Law & Order: MCU
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Part Six
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"Jesus. Look a' all o' this."
Jemma, Fitz, and Triplett were crushed together at the kitchen counter, eyes glued to Fitz's laptop, watching as file after file popped up on the screen. The light on Skye's flashdrive blinking steadily as everything downloaded.
"All of these files," Jemma mumbled, "they're all about John Garrett."
"It's everything we couldn't find," Triplett agreed. "Why would Skye have all of this?"
"I don't – I don't know." She shook her head. "Maybe it was for a job?" Jemma's fingers reached over Fitz's to begin typing, implementing search protocols, looking for Hydromorphodiazecodone or what would have been its more consumer friendly name, Panacetex, in the files, but neither of them produced any results. Her fingers flew over the keys, searching for Raina or Grant Ward, but she didn't find anything on them either. "Hmmm."
"It's all Garrett specific," Fitz thought aloud. "Interestin'."
He took her lead while her hands hovered over the keys and ran his own search for several other buzz words that had cropped up during their investigation, and he found a few – bank records indicating that Garrett was paying off Kaminsky, and a few other police officers in different precincts around the state. There was a list of aliases, a list of bank accounts in his name, and proof that Lake Lerna Industries was funneling money into a religious sect referred to as the Ashlesha group.
"When you brought all of those missing persons files here, you said there were rumors amongst the homeless population about a cult upstate. People kept disappearing, but the police hadn't found any evidence." Jemma swallowed the rest of what she had been about to say as Fitz scrolled through more files, reading at lightning speed.
"The Ashlesha group," Triplett agreed. "This is – Skye is – she managed to put it all together when no one was even launching a formal investigation into those missing people."
"But she doesn't have anything in here about the drug, which means she didn't know about any of that before she was taken," Jemma cut in.
"No," Fitz agreed. "I think the cult is Garrett's way of coverin' his tracks. He looks like a supporter o' this religious group if people donnae look too deep, like his company's givin' ta charity. But with everythin' Skye found, ye can see he actually owns both groups. He's funnelin' tha money back inta his own pocket, populatin' his little cult with runaways and homeless people tha' willnae be missed. This is proof tha' he's guilty o' money launderin' at tha very least. We get Skye away from 'em an' she can testify ta kidnappin' an' grand theft, corporate espionage, we can make a case fer him as a terrorist if we can prove he's behind the theft o' the drug fer use instead o' business."
"How would we even be able to prove that though?" Jemma asked.
"We'd have to catch them in the act," Triplett said easily. There was a pause as they all stared at one another. "You aren't going to yell at me when I say that Doctor Simmons is going to have to go back to work, are you?" He directed his last question at Fitz, who calmly walked away from the computer and opened up Triplett's takeout.
"Jemma," Fitz started as he unpacked a container of rice, needing something to do with his hands, "ye need ta think abou' this carefully."
"This isn't just about Skye or those missing people anymore," she responded quickly. "We have to stop them."
"Yeah. We do," Fitz agreed slowly. "I wasnae goin' ta try an' stop ye," he said, though the way he gripped the next container he pulled out indicated otherwise. "But jus' because we know wha' they're after doesnae mean they're goin' ta steal it tomorrow. If they've got people on tha inside, they either donnae know where the information on tha drug is, or – "
"They're waiting to make sure the theft goes unnoticed," Trip concluded, hand slapping the counter in frustration. "We have no idea when they're going to go after it."
"Yes, we do," Jemma said. "Skye told me… She must have known that I would be looking for her."
"What?"
"She said I should get into some shenanigans."
"Okay…"
Jemma smiled suddenly. "When Skye moved in with me last year, it was right before the annual holiday party. For a company full of lab technicians and salespeople, they never miss an opportunity to put the research on pause and throw a party. It's the only time anyone drops their focus. I joked with Skye that I never went to the company parties because I couldn't afford to get into any drunken shenanigans." She laughed. "She teased me every time there was a party and said that no one used the word shenanigans anymore, that it was silly. If she used that word, the party's important."
"Are ye sayin' we've got ta wait another month before they try ta steal anythin'?"
"No. There's a company Halloween party this weekend, and employees are encouraged to dress in costume. Don't you see? It's perfect! They can dress up like cat burglars, wear masks, anything, as long as they have ID badges to get in, no one is going to question them, and they've got someone on security, so he can make them ID badges! They can blend in, and with all the party activities that go on, no one is going to question a couple of people on a floor where there isn't alcohol or music. They'll have the run of the place."
Fitz scratched the back of his neck. "When is this party?"
"Tomorrow," Jemma said smugly, trying not to laugh. "That's probably why they let Skye call. Her calling is supposed to make me feel better so that if I've been looking, I stop looking too hard, right? And it's their show of goodwill for her so she'll be inclined to help them." She seemed very proud of herself for reaching that conclusion.
"Have you been marathoning cop shows while we've been working?" Triplett joked.
"I might have watched a few," she muttered.
"This is all well an' good fer ye, yer an employee, but how're Trip an' I supposed to get in?"
"Fitz," Trip walked around the counter to clap his partner on the shoulder. "It's a party! I'm sure she can bring a date!"
"Right." He handed Triplett a container of curry without looking at them. "Ye should take Trip in with ye. Ye already got him in once as yer boyfriend fer an interview."
"Nah," Triplett told them before Jemma could say anything. He grinned as he added, "We broke up. I wasn't responsible enough for her, skipped out on the interview she got me and everything."
-o-
Jemma had not been happy with the prospect of having to go out and track down costume pieces for a Halloween party just days before the holiday, but after attempting to put together a costume from the few things in the apartment that were not a normal part of her or Skye's wardrobes, all she found was a hula skirt (Skye's), the Cat in the Hat's top hat (Jemma's), Harry Potter glasses (she couldn't remember if those were hers or Skye's, but either way, she wasn't wearing those), an Albert Einstein wig (Jemma's), and a Miss America sash (Skye's). Not the best blend of items to create a costume.
