5
Jemma could not fall asleep the first night in the apartment. She stared at her alarm clock, the same one she had in her room in the Bus and at the Playground. Maybe it was the yellow colored walls that were a vast change from the typical black and grey SHIELD color scheme. A little after midnight, Jemma picked herself off the freshly made sheets. This wasn't home to her, but she had act like it was.
The apartment made an entirely different spectrum of noises then her previous habitats. She could hear water run through the pipes when her neighbor ran the kitchen sink. A family of birds lived in the tree outside of living room window; she could hear them shuffle in and out of the leaves. She was so used to seeing open sky and clouds from the view of the Bus.
Jemma couldn't remember the last time she had a good sleep. It had to have been before the Insight events in D.C. She had stayed up most nights worrying over Fitz or just plain worrying. She would sit in the kitchen of the playground and make tea over and over again. Drinking only half the cup she knew it was wasteful, but that had been the only way to soothe her running mind.
Coulson would walk into the kitchen almost all of those nights that he was at the Playground. He'd sit with her and have a cup discussing what they both new would need to happen. Coulson just didn't know how soon she needed to leave.
There were two people in the world that depended on Jemma Simmons. Coulson knew from day one he met Jemma that they would always be her priority. Soon after Fury had fished Fitz and her out of the ocean, Coulson set up a secure line for Jemma to make her important phone call.
Roman's voice was at the other end of the call. She expected it, but wasn't happy about it.
"A week," he said.
Jemma wasn't sure if Fitz would be out of her coma by then but she had no choice.
With her pantry empty, Jemma looked to the phonebook the landlord had handed her. She called a cab and asked the driver to take her to any convenience store that might be open at this late hour. Good thing 7-11's were plentiful in suburban America.
Jemma asked the taxi driver to wait for her. Hanging outside of the store were a bunch of teenagers, knocking back sips of energy drinks and fiddling with their skateboard wheels. One of them beckoned Jemma to buy them alcohol.
"Sorry boys, not tonight," Jemma sailed past them into the store.
She scanned the aisles of junk food until she spotted a few boxes of tea. She piled Earl Grey and green tea into her arms, grabbed a carton of milk and checked out at the register. She put her groceries in the back of the cab but asked him for another moment. She ran back to the store and asked if she could use the store's phone. She made up some emergency. The clerk obliged, perhaps because of her English charm, perhaps because he was bored and she was harmless.
She called a number she had memorized on the plane ride, praying it would be picked up.
"Glad to hear you got the number right," Coulson's voice came over.
Jemma sighed with relief, her back against the break room's wall, her free hand cupping her forehead.
"Oh, Sir, so glad I got ahold of you. I have news for you," she said, trying to make the call quick despite wanting to stay on the line forever.
"Shoot," he said. She knew he didn't have all the time in the world either.
"Roman is going to have me work as a scientist for Hydra…I-I don't know if I can do it," she gushed.
"This can put us at an advantage, you know you have no choice in doing this, you're going to have to do it. Just forget for the moment who they are and do your job, do science. I have news for you as well, this may make it easier for you, would you like to hear it?" Coulson responded.
"Of course," Jemma replied.
"Fitz woke up today. I'm not sure he understands yet if you're gone or not, he's very confused. But he'll be better now. Call me again tomorrow form a secure location so we can set up dead-drops. Goodnight," Coulson finished.
"Thank you, sir. And good night to you too," she responded.
"One more thing, don't forget to get some sleep."