Midafternoon in the lab, an alarm on her computer jolted Jemma out of her concentration. She growled at the interruption, and then groaned inside herself when she remembered why she'd set the alarm in the first place. Mandatory counseling. It was Mack's idea. It wasn't just Jemma either, most of the team confessed he'd assigned it to them as well. Jemma couldn't deny it was the responsible thing to do, the problem was that their last counselor had turned into a genocidal mutant and thus was unavailable for consultations. And it turns out there was a limited number of counselors who knew how to work with powered people, law enforcement, AND were willing to associate themselves with an underground organization operating somewhat illegally.
Doctor Brashear wasn't bad, really, and Jemma felt he really was well intentioned. Unfortunately she found his style unhelpful at best and offensive at worst. Physics had been his post grad focus, but he minored in psychiatry and got his masters in science, eventually getting his license as a counselor since getting grants for his research in theoretical physics was unreliable. Even now he spent most of his time giving online lectures about physics and pursuing his theories. Jemma felt positive he could be of more use to her in the lab than when she was on the couch. Alas, he kept insisting that was not his purpose for being here.
Walking grudgingly toward the eastern wing where his office sat, Jemma thought about what she would say today. Though he tried to gain rapport with her via their shared scientific background the result was mainly that he would try to walk her through things logically. She could do that on her own, and even though she wished that was all it took to solve her anxiety she had to recognize that her issues were not interested in what was "reasonable". She didn't really find his advice practical, and being as she was familiar with the scientific community she could easily identify when someone was using her for research purposes. She didn't really like feeling like the main purpose of her visit was so that someone could write an article about her and her friends. She usually tried to whittle away time by talking about their latest puzzles in the lab, but to his credit he typically saw through that.
"Jemma! Come in!" Brashear welcomed her with a handshake. "Please, make yourself comfortable."
'Comfortable isn't really the way I would describe your office.' Jemma commented in her mind, but she resisted the urge to be rude and sat down instead.
"How are things going with your research? I hear there are some promising developments!" Brashear inquired politely.
"Oh yes. We are working with a new material we discovered in caves near the Inhuman temple. The progress is slower than I would like, but Fitz and I are following a few leads."
"I know the feeling. Advancements in my own field are often more time consuming than my patience can tolerate."
"Actually, what we're working on would be right up your alley! This material interacts somehow with the Inhumans, sparking a change in it that acts as a catalyst for some of their transformation-"
"Sounds engaging. But right now I'm more interested in hearing how it went at the commons. Did you get to try my suggestion?"
Indeed she had. Last time she confessed to him that loud areas still gave her trouble. His suggestion was to sit in the commons and try to study, read, or work on a logic problem. He said it would retrain her brain to ignore ambient noise. All that it seemed to do was give her a headache. "Yes. It was somewhat uncomfortable. And I didn't get much accomplished."
"That's to be expected. But keep it up. Your brain is still in survival mode. You really haven't had much chance to relax and become reacquainted with your environment. And lots of noise makes it hard for it to identify sounds of danger. So the goal is to make your brain recognize that it is not in danger and doesn't have to be on level 10 alert all the time."
He'd told her all that last time too. It made sense, in a way. But her experience on the planet was complex, and she felt there was a lot more to it than her brain simply being on high alert. But perhaps she should bring up a related problem since she was there anyway.
"About that. In order to get the samples of the material we are working on-"
"Jemma, I've told you before, I'm not here to help you in the lab."
"No, doctor-"
"Please, call me Adam."
Jemma sighed. The idea that this might be how others feel when she finishes their sentences drifted through her mind. At least she was normally right about where they were going. "Adam. The samples were in some caves near the Inhuman temple, as I told you before. We needed to go out and collect them. Fitz volunteered, but I hesitated. It made me nervous to go there, with what happened before to Mack and Trip-"
"And Trip is your teammate who died at the temple, right?"
"My friend who died, yes." Brashear scribbled on his notepad, which for some reason irked Jemma. But she pressed on. "It also made me nervous to imagine being in a dark cave, surrounded by rock."
"Did you think that since the rock was alien, it might hurt you like the monolith?"
"And the temple. I think that is why I was anxious about the mission, yes."
"Looking back, do you think your concepts of such danger were realistic?"
"Of course. It was an unknown material. But those caves aren't the monolith. They aren't even Maveth. And we were sending the team with sufficient protection and gear."
"So how do you wish you had responded to that situation?"
"Well, I wish I had the confidence to volunteer as quickly as Fitz did."
"Do you think it's fair to compare your recovery to his?"
"No, but that… I don't think that's the point."
"Why do you feel like you should have gone?"
"Well…" Jemma wasn't sure that she felt like she did something wrong by not going, but she wished it didn't scare her. But she had wished she'd been there with Fitz. Especially when he went off com. "Fitz has always had my back. We should have been working there together."
"So you were worried about Agent Fitz."
"Well, yes, of course. But I know he can handle himself."
"Sure. But you two are close, right? You told me he is the one who fought to get you back from the planet and helped you try to find Will. It makes perfect sense that you would want to stick with him. He represents security, dedication. Safety. And you want to be there for him like he was there for you."
