Counting the Stars
The day hadn't gotten to the point where Jemma felt like she could get herself steady, and walk to the lab, but she was called there anyway. Coulson was holding a briefing file, Fitz had one identical to the one in Coulson's hand and was pouring over it, while Skye had made herself comfortable on a counter top with hers. "Glad to see you up and about, Simmons. We're going to be grounded for a few days. Ward and May are going to be deployed on a covert op, observation only. They're getting ready to leave now." Pretending that his words hadn't just stolen the breath from her lungs, Jemma nodded and took the file from him. Observations of insurgent activity on the Georgian border, low key, two personnel, and it should only take 2 days. There would of course be back up but it shouldn't be necessary. Part of Jemma was relieved that she might have a reason to save her news for later, but the Georgian border conflicts were heating up again after SHIELD had deployed Fitz and Ward into Ossetia what seemed like ages ago and it was dangerous for anyone to interfere, let alone an international shadow organization.
"Pardon me, sir but shouldn't this be a military operation?" Jemma asked, swallowing down the anxiety threatening to choke her. Border skirmishes were nothing new but SHIELD involvement indicated a larger problem. Before Skye had the chance to echo the question, Fitz closed his folder and he was visibly more pale than usual. "Agent Coulson, is there a reason our two best are only observing? Who else is going in?" Coulson turned to look at Jemma and Fitz, and opened his mouth to speak. "We have agents following Ward and May in, they're going to take care of the problem. It appears that a duplicate of the device you and Ward destroyed in Ossetia has been made, and with the upsurge in activity we thought it wise to make sure our best were going in to ensure as little violence as possible." Fitz nodded, but his hands were shaking. He didn't like the idea of anyone being put in this position, even if it was what they were being paid to do. He and Ward had developed a healthy respect for one another, and some days it even looked like they were friends. May was simply always around, dependable, silent, and absolutely indispensable. They'd gone out on ops together but they hadn't ever lasted longer than a day, both of them were simply too good at their jobs.
The door opened, and Grant came in, fully kitted up in black body armor, strapped with a field pistol, one visible back up, and Jemma was sure he had at least one she couldn't see, accompanied by what could only be called a knife simply because it didn't appear to meet the length requirement for a sword and a number of other necessities. Horrible memories of the last time he'd been decked out like that carved a pit in Jemma's stomach. He had been covered in blood when stretchers had brought their asset back to the Bus, and more of it than he'd been willing to admit had been his. Forcibly reminding herself that this had been something they knew would happen when they started their relationship, she smiled up at him, doing her best to keep her hands from flying to her stomach. He'd come back safe and sound, and then she'd tell him. He had to come back, he always came back; Grant Ward not coming back, covered in someone else's blood, dirt, or machine oil, and wearing a smile borne from adrenaline was unthinkable.
"Minimal violence might not be an option sir. Barton and Romanoff are effective, but they like to crack skulls. Agent Romanoff has been dealing with the Washington office after that whole mess and I imagine she's looking forward to getting out for a bit. Agent Barton is probably just thrilled to be going on vacation." Grant was smiling when he said it, he relished the opportunities he had to work with his S.O. and her partner, even if they liked to give him a hard time. He'd only be seeing them briefly but it meant that he had all the back up he'd need if he and Agent May were discovered. He crossed the room to stand by Jemma, who was looking a bit better, even if she had to lean against the cabinets.
"Well, Agent Ward. Make sure you play nicely. I ruined a perfectly good blouse trying to stitch you up after your last tussle." Jemma said, brushing invisible particles off of his broad shoulders. She was going to take any excuse to touch him before he and May left. Not that they weren't publicly affectionate, but it seemed at odds with the seriousness of the situation. If two of the Avengers were being brought in for a clean up operation, things were serious, but Jemma was confident that the device could be dismantled and the insurgents pacified all within 48 hours or less. 48 hours and she'd be able to tell Grant that she was carrying his child, and she wouldn't have to consider all of the obstacles by herself. Part of her wanted to pull him aside now, and tell him but he couldn't afford to be distracted and even with such capable field agents taking on the physical altercations, his mind had to be on the mission at all times.
