Missing Scenes, "Seeds"
by Sammie
Summary, author's notes, disclaimer in part 1.
Did anyone see the SDCC stuff? I thought the panels and interviews were boring (nothing new there), but I love CB's new bangs - fantastic look! - and the pictures of CB and EH signing autographs - two peas in a pod. And "Star Wars Rebels" just really, REALLY makes me want (all over again) a live
action Rogue Squadron. Come on, Disney. You own Lucasfilm and you own ABC. Make it happen.
Last part - and before y'all kill me, remember the ending was dictated by the terms of "Seeds"! :-(
FROM PART 2:
"I'm very sorry," the detective said quietly. "We - had we known you were looking for an Asian woman of her description, we would have been able to return the body to you sooner."
Coulson stepped over to the stretcher and unzipped the body bag. He looked at the face for a long time, his face frozen. After a long moment - longer than would be comfortable, the man zipped up the bag again. He breathed in, trying to compose himself. Then: "Yes, it's her."
"The medical examiner's report and Jemma's examination all revealed that May had been tortured - shocked with electricity, stabbed, body parts cut off. Death couldn't have come fast enough," Fitz said quietly. "The body appeared to have been put back into the car once she was dead."
Amador just sat, stunned. Garrett was quiet, his brow furrowed.
Fitz shrugged. "None of us could really comprehend what it would take to have taken down somebody like her." He breathed in deeply, letting it out in a sigh. He shrugged, almost helplessly. "She was the Cavalry," he said. "We knew she could get hurt, but - we never expected her to die like this."
There was silence in the sitting room for a long time. Fitz then continued. "The minute we had the body on board, Coulson had Ward in the cockpit to take off. The sooner we got to the Hub, the better."
Garrett frowned, exchanging looks with Amador. "Did you guys actually make it to the Hub?"
Fitz shook his head. "Coulson reported what happened to May. That, on top of the reports from Hong Kong about the village and then about Kwan's team, was apparently enough for them to demand we head straight for the Sandbox.
"We didn't have enough gas to do it, not after that broken gas line and flying that circuitous route from China. Coulson requested to come to the Hub to refuel - he was denied."
Amador and Garrett exchanged worried looks. "So what did you do?"
"SHIELD agreed to send unmarked tankers to a podunk airport fifty miles out, and also a replacement vehicle for the crushed car. Ward redirected the plane there."
Fitz trotted through the hallways of the plane's basement storage. Third door on the left. He started to open it when he noticed a light farther down the hallway.
Quietly, stepping carefully, he made his way over. The door was still open a little - enough for him to peek him from the side.
Inside was Coulson, standing by the small, three-person body cooler. One of the doors was open, the tray holding May's body carefully pulled out. Simmons had gently cleaned off her face the best she could; once the blood was gone, the cuts were even more visible. The body bag was unzipped to reveal her face and shoulders. Fitz could see the beginnings of the stitches on the torso, the stitches which closed the body back up after the Y-incision was made during autopsy.
At least May's face looked - peaceful. As though she were finally at rest.
Coulson just leaned against the wall, looking down at her face, his arms folded across his chest. At one point, he reached out with a hand, brushing a stray hair out of her face.
Fitz quietly left.
+ seeds +
There was a knock, and Coulson said, "Come in."
The door to his office opened, and Ward stepped in. "You wanted to see me after we landed."
"Shut the door." Coulson still did not look up from his papers.
Ward looked around the room, shut the door, and stepped in front of the desk.
"Go ahead and sit." Ward sat, tensely. Coulson flipped a paper over, signed quickly at the bottom of the next one, and looked up. "SHIELD knows we're here? You followed the protocols I gave you?"
"Yes, sir."
"It's going to take the SHIELD tankers another hour to get here. They were still refueling when we were in the air, and now they have to make the drive out." He took a deep breath. "You told FitzSimmons?"
"Yes. All contact must be routed to you. Don't open the door for anybody."
"How's the girl?"
"Asleep. Afternoon nap. Everything seems normal for her."
Coulson nodded. "I'm going to meet the tankers a mile from the airport. I called in the change."
The Level 7 stiffened. "Sir, I don't believe - "
"I want you to stay here with FitzSimmons and the 084. Same directions. Don't open except for me."
"Sir - "
"Don't question me!" Coulson snapped.
Ward fell silent, his face hardening a moment. Then he disobeyed the direct order. "Sir, we have to question you. Look, I understand that you and Agent May were close and you want to know what happened." He ignored Coulson's narrow-eyed glare. "But it's precisely for this reason that you shouldn't be leaving the bus - or going anywhere - alone."
"So, who do you suggest comes with me?" the Level 8 retorted, uncharacteristically sharp and stressed. "One of the two scientists who failed their field tests? Or perhaps the baby?"
"And what happens if you don't return?" Ward returned. "She was - and I know you and her don't - didn't - don't - like using the term, but Melinda May was the d-mn Cavalry," he said sharply. "If they - it - got to her, they can get to us. We need to stay together as much as possible. You're the team leader, sir, and she was your second. You go and something happens to you? You might as well cut off somebody's head and expect the body to keep functioning."
