoyed at the implication that Jemma's sacrifice was lacking in some way. "And the damage Skye's virus will do at their end is just beginning."

"True." Fury had evidently taken his words as the scold they were intended to be. He stood, straightening to his full height, and extended his hand to Jemma, who took it after a moment of hesitation. "You've saved untold lives, Agent. SHIELD thanks you- as do I."

"I'm pleased to serve," she replied, her voice quiet but honest. "I hope you get the information you're looking for. And if I might make a request?"

"I could hardly deny you at this point."

Phil figured that was Fury's way of not saying I would be too scared to say no.

"I would like Whitehall's research, please. All of it," she said firmly. "A loyal agent has been in the vaults for far too long."

"I'll make sure that you're granted full access." Fury eyed her in the same way he might consider a bomb he was hoping to defuse. "To that, and whatever else might come in."

"Thank you, sir." Jemma released his arm, taking a step toward the door. "I'll leave you to discuss strategy with Phil then, shall I?"

"One more thing." Nick shifted his weight, the move the closest thing Phil had seen to a display of nerves in years. "We've put your parents in protective custody," he said. "There was some indication that they might be used as against you. The rest of your family- as well as Agent Fitz's mother- are being watched, just in case."

She stilled, her gaze flicking to meet Phil's for a brief moment. "Any particular reason they were considering my parents, sir?"

"As best we can tell, one of the agents Sgt. Barnes suggested was actually a mole working for Talbot. Before he realized that the email was infected, he sent a copy to Talbot through secure channels."

"He was planning on abducting British citizens?" Phil asked skeptically. "He must have a crony in England."

"He does. Unfortunately, whoever Talbot has securing his systems caught the virus before it could do much damage, but we did get that piece of information."

"I'm glad of it. Thank you, sir."

Jemma was out the door before anyone could say anything else. "They will be safe?" Phil asked Nick, his voice hard-edged. "She doesn't need to deal with that as well."

"They are safe, though not very appreciative of their current state," Nick replied dryly. "See if your wife would be willing to stay with them for awhile, okay? They aren't fainting from fear, or anything, but they are being very uncooperative."

"Bring them here." Phil took one of the seats across the desk, not bothering to wait for Nick to sit back down. "Otherwise I go with her."

"You really want your in-laws wandering around the Playground?"

"No," Phil admitted. "But I also don't want Jemma alone out there, not with the way things are."

"Point." Nick did resume his seat, suddenly looking weary. "I've already dispatched a half a dozen teams to different hidden bases. The Fridge is under lockdown, and I sent Stark a message with the names of the three traitors in his tech department."

"Have you heard from Morse?"

"Briefly. She says that the damage to their systems is keeping them scrambling, and that as far as she knows they haven't figured out yet that we've received their information, or how we did it." He ran a hand over his jaw, still unshaven. Phil might have slept, but Nick most definitely had not. "And I gave the order to foul the water supply for the three bases she says are too well guarded to invade."

Phil caught his slight wince. Nick was not a fan of "that medieval shit," as he had once put it. Too slow and lingering a death for his comfort- and truthfully, for Phil's as well. "What can I do, Nick?"

"You can track down Rogers and see if either he or Barnes knows any of Rumlow's favorite places to hide. What little has come over the wire about him makes it pretty clear that he's on our trail, but damn if I can figure anything else out." He swiped several times across the screen of his tablet, irritation evident. "There- clearance for both you and Simmons."

"I'll see what we can find." Phil did not rise, discomforted as he was by Nick's obvious fatigue. Phil really hadn't slept that well at all- he had been too keenly attuned to every shift Jemma made throughout the night to do more than doze- but in comparison to Nick he was well-rested. "You just sent the 'I feel like bugging you' codes," he pointed out, trying to keep his tone mild. "You could have rousted me out of bed far earlier than this."

Nick shrugged. "I was handling it just fine, Phil. I might not have a soulmark of my own, but I've been around enough bonded pairs to know what they need after stress like Simmons has been through." His glare, when it came, felt more like a scold in the I know what I'm doing sense. "Hell, Phil, you spent most of the evening yesterday circling her like a worried sheepdog. You've lost that edge, at least. Go talk with Rogers and Barnes, and make sure you check in with your wife on a regular basis."

"Why?"

"Because moping soulmates are of no use to me, Phil. Get the fuck out of my office."

For Nick, that was practically a sympathetic pat on the back.

By the time Jemma made her way to 33's cell, the information SHIELD had collected was already waiting tidily on her tablet. Without even opening the door she could hear faint strains of cello music from below, which pleased her. Audrey might well see things in Whitehall's notes that Jemma wouldn't, and even if she wasn't an agent, Fury never had gotten around to reestablishing the clearance levels that Phil had abolished during his tenure.