"If you insist. I'm still sorry about the blouse and not all of that was mine." Grant turned to lean against the counter, facing her and he smiled the smile only reserved for her. It was a private moment in view of three of their co-workers but none of them would say anything. The tension emanating from Jemma every time Grant left would be enough to short out the electrical panels if humans could generate electricity. They wouldn't be dressed down for smiling at each other, and it was a rare sight even now when Grant Ward smiled. "It not being all yours doesn't matter, some of it was. I'd rather not need to clean you up again. Agent Coulson, will we have a medic on standby should it become necessary?" inquired the bio-chemist, tilting her head away from her smiling boyfriend just slightly to fit the senior agent into her peripheral vision. Coulson nodded an affirmative and Agent May swept in, looking slightly harassed but otherwise battle-ready.
"Ward, you ready? Barton's been talking my ear off and I want to get this done and come back as soon as possible." Grabbing two bluetooth comms off of the table on Fitz' side of the lab, she waited. Grant held up a finger to quiet her and Jemma stood up on her toes, pulled Grant down slightly to make their height difference slightly more manageable, pressing her lips to his, snaking an arm up around his neck, while Grant's hands bracketed her waist. They stayed like that for a few moments before Grant pulled away and nuzzled her forehead, giving her another smile. "Come back safe, Agent Ward. Remember, observe only, and no blood." she said, willing her voice not to crack. He squeezed her hand, saluted Fitz, and Skye and followed May out, trailed by Coulson. Skye immediately rushed over to Jemma and hugged her. She felt as though parts of her were cracking and falling away. It was an easy job, but the re-enforcements suggested that it could get very difficult very shortly, and the image of the man who had just left her, retuning pale and lifeless terrified her.
She returned Skye's hug, burying her face in Skye's hair, as Fitz looked on with an expression of confusion. "They'll be fine. Hawkeye and Black Widow are the ones who'll be going in and kicking arse." He didn't like being left out of the loop and there were maybe two things he liked less than a crying Jemma. Something was troubling his friend and he didn't like it at all, she was normally very practical about her boyfriend being deployed to break limbs. "Jemma, what's going on?" Skye gently unfolded her friend from around her neck and gave her a re-assuring nod, Fitz needed to know and Skye would be right here should he decide to chase Ward down and stab him. Jemma blinked her eyes free of tears and made herself look at Leo Fitz, her best friend, confidante, and the future godfather of the baby she was carrying, if she kept it.
"I know they'll be fine, Fitz. I also know that i'm not sick, not with the flu anyway." Fitz continued to do his best impression of a puppy encountering a mirror for the first time, until the penny dropped. "You're, you...i'm going to kill him. I'm going to- he's- you're- Skye! You knew before I did?" Fitz sputtered, his cheeks flaming as he turned on Skye and she nodded sheepishly. "Yeah, but only because she figured i'd handle it better than you, and she was obviously right. You aren't going to kill Ward, you can try but your failure will be messy and probably a bitch to clean up." Jemma steadied herself and only barely managed to stem the tide of words from her mouth, she knew the answers to Fitz' questions before he could start to ask them. "No, he doesn't know. I didn't know until Agent May figured out I had morning sickness. I'll tell him when he's home again. No, I don't know how he'll react but we'll figure it out. There is a very real chance that if I keep it, I won't be able to work for 9 months, but May thinks I could stay on in an advisory capacity. I'll tell Coulson myself if I have to."
With that remark, Jemma made her way back to her room, she could hear Fitz threatening Ward's person with violence and Skye attempting to silence him for most of the way. When the two field agents left, it was usually fairly quiet, and with a strike team backing them up and the two most dangerous SHIELD agents on payroll coming to clean, Jemma had two days to herself. Two days to wonder if the man she kissed goodbye would come back and happily accept the news she had, or if he'd freeze her out. She could raise a baby by herself, but she wouldn't do it on the Bus, not if Grant didn't want anything to do with it, and if she didn't terminate the pregnancy. Anything from here on out was entirely her choice, since physically she would be the one most effected and she dearly hoped that Grant would respect that but she seriously doubted that he wouldn't. Bodily autonomy was not their problem, their problem was their near inability to keep their hands to themselves after missions like the ones Grant had just departed on.