Coulson stared steadily back at him for a long time, then got up and turned to a large map behind his desk and took it off the wall. "You're right."
Ward frowned. "That is not comforting," he muttered, then asked in his normal tone, "So you'll stay on board. Stick to the original plan?" His face looked doubtful.
Coulson ignored him. "Listen carefully. I'm going to entrust this information to you now, in case something happens." He pointed to the panel behind the map he had just removed. "This is the panel that gives me direct access to the Hub and to the director of SHIELD."
"Sir - "
"Listen carefully. I'm going to give you the passcode - "
"Sir!"
" - but you cannot give it to anybody else. And don't write - "
"Sir, you're freaking me out a little."
The honest, tense admission made Coulson stop, looking back across the desk at the younger man, who was standing. His face was calm; his eyes were not. The older man seemed to deflate. "What do you suggest we do?" he asked, his voice desperate.
Ward opened his mouth, then shut it. He was silent for a long time, thinking through the various options. "Besides try to make to the Sandbox? I don't know."
There was a long silence. "Neither do I."
+ seeds +
Ward waited tensely in the cockpit. Fitz was standing behind him, looking over his shoulder. Simmons was seated in the other seat, the 084 sleepily playing with a curl of hair, alternately batting it back and forth and then holding it in a chubby fist. She was talking to herself. Every once in awhile she'd exclaim, "Ma!" and tug on Simmons's hair.
There was a crackle over the radio. "SLD491, this is air traffic control."
Ward hit the button. "This is SLD491."
"Your tankers have arrived. Patching them through on the frequency."
"SLD491, good to see you. This is Agent Richard Lumley with SHIELD. Requesting Agent Philip Coulson. We hope you'll be our guests for the evening - this evening only."
The three agents on board exchanged looks. "They gave the correct passcode hint," Fitz murmured. "But why are they asking for Coulson?"
"Agent Lumley," Ward said, his voice tense. "This is Agent Grant Ward. Agent Coulson drove out to meet you a half hour ago."
There was a pause. "Who is this?"
"This is Agent Grant Ward," Ward repeated, then paused before stating, "We accept your invitation to stay in your guest house, three-two-five."
There was a long silence, and then, with some hesitancy and reluctance, "Passcode confirmed." Then, "Where the h-ll is Coulson?"
"He's supposed to be with you," Ward said.
+ seeds +
"Sh," Fitz hushed as the baby awoke and fussed a little. She looked up at him from her spot in the makeshift metal box, lined thickly with blankets. She smiled contentedly and then opened her mouth and made some noises. "Hush, you."
The cargo hold doors were open, the ramp lowered. Ward stood at the top, Simmons standing beside him, her lab coat on, latex gloves hanging out from her pocket.
A male agent appeared, his face tense. Beside him was a woman, who waved over two technicians. Behind them, police cars' lights flashed blue and red.
The wheels on the stretcher rattled against the ridges on the floor as the cart was pushed up the ramp.
"Grant Ward?" the male agent approached him, his hand outstretched. "Richard Lumley. This is my partner, Linda Avery."
"Grant Ward," the man replied, shaking Lumley's hand. He then pointed at Jemma. "Jemma Simmons. Leopold Fitz." He waved towards the lab. Inside, Fitz gave a small wave.
"I'm sorry we're meeting under these conditions," Lumley said.
Ward only nodded, even as Simmons stepped over to the body bag. She unzipped it, then froze. She unzipped the body bag farther, then checked a few more things. "Yes, this is Philip Coulson."
She zipped up the bag, then turned to the two technicians, speaking quietly. They followed her back into the cargo bay.
"We went looking as soon as you said he was missing," Avery replied. "It wasn't hard to find Lola. Car was unscratched, and he was seated in the driver's side, but - "
" - executed," Ward replied, his tone flat.
Lumley nodded.
"I'm sorry," Avery said, her voice soft - and genuine.
"There's nothing to be sorry about," Ward said, his voice detached. "We were the team called to pick up the 084 - that's all. Another day it might be somebody else. You, perhaps."
Both nodded.
The two technicians came back out, wheeling another body on a stretcher. Lumley and Avery visibly started.
"Preliminary visual examination shows the second body bears the same marks and disfigurement the first body has," Simmons continued, her tone flat and clinical. "Evidence of torture by electrical shock, stabbing. Extremities were detached, most likely as a form of information extraction."
Lumley and Avery stood there, silent, stoic - their eyes wide and troubled.
Simmons straightened, then, and she held up her chin. Her eyes were glassy. "I believe - " Her voice was tense, full of tears. "I believe that Agents Coulson and May would - prefer to be buried near each other in the SHIELD yard."
There was a long silence, and the two other agents nodded.
"We refueled," Fitz said, quietly. "Lumley and Avery delivered other goods to restock our food and our supplies, including diapers and such."
"You never got to the Sandbox," Garrett replied, frowning. "The 084 disappeared. As did you."
Fitz gave a short, bitter laugh. "Lumley and Avery were caught in a bad accident on the way back to the Hub," he replied. "Their truck was run off the road."
"Did they see who ran them off?" Amador asked.
