This is the fifth chapter in “SHIELD’s Second Surprise!”, a spin-off series of stories that takes place following the conclusion of my original ‘S.H.I.E.L.D’s Little Surprise’ series (http://archiveofourown.org/works/4966825#main). These stories are meant to be fun, sweet, thought-provoking and heart-warming. They *may* or may not (but probably will) contain scenes of corporal discipline (spanking), possibly of a minor child. This is *not* a ‘condonement’ of spanking children in any way, and any such scene will be depicted in a very loving, non-abusive manner. If this may still be a trigger for you, I encourage you not to read this series.
This is a fanfic based upon the incredible television series, Marvel’s Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. Nearly every character referred to is directly from the show/Marvel Universe, and I hold NO claim to the characters or the plotlines of the show that many of my stories are based on. Direct references or information from the show will be depicted in italics.
I *highly* recommend watching the first 2.5-3 seasons of episodes before reading these stories, as many references to events in the episodes will be made, and therefore, better understood. Equally important perhaps is to read my first ‘SHIELD’s Little Surprise’ series, which sets up the entire concept of this series, and will be referenced occasionally. ALSO, I am terribly sorry for the unreasonably long wait for each installment! Please forgive me, and know that I am indeed still around.
WARNING: These stories will contain spoilers from the show, up until mid-Season 3.
Summary: Hunter’s major blunder prompts the agents to come clean, and sends little Jemma on a journey to her past to try to make sense of her present. Some special guests are on the horizon as well!
Continued from SHIELD’s Second Little Surprise, Chapter 4: Everyone Needs Help Sometimes
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Chapter 5, Part 1: Back to the… Present?
The agents currently present and witness to Hunter’s huge blunder can do nothing but stare, horrified, at little Jemma’s own horrified expression. Bobbi Morse thinks fast… is there any way to play this off… to claim that 2016 was code for something, perhaps?? As she looks into Jemma’s wide brown eyes however, she sighs heavily and chooses to accept facts. The fact is that Jemma is tremendously intelligent, and this was bound to happen at some point in some way, anyway.
Morse kneels down slowly, and takes Jemma’s small hands in her own. “Hey sweetie,” she says gently. “We um… we need to go have a talk, okay? It’ll be all right.” She clears her throat with difficulty. “Give me just a second, okay?”
With that, Bobbi stands up, moves out of the hallway into a nearby supply closet, and shuts the door behind her. A deep, deep breath is taken in an effort to gather frantic thoughts. That done, she quickly and quietly contacts Coulson through her comm and explains in brief, what has happened.
“I think… it’s time to come clean,” she admits. “Frankly, Jemma was bound to find out eventually. And I can’t keep lying to her about her parents,” she adds heavily. “Sir… may I bring her to your office? I feel like you should know, and approve of, what she is told.”
Coulson, understanding the dire situation, agrees.
Bobbi returns to collect a bewildered Jemma from the still rather stunned group of agents, just in time to hear Jemma ask shakily, “is… is this really… the year 2016??”
“Uhh…” retorts Lance ‘helpfully’.
“Jemma,” Morse interjects quickly, coming to take the little girl’s hand. “Come on sweetie, we’ll go have that talk…”
After a silent, awkward walk to Coulson’s office, the Director greets them at the door and invites Jemma in with a soft smile.
“Hi there, Jemma.” Phil glances at Bobbi who gives him a pleading look of ‘help’. Nodding subtly, he gestures for Jemma to come sit in his office chair. He knows that Skye finds the swiveling chair fun and that it makes her feel ‘big and important like him’... her words.
Coulson sits on the edge of his desk across from a very bewildered Jemma, while Bobbi pulls up the other chair beside her.
“So… it seems that we have some things to talk about.”
Jemma looks nervously from the Director to her guardian.
“So, as you um… as you just heard… this is indeed, the year 2016.”