Just as she was settling down to nap, a knock sounded on her door. Jemma groaned and rolled over, getting up to answer it. Agent Coulson was standing outside of her room, looking more grave then usual. "Agent Simmons, is there something you'd like to share?" he asked, moving aside to allow her to step out into the hallway. Jemma swore under her breath and promised violent retribution on Fitz for his over-reaction. "Share? No. Though I imagine Fitz alerted you. I won't share anything until Grant is back. " she said curtly, her stomach was roiling and she was nauseous again; since Skye would probably drag her back to her quarters, getting food to settle it didn't seem possible.
Jemma leaned her shoulder against the wall, failing miserably at reading Coulson's expression, knowing full well her tired scowl was on display, but his mouth quirked up in a smile. "Fitz didn't so much alert me as the yelling Skye was doing to cover his yelling. When we're all aboard we're due back in New York for a week, so you can confirm everything there. I expect you and Agent Ward to set everything in order, whether you're planning to keep the child or not. I won't tell you i'm disappointed, or that it will cost you your job. Both would be untrue, if the baby stays, you do too. You're just going to be training your replacement and refitting your room with a crib. You wouldn't be the first couple to find yourself in this predicament after a reunion. Romania was tough on everyone." With that, Coulson walked away, and Jemma unceremoniously dropped onto her bed. She didn't want to think about fitting baby equipment into her tiny room, and Grant's room wasn't next to hers so they couldn't blow out the wall and make space. This was the wrong train of thought because she still didn't know if this was something she wanted do, with or without Grant. She'd worry about it when he was back with her, smiling, and just as he should be. No worries, no fears, just him.
She must have fallen asleep because the frantic pounding on her door startled her awake and she fell onto the floor, muttering to herself about courtesy. "Jemma, you need to come out here now. There's been a problem, Grant's hurt and things had to move forward faster than we thought. Barton and Romanoff were deployed about 2 minutes ago and the medic is bringing Grant back." A horrible chill ran through Jemma's whole body, finding herself unable to move or understand the words she was hearing, she just sat on her laundry strewn flood. The door flew open to reveal a red eyed and exhausted Skye, she pulled Jemma up off the floor and they hurried out into the comm-room, immediately focusing on the screen Fitz had pulled up. The small blinking marker representing Agent May was good and strong, weaving between the two representing Agents Barton and Romanoff, and the 5 or so that symbolized the strike team. The one with Grant's name wasn't quite as strong and the buzzing noise coming from the speakers filled the room with a horrible static, his link was dead. Coulson was pacing the floor, his phone in hand. He looked years older, like he had during the Romania extraction, one of his team was hurt, and that wasn't acceptable.
"Does someone want to tell me what happened? Because right now all i'm picturing is the worst possible outcome and I need to know what version of him is going to come back to us." Jemma said, gripping the edge of the holo-table tightly, and leaning the majority of her weight on it. It was supposed be simple, just an observation, they were both too good, and he had to come home. "The border patrols changed up their personnel an hour too early and there was a miscommunication, which led to a small firefight. May and Ward moved ahead without the back up, and the clean up team. We don't know how bad it is, Coulson is on the phone with the medic now." Fitz said, he was frantically tapping a screwdriver on the counter with his free hand, using the other to keep the screens shifting. Skye had her arms folded in tightly against herself, with tears staining the hem of her shirt. She hated not being able to do anything on missions of this nature because it didn't rely on computers, and Grant was the closest thing she'd ever had to proper family. Coulson waved two fingers and hung up the phone. "Two minutes. 3 superficial knife wounds, a bullet in the hip, and one bullet in the abdomen they don't like. He's also good deal less handsome now, but that's their words, not mine. Skye, he'll be fine. He's had worse. Jemma, think you'll be okay to meet him as he goes into surgery?"
Jemma nodded, keeping her jaw clenched, Skye crying was bad enough, she wouldn't start. She'd meet Grant in surgery, be there when he wakes up, yell at him for being reckless, and then tell him he couldn't do it again. She didn't even care if he asked why, he just needed to be okay. When he regained consciousness she'd try to muster up the courage to say something. A wave of sickness unrelated to their baby passed through her and nearly took her legs right out from under her, but she took off out of the room and out to the lab, prepping a table for surgery. She hated having living people on her tables, even when she wasn't the one operating, but it was unfortunately necessary sometimes. SHIELD had the budget for a world class trauma surgeon, and the Bus had the space but it was normally Jemma's job to stitch up and patch what needed fixing, sadly. Skye was learning, but she didn't like how organic and hands on the process was, she liked Fitz' side of the lab much better.
