bakerstreet | ALIGNMENT SWAP.

[Jemma had returned to the Playground from Hydra to a much changed team -- most of all Fitz. She hadn't exactly been expecting an open-armed welcome, and certainly not for things to be as they had been before their plunge into the ocean. But what she hadn't been expecting was the blank stare when she came in to the lab and said, "Hello Fitz." For a moment she worried -- that things had regressed, or she was about to be read the riot act, or anything at all. It disappeared when he dismissed her with some vague statement she didn't even hear, such was the shock to her.

She'd deserved it, though. She knew she had.

She kept away as long as she could manage, which turned out to be a week. In that time she grew familiar with the base again, spent time with Skye and Bobbi, and of course observed Ward down in his cage. Right where he should be, where he couldn't hurt anyone ever again. Not as long as she had a say in it. She'd finally asked Coulson and even though she saw the pain when he conveyed how Fitz had been. Barely sleeping, barely eating, hardly ever seen outside the lab and certainly not during working hours. Maybe that was a little bit her fault, too.

Jemma was at a loss for what to do, but she couldn't let herself just do nothing. Later in the night, she assembled an assortment of food items -- some healthy snacky and others emphatically not -- on a plate in one hand, and some tea in the other. Food was normally anathema in the lab, but it was worrying. The lab is empty except for Fitz at the far end and his project, lit by a single dim lamp. That is not good for his eyes, she immediately thought, but held it back. She steeled herself, and began her slow progress across the lab.]

Fitz? [She calls softly, not wanting to startle him.] I brought some tea. And food!

[Fitz was getting better at blocking out the noise. Working here with this little light provided visual focus. If he could see more than his project, then he could see the others, hear their questions. They had time to shake their heads and whisper about him when they thought he couldn't hear. No, things were better. Jemma said it was a bit like a campout for science. People had those, right? She'd been a but cross with him for not laughing, but they'd gotten over it soon enough. That was the kind of friends they were.

Friends didn't just get up and leave one another when things got hard and strange.

Even now, he didn't look up to Simmons when she greeted him. He spoke in a soft tone instead:]

Jemma, can you hand me the... The... [There's a vague gesture to the opposite end of the lab.] Yes, that. Could you get that for me please?

[She's standing five feet away when he says her name, and her heart beats a little faster. She looks back from where she came from, where there is a table strewn with bits of this and that. The untidiness makes her hands itch, but she squashes it in an instant. It's not important right now. She puts down the food and tea, and retraces her steps to take a closer look.]

Your... soldering iron? [It's a guess. There are a number of other things on the table that might be helpful, but that seems most obvious to her.]

[This time, Fitz looks up. It's strange to hear Jemma asking for clarification when they're so intimately linked. She always knows what he means, even when he can't make the words happen. He stares through Simmons as if she's more apparition than physical presence.]

Oh. It's you.

[His voice lowers again.] It's okay, I remembered this time. She probably won't stay long anyway.

[She decides to take that as a yes. Careful with the instrument, she carries it to the table where he is working and lays it down as gently as she'd picked it up. There's a moment when she examines the parts laid out in front of him, and the schematic underneath, before she asks:]

What are you doing with the ICER?

[Huh. Simmons is still speaking. Is she trying to be friendly now, after all this time?]

Doing? What does it look like I'm doing?

[The trustworthy Jemma clucked primly about how daft one must be to not recognize the start of a detonator tucked away within the ICER's triggering mechanism.]

You. You shouldn't touch that. It's. ... It's. Gloves. You should wear.

[Just be near, she told herself. Patience, understanding.] Gloves. Of course, I'm sorry.

[She goes to the box on the wall, taking a pair of nitrile gloves and slipping them on her hands. Nerves threatened to get the better of her but she returns more confidently.]

I asked because I wasn't sure, that's all. [She examines it again.] Charge and fuse... Fitz, why are you putting a detonator in the gun?

[Simmons kept watching him as though he might break in half. She kept calling him broken in ways that didn't involve her voice. It's a major indicator that she wasn't Jemma at all. Maybe she was a HYDRA plant, or some kind of cyborg. Fitz could build a better Jemma, if he tried. HYDRA couldn't even get the hair right.]

Because we have pests.

[It should be self-explanatory. Everything should be self-explanatory with Jemma.]

[He's talking, but talking in cryptic hints. She hates herself for not understanding, for not just knowing what he means. It's like she keeps trying to throw him a line but no matter how hard she throws it falls pathetically short.]

I see. All right.

[She doesn't. It's not.]

[It's not all right. She's making that face at him again. She's using her eyes to tell him that he's not worth her time anymore. That he's less than the Fitz he used to be. And that's why she never loved him in the first place. Even now, after he'd nearly died for her, he wasn't good enough. She'd probably do well in the basement with the rest of the HYDRA trash.]

There are snakes everywhere. They're all over the bus.