She knew the costume was just to help her blend in, but she couldn't help but think about the number of assistants to the big bosses and female scientists who were going to take this opportunity to show as much skin as possible. If Fitz was going to be distracted by anyone during their little undercover operation, it was going to be her, not one of her coworkers who could be doubling as an evil spy. She resigned herself to having to brave the festive crowds with their pumpkin spice lattes and trendy scarves that would be snapping up last minutes outfits from mostly empty shelves.
Much to her surprise though, she found the perfect outfit for herself, and some much needed blue paint for Fitz.
"Fitz, you have to hold still or I'm going to end up getting this face paint in your hair. You do not want to have to get blue face paint out of your curls, trust me." Jemma very carefully used a makeup brush to fill in the space between the two blue lines she had already drawn on Fitz's face.
"Do I wan' ta know why ye know tha'?" He raised an eyebrow, not caring if it ended up blue too.
A smile curved on her face and she pursed her lips before replying, "I played the blue fairy in a children's play of Pinocchio when I was very small. My teacher used blue face paint to tint my hairline, threw a bunch of glitter on me, thought that made me look more ethereal. My fringe was blue for nearly a week. She didn't realize the pigment would essentially dye my hair."
"Ye were a fairy?" His smile stretched as far as it could, pulling his muscles taught, and she poked him sharply with the brush to get him to stop, but it didn't make a difference. "I bet ye were adorable."
"If you stop moving around so much, maybe I'll show you a picture sometime."
Fitz went completely still, dropping the grin from his face, and lowering his eyebrow. His eyes bored into hers, and her mouth twitched in amusement. Taking one step closer to him, Jemma concentrated on covering the strip of his skin on his face with the cheap blue paint. His breath on her wrist raised goose bumps on her skin, but she controlled her own breathing, willing her heartbeat to stay steady. When she leaned down, tilting his head up with a finger under his chin, she felt his breathing pick up, and she smiled in satisfaction.
Good. It wasn't just her then.
"Okay," she said softly, as she surveyed her work a moment longer, "you are all set. You can put on the rest of your costume now. I'm going to go change."
Fitz stood and looked at himself in the mirror hanging in one corner of the living room.
"Did ye 'ave ta use so much blue?"
"I'm just trying to make sure people recognize the costume and don't look too closely at who you really are. If you didn't want the blue face paint, you could have picked a different character. But you said you already had most of the costume."
"It's no' exactly a costume."
Jemma smiled at him. "No one's going to know that your tartan isn't the same as William Wallace's. Now, finish getting ready! We should leave soon." She called the other words over her shoulder as she made her way down the hall to her bedroom. She changed as quickly as possible, throwing her dress on and giving herself a quick coat of mascara. While other women would probably wear sexy stilettos on a night like tonight, Jemma couldn't afford to be unable to run down the stairs if anything went wrong, so she grabbed a pair of boots instead.
When she marched her way back to the living room, she found Fitz sitting on the couch, eyes flitting around the room nervously. In his kilt and vest, he really was the perfect image of a Scottish warrior for independence. She leaned against the frame in the entryway, just wanting to take in the image of Fitz in costume in her living room for a moment. If she set aside the fact that they were going out to thwart the plans of a group of criminals, and hopefully find a way to save Skye, then she could pretend that this was a real date, and at some point she was going to get to see a lot more of him than just his bare legs and arms. Taking a deep breath, Jemma willed herself to stop thinking that way and focus on the task at hand – getting into the company party and finding the evil-doers.
"Ready?" she asked, stepping forward so he could see her.
"Yeah – I –" His eyes moved down to her dress, but he quickly snapped them back up to meet her gaze. "Are ye tha TARDIS?"
She nodded with another smile. "There were only a handful of costumes left, and I actually liked this one. It's cute." She brushed her hands along the A-line skirt of her dress, fingers playing along the Police Telephone plaque printed on the bottom. "What do you think?"
"It's perfect."
"Good." Jemma nodded, her cheeks pink, spotting the leather bag still sitting on the coffee table. "Fitz, you need to wear the bag to hide your gun."
"I'm no' usin' one o' Skye's old purses ta carry my gun."
"It doesn't even look like a purse. It looks like an old fashioned satchel. Where else are you going to put your gun?"
"It's a purse! Can't I just – " He picked his gun up off the coffee table, and gestured to the sporran on his kilt, the small belted bag centered on his waist, and popped it open, attempting to squeeze his handgun into the small space.
"That will never fit in there," she remarked with a shake of her head.
A smirk crossed his face and she flushed further, but instead of responding, he tested a couple of different positions with his gun, trying to make it work.
She waited patiently, not even tapping her foot, while he exhausted his options and looked down at his outfit with a pout. When he sighed and shoved his police issued weapon, handcuffs, badge, phone, and an extra clip into the purse, Jemma tried not to giggle. She lengthened the strap as far as she could so he could wear it across his chest, making it look more like a piece of the costume than a fashion accessory, and when he pulled it over his head and carefully positioned it, it completed his look perfectly.
"See? Now no one will know you're a detective in disguise as a freedom fighter."
-o-
Jemma smiled at Seth at the front desk, showing her employee badge and announcing a plus one, standing neatly in front of Fitz so he wouldn't see his face very well. Seth just nodded his head and waved her in, barely giving her a second glance. Callie, the receptionist at his side, gave Fitz an appreciative once over though until she caught Jemma's eye. The receptionist winked at her in approval and Jemma grinned.
Callie leaned across the desk, leaving Seth to check in the next set of guests on his own, and looked around before gesturing for Jemma to come closer. Fitz, looking at something on his phone, wasn't paying attention. "Two hot guys in one week, Jemma? I'm impressed. You're going to have to tell me your secret."
