It was the late into the night when Fitz awoke, covered in mud and slime and naked as the day he was born, laying in a cornfield in the middle of nowhere.

And he couldn't breathe. There was something lodged in his throat, a great slimy mass of liquid that he hacked up until it spewed out of him. He flipped onto his side, gasping for breath in between spitting out mouthfulls of the repulsive, tasteless substance.

"Dear God… that's… disgusting," he wheezed, his words followed by loud, deep coughing as he attempted to expel the remainder of the snot-like fluid from inside of him.

He rolled onto his back to catch his breath, wiping uselessly at his face in an attempt to get it off. However, to his horror, he found he was completely covered in it, his arms, his legs, his hands, all coated in a thick layer that had mixed with the muddy soil which he was sitting in to create the world's most disgusting slurry.

A wave of nausea rolled over him but his stomach was empty and he managed to push it down. Slowly, the world around him stopped spinning.

When he'd recovered, he lifted his head, taking in the slurry, silvery in the moonlight and difficult to see clearly.

Even so he felt his vacant stomach lurch again.

With a groan, he sat up, pinching his nose (which he regretted immediately because of the unpleasant way the slime squished from his fingers onto his face) and trying to remember what had happened.

The events at the hotel, the man's story, the strange spray that had landed in his eyes, flashed before him and he gasped, scrambling to his feet.

Jemma

She was in danger, or would have been... the man said he was going to stop it by… by what? His fists clenched in frustration and this time he was oblivious to the way the slime oozed between his fingers as he fought to retrieve the information from his groggy brain.

At last, it came to him.

By taking you away.

Was that really the answer? Taking him away and dumping him in someone's field? If this was a rescue it was the worst one he'd ever experienced, and he'd been rescued enough times that he thought that actually meant something.

'And let's not forget the slime,' he thought, turning his attention to his hands which he slowly opened and closed, grimacing as he watched it string out between his fingers and his palm. 'What the hell even is this and why does being covered in it make anyone safer? Unless the man thought it was so gross it would repel bad guys. Is that his plan? Turning me into Gooey-man?'

Whatever the reason, he needed to get back, find Jemma, make sure she was safe and then figure out what was going on. (Maybe take a long, hot shower too. Extra soap.)

Which brought up his next concern: his complete lack of anything to cover him up. Besides the fact that he was already starting to shiver, he wasn't looking forward to flagging down a car in his current condition (or knocking on the door of the poor farmer whose property he'd been unceremoniously left on). That would certainly be a surprise.

Jemma needed him though and, clothes or no clothes, he wasn't about to let her down.

He briefly debated attempting to make something out of the cornstalks, but quickly decided it would take too long and, anyway, for all he knew they could be covered in fertilizer or pesticides or even creepy, crawly insects.

Wincing when his feet sank into the mud, he started forward, pushing the cornstalks aside as he made his way towards the road. It was freezing and he almost retched at the way his movements made the slime move across his skin, but fortunately, he had been left close to the edge of the road and it wasn't too far a trek.

Bright lights and the rumble of an engine told him that there was a car, about to speed by, and he picked up the pace. Mud splattering behind him, splashing up his legs, he tore through the field, leaping over the short wooden fence that lined its perimeter and bolting after the car.

"Stop!" he yelled, chest burning and still gritty, making his voice gargle near the end. He coughed but his pace didn't falter. "Stop! Help!"

To his immense relief, the car came to a halt, backing up while Fitz ran towards it.

When he reached it, gasping for breath, and his blood had stopped roaring in his ears, he began to notice the way the gravel had dug into the bottom of his feet, and shifted between them uncomfortably. They throbbed painfully where the little rocks had bombarded them and he couldn't remember a time when he'd missed shoes so much. Or pants, he did his best to cover himself up with his hands, but he still felt ridiculously exposed.

The door opened and a man, maybe a few years younger than he was, stepped out, leaving a hand resting lightly on the door as he took him in, tilting his head and raising his eyebrows questioningly.

"Man, what happened to you?" he wondered, sympathy sounding through his bewilderment. "You lose a bet or something?"

/-/-/

It was getting late and though there were no windows in the large, underground lab, both scientists sensed that the sun was long past set, even before the younger one glanced at her watch, letting out a long, impatient groan.

"How long is this thing suppose to take?" she complained, sinking into her chair and lowering her head onto her arm so she viewed the glass jar, filled with tiny buzzing flies, sideways. "It's been over an hour and all that I've learned is that fruit flies are boring, which I already knew."

"Science is patience," Jemma informed her easily, with the air of someone who had repeated that exact phrase several times to the person she was speaking to.

She sat upright in her chair, using her index finger to scroll down the screen of her tablet as she read through one of the preliminary articles which had inspired the experiment they were currently undergoing.

The other scientist squirmed in her seat, sitting up to squish her cheeks between her fists as she puffed out a loud breath. "Okay, but like, how long does it take these guys to finish getting it on?"

"Not to worry Pao, they should be finished soon," Jemma said absently. She glanced up briefly from her readings to give her a small, encouraging smile. "Then we can collect the female and set her up in her own jar, a nice quiet space for to lay her eggs."

"Do you really think her babies are going to be able to detect if someone's been brainwashed?" Pao wondered curiously, turning her attention away from the jar to look towards Jemma.

"There have been promising results using their sensory organs to detect cancerous cells," Jemma answered, setting her tablet onto the desk and striding over to where her friend sat. She leaned against the table, crouching to get a better look inside the jar and her voice lit with excitement as she continued. "I believe we can use the same systems to detect neurons which have been altered by brainwashing technology, they emit slightly different levels of metabolic waste than regular neurons and the flies are sensitive enough to detect those differences. They really are fascinating creatures."