Not that Jemma knew of, at least. She figured this was something she would rather beg forgiveness for, at any rate.

She sat on the bottom step as Audrey continued to play, waiting for the piece to finish. 33 looked to be working on her sun salutations, flowing easily in and out of the deep stretches and balance postures. She was, Jemma noted, in tune with the music, which seemed like a very good sign.

Audrey might not have seen her enter, but she had surely heard the sound of the door opening and closing, because when the piece faded to an end she turned her head slightly to see who had joined them. "Jemma," she said with a small smile. "Good morning."

"Good morning." Jemma stood and made her way over to Audrey, nodding to 33 as she did so. The other woman merely raised a brow before folding herself into child's pose. "We've received some information that might help our friend, here," she explained as she settled to the ground beside Audrey's chair. "Hopefully it will include a name."

Jemma scrolled through the various files, her heart sinking as she saw the number of names before her. "It appears Whitehall pulled this trick on a number of people," she said through numb lips. "She could be any one of these women."

"Then we hope for pictures," Audrey replied, gently tucking her cello and bow back in their case before settling beside Jemma on the floor. "Bird by bird, as my father would have said."

Some files had pictures, some did not, and after the first few Audrey ran upstairs to fetch a notebook and a pencil to keep a list of the maybes. They did not skip a single name, not even the ones that appeared obviously masculine.

"Never can tell, these days," Audrey had said with smile.

They were nearly halfway through when Jemma's stomach growled audibly.

"Don't tell me Phil forgot to feed you."

It spoke to their level of distraction that morning that he had. "I think we both forgot about food," Jemma replied, rather astonished. She might forget to feed herself- been there, done that, as the saying went- but Phil had always been a stickler for three square meals a day, with the odd snack between, especially when it came to her. "What with this new flood of information, and all."

"And where has it come from?" Audrey asked curiously as she hefted her cello case. "Was there a mission I didn't know about?"

"Not really. We just gambled on men being willing to take risks for porn," Jemma responded lightly.

"Really?" Audrey gave her a doubtful look. "Surely it wasn't so simple."

"No," Jemma admitted, her voice soft. "It wasn't that simple."

Audrey looked as if she were about to inquire further, but then seemed to reconsider the idea. "Brunch it is," she said instead, taking Jemma's arm firmly. "And then we can find somewhere a bit sunnier to continue our research."

"Sunnier?"

"Somewhere with a window will work."

Audrey waved a goodbye to 33, and inspired by her example Jemma did as well. 33 hesitated before waving back in a tentative fashion.

May walked in on their meal, Skye following her. "Good," she said with what might have been a tinge of pleasure. "I want both of you in the gym in two hours."

Jemma exchanged a glance with Audrey, who looked startled. "Me?" Audrey asked. "I'm not an agent."

"Anyone who stays here on even a semi-regular basis needs to learn how to defend themselves. I don't want you depending only on your powers," May answered as she began to select a number of ingredients from the fridge and cabinets. "Skye will be there as well."

Skye shrugged as she dropped into one of the free chairs. "May says jump, I ask 'how high'," she muttered, peering closely at Jemma. "Are you doing okay?"

"As well as could be expected."

Audrey arched a delicate brow, stabbing at a piece of chicken in her salad with her fork. Jemma did not need to ask to know that Audrey was putting together various bits of information in her head, and that whatever answer she was coming up with was probably close to the truth. "Not that simple, hmmm?" was all she said, and pushed the plate of crostini she had prepared closer to Jemma.

Jemma recognized that move. That was a Phil move. Even a few weeks beforehand the reminder might have irritated her, but now she found herself amused by that little gesture. She took a piece, concealing her smile when Audrey nodded slightly.

"May is going to pound us into the floor, I hope you know," Skye said after a beat. It was obvious she had seen the entire little byplay, and equally obvious that something in it had soothed over some rough edge that had been present earlier. She eased back into her chair, her resigned expression more that of good-will than anything else. "I'll go ahead and warn you- she doesn't approve of using powers when bodily force will do."

"Probably for the best," Audrey replied peaceably. "I'd have you out like a light, otherwise."

Skye took it like the joke it was. "Not if I quake the walls down around your ears first, band nerd."

And there, reflected in one of the glass doors of the cabinets, Jemma saw it: a genuine smirk appearing on May's face. It was gone by the time May turned around, of course, but the way she caught Jemma's gaze with a sharp look made it clear that May knew, somehow.

"Well, I don't have powers, so it's for the best." Jemma took a quick bite of the bread she held, averting her eyes from May.

"FYI," Skye told Audrey in a deadpan voice, "Jemma fights dirty."

"Skye!"

"She has the look," Audrey replied with a far too serious nod. "Brass knuckles?"

"ICER shots to the gut and fire extinguishers to the skull."

