Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

“If I ever see you again, I’ll kill you.”

Jemma Simmons stares down her would-be protector. First, he looks surprised that the little bird he dropped from its nest is demanding his attention. Then a little proud. But his moment of softness - so familiar, so treacherous – does nothing to breach her steel eyes, and she savours the horror, fear, sorrow and regret that flash across his face as he bears witness to the avenging angel he has forged her into. He turns his head away, walking unerringly on, towards his death, and still she does not crack. Her fists are braced by her sides, her eyes trained like rifle sights between his shoulder blades, her steady breaths measuring the seconds that pass in a silence that is disturbed only by the footsteps of Ward and his guards as they escort him down the dimly lit hall and into darkness.

“Simmons,” Skye says quietly. “Take a breath.”

Mechanically, Simmons obeys, but her posture does not change. She is stone, she is steel, she has to be. Softness hurts too much. It feels like she is going to break. She can’t bear it any more. She can’t.

Then Skye puts a hand on her shoulder.

Steel, rapidly and drastically cooled, is brittle, and it shatters at Skye’s touch. Simmons’ knees drop out from under her, and she turns and grabs at Skye before she can fall. She wraps her arms tightly around Skye’s shoulders and claws desperately at the material of her shirt. It’s delicate, she’s probably tearing it, but Skye’s only response is to hug back as best she can with her upper arms pinned to her sides, and to press her cheek to Simmons’ hair as Simmons buries her face.

“I’ll kill him,” Simmons vows. “I’ll kill him, I’ll kill him.”

Her breaths begin to hitch and choke and the words become meaningless as hot tears burn away the ice she’s been holding onto and then set fire to it. Everything is wrong. She shouldn’t be angry, she shouldn’t be crying, but she is and it’s Ward’s fault and it’s her fault for leaving and thinking that would work and Fitz is hurt and his friends are mad and they have every right to be and she is alone, alone, for the first time ever and she can’t stand it.

Skye’s jaw hangs a fraction open at first. The breath’s been knocked out of her by Simmons’ desperation, and her tongue struggles for words. She can’t very well tell her not to do it. Neither of them are prepared for that discussion and she’s willing to admit she’s got more biases than should rule a decision over life and death, but above everything, her worldly cognition is still struggling with the fact that Jemma Simmons of all people just did that. Just said that. Just meant it – and still means it, judging by the vicious runs that are going to scar this shirt for all time. The tight ball of rage that now lives below Skye's heart expands slightly for what has been done to Jemma Simmons, and Skye’s fingers curl enough to create runs of their own.