Fitz shook his head. "If they did, SHIELD didn't tell us. All we were told was that they were in critical condition. If it hadn't been the SHIELD tankers tailing them, and the SHIELD agents waiting for them at checkpoints half a mile down the road, they may have died en route back to the Hub."
"But they didn't."
"They didn't die, but they barely survived. They were still unconscious and in surgery when we were notified," Fitz replied. "We were in the air an hour and a half, then. It changed everything."
"Ward. Ward!" Fitz shouted, even as the older agent slammed his fists to one of the walls, then against the table in the briefing room. "Stop!"
The baby began to cry and dropped the monkey toy onto the floor.
Ward paused. His palms lay flat against the tabletop, his arms straight, the weight of his upper body leaning on his arms, as if exhausted.
"What happened?" Simmons asked, her voice sharp. She picked up the stuffed toy and handed it back to the 084, then lifted the infant into her arms, gently patting her back until the tears began to diminish. The baby sniffled, grabbing fistfuls of the agent's blouse.
"That was HQ," Ward replied, his voice tight and angry. "Avery and Lumley were attacked on the way back to the Hub."
Fitz closed his eyes.
Simmons stiffened. "Are they alive?"
"SHIELD got to them in time. They're in surgery. They're expected to make it, but just barely." Ward took a deep breath. "We're on mark to get to the Sandbox. I was instructed that if something happened along the way that might mean we couldn't take it to there - "
" - you should dump the cargo and hope whoever is chasing us will stop," Simmons murmured. Her arms wrapped instinctively around the 084, who just snuggled more deeply into her arms with a sigh of contentment. "We can't do that! It's positively Medean!"
Ward just looked at her, quietly, as Fitz looked down at the tabletop.
"I got to get back to the cockpit." The specialist strode out of the room.
There was a long silence. The baby seemed oblivious to the tension, alternate chewing on one of the toy monkey's ears and then tugging on Jemma's blouse and talking to herself.
"We'll just - everything will go just fine," Fitz replied, steadying his voice. "We'll make it to the Sandbox just fine."
"Please stop," Jemma said, her voice quiet. "We both know that no matter what it won't be 'fine'."
"Jemma - "
"It doesn't matter what continent we're on. Whoever it is who executed Kwan and his team and killed May and Coulson will find us," Simmons replied.
"Well, what do you propose?"
She was silent for a long time, and then said slowly, "We need to erase her from existence."
Fitz started, staring at her. "Wait - what?"
"Records of her," Simmons replied, impatiently. "Erase everything. All Kwan's reports on the village, all May's reports on Kwan, all our reports here. Everything has to go."
Fitz frowned. "You believe they're using SHIELD to follow us."
"We're certainly not making it difficult," Simmons pointed out. "As long as they're following a SHIELD feed, they can find us, even with all the precautions."
"What do we do with her afterwards?" Fitz pointed. "She's an infant. Somebody has to care for her."
"I'll disappear," Jemma replied, her words speeding up as she warmed to her topic. "You can list me KIA - "
"Jemma - " Fitz's tone held a warning in it.
" - and I'll take her away. We'll move regularly if we have to."
"Jemma, you can't do this!" His tone was sharp.
"Fitz, you said it!" she cried. "You pointed out that somebody has to care for her. She has no mum!"
"And why does it have to be you?" Fitz snapped. "Just because you don't want her to die doesn't mean that logically is has to be you to adopt her."
Jemma paused, then conceded the point. "Well, yes, you're right on that count," she muttered. "Being against murder doesn't mean that I have to be the policeman. But right now she is here and she is in my care," she replied, pleading. "Fitz, it's the only way."
He frowned. "Then I'm coming with you."
She smiled at that, then, her eyes softening. "Fitz, you can't," she said, her voice kind. "Consider Audrey."
That shut him up.
"You can't leave her behind," Jemma's voice was soft, sad, but bright. "She'd be devastated. Me - I can do this. My parents have each other, and they have my brother and my sister. You - you have Audrey. I'm single, and she - she needs a mum."
"Jemma - just don't - " Fitz stopped, breathing in and out with a slow deliberateness. "Let's get to the Sandbox before we make any rash decisions, all right?"
The baby fussed, and Jemma picked her up. "I'm going to put her to bed," she said quietly.
Fitz shook his head at the empty lab, then bolted up the stairs to the cockpit. He went in without knocking. "Ward? How long to the Sandbox?"
"Ten hours."
Fitz frowned. "Ten! We're only six hours away!"
The older agent did not look at him.
"You're taking a circuitous route, like May had," Fitz murmured. "Smart." He paused, sliding into the co-pilot's chair. "Jemma's going crazy."
That got Ward's attention. "What?"
"She wants to take the baby and disappear. Like into SHIELD witness protection sort of - thing." When Ward said nothing, Fitz's voice sharpened. "It's insane, right, Ward? Ward!"
"Perhaps that's how they're tracking us," Ward murmured, a revelation in his voice, as though a light bulb had gone off in his head.