"It was only once, for heaven's sake," Jemma huffed in exasperation.

"Almost twice." A wicked grin appeared on Skye's face. "I seem to recall you nearly whacking AC with a fire extinguisher when Lorelei was running amok."

"He could have been possessed; we just didn't know." Jemma gave them both her primmest look. "Phil said I did the right thing."

"Later, maybe. At the time his reaction was more along the lines of 'What the hell, Jemma?'" The last part was an exaggerated, but nonetheless accurate, impersonation of Phil. "Good thing he has fast reflexes."

Luckily, Audrey was snickering over this revelation. "He only made the mistake of trying to sneak up on me once," she said through her laughter. "I clocked him on the head with his own briefcase."

"So what you're telling me is that AC is drawn to violent women," Skye replied slyly, and it should not have been nearly as funny as it was- and perhaps it wouldn't have been, if Phil hadn't walked in the door at that exact moment, only to find that the eyes of all were on him and everyone except for May was suddenly laughing.

"I'm afraid to ask what stories you've been telling about me," he said dryly, but laid a gentle hand on Jemma's shoulder and bent to kiss her brow. "But I probably deserve it."

"Bit egotistical to think we were laughing at you, AC."

"What else was I supposed to think?" He took the seat beside Jemma, his hand coming to rest surreptitiously on her knee under the table. "May, have you spoken with Fury?"

"Off and on since early this morning." They exchanged a look that Jemma couldn't quite read, but the laughter dying around the table signalled that the other two women had noticed it, as well.

Phil turned his gaze back to Jemma, his hand squeezing her knee lightly. "Jem, about your parents."

"They're making a fuss, aren't they?" she asked, knowing that if his news were worse he would have pulled her aside. "They do think I'm- well, not this. Being black-bagged probably has thrown them for a loop."

"What was your cover, Jem?" Skye asked with interest.

"Corporate party planner," Jemma replied with a roll of her eyes. "Don't laugh, Skye. That cover was assigned to me. I didn't choose it."

"I'm just imagining the parties you would throw." Skye drummed her fingers on the table, grinning. "Go on, ignore me."

"Fury wants to send you to them," he said slowly, and she could see instantly that he was not comfortable with that plan. "Alone. With the way things are…"

"Couldn't they come here?" Audrey asked, and raised a brow when they both looked at her. "I'll chaperone when Jemma needs to do sciencey things, and Billy will make sure their ID cards don't allow them access to the classified areas."

"Not ideal, but I admit it would be better than splitting up the team," Phil said with a slight sigh, and gave Jemma a questioning look.

There wasn't a chance in hell Fury would allow Phil to accompany her if she left the base to reassure her parents. "This could be long-term," she pointed out, feeling like the worst daughter in the world when her first instinct was oh god, no. "Or longer than we like, at least."

"I know."

"AC meets the in-laws," Skye muttered, sounding rather gleeful at the prospect. Jemma supposed that someone should get some humor out of this situation, at least. She had kept the two major facets of her life separated for so long that she couldn't help but dread the coming clash.

"My parents hated him," Audrey muttered back. "Never did figure out why."

"Awesome."

Not awesome, as far as Jemma was concerned. When her mother disliked someone, the chill in the air was almost palpable, and when her father disliked someone, the effect was even worse. They had both liked Fitz, but their disappointment that he hadn't been Jemma's bondmate had been fierce.

"We'll make it through," Phil murmured comfortingly, stroking her knee. "But they don't have to come if you're opposed."

"No, bring them," she sighed. "And then, once they settle down, maybe they'll be willing to hide in a safe-house."

Jemma thought the chances of that were slim, but then again, she doubted that either of her parents had ever come up against someone like Fury before. Worst case scenario, she would just lock the trio in a room and let them cut conversational shreds off of each other.

For all the turmoil that the virus had caused her, Jemma was glad when, as the next few days rolled by, Hydra cells were shut down in a pleasingly efficient fashion, one after the other. It would have been better if the whole operation had just imploded, but she would take what she could get.

Jemma had made it clear to Fury that Skye and Bucky alone would be receiving whatever accolades were due, and he was good on his word. Men and women who had formerly looked at the hacker and assassin askance were suddenly much more at ease around them, and in response Skye herself seemed to relax. The tremors on base had, for the moment, ebbed to near non-existence. As far as public knowledge went, Jemma had never been involved.

Fitz was the only person to whom Jemma relayed the entire story.

"You did what?"

"It was damage control, Fitz," she had replied with a shrug as he gaped. "It did a lot of damage, and it made me feel like I was in control."

"Shit."

It meant that every time he saw her for roughly the next twenty-four hours Fitz threw his hands into the air in exasperation, but Jemma didn't particularly care. It was rather funny, as far as she was concerned.