She shrugged modestly. "Just lucky, I guess," she joked.
"Yeah. I wish we could all be that lucky," Callie teased. "Have fun. I'll see you in there later."
"Trip jus' texted," Fitz informed her while they walked. "He's in tha parking lot if we need him. He says jus' call."
"Good." Jemma reached out when some of her coworkers looked at her in surprise and let her fingers rest on Fitz's elbow. "Did you see that," she asked him quietly, patting his arm with her clutch. "When we checked in at security, all of the monitors were black. They've already cut the cameras! Do you think we're too late?"
"No, tha party's jus' started. They need there ta be enough people here ta have someone ta blame it on, an' they need people ta be liquored up enough ta not notice tha thievin'." He moved one hand to her lower back and led her into the thick of the party. "Keep yer eyes peeled for anyone we know from Lake Lerna, yeah?"
"Yes. Okay."
-o-
"Ooooh, a Braveheart, huh? I haven't seen one of those in years," a tiny woman in a French maid's outfit cooed, teetering on her stilettos. Drink in hand, breasts threatening to fall from her miniscule ensemble at any moment, Fitz thought he could have been back at a bad University kegger where loose morals were more common than flat beer. These people were supposed to be scientists. Shouldn't they be a bit more buttoned up?
"His name is actually William Wallace," Fitz tried to defend his countryman. Everyone remembered the movie, no one remembered the history behind it.
She giggled, reaching out a hand. "And you can even do the accent… Is your costume completely authentic?" She shot a glance toward his waist.
"Excuse me?" For the first time that night, Fitz was grateful for the blue paint striped down his face. Hopefully no one around him could see just how deeply crimson his unpainted skin had flushed.
"Well, I hear that the Scots don't wear anything under their kilts…" she trailed off suggestively, her fingers grabbing onto the strap of his bag, and Fitz hastily took a step back, right into Jemma, who had been focused on looking for familiar faces in the crowd of costumed people. This woman was inches away from finding his gun, and while he probably could have flirted his way out of this conversation, he just wanted her gone.
"Jemma!" He announced loudly, and with more relief than he probably needed to since she had only been two steps behind him the entire time. He turned, slipping an arm around her waist and dropping a kiss to the top of her head.
"Hi," she said softly, staring up at him with a question in her eyes. He hoped he wasn't overstepping, but they were supposed to be pretending to be dating, weren't they?
"Oh," the drunk French maid cut in with a pout, "you're with Dr. Simmons."
"Yes. Yes, he is," Jemma remarked firmly, realizing what had been going on while she wasn't paying attention. She leaned her hip more firmly into his grip. "Go find someone else."
"Tha' was – very direct," Fitz commented as he watched the French maid wobble away, still pouting.
"She has a habit of getting completely pissed at every company party and, erm – well, hooking up, with someone in one of the supply closets. Every company has someone like that, don't they? She'll be fine. Probably won't take her more than ten minutes to find someone else. She's just looking for a bit of fun." Jemma nodded, not moving away from him, but leaning closer instead, one hand curling over his shoulder, telling herself she was just keeping up the pretense. She went up on her toes and tilted her head. "Do you think the party's well enough underway," she whispered in his ear, her lips brushing his earlobe just enough that anyone looking at them would think she was simply having an intimate conversation with her boyfriend, the slight shiver he gave at the contact and his arm tightening around her selling their relationship for the room, "that we can sneak out to another floor?"
"Based on tha amount o' empty plastic cups and slurred words, yeah, I think we're good." He pulled her tight against his side and maneuvered them through the crowd to the stairwell at the far end of the hallway. "Have ye seen anyone other than Seth at security?"
"No. No one I recognize." She secured her clutch to her wrist with the tiny strap, not wanting to lose it while they worked.
Just as they reached the door to the stairs, a chorus of ooohs and ahhs sounded from behind them, so Jemma turned to look. There, standing with Sitwell, who was dressed as some sort of superhero that she didn't recognize, was a woman in a green leotard and tights, real flowers wound into her hair, vines tangled around her arms and seemingly into the fabric of her clothing, green glitter making her sparkle in the harsh fluorescent lighting.
"Fitz, what's the name of the woman in Batman with all the plants," she whispered, worry swooping in and settling low in her stomach.
"Poison Ivy," he supplied, turning around to look as well, not bothering to protest that just because he recognized her TARDIS dress didn't mean he was well versed in other nerd lore.
"It's Raina," she told him as the woman thanked admirers, spinning, and allowing people to touch her costume. "She's definitely the same woman who had Skye hack Sitwell's email."
"Probably tha woman from tha restauran' too."
It was really happening. They were here. Jemma felt a tightness in her chest, but she ignored it. She was doing this.
"She's probably supposed to keep an eye on things down here, right? Make sure Sitwell doesn't know what's going on?"
"Yeah. Let's go before she notices people leavin'." He took her hand and pulled Jemma into the stairwell with him, pausing to listen for the sound of anyone else's footsteps. "We need ta hurry. Where're we goin'?"
"Third floor," Jemma told him as they climbed, fingers still tangled together. "We need to get to the research, make sure they can't take it with them."
They made it up the stairs and into the archive room without incident. Fitz stayed at the door, one hand in his makeshift-satchel resting on his gun, just in case. He wasn't supposed to use it when not on official police business, but desperate times called for desperate measures. Jemma was placing herself in huge danger here, and he wasn't about to let her run around without some sort of protection.
She thumbed through the files in the cabinet quickly, locating all of the research on hydromorphodiazecodone in a matter of minutes, pulling the folder from the drawer and sitting it on top of the cabinet before something occurred to her.
"We're supposed to catch them in the act, right?" Jemma whispered in the dimly lit room. "We need proof about what they're up to?"
"Yeah."
"Okay…" Jemma thought for a moment before she began flicking through the file and pulling out specific pages.
