Hello readers! Welcome to [what I think will be] the third-to-last chapter in this story. I'm trying to keep things canon compliant, which means I have to wrap up at some point before the season 2 premiere. So this is nearly over and you will indeed see home and family again. Happy reading :-)
As she walked back to her son's room that evening, Sharon heard Jemma's voice, reading aloud again. "Go, then, Raoul, go and get yourself disposed of, if you like. I hardly know who can have taught you logic, but deuce take me if your father has not been regularly robbed of his money."
"Evening, Jemma," Sharon said, sitting across from her and reaching out to squeeze Leo's hand.
"Hello Sharon. I heard there was some excitement in here earlier." Jemma attempted a lighthearted tone, but was plainly on the verge of tears.
"Oh, you could call it excitement," Sharon said with a slight twinge of embarrassment. "I overreacted, really. Coulson was just doing his job. He asked about living wills and I lost my head."
Jemma could make no answer. Her eyes stung at the thought of a living will.
Time to change the subject. "Listen, Jemma, this might not be my business, but I had a question about what happened in that medical pod." In for a penny now. "You said Leo insisted you take the last puff of oxygen. But I know you and I know how much you care about him, and I know you wouldn't have taken that breath without at least a word of protest. So my question is: what did he say? What did my son do to get you to agree?"
Jemma did start crying, then. Sharon regretted asking the question almost immediately. But words don't fly out of your mouth attached to strings. Can't take it back. She handed over the box of tissues, realizing that it was the fifth one they'd gone through that week.
"Please, you have to believe me, I begged him not to make me take it!" Jemma sobbed. "I said 'You're my best friend in the world, don't make me leave you.'"
"I believe you, Jemma Simmons, I absolutely do," Sharon quickly clarified, "This isn't your fault. Just tell me what he said."
Jemma looked away. "'You're more than that Jemma,'" she mumbled.
Did I hear that correctly? "More than what?"
Jemma gripped the arms of her chair as if to steady herself. With her eyes firmly fixed on the floor tiles, she whispered, "He said I was more than his best friend. He was telling me that he loved me."
My boy is always so stubborn. Of course he'd wait until he's literally dying to announce the obvious. The man pursues degrees in every field that crosses his mind but he can't speak up in front of a beautiful woman. "Well, I can't say I'm exactly surprised."
Jemma's eyes snapped back to Sharon's. "You aren't?" she spluttered.
Blind as bats, the pair of them. As gently as she could, Sharon said, "You're a grown woman, Jemma, and an attractive one. You must be used to men showing you attention. Didn't you ever suspect that our Leo might want to be more than just friends?"
Jemma quickly ran through a few memories in her head. "I . . . suppose it's possible, in hindsight. He was always there for me, and he could be rather protective. But he never exactly flirted. There were little things. Never thinking a man was good enough for me, always texting to make sure I would get home all right after a night on the town, always insisting on walking me home if we ended up in a shady neighborhood. I just figured he was your typical male friend. He picked up other girls . . ." Suddenly remembering her audience, she quickly added, "Not many, of course, but he did go on his share of dates."
Sharon smiled at Jemma's embarrassment. We're all adults. "I suppose a person can miss these things, especially if my son waits until the last possible moment to state his case. Maybe it's better late than never. What did you say back?"
"I'm not sure I said anything," Jemma explained, "He blew the window of the pod in before I had a chance to process what he was saying. I've been waiting at his bedside for another chance to give him my answer."
"And what answer is that?" Sharon asked boldly, now determined to get the whole story.
Jemma hesitated. "I'm not sure. He's my best friend and I love him dearly, but I'm not sure romance is the right thing for us."
"Did he . . . did you . . . I mean, was there ever any . . . romance between you two?" Sharon asked. "With all those years of friendship, working in tandem, spending holidays together, late nights at the lab, I thought you two might have been up to more than just chatting. Especially since I could tell he was falling for you."
"You could?" Jemma asked. "How could you have done? I couldn't tell!"
Sharon shrugged. How can I explain intuition? "A good mother knows these things about her son. The two of you have been thick as thieves since university, but he did have a life before you. There were other girls he pined for. I picked up on the signs as soon as he introduced us."
She could tell by the look on Jemma's face that she was remembering the occasion. They'd taken a week's holiday and done some sight-seeing in Scotland. Leo was so shocked that Jemma had never been north that he practically dragged her from place to place, eventually ending up sleeping at his mother's house after their rented car broke down under the strain. Yes, Jemma, it was three or four years ago. He's loved you that long. I've known it that long. You're a blind genius.
"How could I have missed this?" Jemma asked.
"I'm not sure. Was there ever any romance between you two?" Sharon repeated.
Jemma wasn't looking at Sharon anymore, or at the floor. Now, she was staring at Leo. "We kissed under mistletoe at a Christmas party, once. And then there was—"
She didn't get a chance to say what there had been. She was interrupted by a loud alarm from one of the machines. When Sharon looked around for the source of the sound, she saw something that made her forget all about questions.
Her son's eyes were open.