"I just hope my sensors are good enough to translate the signal into something we can understand," Pao mumbled, her shoulders sinking as she breathed out a long sigh. "It's hard to decipher the readings from the flies you haven't modified."

"Which is why I'm hoping I've successfully ensured this generation's offspring inherit the mutation," she told her, giving her shoulder a quick pat. "Everyone trying something new is bound to hit a few bumps, you just need to keep at it and be patient, and-" Her smile widened as her gaze shifted back to the flies. "And you'll get there eventually," she finished, carefully pulling off lid and scooping the newly mated female into a tiny test tube.

"It took you two long enough," Pao scolded the miniscule flying insects. Crossing her arms at the male as the female was dropped into its new enclosure. "Now I'm only going to have an hour to get ready for the Agent's Ball."

"Oh no, is that tonight?" Jemma gasped, frowning as she finished clicking on the lid. "Pao I'm so sorry, no wonder you were so keen to get out of here. Why didn't you say anything?"

The other girl shrugged, unconcerned. "It's not that big a deal," she said. Her nail found a piece of tape that had been left stuck to the table and she scratched nervously at it. "Well… yeah, OK, maybe it is a little. I don't know… Is it a big deal?"

Jemma's mouth had curved up in a small, amused smile. "Context please," she requested, sitting back down her desk and swiveling her chair to give Pao her full attention.

"Oh, right, I haven't told you yet have I?" she realized. She pulled out a rolling chair and wheeled it over to sit next to Jemma, plopping down onto it excitedly. "I'm going with Sutty."

"That's wonderful!" Jemma grinned. "You've been talking about asking her for ages now. When-?"

Pao rubbed the back of her neck, chuckling nervously. "Actually, she asked me. Hey, don't look so surprised at that," she complained when Jemma's eyebrows rose.

She held up her hands defensively. "I'm not… I'm not surprised. I'm just… happy. For you." Her hands fell onto her lap and she shot her friend another small smile, though there was a subtle tang of sadness hiding in this one. "Romance is a ride well worth buckling up for."

For all its subtlety, the change in Jemma's demeanor did not go unnoticed. Pao chewed her lip, looking her up and down with concern before rolling her chair a few inches closer.

"You're not going, are you?" she guessed quietly.

Jemma managed to shove up another half-smile before averting her gaze. Her shoulders rose and fell and she shook her head, eyes far away. "I- I have work to do anyway," she told her evasively. "I wanted to read through a few more studies, see if I've missed anything that could speed up our progress."

"I can stay and help," Pao offered.

"And miss out on your date?" Jemma tutted disapprovingly. "No. You go have fun, I'll be fine. It's just a bit of reading." When she continued to stare at her anxiously, Jemma rose to her feet, gathering up her tablet. "Go on. I'll be in my bunk if you need me for anything, but I'm sure it's going to go splendidly."

Pao stood too, rubbing her arm uncomfortably. "Uhh…. Jemma?"

Jemma swiveled around, tilting her head questioningly. "Did you need something?"

"Well…" She shifted from one foot to the other, glancing away. "I know it's not really any of my business… but Skye said…" She took a breath and looked back up. "She said if you're not going to the ball, she wants you to call her."

A groan escaped her and Jemma rolled her eyes. "Of course she did."

"She's worried about you," Pao admitted.

She made a noise somewhere between a squeak and a grunt. "I'm fine," she insisted. "I'm just… busy… that's all." She shrugged. "I'm passionate about my work, about science. It's nothing to be concerned about. I'll still call her," she added quickly when Pao opened her mouth to protest. "There's no need for you to be running around, worrying about me."

"You're my friend," Pao told her simply. "I want you to be happy."

Jemma smiled warmly at her. "That's sweet, but do you know what would make me happy? Hearing about how your date went over tea tomorrow morning." Her nose scrunched. "You'll have to give me all the thrilling details."

That made Pao grin sheepishly, staring down at her feet as she swayed back and forth. "I might be up a little later tomorrow- if… I mean because it goes until midnight so… not too late. Just late for you."

"Then it'll be well worth the wait," Jemma chuckled. "Now go on before you're late to the ball."

She watched her scamper off, glancing once more over her shoulder before leaving the lab to skip down the hallway.

It wasn't until the sound of her footsteps had faded, that Jemma allowed her eyes to close and her shoulders to drop. Her fingers pushed lightly against the wool of her sweater, finding the small lump of metal hidden underneath, a locket that hung over her heart, and she held it as she attempted to ground herself.

She would call Skye, or she knew her friend would come find her, but not yet. For now she had studies to read, and experiments to run, something she truly did love, and maybe if she was lucky she'd be able to lose herself in her work for a few more hours.

If she could just tune everything else out for a few more hours, she could forget the thing she didn't want to think about or at least hide it away somewhere it didn't hurt so much.

/-/-/

That thing about the fruit flies and detecting cancer cells is real. From what I understood, they are working on ways to translate the signals received by the fruit flies directly into a message on a computer (rather than relying on behavioral cues like they do with other animals, which can be unreliable). That's what I remember anyway, I may be getting some of the details wrong. But I figured detecting brainwashed people wasn't such a step further :D

The Fringe reference in this chapter is the line "Science is patience." Walter tells this to Astrid when they are working with frogs and she responds "It's also slimy"

Pao is the name of a character from the book The Telling. She dies before the beginning of the book (I don't think that's a spoiler?) , but she always seemed like such a great character and it was so sad the her and Sutty never got a happy ending, so I put a pair with the same names in this fic (though her character is very different).

Thanks again to notapepper for all you help with this chapter :D