"Wha' on earth are ye doin'?" Fitz hissed from the door. "We need ta hurry."
"I'm removing everything from the file that has any information about the specific chemical components of the Panacetex. If they don't know how to manufacture it, they can't manufacture it. But – "
"They can still take the file and they can be caught with company documents." Fitz relaxed against the door, just a tad. "Jemma, yer brilliant."
If she noticed the awe in his voice, she tried not to show it. Instead, she chewed thoughtfully on her lip while she worked, placed the folder back into the cabinet, and rolled the rest of the papers together, bounding over to Fitz and slipping them into his bag before sending a quick text to Trip so he'd know where they were.
"Ready," she told him with a smile.
"Where ta next?" He asked her with an answering grin of his own.
"Eighth floor." Jemma swallowed, and her grin dropped away. "Wait, no." She furrowed her brow and thought. "Oh, Fitz, I didn't think. In order to access the sample of Panacetex that we've got in cold storage, we'll need an access code into the refrigeration section. Access codes are given out based on what projects you're assigned. Mine probably won't work. I'm cleared for the research, but not for experimenting with archived drugs."
"But Sitwell's will."
"Well, yes, but they've probably already got it."
"Where's Sitwell's office?"
"Twelfth floor."
"Bloody stairs," Fitz groaned as he grabbed her hand and led her to the stairwell again.
"Fitz, I don't understand. We can't hack his access codes. What are we doing?" She whispered the words to him, just in case there was anyone else in the stairwell above them.
"If they already had a way ta get inta cold storage, they wouldnae 'ave needed Skye," he pointed out. "Ye said Sitwell's computer is on a closed network. They wouldnae be able ta access it remotely."
"You think she's here?" Jemma halted on the steps, her grip on his hand tightening. "We can stop them and save her."
"Le's hope."
"But if she's in there, she's probably not alone."
"An' if she's no' there yet, we've got a chance to try an' figure out how ta get his codes."
Jemma let him pull her up the next flight of stairs. She hadn't considered when they planned on stealing the drug and its research right out from under Lake Lerna's nose that they might actually run into trouble. She had just assumed they could get in and get out, and everything would be fine. It hadn't occurred to her that these people would have brought Skye along for the ride.
They had just reached their eighth set of stairs, and she was panting, when the door above them opened. She and Fitz glanced at one another in surprise, but then he moved, pushing her against the wall, and waiting to see if the person was heading up or down.
Footsteps came toward them, and Jemma acted on impulse. They were supposed to be a couple, right? She reached up, grabbing the v-neck of his vest, and pulled his head down to hers. She very carefully kissed him, hoping against hope she had positioned the blue face paint well enough that she wasn't going to pull back later and look like a smurf.
It only took about ten seconds for her to not care remotely about the smurf possibility and completely tune out the sound of footsteps, her back arching off the wall and Fitz's hand tangling in her hair as he returned her kiss.
"Uh – you two really should be downstairs at the party."
Fitz was the one who let out a slight whine when she pulled back from him, and she couldn't stop her smirk at that. She noted, before raising just her eyes over his shoulder, that she had managed not to smudge any of the paint. Luckily for them, it wasn't Seth in the security guard uniform behind Fitz, who probably would have realized that something was off, it was Donnie. Apparently, the foster siblings had been a package deal after all.
"Oh, hi!" She said, bubbling over with false cheer. It wasn't too difficult to feign drunkenness when kissing Fitz had made her brain feel like bubbling champagne. "Mmmm…. My boyfriend's never been here before. I thought I'd give him the tour," she explained meaningfully. She found this whole lying thing much easier with Fitz pressed up against her. Then again, maybe she wasn't exactly lying…
"Oh." Donnie seemed confused at her response. "Oh." He cleared his throat awkwardly, his eyes straying to the stairs above them and then back down. "Well, um, just…. Stay out of the restricted zones? Wouldn't want to have to come back and catch you setting off any alarms." His face was bright red as he hurried down the stairs and exited on the next floor.
"You made 'im very uncomfortable," Fitz teased her.
"Good." She laughed, then wondered aloud, "should we be worried that we're getting very good at distracting the bad guys with our snogging?"
"I think worried is tha wrong word," he pretended to think about it, "I actually think we could use more practice."
"Do you?" Jemma pretended to consider his words as well, heart pounding, but then ducked out from under the arm he had braced on the wall. "Well, let's go find some more bad guys then, shall we?" She held out her hand to him, smiling when he twined their fingers back together, joining her to walk up the next flight of stairs. She could get used to the feel of his hand in hers. Under better circumstances, of course.
They crept slowly along the carpeted hallway on the twelfth floor, just outside of Jasper Sitwell's office. Fitz moved so that he was in front of her, and leaned forward to listen for footsteps, voices, the clacking of computer keys, anything that meant there was someone else there. He didn't hear anything, but Donnie had come from this direction. He kept one hand in Jemma's and the other on the flap of Skye's purse in case he needed to grab his gun. It was becoming something of a habit.
"Come on," he whispered.
She nodded and followed him into Sitwell's office, keeping her eyes peeled for movement.
Fitz checked and double checked the office while Jemma strode to Sitwell's computer.
"Donnie mus' be doin' a security sweep, checkin' ta see if tha floors're clear before they send anyone up," Fitz remarked, joining Jemma at the desk. "We probably donnae have much time."
He started to rub his face, but remembered the blue paint. Nervous habits would have to wait.
Jemma opened the login box and put in Sitwell's employee ID number. But when the password box cropped up, she looked at Fitz helplessly.
"On yer computers, do ye get ta choose yer own password?"
"Yes."
"Any specifics? Do ye have ta have so many number or symbols?"
"No, most of the system itself uses numeric sequences, like the keypads to cold storage, but for our own files, there aren't any restrictions, why?"
