When she walked up to Coulson and demanded to see Ward, he only paused for a moment before giving her a sad smile and nodding. They’re thirty thousand feet in the air and currently somewhere over the Midwest, Kansas she thinks. He reaches forward and gives her arm a gentle, affectionate squeeze and says he’ll let Trip know it’s alright. “Be careful,” he says. She gives him a small nod and quickly leaves his office.
Back in her room, she slides a gun, his gun, into the back waistband of her pants. Fear overwhelms her, but she knows what she must do. She puts on a pullover sweater that effectively hides the bulge in her back. She doesn’t think she’ll be searched, especially because it’s just Trip on guard duty (May is piloting), but she slips a knife into her boot, just in case. It would certainly be trickier but it would still get the job done.
She goes down to the holding area and gives Trip an unsteady smile. Adrenaline is coursing through her veins; she thinks she might throw up. She needs to get this over with. She closes her eyes and takes one, two, three deep breaths. Feeling centered and slightly more in control, she nods to Trip and he opens the door for her. He doesn’t follow her in, but soundlessly closes the door, before going to the end of hall to give her the illusion of privacy.
He is shackled to a chair that is bolted to the floor. The restraints allow for some movement, but he would barely be able to stand, much less escape. He’s been beaten, maybe even tortured. What she can see of his body is a mess of blue, purple, and yellow. Must be May’s handiwork, talk about a woman scorned. A second chair is directly across from his but on the other side of the room. She takes a seat and waits.
He doesn’t speak, doesn’t take his eyes off the floor. Her time is limited; Trip will be back in a moment. It’s now or never.
“That plan of yours certainly went pear shaped,” her voice is carefully controlled; even and steady with just a touch of rage simmering beneath the surface. “Infiltration, betrayal, and had you succeeded in killing Fitz and me; you would have had the double agent trifecta.” In for a penny, in for a pound I suppose.
It takes a moment for the words to sink in, and, when they do, he looks at her, calculating. It’s clear he’s confused by her presence. “I’ve always preferred the term 'arse over elbow'.”
It’s the only reply she’s going to get. It's the only reply she needs.
She glances out the window in the door, Trip is not back yet. This is her only chance. She rises from her chair and crosses the room towards him. He too, glances out the window, but Trip is still not there. She slides her hand behind her and pulls out the gun. She stops and holds the gun loosely at her side, but she’s gotten too close, she’s now in his range of motion. He lunges at her, popping one of his shoulders out of its socket. He disarms her and falls back into his chair, pulling her down with him. Her body is his shield and his gun is pointed at her head before Trip can get in the room.
“Let her go,” Trip demands.
“Keys. Now!,” is Ward’s only reply.
Trip walks toward him, but Ward shakes his head, “Give them to her.”
Jemma takes the keys from Trip’s outstretched hand. Her heart is racing, adrenaline is rushing. This time, she’s sure she’ll throw up. With the gun still pointed at her head she turns, straddles Ward, and unlocks his bonds.
They rise together, Ward snakes his hand across her belly and pulls her closer to him as they back out of the room and toward the cargo bay. Trip follows, gun drawn, just waiting for an opening.
“It’ll be okay Jemma,” Trip says over and over. “I’ve got you”
She nods in response, every time, but she’s never been more scared in her life.
They reach the cargo bay. Trip has managed to close some of the gap between them. Ward has to release her in order to escape. This is it.
Ward pushes her, and she stumbles forward. Trip races to her side, and catches her as she goes down on one knee. With a flick of her wrist, she’s grabbed knife, risen to her feet, and plunged the knife into Trip. Pulling the knife from his body, the shock doesn’t even register on his face before he falls to the ground. The alarm starts to sound as the cargo doors open, and she knows she’s out of time.
“Jemma!” She looks up and it’s Skye. She’s looking down at them, her eyes darting from Jemma, standing over Trip’s body, to Ward. Penny in the air. Her face hardens, and she reaches for her weapon. Penny drops.
Jemma throws the knife at Skye, she knows there’s no way she’ll hit her, but needs the time to make her get away. She turns on her heal and dashes towards Ward.
“You coming?” he shouts, a hint of smile as he holds out a second parachute. She shakes her head, there isn’t time. It’s okay, he’ll catch me when I fall. She’s barreling towards the open door. Grant tosses the extra chute aside, falls in step with her, and they both go flying out of the Bus.
They find each other in the air, and in a choreographed move they’re facing each other. She wraps her arms and legs around him, careful not to jostle his shoulder more than necessary. They’re doing fine until her adrenalin begins to wear off. He feels her grip loosen and he uses his good arm to pull her close, while she hitches her legs up higher and locks her ankles together.
When the parachute opens and they are no longer plummeting to their death, he looks down at her. He can’t believe she’s Hydra. He knew someone would come for him, but he never expected it to be the meek biochemist. She must be a better liar than he thought. It took him a full half minute after she uttered the code phrase, pear shaped, to react. He wasn’t even really sure it wasn’t just some big British coincidence until she came streaking down the cargo bay, heading for the doors. She looks up and catches him staring at her.
“Hail Hydra,” she says.
Grant just uses his good arm to pull her closer, and shakes his head.