This was definitely not going in the direction she'd intended. Everything he said was true, but it was not her question. "All that is true, yes."
"So do you think your anxiety stemmed more from being apart from him?"
"I'm not a canine Doctor. I do not have separation anxiety. I was asking because I wanted to see if you had any suggestions for dealing with irrational anxiety in that situation."
"Irrational anxiety is tricky. You can't always reason yourself out of it." This Jemma knew too well. "Perhaps if such a situation comes up again, you can talk to Agent Fitz about how it makes you nervous and ask if you can accompany him. He seems like the kind of guy who would understand and be okay with that. And facing these sorts of things with someone you trust like that may give you the support you need to overcome such anxiety."
Right. Talk to Fitz. It sounded simple, but who was she to trouble him with supporting her more when he had already done so much for her? He was dealing with his own things too, she could tell, and she knew if she told him all the things that she still struggled with he would only worry more. "I might try that if it happens again. I don't want him to worry though. And anyway, I'm pretty sure I could have handled myself if I had gone."
"It's important to open yourself up to your friends Jemma. Otherwise they won't be able to help you. I had this friend you know, he was in a war. He was taken to an enemy camp and tortured for information. His people got him out, eventually, but when he came back he never really told anyone what happened to him or how he was feeling. He is actually how I became interested in psychiatry. Of course, he had PTSD, which is to be expected. But since he would never tell anyone what was going on in his head, to others it seemed like he would just explode at the most random times. But there were always triggers…."
Brashear rattled on like that for a while. When all was said and done Jemma left as frustrated as she had arrived. But there were only a few more mandatory appointments with him, and she did not intend on making more. That is why she'd invested in her own psychiatry textbooks. It wasn't her favorite field, the subject was fascinating but the brain was so poorly understood any science relating to it changed almost daily. And in Jemma's opinion, much of the "studies" done were either highly subjective or based off an insufficiently diverse cross-section of the population, both of which she did not consider to be acceptable in real science. Still, it wasn't an especially hard topic to delve into and she figured it couldn't be any worse than these appointments.
When she returned to the lab Fitz was waiting for her.
"Finally got the hand working again?" Jemma joked as she sidled up beside him.
"Yeah. Still didn't add that laser finger he's been bugging me about though. He doesn't need any more toys." Fitz said with a grin, and Jemma chuckled.
"Good thinking. You're saving him from himself, really. Wouldn't want him to accidently set the drapes on fire." She teased.
Fitz' grin turned bashful. "Oh, go on. Don't you have test results to look at?"
"Indeed! You said the results were unusual?"
"Unusual is an understatement. Here, see for yourself." Fitz grabbed the tablet laying nearest to him and tapped vigorously to find Joey's test results. "There, you see?"
Jemma studied the graph intently. It didn't take her long to identify the abnormality. "His frequencies are highly irregular across the board! But these Theta and Delta waves…"
"Yeah, so, I decided to tweak the range on the EEG. It's not easy to pick up the slower end of the Delta frequencies, so I played with the sensors a bit. Then I turned up the other end too, to look for the extreme end of the Gamma waves. But the adjustments to the low end sensors paid off the most."
"Brilliant, Fitz! It makes sense that the brain waves would change in response to trying to control a new anatomy!" She could practically kiss him- an expression that was becoming less and less figurative of late- but continued her analysis instead. "Look at these- there seems to be bursts of waves in the 5-6 hertz range and in the .5-1 hertz range. But they are wildly erratic. We need to compare these to Daisy and Lincoln as soon as possible. If it's the same for them…" Jemma quickly pulled out her phone to summon the two again, but caught a look at the time with dismay. "Well, it's too late today anyway. Dinner is coming up, and I think Daisy mentioned team building this evening. We'll have to catch them first thing tomorrow morning." Jemma made a mental note to still shoot a text to Daisy in a bit. In the meantime, there were still some things they needed to tidy up before they ate dinner themselves. Turning her attention back to Fitz and the test results, she asked, "Did you happen to ask him to exercise his power while attached to the machine?"
Fitz scoffed. "Yeah, cause there's lots of disposable metal lying around amidst all the delicate electrical instruments. Come on Jemma, that's way too risky!"
Fitz was right, of course. All three of their Inhuman friends had abilities that did not lend themselves well to demonstration in a delicate laboratory environment. Still, it could be very useful to see which brain waves were associated with them, if there was any consistency between them. "Perhaps we can sleep on a solution to that for another time. Could be enlightening."
"Right. Tricky, but I'm sure we'll think of something."
Jemma nodded, finally setting the tablet down. "I think I'll go try to finish up the tests on Joey and Daisy's blood before dinner time." She paused, stomach suddenly feeling tight as it always did before she asked her next question: "I'll probably be here pretty late tonight. Are you… do you think you will be working late too?" It wasn't really a necessary question, as neither of them really knew how to stop working. But one of these days, that question might just lead up to asking him to dinner.