"Because mos' people pick things tha are easy ta remember. Sitwell's no' a computer expert or a scientist, he's a business man. He's probably gonna have somethin' simple. Like his house number or his birthday."
"You think he'd be that stupid?"
"Trip said ye complimented his elbows. And he liked it."
"Point taken… Okay," Jemma paced, trying to remember if the staff had ever had a cake brought in for Sitwell's birthday. She vaguely recalled mention of it at the holiday party last year. "Try 120873."
"Ye sure?"
"Yes."
It didn't work. An ugly read screen told them the password was incorrect.
"How many chances do ye get before the system locks ye out?"
"Three."
Jemma brought her hands up to her hair, threading her fingers through it and pulling slightly, undoing the knots Fitz had left her with in the stairwell. The fidgeting helped her think while she paced.
"Jemma, yer makin' me dizzy."
"Sorry. I just… I don't know very much about him. We've had very limited interactions, and the last time, I was too nervous to really pay a lot of attention."
"Well, we know he's not married and he's got a boat."
"Lemurian Star is too long of a password. It only has to be five characters, ten maximum." She stopped her pacing and looked at Fitz. "It only has to be five characters," she repeated. "But we do have to routinely change our passwords. At least once a month… How long do you think he's been seeing Raina?"
"Probably jus' long enough fer a password change," Fitz agreed, typing out the letters. The screen faded to black and the system opened up in front of them. "Ye really are brilliant," he repeated his earlier praise and placed a quick kiss to her forehead before turning back to the screen and doing a fast search to find the assigned access codes. Jemma went very still, not bothering to hide her grin.
"Got it. 492741 ta get inta cold storage. 800340 ta remove tha sample. Okay. Remember tha'."
"Okay." Jemma turned, ready to go out the door, but then she thought better of it. As Fitz logged Sitwell out, she hit the power button on the computer, not bothering to shut it down correctly, thinking that would buy them a little more time when Skye was brought in to hack it. She looked over at Fitz who was staring at her. "You're not going to tell me I'm brilliant again?" He rolled his eyes and pulled her toward the door and against his side. "But I like it when you tell me I'm brilliant."
"Ye are brilliant," he muttered against her hair, looking both ways in the hall before heading back toward the stairs.
Just as they reached the door to the staircase though, voices came through from the other side.
"Oh, no."
"Come on, we're goin' ta have ta take tha elevator."
"It'll take too long to get here."
"Then we need ta hide."
"Where do you suggest we hide, Fitz?" Jemma hissed at him, panic setting in as he pulled her to the elevator banks and hit the button to call the lift to them.
"In plain sight."
"But – what if they recognize us or – " The door clicked open down the hall, and Fitz cut her off with a searing kiss.
Right. That's how they could hide in plain sight. Of course. The same way they had repeatedly hidden what they were doing.
Jemma tried to move closer to him as he kissed her, and he groaned when her fingers played with the edges of his vest, sliding against bare skin. She was distantly aware of shuffled feet and hissing voices from somewhere behind Fitz, a result of the people coming from the stairs. She tightened her grip on his vest and pulled, indicating they needed to move closer to the elevator doors, and he complied, leaning her back against the wall, his hand bracing his own weight against the wall next to her head to block the view of her face from the door to the stairwell. His other hand slid to the small of her back, fist clenching in the fabric of her dress as his teeth nipped at her lips, and Jesus, Jemma thought, if they weren't careful, they were going to wind up doing a lot more than just hiding until the elevator got there.
She pulled back from him cautiously, her mouth leaving a trail of slow kisses down his jaw and to his neck, and opened her eyes just enough to see that the people from the stairs had used their snogging session as a cover to get into Sitwell's office – one was the man who had met Seth in the alley the other night and the other was "Skye," she breathed into Fitz's ear.
"Wha'?" He froze against her.
"Office," Jemma muttered against his skin by way of explanation.
"Ah – okay." Fitz let out a shuddering breath when she shifted against him.
The sound of the elevator dinged behind them and he directed Jemma inside by slipping his arms around her waist and a nudge of his hips. As soon as the doors shut behind them, he let her go, taking a few quick gulps of air like he couldn't get enough, and whipped out his phone to call Trip. Jemma hit the button for the eighth floor, using Sitwell's code to activate the elevator, hoping someone else wasn't already there waiting for them, and leaned against the metal wall. She watched Fitz as he explained the situation to his partner, her heart caught somewhere in her throat.
"We're on our way ta cold storage. We got the codes. But – " he hesitated, eyes meeting Jemma's, "Skye's here. She's in Sitwell's office with one o' the criminals. She could be in danger." He waited, nodding his head and listening. "Yeah. Tell 'er to send in 'er team. Give 'em enough time ta try an steal everythin' though. Yeah. Five minutes. Donnie and Seth are on security. Last we saw Raina, she was a' tha center o' tha party. No sign o' John Garrett. But Skye's no' ta be arrested…. I know ye know tha' but –" Fitz pulled the phone away from his ear with a shake of his head. "He bloody well hung up on me."
Jemma didn't say anything, just kept watching him. She swallowed, suddenly feeling very claustrophobic in the small elevator. Fitz, realizing she was leaning against the wall, eyes wide, breaths coming quick and harsh, took a small step in her direction.
"Are ye okay?"
"Yeah." Jemma nodded her head. "Yes." She licked her lips. "I just – need to catch my breath, that's all."
"Tha's a good idea."
"Whose team is being sent in? What did Trip say?" She closed her eyes, waiting for an explanation.
"I had 'im give everythin' we had ta his girlfriend."
"His girlfriend?"
"She's an FBI agen'. Did I no' mention tha' before? She's got a team in place, ready ta come in an' arrest all o' them."
"Oh, that's good. Okay." She opened her eyes and found Fitz even closer to her than he was before. "I know where I saw him before, the guy with Skye, he was the same man from the alley."