And now here she was, waiting in the hangar for her parents to arrive with her husband at her side, still aching from her session with May that morning where Natasha had slammed her against the mats.

"That will teach you not to get distracted by the peanut gallery," Natasha had said dryly, and then grinned wickedly at Skye and Audrey. "Speaking of."

"I apologize in advance," Jemma said, part of her mind longingly considering how nice it would be to soak in a hot bath. "For my parents."

"You think it's going to be that bad?" Phil asked her, his brow furrowing. She watched as he straightened his tie and then fastened the buttons on his suit jacket. "I know I'm older than you, and a member of what they probably consider a very shady organization, but-"

He paused. "Never mind. You're right; I'm just the jackass who dragged you into danger and ruined your good name."

"Well, maybe I'll just take a new name."

He smiled at that. "My name is even more tarnished, sweetheart."

"Then we both take a new name." She slipped her hand into his, their fingers intertwining. "Like you suggested. That's always a possibility."

"Something to consider, definitely."

They both quieted as the small quinjet landed, and she briefly considered disentangling her hand from his, if only because she could feel her palms sweating. Silly to be scared of her parents, after everything else she had been through. "Phil, you remember when Audrey first arrived and everything went briefly to hell?"

He shot her a startled glance. "Yes."

"This might be worse."

"I really hope you're just being hyperbolic."

"So do I."

Trip had been sent to escort her parents from their former safe-house, which had seemed like such a brilliant idea at the time. Everyone loved Trip, after all. Jemma was fairly certain that if she took the time to sit down and calculate why, she would come up with a new theorem for the science behind likeability.

And at first glance it did seem to have paid off. Her parents disembarked the quinjet, appearing to be conversing in a very cordial manner with Trip. Then they spotted her.

Then they spotted her grip on Phil's hand.

"Oh," she clearly heard her mother say, turning to Trip with a disappointed look on her face. "I thought it was you."

"In all honesty, I would prefer a son-in-law more like Trip, as well," Phil admitted quietly.

"Hush, Phil. What in the world would I do with all that optimism?" she tried to joke.

Before he could reply her parents came into hearing range, rushing up to embrace her and casting Phil assessing looks. "You haven't been very truthful with us, Jemma," her mother said in a mildly censuring tone.

"SHIELD is very fussy about agents not breaking the multitude of non-disclosure agreements they have on file." Jemma tried to say it lightly, and as inoffensively as possible. "I'll explain what I can later. For now, this is Phil." She didn't need to force a smile when she turned back to him; the expression that had been stiff eased into true emotion. "My soulmate, and my husband."

The greeting they both gave Phil was so excessively polite that Jemma was almost offended on his behalf. Manners were second-nature in her family, but an excess of manners inevitably meant they were displeased in some way. That displeasure could have been with her- by this point they had most likely heard, in one way or another, that their daughter was a wanted criminal. And they had been kidnapped, which Jemma knew for a fact was distressing.

She had the feeling that she would be getting quite the lecture once they were alone. Thank heavens their passes would restrict them to only a small portion of the base; she would be needing somewhere to escape to eventually.

"So," her mother said with expertly concealed impatience. "Shall we have a tour?"

"A short tour," Phil agreed amicably, his hand coming to rest against Jemma's back. "Follow me."

And a short tour it was. There were very few locations that would be safe for them to visit, after all, and Jemma could see from her parents' expressions that they were both chafing at the odd circumstances and the invisible but very present restraints they had been put under.

Phil's phone rang as they entered general living quarters, and after giving Jemma an apologetic look he stepped almost out of hearing range. Far enough, Jemma noted, that her parents would likely think that he would be unable to hear a quiet conversation.

"Jemma," her father said in the measured tone that meant anger and had never failed to scare the hell out of her as a girl, "we need to have a very serious discussion."

They were looking at her like they might a child. "I realize this is a dreadful inconvenience," she said smoothly, "but it was done to keep you safe, I promise."

"If you hadn't stepped outside of the law it wouldn't have been necessary." Her mother glanced around them in as casual a manner as possible, and it was at that moment that Jemma realized how entirely ignorant of the situation they truly were. "Are you being kept against your will?" her mother asked in a whisper. "We know a very good lawyer, Jemma. I'm sure he could make some kind of deal for you if you decided to leave these people."

Jemma highly doubted it, even if she had been so inclined. "I'm afraid that's not a possibility, Mum. Let me show you your quarters."

"Jemma-"

"I won't be leaving my husband or my friends." She held open the door to their rooms, continuing to hold it even after it became clear that they had no intention of following her any further. "I've been doing what I think is right for years, now, and I won't give up over some misunderstanding."

Her parents exchanged glances heavy with meaning. "Cult," her father said in a grim, hushed tone. "I told you."

Oh, hell.