"Ward!" Fitz's voice rose. "You cannot be serious about entertaining this idea! For one, what is Simmons going to do? You know how bad she is at lying. She can't even make a cover story believable without rambling. And she doesn't know the first thing about protecting herself."
There was a long silence. Fitz frowned. "Ward?" he asked slowly, almost as if anticipating a response he did not like. "Did you hear what I said?"
"I'm good with covers," Ward said quietly.
There was a beat, before Fitz exclaimed, "Ward, she can't go, much less you!"
"I've got identities around the world," Ward replied, beginning to speak faster as his mind ran through the possibilities. "We'd move every couple months. That's not a problem."
"Ward." Fitz's tone was warning. "You cannot be serious about this."
Ward turned to look at him. "It's a very good alternative, Fitz," he replied sharply.
"Sandbox, Ward!" Fitz shouted. "Sandbox! SHIELD Sandbox!"
"I don't believe we'll make it that far." Ward's voice was chilling in its calmness. "We need to figure out a plan of our own. Going off the grid - that might keep us one step ahead of all this."
"Ward - "
"Fitz." His voice was tired, exhausted. "I can't protect you guys from things I can neither see nor understand. I'm out of viable options. Taking Simmons and the 084 and disappearing - that's a viable option." He took a deep breath. "Take Coulson's ID, fake that level 8 clearance. Get in and wipe the files, and get ready to wipe our identities."
"That's why there aren't any records," Amador breathed. "That's why there was nothing to read or to see."
Fitz nodded. "With Coulson having JUST passed away, they hadn't had a chance to deactivate his identification cards, clearances, anything. It was quite easy to do that from my end."
"And Ward? He was just going to leave?" Garrett asked, his brow furrowed.
Fitz just gave a bittersweet snort. "Jemma was my best friend," he said, his voice thoughtful and wistful. "She was like a sister to me. I knew her type - tall, muscular, well-formed." He thought for a moment. "Tall," he said, with a trace smile. "But it wasn't hard to find somebody taller than she was. Ward was nearly a foot taller."
Amador raised an eyebrow then.
"Nothing - ever happened. SHIELD protocol, you know. And Ward and Simmons were those rule-following types." Fitz laughed, almost desperately. "We didn't like Ward at first, and he didn't like us. He told me once he was used to women who were highly intelligent, but more razor sharp and dangerous - like May. But - I believe Jemma surprised him."
Fitz shrugged. "Jemma was - warm. Not - very outgoing or the center of attention. Just - warm. Welcoming. It was what made us such good friends. And I believe Ward just had - never met somebody who was genuinely kind, without asking for something in response. I believe his experience was always with somebody who wanted something in payment from him. She didn't."
"He was fond of her," Garrett concluded.
Fitz nodded. "Well, of us both, but it was really different with her." He breathed in, heaving a huge sigh. "He was the protective type. Took it upon himself to be the one always watching out for the two of us. Not that May didn't, but Ward - he took it personally if one of us was in trouble." He thought for a moment. "And Jemma - Jemma is - was - a fixer by nature, quite good at it - and Ward needed all sorts of fixing - physically and emotionally. They were not the same, but they fit together like - like puzzle pieces."
He was silent for a moment, his eyes far away. "You know, we got interviewed once, right before we graduated from SciOps - random questions. We each were asked what we'd want to have with us on a deserted island, most hated food. How many children we wanted. I said at most two, far in the future." He gave a small, bittersweet laugh. "She said a million. And she meant it."
He took a deep breath. "That baby would have been the luckiest in the world," he said, quietly. "They would have been brilliant parents."
"But she was dropped at an orphanage instead," Garrett replied. "Our sources said by Jemma Simmons. Was this before she was crossed off?"
Fitz shook his head. "No. That - that wasn't how it happened."
"I've done it," Fitz replied, coming into the cockpit. "Wiped everything. I've also got lists of major orphanages. We could hide - " Suddenly the plane shuddered. "What was THAT?"
Lights began to pop up on the dashboard, warnings of electrical fires and equipment malfunctions and battery overloads. The list was endless.
"Get yourself and Simmons and the kid strapped in," Ward shouted, grabbing the yoke, which was shaking as hard as the plane. "I'm going to have to find a place to pitch down."
"Should I call SHIELD?"
"Let's wait. I'm already off course from the Sandbox!"
+ seeds +
Fitz slid down the stairwell towards the lab, where Simmons was already buckling herself into one of the cargo bay chairs and had the baby carrier strapped into another. Fitz slipped the last couple feet, pushing down the seat to his own chair and strapping himself in. "What's going on?" Simmons called.
"Wish I knew!"
There was several more minutes of tilting and bouncing, and then there was a hard thud. The 084 began to cry, but the plane stopped moving. The two scientists quickly pulled themselves out of their seats and ran to the lab, checking to make sure major things hadn't broken.
Ward came racing down the stairwell, a communications case in hand. "Get in the car, now!" he shouted.
Fitz grabbed a few of his things off the counter and tossed them in a bag as Jemma swept some of the items off the shelf into a plastic box. They ran towards the vehicle, Fitz jumping into the shotgun seat as Simmons clambered into the back. Ward half-tossed the baby carrier into the back with her.