Fitz answered nonchalantly though while logging back into his computer. "Yeah, I expect so. Plenty to tinker with still, but you probably won't see me around here. Gotta check some of the equipment on the quinjets, and then I thought I might start on the research for the revival of centipede."
'So no chance of an awkward encounter with just the two of us in the lab. Good.' Jemma thought to herself, denying the disappointment she felt at hearing his answer. The mention of centipede still made her frown though. "I thought we agreed we'd only start that once we were done with this project."
"Yeah, I know. It's only if I have time. But I figured we should have our research done before we propose it to Mack or Coulson." Fitz' reply was still logical, and yet it still nagged at the edge of Jemma's mind. Why did he seem so anxious to get started on that? Was he that sick of fixing up Coulson's hand? She recalled that he'd once said it was one of the projects he'd found most interesting.
Jemma caught herself giving him a strange look in response to the questions going through her head. Instead of arguing, though, she just shook her head lightly and replaced her skeptical look with a small smile. "Alright. I'll see you tomorrow then."
Walking away, she got that text sent off to Daisy:
-TALK TO LINCOLN ABOUT TEST. (please)
Daisy's reply came through before she even got back to her workstation:
-Did. He's not biting. Doesn't look good.
Jemma sighed. That was not acceptable.
-I have confidence in you.
Giving it a moment's thought, she added,
-Need to get it done tomorrow AM. No product in hair.
To that Jemma got a series of emojis that included a side eye face, a gun, an alarm clock, and a line graph as well as a fire and a person cutting hair, and of course the strangely friendly pile of poo. Jemma hadn't become skilled at interpreting emoji sentences, but she gathered her friend disliked mornings, tests, and the idea of not styling her hair.
-At least I'm not making you do it tonight.
The next string of emojis was much friendlier, if a little sarcastic, so for Jemma the take away was that she would be seeing Daisy, and hopefully Lincoln, first thing tomorrow morning.
Mood swings.
That's what Fitz would remember as the most frustrating thing about having IT in your head. Aside from not being able to control your body, that is. He wasn't conscious a whole lot, "sleeping" most of the time. The times he was awake were a bit of a blur. Not being able to decide what your eyes focus on … it's very disorienting, not unlike a soap drama filmed by a toddler. Would have been likely to make him sick actually, if he had control over that sort of thing.
The brain is a control freak. That is the only thing he could attribute the mood swings to. One minute he would be apathetic, the next he would have an overwhelming urge to laugh uncontrollably but there wasn't anything funny. Not a moment later though he would feel like sobbing in a way that he had not done since he was a boy, like when a child is exhausted and can do nothing else. Other times he would be overcome with rage or anxiety, almost claustrophobia. That one was the only one that made sense, he thought. If he were able to speak to Jemma, he was sure she could tell him all of the chemicals that were washing through his brain as it tried in desperation to regain control by the most wicked storm of neurochemistry it could come up with.
Watching his life go by in this way reminded him, actually, of being a freshmen and agreeing to participate in a senior's thesis involving canibis and televison. At least that was what he was told it was at the time, later on he had suspicions. In any case, Fitz recalled wanting to laugh or cry at the most inane things, but not being able to do much of anything at all due to some lack of connection between his brain and body. So he was left just drooling there with no sense of the passing of time trying to put together pieces of a puzzle that he just couldn't make sense of, but was enrapturing nonetheless. And just when he thought he had it figured out, the program changed and he was lost again, and what he thought he had didn't make sense anyhow.
Of course, the cause of the same symptoms was drastically different. For example, the reason he had no concept of the passing of time (aside from not being conscious for most of it) was because IT did not seem to be concerned with time at all. Fitz couldn't count a single time IT decided to look at a clock. Fitz figured tracking the minutia of time must not be terribly important for a being who has lived for thousands of years, but as a result, Fitz had no idea how long he had been living this way. Could be days, weeks, months, he couldn't say.
Despite his difficulty concentrating Fitz was determined to take some action. Collect as much data as possible, try to find a weakness or a way to reach his friends. He wasn't able to hear what IT was thinking, and over time he figured out that IT couldn't hear what he was thinking either. He knew this because when IT was with Simmons Fitz would find himself mentally finishing her sentences, or coming up with new ideas. If it had any interest in maintaining a cover and could read his thoughts, IT would do a much better job of stealing them. It also seemed as though it had access to memories, but only when they were triggered naturally. IT didn't seem to need sleep, but his body still did. Not as much though as normal though; since his mind was already getting 'sleep' it was only for the purpose of giving his body a break as opposed to letting his brain go through the sleep cycles.
From time to time, Fitz would concentrate very hard on a single motion to see if he could override IT at all. Most of the time nothing happened, but once in a while Fitz thought he might have made a difference. If he did, IT always played it off anyway and it didn't seem to alert anyone to the fact something was very wrong. Sometimes he managed to catch Simmons giving him an odd look and he knew it was because of something "he" said or didn't say. He wondered if she suspected any of what was going on right under her nose, but he couldn't rightly expect her to as the invasion of the body snatchers would never have crossed his own mind before this.
He couldn't help but hope, though, as he mentally called out to her again and again.