[He's not intending to be cryptic, really. It's just coming out that way.]

[Snakes meant Hydra. And the bus... her throat burns and aches to think of the bus.]

I miss the bus.

[...]

You're right. Too many snakes. But --

I'm going to fix it. [He cut her off, not particularly interested in what she had to say. The real Jemma was quite pleased by his sudden display of bravery. At least she had the decency to be proud of him for standing up to the HYDRA menace. She rested her hand on his shoulder; he reached up to clasp her fingers with his. It might have looked odd to the people who couldn't see her.]

It's going to be tonight.

Tonight.

[She's mild, and even though her heart is beating in her ears. How has no one noticed this going on?]

Fitz, I don't think this is a good idea.

Of course you don't.

[His tone is clipped, and strangely sure of itself, considering the muteness he's displayed to her before now.]

You don't want to be exposed. I understand that.

Exposed to -- ? Fitz, what is going on?

[She comes around to his side of the table, close, but not touching.]

Please. Talk to me.

[But he flinches anyway, as if she had touched him. His face scrunches up, eyes sparking angrily.]

I know you're not her.

[She takes in a sharp breath. She doesn't think she could be more hurt if he'd reached out and physically struck her. Still, it's satisfying, in a penitent sort of way. This is what she deserves.]

I know I've been gone, but... [No, not the right way to start.] But it's just me, Fitz.

[It's harder now. Simmons looks upset, and that almost reaches the part of him that cares deepest for that face. But at the same time, he remembers the real Jemma is with him, the one who's right and perfect and never stopped being herself.]

You came from -- from...!! [He looks over his shoulder for support.] -- Yes, there. HYDRA -- you -- and then-- Yes, thank you. From HYDRA, then here, and -- and.. [What's the word what's the word what's the -- OH.] Mole.

Fitz! I... I was undercover in Hydra and came back, I'm not...

[He's looking at her like he's horrified, and maybe she is horrifying right then. It's hard not to be upset looking back at him, and seeing the naked distress in his face, and... something else she couldn't define, or didn't want to.

She takes a little step toward him again when she speaks.]

It was Ward who was the Hydra spy. I'm just me, Fitz.

[He tangles his fingers in his hair, because this is important and the words need to come out. It makes him feel like he's drowning again, swallowing gulps of air that hurt more than they help.

Simmons -- the good Simmons -- does her best to to soothe him.

At length, he manages the three most important syllables, though they sound tortured and slurred.]

You. Left. Me.

[There it was, the other shoe coming crashing down between them. A tear slips out, and she hurriedly wipes it away. You don't get to feel badly about this, not for yourself.]

I know. I'm. I'm sorry.

Edited 2015-05-15 03:31 (UTC)

[He struggles to get his breathing under control, clumsily groping along the lab table for his experiment. Pieces are knocked over and scatter everywhere, but the dangerous part makes it into his grasp.

she says she's sorry, but it's a lie. It's all lies from some cyborg woman who's come to steal Jemma's identity. It's been foolishness to indulge her even this much.]

You're not real.

[And once he says it, it's easier to digest, somehow. He looks to the patient, understanding Simmons beside him, nodding lightly.]

No, she's not is she? Just made from parts. Had me going for a bit though... No, of course I wouldn't mistake her for you, don't be silly. We should probably find a way to... to...

Right, deactivate. That's the word. It'll just cause us problems if we don't.

[Her heart starts to go even faster. Is she going to be able to reason with him like this? She doesn't want to hurt him even to defend herself. ]

I don't know who you think you are talking to Fitz, but we are the only ones here.

[for the first time the thought strikes her: maybe her best friend is gone.]

[Fitz paces in a small circle then, mumbling.]

She can't see you, can she? ...No... Yes, that makes sense, yes quite. D'you think we should..?

[He looks back to Jemma with wild, unfocused eyes.]

You... you found a way to.. to lock Simmons somewhere. And. And I can see her, but the rest of them can't. And. And that's your cover. [His head cranes to meet his shoulder in an attempt to scratch some kind of internal itch.] They think I've gone mad, but it's you. It's always been you...

[Truthfully, in that moment, she's not at all sure that both aren't the truth. She keeps her tone low and calm, like speaking to a wild tiger.]

Fitz. Look at me, please. It's just us. I'm Jemma. Just...

[He has the detonator in his hand, playing between twitchy fingers. This is your fault the guilt monster that lived with her now said. You took the oxygen. You left. You made this.

She's trying to remain calm, not cry, Go for Coulson, Bobbi, somebody. If she couldn't make it right what good was she?]

Please, give me the detonator and we can do whatever you need to to see I'm the real Jemma. I promise.

cow!Jemma reporting for duty I guess? XD

I'm so delighted about this! Fitz isn't but we'll work on him.

:)

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haarrrgh thanks/sorry, they are right next to each other in my journal manager. Nice planning, me.

No worries! I do it literally all the time.

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