"Did you figure out what it was?" Fitz asked as Ward leaned back, reversing the car off the ramp at top speed. He hit a remote button, closing up the cargo hold bay. "Ward?"
"No. And that's not good." The wheels of the car slipped slightly on the wet grass, but Ward got it under control. "We got any maps?"
"Um." Fitz flipped open the laptop, typing quickly into a program on the computer. "Where are we?"
"Last coordinates from the plane were forty-two degrees north, seventy-four degrees and twenty-nine minutes west."
Fitz typed it in, then it called up a road map. "Um. We're looking for a road, right?"
"Give it to Simmons!" Ward barked.
Fitz passed the computer to Simmons, who quickly scanned the road map. "Take a left here! There's a road coming up."
"What road? I don't see a road! There's no road!" Ward exclaimed as they hit nearly adult-height grass. Suddenly the front wheels hit macadam, and they bounced onto the road, a lone car blaring a loud horn at them as they swerved in front of it. "I stand corrected."
They barreled along for awhile before Ward quickly pulled off onto a side road, going up into the mountains. He stopped the car.
"We're going to have to split up. Fitz, I need you to call SHIELD. Tell them where the bus is, let them know it's about Coulson's 084. Perhaps we can trap whoever's chasing us if we have enough warning." He shoved the communication system at Fitz, then pressed an gun into his hand. "Point, shoot. Remember, accuracy - "
"Accuracy over speed, got it." Fitz nodded.
"I'm taking Simmons and the 084. Perhaps if we're not with you, you'll be able to get that call through."
Fitz nodded. He paused. "Are you - " he trailed off. "Are we splitting up for real, then?" he asked quietly. "Will I see - ?"
Ward looked at Simmons. With tears in her eyes, she threw her arms around her friend. "You're my best friend in the whole world, Fitz," she breathed.
He smiled and just hugged her back, blinking rapidly himself.
Ward reached a hand out to him. "I'm sorry."
"No." Fitz shook his head. "Nothing to be sorry about. Just, uh, take care of her?" He gave an emotional smile. "Perhaps I'll see you around."
Ward nodded.
Fitz gave them a brave smile. "Now get out of here." He watched as they headed away, disappearing into the forest.
+ seeds +
Fitz ran as fast as he could through the dark woods, his flashlight off to keep anybody from seeing him, the communications pack in his other hand. He finally tumbled into a clearing, where there was a farmhouse. He quickly crossed the field, his head down, watching the main house carefully as he made a beeline for the barn.
Once inside, he cranked the communications system quickly. He bypassed tracking and radio signals and went for a channel specifically designed for SHIELD transmissions. "SHIELD 616 TO HQ. SHIELD 616 to HQ."
+ seeds +
"How are you doing?" Ward asked, turning his head slightly to look at the woman behind him. He kept his gun trained in front of him.
"I'm all right," she panted as she continued to climb, the baby carrier hauled under her arm.
He turned around, looking at her, then yanked the blanket from the pack and ripped it, then carefully tied it around her shoulders and waist. He took his belt off and used it to tighten the makeshift sling. He lifted the baby out of the carrier and tucked the child into the sling.
"Won't I smother her?" Simmons worried.
"Not like this, no." Ward turned, taking the weapon back out of the holster and aiming it front of them.
There was a rustle, then shouts. And more shouts.
"D-mm-t," Ward muttered. He started to pull her by the hand. They forded a small creek, and he pushed her, climbing up a couple large crags towards a small cleft. "Go!"
Simmons slipped slightly, one hand coming down to protect the baby's head. Ward caught her foot, pushing it back against its foothold. In a few minutes they were on the hillside adjacent to the rocks.
As she scrambled up, he followed her up. He pointed the light under his gun through the cleft - no animals. He pushed her inside. "Stay here," he said, gripping his hands in his, pressing them for emphasis. "Keep the child quiet. Don't come out until I come to get you."
She nodded, carefully pulling herself into the cleft, then checking on the 084. He slid down the hillside.
+ seeds +
Fitz shook the communications device, then tried another channel. He got some faint signals and looked thoughtfully at the machine, then decided to leave a coded message. "We accept your offer to stay at your guest house three-two-five," he said over the line. "I'll call you on your normal line."
He switched back to the SHIELD frequency and waited.
A couple hundred yards away, there was shouting - and gunfire.
Fitz gripped his gun. He made one last radio call on the SHIELD frequency, then quickly looked around. An old motorcycle. Turning on his flashlight, he popped the handle into his mouth, thus freeing both hands to hotwire the vehicle. As the engine roared to life, he tossed the communications case into a saddlebag and burst out of the barn, the bike hitting the dirt and speeding past as the family came rushing out of their house, shouting.
+ seeds +
Ward scrambled down the hill, his gun pointed in front of him. There was a blow to his back, and suddenly out of nowhere three figures coming out him. He thought perhaps he saw somebody heading up the hill and took a wild shot towards him, drawing the outlier back down the hill. He grunted as he took a blow to the back.
He heard commotion above him and looked up to see two figures, standing on the hill above him, some hundred feet straight across where Simmons and the 084 were hiding. They had something going on above. It seemed like explosives. The first came tumbling down towards him - followed by a few rocks.