"Ye got tha' good of a look at 'em?" Fitz asked in surprise. When Jemma blushed, his own skin mirrored her, and he added more gently, "Who is he?"
"Skye and I went out for drinks at that bar down the street from my apartment. You've seen it. They have a bright purple door?"
Fitz nodded his head to indicate he knew what she was talking about.
"He bought us drinks. He hit on Skye. He gave her his number. Fitz, I think –"
"Grant Ward," Fitz interjected.
"Yes… it's almost over."
"Yes."
"We just have to get the drug samples out of cold storage, just in case. We don't want anyone getting away with that."
"Yes."
"Okay. I can do that."
"Jemma, you donnae have ta do anymore. I have tha codes. I can do it." He brushed a few strands of hair from her forehead, letting his fingertips trail down the side of her face.
"Yes I do. Skye would do it for me." She paused, looking him right in the eye, focusing on the pads of his fingers barely grazing her skin. "And I don't want you to go in there alone."
"Okay. Then le's go steal a super drug." He held out one hand and she gratefully locked their fingers together, waiting for the elevator doors to open.
-o-
Fitz cautiously peered through the opening when they came to a stop on the eighth floor. He gave a slight tug on Jemma's hand at seeing the coast was clear, and she quickly hit the buttons for the next few floors below them as well, just in case anyone was keeping an eye on where the lift was going. She saw him shoot her a smile, but she resisted the urge to have him remind her that she was, in fact, brilliant.
The hallway outside the elevator was grey and uninviting. There were only two doors, one that led to the stairwell, and one that led to cold storage.
"We have less than four minutes," Jemma whispered uncertainly, walking up to the keypad.
Fitz punched the code to get inside with his free hand, the door opening with a soft hiss, cold air seeping into the hall around them. Jemma pulled him through the entrance quickly, making sure to push the button on the inner wall to shut the door behind them. It was like a very cold, very sterile, safety deposit box vault at a bank.
"It's bloody freezing in here," Fitz mumbled.
"It's called cold storage for a reason, Fitz. The different samples have to be kept in a narrow temperature range to keep them viable, and there are also samples of viruses that have to be kept cold. Higher temperatures cause those to replicate, like –"
"Jemma," Fitz interrupted her nervous ramble, letting go of her hand, and bracing her shoulders. "I need ye ta focus."
"Right, sorry. Okay." She nodded her head and moved to the control station in the middle of the room, quickly typing the access code to remove the hydromorphodiazecodone from storage. With another hiss, though this one not as pronounced as the entrance door, a drawer slowly slid out from the wall. Jemma rushed to the opening, and pulled the three vials from inside. They each contained just a tiny bit of a fine grey powder.
"Tha's it?" he called.
"Yes. Close the case." She returned to his side as he pushed the button and reset the system. She slipped the vials carefully into her clutch, wedging them in between her phone and keys so they wouldn't move around. She was really starting to feel like a criminal. It was kind of exhilarating when you ignored the fact that you could get caught and go to prison, or that someone might want to kill you.
"All done," Fitz stated softly.
"All done," she agreed.
Skye must have been much faster with Sitwell's computer than they had been because an electronic beeping sound came from the door. Someone was entering a code. Fitz pulled Jemma with him around the back of the control station, where they could hide under the enclosed section of the table.
"That was not four minutes! Fitz, what do we do?"
"Ye stay here." He reached into the bag, retrieving his gun. "I'll hold 'em off, draw 'em away from tha door, an' ye can run. Find an FBI agent."
"No."
"We donnae have time ta argue, Jemma."
She opened her mouth again, but another beep sounded, and the door clicked open with that same hiss, so she didn't get the chance to say anything else. She squeezed her eyes shut in something between frustration and fear, but only for a second, because then she was reaching out and grabbing on to Fitz's arm to make sure he wasn't going anywhere without her.
He mouthed "let go," but she shook her head stubbornly. They had no idea what kinds of weapons those people had on them. She wasn't letting him go. She held fast to his forearm, and shifted slightly to get closer to him, spotting a small fire extinguisher hooked into the panel of the enclosure. She very carefully maneuvered herself so that Fitz couldn't get out from the space without pushing her out of the way. She could feel the frustration coming off him in waves, but she didn't care.
"They really do have amazing facilities here," Donnie's voice came to them. "It's too bad we couldn't really work here."
Jemma gently removed the extinguisher from the clip on the panel, bringing it to her chest and cradling it to herself like it was something precious.
"We never finished school," Seth's voice responded. "Doubt they'd hire a couple of dropouts like us, especially after everything we've done."
Jemma met Fitz's eyes and pulled the pin from the extinguisher, wincing at the light ping it gave. She reached out with one hand to hold on to Fitz's wrist again, nodding at him, shifting so that they could both run if they needed to. Fitz's eyes widened as his thoughts caught up to hers.
"We get this to John, and we can do whatever we want," Donnie reminded his friend.
Keys on the computer clicked above their heads and the drawer on the wall opened with a hiss. If Donnie or Seth made their way over to it, Fitz and Jemma would be directly in their line of sight. Jemma sighed inaudibly, squeezing Fitz's arm reassuringly before letting it go. They were out of options.
Just as Fitz maneuvered to stand and Simmons prepared to let the spray of the extinguisher go, loud shouts came from the entrance, and he forced himself back down, Jemma scrambling to stay hidden by his side.
"FBI! NO ONE MOVE! KEEP YOUR HANDS WHERE WE CAN SEE THEM!"
Fitz leaned his head back in relief, sliding his gun back into the bag. Jemma sagged against him, putting the extinguisher on the ground. She wasn't about to get shot by an overzealous agent who thought she was holding a weapon. Not after everything they'd already been through this week.
-o-
"Come on, Skye. You did your job, it's time to go," Grant grabbed her arm and led her to the stairs.
"Where are we going? We don't get to see the goods?" Skye stumbled after him, barely able to keep up with his long stride.