Why they didn't also have a medical doctor on board was just so far beyond her sometimes. The doors to the lab whooshed open and there was Grant on a stretcher, his face sporting several livid bruises and an oozing cut but the harshness of it was lessened by the two terrifying, puckered, and bleeding bullet wounds marring his right side, and the long, jagged cuts covering his chest. There was blood everywhere, and the medic keeping the I.V. steady motioned for Jemma to move as they laid him out on the table. They'd let her stay, so long as she wasn't a bother so she settled for taking his large and blood stained hand in both of hers and praying that he'd be okay.
Jemma had lost track of how much time had passed and Grant was still asleep on the table, but with clean linens under him, and the ever present medic monitoring his vitals. Grant Ward was a mess of scars already, so a few more probably wouldn't bother him much, but he wouldn't be too happy with Jemma's close proximity to them as open wounds. He had a thing about masking his pain and it was positively idiotic. He was so stubborn, short tempered, and a bull headed pain when he put his foot down, Jemma fully intended to give him a piece of her mind when the painkillers the medics were administering to his still unconscious form kicked in. She just had to wait now, and she was already waiting on too much else. If their child was going to be a permanent fixture, she'd have to learn to put on a brave face. This was the first time Grant had come back with anything more than superficial and it scared Jemma down to the marrow of her bones. "Grant. between us i'd love it if you could wake up soon. Preferably in a reasonable mood. The separatists have been pacified, the device was destroyed, and everything is taken care of. Agent May wants to have a word with you about your sloppiness, Skye is hitting the bag to work off energy, Fitz has thrown up, and Coulson seems rather annoyed. Agent Romanoff has left you a very angry voicemail in what sounded like Russian, and Agent Barton says that I should punch you when you wake up because he wasn't able to, they had to leave but they'll be checking in."
Grant's hands were clean and free of blood and she pressed a kiss to his fingers, he still looked a terrible mess of skin that was pale and clammy, or feverishly red and angry. His lean frame was an expanse of bandages and covered by a truly horrible pair of hospital pants that made him look as though he was a doll. She wanted to sleep, but got the feeling that Grant would be difficult and wake up just as she nodded off. At some point a chair had been put under her and she sat, just taking in the mess. "When you wake up, I have something important to tell you. I don't know how you'll take it, but I hope you'll take it well because I don't know how to have a life without you in it anymore. You're the only one who doesn't know and you can tease me for being so contrary and backwards about it but I promise you that it wasn't on purpose. So just open your eyes so you can get all the difficult stuff sorted, and then we'll get to me. That voicemail really did sound terrifying." Jemma chuckled, wiping her eyes with a hand, temporarily lifted from Grant's own. The droning and beeping of the machines picked up and re-asserted themselves in Jemma's mind, they'd become background noise like the thumping of Skye hitting the heavy bag, or the scratching of pen on paper by the medic.
Grant's eyes opened, and he looked like he'd shaken hands with Death himself. He coughed, winced, and searched his environment for useful pieces of information. The pile of blood soaked rags that had previously been his clothing, along with the sheets laid down for the bullet removal were in a pile awaiting a trip to the incinerator, he was hooked up to an intravenous drip, and there was a clip on his finger to monitor his vitals, and Jemma was next to him. He hazily recalled her saying something about not making a mess before he left. "Jemma, i'm sorry about all the blood. Pretty sure it's mine." Fighting the urge to both swat his arm, and fling herself on top of him, Jemma burst out laughing, not caring how loud it was or how small gasping sobs of relief were intermingled therein. "Yes, I daresay some of it is yours. Very remiss of you, now don't you ever do that to me again!" Grant tried to smile, and was working up the energy to apologize before a crashing noise alerted them to the presence of Skye who had accidentally bumped into Fitz' tool rack, looking happier than she had since before the mission started, and her shouts to the rest of the team that Grant was awake.
Jemma would keep waiting to tell him the news as the rest of the team filed in, so she settled for just holding his hand in her lap, close to her stomach, and hoping that things would turn out okay.