+ seeds +
Inside the cleft, the 084 awoke and blinked, her eyes bright against the darkness. She looked around and began to cry.
"Oh, no," Simmons breathed. "Please, sweetheart, don't cry," she whispered, cradling the child. "Sh. Sh." She quickly fished out the baby's pacifier and wiped it clean on the inside of her undershirt and put it in the baby's mouth.
Too late.
Outside, there were shouts. They were coming closer.
Jemma quickly slid the sling off of herself and crawled deeper into the cleft. She felt around, looking carefully for a spot with no loose rocks. She carefully laid the baby down on the dirt ground, then put the baby carrier over her and set it sharply in a hollow against the wall, leaning a large rock against it, creating a small shelter from falling stones. Her hands were bleeding from cuts on the rocks she was moving.
She crawled out of the cleft and went ten feet up the hill. She saw some people coming towards where the child was. She broke into a run towards the men who were looking towards the cleft. They heard her coming, and one held up a grenade with the pin pulled.
She grabbed him before he could throw it, pulling him towards herself. The explosion threw all three bodies down the hill.
+ seeds +
Fitz started wheeled the bike across the dirt, stopping at the top of the hill. He brought it around, flying down the hill and nearly dropping it as he ran towards the two prone bodies. "No. No no no," he whispered.
There was only part of her left - parts of her legs were gone. Black, smoking flesh covered the lower half of her body, and blood was everywhere, on her hands, on her face.
The only good thing was the quiet on her face, the quiet repose; her eyes were shut, as if asleep.
"She's gone." The voice was hoarse, dead. There was an odd gurgling.
Fitz looked to the owner of the voice, the dark eyes nearly black against the night. Blood was seeping out of his mouth, and Fitz could see the blood everywhere, the bloom on his belly and chest, and over his legs. What was Ward's and what was Jemma's was hard to tell. The specialist had her body cradled in his arms.
Even in the dark, he didn't miss the tracks of tears on the other man's face. "There were two men with grenades. They'd tossed two down at me, but they'd gotten too close to the hiding place, too close to her and the 084. She ran out to distract them. She hugged to herself the one with the grenade to soften the blast."
Fitz barely prevented himself from dry-gagging. Ward gently pushed a burned lock of hair out of her muddied face.
"All right," Fitz replied, gathering his wits about him. "All right, but Jemma - Jemma would kill me if I left you behind to - "
His teammate seemed to still, to quiet. There was a slight shake of the head. "I won't make it."
"Ward, we can fix a - "
"Too much blood. And they hit my spine when I came to get her. I can't feel my legs." He winced as he tried to move his head. "Baby's - hidden up there. In that cleft up there."
Fitz paused only a moment, then quickly retrieved Ward's gun from a couple yards away, putting it near his hand. He then scrambled up the hill and climbed into the cleft, his flashlight guiding his steps.
He found the child, crying, lying on the dirt ground underneath the makeshift shelters Jemma had made for her. There was nothing more than dirt on her face. She was still alive, clutching his small terrycloth monkey.
He turned the carrier right side up and buckled the child into it. He then hauled up the baby carrier and ran with it, slinging it tightly to the motorbike. He rushed back to Ward.
"Get out of here. Take her to an orphanage, whichever one on your list. Erase her trails completely." Ward was having trouble speaking, his teeth covered in the blood coming out of his mouth. Fitz used his shirt to try to wipe some away. "Give me that semi-automatic by that body over there," he said, waving at one of the men Jemma had managed to take out. "I believe there's a few more rounds. I'll cover you. Remember what I taught you."
Fitz nodded and quickly retrieved the weapon, placing it near the specialist. He blinked back tears and squeezed the other man's hand - his fingers were going cold.
Ward seemed to go quiet, his eyes sliding shut, as if dead. After a moment, he opened them again, his eyes glassy, tears on his lashes. "I'm sorry, Fitz," he whispered. Blood bubbled on his lips.
+ seeds +
Fitz hopped on the motorbike, quickly calculating the fastest direction away. He took the least likely route, through the brush. He turned back at the top of the mountain, seeing a Jeep rumble towards the pair lying at the foot of the hill. He saw Ward turn slightly, lying on his back, shooting his pistol at the wheels, then dropping it for the semi-automatic rifle.
One Jeep rolled off into the brush before hitting a tree with a sickening crash. The one in front suddenly stopped short, smoke coming up the bonnet - Ward must have hit the radiator.
Then the shots stopped. Fitz watched as the gun slowly slipped from Ward's hand, and he pushed himself as hard as he could, rolling slightly over, covering Simmons' body with his own, and then he did not move any more.
One of the men in the Jeep came over and kicked him, but the body didn't jerk in pain, just flopped over.
Fitz wheeled the bike around and rode off.
Both SHIELD agents stared at the fugitive, his light-brown curls streaked with white and gray, his face lined with exhuastion. The mere retelling seemed to break him. Tears streamed down his face.
"I went back to the SHIELD car," he continued, his voice steady only through extreme effort. "It had been torched by whomever it was who had killed Ward and Jemma."