"Nope, we just get in, give them the codes, and let the boys get Raina what she needs."
"So… what do we do now?"
They ran down the first flight of stairs, then the next.
"We meet Garrett at the car." Grant pulled his phone from his pocket and hit the first button on his speed dial. "Sir," he spoke into the phone, still pulling Skye along.
"What is it, son?"
"Skye's good. We're on our way out. Donnie and Seth are handling the rest."
"Good. Good." There was a pause on the other end of the line, and Grant thought that they might have been disconnected, but Garrett cleared his throat and said, "Take Skye where we took the Zellers."
"Sir?"
"She's done her part. We don't need her anymore. I know you and Raina like her, son, but she's a liability."
"Right. Of course." Grant disconnected and put the phone back in his pocket, pulling Skye along faster.
"Ow. Grant, my arm is attached to the rest of me," Skye admonished, but it was like talking to a wall. "What did he say?"
"Your part's done."
"What does that mean?" He didn't answer her, and it didn't take Skye long to figure it out, though she wished she hadn't. "He wants you to kill me. Are you going to kill me?" Grant let out a strangled sigh that came out more like a growl. "You said you liked me," she reminded him.
He stopped abruptly. "I do, which is why you are going to punch me again so I can say you fought back, and you're going to run out that door and into that hall while I keep going."
"What?"
"I'm letting you get away."
"What about you?"
"Don't worry about me. I can take care of myself."
"Okay… but I'm not punching you again." She hesitated as he walked down a few more steps, but then she turned and she ran, right into a group of FBI agents. She threw her hands into the air. "Help me, please," she told the woman at the front of the group, "I was kidnapped!"
-o-
Two hours later, Jemma and Fitz were huddled together in the parking lot next to his car while Furious Pharmaceuticals employees milled around being questioned by FBI agents in small groups. Callie was shaking her head in shock as Seth and Donnie were marched by her in handcuffs. Dr. Weaver had her arms crossed, telling the agent in front of her that what they were suggesting was ludicrous because this building was one of the most secure facilities in the country. Sitwell just stared straight ahead as Raina smirked her way into the back of a waiting vehicle, arms secured behind her back, the flowers in her hair beginning to wilt, the vines woven through her costume looking more like snakes under the tint of the windows. There was still no Skye.
Fitz unlocked his car, rummaging around in the back seat until he found what he was looking for.
"Hey," an FBI agent called to him. "No one leaves until they've been cleared."
"Relax," Fitz snapped back, "I'm jus' gettin' a jumper for 'er." He nodded his head at Jemma, whose arms were crossed in front of her. "Ye ran everyone outside in tha middle o' fall. It's bloody cold out!"
He tucked it around Jemma's shoulders and she smiled shyly up at him before slipping her arms into the sleeves. Now that everything was over and done, the weight of finding Skye not hanging over their heads, the rest of the world felt like it was moving very quickly around her, like she was standing still and letting something important pass her by.
"Aren't you cold?" she asked by way of starting a conversation.
"Nah. I'm fine." He shuffled his feet awkwardly though, his hands still on her shoulders. He smoothed down the fabric with a sigh and put his arms down by his side. "Jemma, I was thinkin' – I mean – I was hopin' – if ye wanted ta – tha' is – I think we should – I've really liked gettin' to know ya?" He scrunched his face up in confusion when he couldn't find the right words to say.
"I'd love to," Jemma said before he tried again.
"Wha'?"
"You were asking if I'd like to go on a proper date with you?"
"Yes. A proper date. No stakeouts or theft involved."
"Then, yes. I'd like that very much."
"Well, good," Fitz responded awkwardly before recovering himself to grin cheekily at her. "I do 'ave ta warn ye though, I donnae kiss on tha' firs' date."
Jemma laughed, lightly smacking his arm with the back of her hand.
"Dr. Simmons?" A familiar voice asked from the right. "I believe this belongs to you."
Jemma turned her head just as Skye collided with her. She wrapped her arms around her roommate. "Thank goodness. I wasn't sure if they were going to take you away with the others or not." She eyed the FBI agent over Skye's shoulder and gasped. "Natasha?" she asked in surprise.
"Not just May's secretary," The red headed woman told her with a wink. She turned to Fitz. "Always good to see you, Fitz."
"Natasha," he said curtly before mumbling, "Always slightly terrifying to see you." Louder, he added, "Thanks fer tha help. Any sign o' Garrett?"
"Not yet, but we've got a few good leads thanks to your friend here." She nodded her head at Skye, who was still squeezing the life out of Jemma. "Sif's got you guys cleared to go if you want to take them home. Trip's working crowd control, probably won't leave until Sif does. You know how that goes. The press release won't name any names, just say that a couple of confidential informants and an anonymous source within the company helped take them down." She rolled her eyes. "No one gets in trouble for theft or hacking."
"Thanks."
"What the hell kind of a name is Sif," Skye asked pulling away from Jemma to survey her companions for the first time.
"It's short for Josephine. She hates it. Thinks Sif makes her sound fierce," Natasha said with a smile. "Get some sleep. You guys look like hell." She paused to look at Jemma. "And Dr. Simmons? Burn all the research, okay? We don't need another case like this." She waved them off and shouted to another agent a few parking spaces down, "Barton, you better not be taking witness phone numbers for your personal collection!"
"Skye," Jemma started, "this is Fitz. He's my – detective. He helped me find you."
"Why is his face blue?"
"'s war paint," Fitz joked. "I'm William Wallace."
Skye looked him up and down and whistled in approval. "Nice." She cocked her head to the side and eyed Jemma suspiciously. "Why is your face blue?"
"I'm a TARDIS. They are blue."
"Yeah, but you're not all blue." Skye looked at their costumes, then back up at their faces, the pieces slowly falling into place. "Oh my god, you were the handsy couple at the elevator!" She cackled with laughter. "I get kidnapped for one week, Jemma, and you go and get a boyfriend!" She shook her head in amusement. "He's cute," she told Jemma loud enough for Fitz to hear.