"Did you see anybody?" Amador asked.
Fitz shook his head. "No, nobody I could identify. And Ward didn't give me any warnings - perhaps the ones he saw were human or human-like. They looked human from a distance - that's all I can say."
He paused, then continued the narrative. "I headed back to the plane - it was untouched."
He took a deep breath. "I already had wiped every electronic file on the plane - everything. Wasn't that hard, then - not everything was digitized like it is now. I then erased everything from the plane's database - all flight information. I disabled the black box. Then I burned the bus best I could - set up explosives around it to erase any other type of evidence."
"You hoped it would make cold your trail," Garrett replied.
Fitz nodded. "I only took the laptop."
"You used the lead agent's credentials to fake a level 8 clearance, ... set up a nearly invisible protocol," Amador guessed, concluding the story.
Fitz nodded. "I didn't know where to put the baby," he said, quietly. "SHIELD tried to protect her, couldn't seem to do it. Erasing her from existence seemed the only way."
He rubbed his eyes. "I was afraid to put the 084 with an orphanage, to be honest. I kept thinking she might endanger the other children. But I couldn't just - just dump her." He shook his head. "I just couldn't - " he took a deep breath. "She had doing nothing wrong. She was innocent. I couldn't kill her, not even for the sake of security."
He took a deep breath. "I figured - " he laughed hollowly. "I left the 084 at St. Agnes. I figured that the God they believed could handle whatever was chasing her."
Fitz stopped at the intersection, then pulled the bike a couple more feet down into an alley. He emerged with the baby carrier.
He zipped his turtleneck sweater up to his face, carefully covering the lower half of his face with a scarf. He then pulled the hood of his sweatshirt low over his face.
He tucked the blanket around the child and carefully turned the carrier so the wind wouldn't blow into the baby's face.
He started down the street, walking quickly and keeping his head down. The lightly falling snow made it believable that he wouldn't be looking at others.
When he got to the gates of St. Agnes, he pushed at the side gates; they were open. He carefully stepped up to the side door.
He lay the carrier down by the door and knelt down by it. He paused for a moment as the 084 blinked and looked at him with shining eyes.
Fitz swallowed and closed his eyes briefly. He pulled the cap down warmly over her head, then picked up the terrycloth monkey sitting on the edge of the carrier. He looked at it a moment, then carefully peeled back the blanket and put it into the child's hand. Her fingers squeezed around it reflexively, and she gnawed happily on an ear. The agent carefully tucked the blanket back around both.
"Ma," the baby intoned.
He knew the baby wasn't actually talking - just making noises. Still, tears sprang to his eyes. "No. Jemma's not here."
"Ma."
He fished the letter out of his pocket and carefully unfolded it, scanning it. At the bottom was Jemma's signature. He then carefully folded it and put it back in the envelope, then tucked it into the baby carrier, by the child.
He paused a moment, then gently kissed the baby on the forehead. He turned the carrier so it was facing out of the wind, then yanked the bell pull hanging outside the door before striding away.
He stood in the shadows across the street, right behind a tree. He was watching as the door opened and a nun came out, looking around quickly. She then knelt down to the carrier, pausing there a moment, and then picked it up and went inside.
Fitz stood there for a long moment, watching the closed door. When he finally shook himself out of it, he took a deep breath and quickly wiped tears from his eyes with the heel of his hand. He stuck his hands into his sweatshirt pockets and walked down the street from which he'd come.
He breathed in. "I figured that it would end the trail: if people thought Jemma to be the agent who dropped off the 084, and then she turned up dead, perhaps it would make the trail cold - and make it easier for me to disappear."
He heaved a breath. "There was also the - " he paused. "Jemma was so integral to the baby's survival. She should have gotten some credit."
Amador held up a hand. "So Simmons was never at the orphanage."
Fitz shook his head. He sat quietly for a moment, then continued the narrative. "I gave them specific directions to move the child every few months, never to let her stay somewhere too long. They could move her from orphanage to orphanage if they wanted."
Garrett and Amador exchanged looks. Skye, while she had been bumped from home to home, had always remained tied to the same orphanage. She had thought she had been unwanted, rejected by every home as she was pulled away. It had been because SHIELD - and the nuns at St. Agnes - were trying to save her life.
"I don't know what those nuns thought when they saw those instructions," he said with a desperate laugh. "I don't know if they were frightened for themselves, for their other orphan children. I was terrified and I was a SHIELD agent. For them to take this child on - " He paused. "Did they?"
"Oh, yeah." Garrett nodded. "Kept her through to adulthood."
Fitz paused. "And - they - did any of them - were any of them - "
" - killed for taking her in?" Amador finished. "Not that I know of, no. But we'll check."
Fitz gave a desperate, tearful bark of relieved laughter. "So they survived what we couldn't," he said, softly. "Perhaps I was with the wrong organization."
He closed his eyes a moment. "I know I was asking a lot for a civilian to take on what had terrified us at SHIELD, but I just - I didn't know what else to do. I'm not Jemma - nor Ward. I'm just - I couldn't take care of her." Fitz leaned his head against the headrest of the chair.
"You left town, then," Amador prompted gently.
"I left everything," Fitz corrected. "My mum had already passed, anyhow."
"Your fiancée cellist in Portland hadn't." Garrett looked at him, watching the pain flicker across his face. The ex-SHIELD agent blinked. Tears were on his eyelashes.
"You're right that you left everything," the other man said quietly. "Including your chance at a normal one, at love. And she did love you. She cried for days after SHIELD told her you died. You didn't even have a chance to say goodbye."
Fitz's face was exhausted, contorted with misery. "Is she - ?" His voice cracked.
"She's married now, with two teenage children," Garrett replied. "Moved to London after you passed. Plays there now with the LSO."
Fitz smiled then, almost unconsciously, wistfully. He said nothing, his head bowed over his hands. A single tear seemed to fall into his lap, but still he said nothing. "Better her alive and happy there then here with me," he said softly.
After a long silence, Garrett finally said, "The baby girl - "
"No." Fitz held up a hand. "I don't want to know anything," he replied, his voice dull and a little cold. "Whoever killed that kid's family and all those agents was a force to be reckoned with. Don't tell me a d-mn thing about her. I don't want to know, you understand? Just - " he paused. "Just," he said softly, his Scottish accent especially thick when he was emotional. "Just tell me she's OK."
There was a long silence.
"She's safe," Garrett said. "She's doing a lot of good, too." That seemed to comfort the runaway agent. Garrett then smiled. "She still holds that monkey toy when she's upset."
Fitz gave a harsh laugh, bittersweet, and closed his eyes. When he reopened them, his eyes were clear, but his eyes were glassy. "Then maybe it was all worth it," he murmured. "Coulson used to say it was more important to live a meaningful life than a happy one."
He paused, then looked around the plane, as if seeing it for the first time. "You taking me in?"
"Yeah."
"No."
Fitz blinked and raised an eyebrow, looking between the two agents. Amador looked just as surprised as she turned to Garrett.
"I'm not sure SHIELD is the safest place for you right now," Garrett replied. "We'll get in the air and drop you somewhere along the route."
Fitz nodded. "Thank you."
Garrett pulled out an envelope. "This is for you. Non-sequential, small bills. You may have to exchange them for local currency."
Fitz nodded his thanks, putting the envelope into an inner coat pocket.
"Anything else you need?" Amador asked.
"No," Fitz replied, starting to get up. Then he stopped, turning back to them. "Yes."
+ seeds +
"Fitz." Ward looked up at the man from where he lay in the dirt, Simmons's body still in his arms. The specialist's voice was cracked. "When they come for the bodies - if they come - " he coughed up blood. "They'll send her home to her family. They're not going to put Simmons in the SHIELD cemetery."
"Ward - "
"I don't want to be there, either." It came out in a rush. He paused, then started to say more before coughing, blood spattering.
Fitz frowned for a moment, then nodded in understanding. He squeezed his hand. "I know. I promise."
There was the sound of an explosion. "Go." Ward waved him off. "Quickly."
+ seeds +
"They buried May and Coulson in the SHIELD yard," Fitz began. "And Ward, too, I'm assuming."
"Can't see why not," Garrett replied. "He didn't have family. No family he wanted to have his body, anyhow."
"They would have buried Simmons in England, near her family." Fitz swallowed. He raised his head slightly, as if looking to the ceiling. "I tried to, when I hacked the system to complete the letter to St. Agnes from SHIELD, to have Ward's request for a burial place put in, but it got overridden. I don't have the authority to move his body, now. He wanted to be buried near - " Fitz trailed off, swallowing hard. "And - Jemma - Jemma would have wanted it, too."
He blinked. "I haven't been able to keep my promise to Ward. If you could - " he trailed off.
Amador nodded. "We'll take care of it."
Garrett and Skye stood alone by the graveside, accompanied only by the cemetery workers. They stood silently as the workers cranked the wheel, lowering the coffin into the freshly dug grave. They waited until the workers had piled all the soil over the coffin, sealing it under a heap of dirt.
Next to it was another grave - much older, the grass already a little sunken over the coffin buried underneath.
When they were done, the workers nodded to Garrett and moved aside quietly.
Skye stepped between the graves, looking down at the headstones. She used a small bristle brush to sweep the dirt and dust off of both metallic plates. She looked over the older, more weather-beaten one on the left, and she lay a bouquet of lilies next to the older plate. Then her eyes flickered over to the new, freshly laid plate, sitting right above the newly dug grave. She lay down a small bouquet of thyme and edelweiss - courage and strength.
She stood up and stepped back to stand next to Garrett.
Jemma Mariah Simmons
1961-1990
Grant Douglas Ward
1957-1990
Garrett thought he saw a tear fall as she stood there, her head bowed, but it was gone when she looked back at him.
"Could we see the other two, also?" Skye asked, swallowing and keeping her voice forcibly still. "You said they were in the SHIELD yard - Phil Coulson and Melinda May?"
Garrett looked at her a long time, then placed a heavy arm around her shoulders before looking back at the two graves there. "Sure, kid."
end