"Mmm." Jemma flicked her gaze over to Fitz and smiled. "Get in the car, Skye."
"No, seriously, Jemma, he's like really cute," Skye stage whispered. Fitz fought down a chuckle while Jemma's face flushed crimson. Skye looked closer at her dress, pulling at the sweater she was wearing to get a better view. "Aw, and you are the TARDIS. And this dress is adorable on you." She turned to eye Fitz, her expression making it clear that she expected him to agree with her even though she had just met him. "She looks good, right? Even with the face paint."
"Skye," Jemma warned with an eye roll.
"She looks great," Fitz agreed, his attention moving back to Jemma with a smile. "Even with the paint."
"I like him," Skye decided with a nod.
Jemma returned his smile, forgetting that she should be paying attention to her newly recovered roommate.
"You know, they wouldn't let me watch any TV while they had me. I missed this week's episode of Doctor Who. Don't tell me what happened! God, you know what else I missed? Cheeseburgers. I was on the freaking oatmeal and rubbery chicken diet with those people. Can we get a cheeseburger," Skye babbled, knowing that the two of them were no longer paying her any mind, but too happy to be back to really be bothered by it. "With pickles? And those fries that are huge? God, you really appreciate fries when you can't have them, you know –"
"Get in the car, Skye," Jemma and Fitz told her in unison.
-o-
One month later…
-o-
"If this is a party, do I finally get to meet the infamous Sif?" Skye asked, taking a sip from the beer bottle in front of her.
Trip popped the top from his own bottle and rolled his eyes at her. "She said she'd come by after she finishes up with her paperwork. Don't hold your breath. The FBI loves their paperwork."
"I don't know if you can call five people in an apartment a party," Jemma teased her with a smile. She looked at the clock for the fifth time in as many minutes.
"He'll be here soon," Skye quipped. "He should have been done about forty minutes ago."
"I wasn't – " Jemma protested feebly, her cheeks coloring, before she gave a huff of annoyance. It wasn't fair that Skye could still embarrass her like a twelve-year-old. There was no reason to be embarrassed.
"Yes, you were," Trip and Skye said in unison before toasting one another.
At the sound of a knock on the door, Skye yelled, "come in," in the general direction of the entrance.
"Have ye learned nothin' about keepin' yer door locked?" Fitz's voice grumbled as he walked into the kitchen, shedding his winter coat and tossing it onto the back of a chair on the way.
"We knew you were coming," Skye told him, "besides, Trip was the last one in. Not my fault the senior detective didn't lock the door."
Trip held his hands up in mock surrender while Fitz picked up Jemma's drink and gulped it down.
"Are you okay," she asked him softly while Trip and Skye argued about who should have been in charge of actually locking the door when she let him in.
"Yeah. May called me on my way out. Natasha collared Garrett. There's no danger o' him comin' after ye or Skye now." He set the bottle down on the counter.
"I guess this really is a party, then," Jemma said, covering his hand with one of her own, fingers slipping between his.
"What about Grant," Skye cut in, better at carrying on one conversation and eavesdropping on another than she let on.
"Him too," Fitz answered. "He's makin' a deal. He shouldnae get the same punishment as Garrett though if he talks."
Skye nodded, quiet for once, and pulled her laptop open, pretending not to be interested in the conversation anymore. She typed quickly, her fingers blurring on her keyboard.
"You aren't hacking the FBI, are you?" Trip asked with a little bit of alarm.
Skye shot him a what-do-you-take-me-for look and went back to what she was doing. After a few minutes, she grinned, "Did you guys know that Brooklyn PD's system isn't on a closed network? That's not very smart of them."
"Skye!" Three voices yelled at her. They were only partly surprised.
"What? Don't you want to know if you made detective, Fitz? Results are all computerized... It's surprisingly efficient…Tests have already been scanned in…" she trailed off tauntingly before she sighed.
"Tha' would be wrong," Fitz deadpanned, his mouth twitching with the effort of not laughing.
"I guess you can wait a whole week to have them send the results out…"
"Well, she's already hacked in," Jemma offered.
"It's not like she's gonna get in more trouble," Trip agreed.
"Fine, fine. Wha' is it?" Fitz was tempted to close his eyes, as if he could hide from the possibility of a bad score. He had never failed a test in his life though, and considering he knew the information backwards and forwards, he didn't actually believe he would fail miserably.
"You… are officially a detective," Skye told him with a grin and a clap. Trip whooped and Jemma gave him a series of quick kisses. "You did miss two points though. I can change that if you want, give you a perfect score?"
"No!" Again, all three voices yelled at her.
"Jeez. You get kidnapped one time and everybody gets so touchy on the illegal hacking," Skye joked.
"Congratulations," Jemma whispered, wrapping her arms around Fitz's waist and holding on tight.
"Thank ye. I had an excellen' study partner," he grinned.
"I don't think he's talkin' about me," Trip whispered to Skye loud enough that the couple could hear him.
Just as Fitz leaned in to kiss Jemma properly, Skye broke in loudly, "How late are you two going to be up celebrating tonight, just a ballpark figure? I don't need to hear all of that. Ear plugs are uncomfortable to sleep in."
Fitz threw a dish towel at her.
-o-
Aw, and that's it! Though I will say, if you guys like this universe, I don't think it will take much persuading for me to write more stories within it.
Thank you guys so much for reading, and again, a huge thanks to notapepper for helping me with this. I wrote the bulk of this story in two and a half weeks, sending her a few pages at a time to start with as I worked out the kinks of the plot, and she kept me from throwing in the towel when I was frustrated with it. And over the course of two months, she kept editing as I made changes, and she saved me from a few issues just days before I had to post it. She's basically a goddess.