Over the course of the next 10 minutes, Bobbi and Coulson carefully fill their little charge in on the truth of what happened a few months ago. Jemma’s accidental regression is explained in detail, along with the team’s decisions since, and their efforts to see if the regression could be reversed.
“I know, sweetheart, that you were very confused to suddenly be here. That you didn’t know us. But the truth is… you did. You knew us as… as an adult, Jemma.”
Small brown eyes widen further and become even more bewildered. The agents are surprised that that is possible.
“I… I *was* an adult?” the youngster asks incredulously.
At the agents’ nod, Jemma swallows hard. Then, her breathing starts to become more shallow and rapid as her thoughtful, curious expression slowly turns to one of panic.
“Ohhhh no, honey,” Bobbi coos, quickly kneeling and placing her hands on Jemma’s little arms. “Hey… I know this is a lot. Like, a LOT a lot. But I promise, everything will be okay. Breathe, honey. I’m right here with you.”
Bobbi guides Jemma through a series of deep breaths, while Coulson looks on with concern.
After several minutes, Jemma calms down enough to ask the dreaded question once again. “My… my m-mum and dad. Where are my mummy and daddy?”
Morse looks down, squeezing her eyes shut for a moment. She takes a deep breath, preparing to finally answer the distraught child’s biggest query.
Before she can though…
“They’re gone, aren’t they?”
This harrowing question comes in a trembling whisper, and immediately brings a burning sensation to the backs of Bobbi’s eyes. After a brief glance at Coulson, who looks deeply uncomfortable as well, she responds.
“Well, I… I’m so, so sorry, sweetheart. I’m afraid that… that your mother is quite ill. And your father… has passed away, yes.” The words spill from Bobbi in her softest voice, forced out before she can’t bear to share them.
Jemma’s breath hitches and her eyes immediately fill with tears. Before she can attempt any sort of control over her young emotions, her face screws up in pain and she bursts into sobs.
“No. No, no, no, no, no!” the little girl cries, slipping off the chair and backing away. “No! How? Why? Why?!” she demands of Bobbi frantically.
Morse maintains distance enough so as to not overwhelm, and holds her hands up. “Honey, I… your father passed away about one year ago from kidney failure. Your mother became sick not long after that.”
Jemma sobs hard once again, burying her face in her hands and falling to her knees.
“Nooo… no, Daddy!” The agents can barely hear these almost incoherent words.
Morse wants so badly to scoop Jemma up and hold her in comfort. Knowing her ward as she does however, she knows that this is not the time.
“Jemma… I’m so, so sorry, angel,” Bobbi states again. Even when delivering this kind of news to adults, the agent knows that nothing she can say will help at this moment. “I… I hope you can understand why we weren’t able to tell you right away,” she adds quietly, carefully.
Jemma continues crying hard for another long minute. Bobbi’s heart breaks more and more with every passing second. Just as her resolve is about to falter and force her to approach the grieving girl, Jemma drops her hands and turns her miserable gaze back to her caretaker.
“M-my mummy,” the little girl cries. “C-c-can I see her?”
At the sound of her child’s breaking voice, Bobbi chokes around the lump in her throat. After a quick glance to Coulson for confirmation, Bobbi at last approaches slowly and holds out her arms in invitation.
“Yes, sweetheart. We will take you to see her,” she promises.
Much to Morse’s surprise, Jemma stands and lifts her arms pleadingly, another sob escaping. Bobbi immediately scoops her up and hugs her tight. Rubbing Jemma’s back, Bobbi can feel her wracking sobs, and allows a few tears of empathy to fall as well…
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Two days later finds Bobbi and Jemma in a Quinjet on their way to London. There is one other passenger in the plane as well… one whom both Bobbi and Coulson had insisted on for this particular trip. Andrew Garner has been spending some time with Jemma each day, and has been there to support both her and the rest of the team during this difficult transition.
Naturally, ever since the big announcement, Jemma has had a million questions. Surprisingly though, she has only asked a few of them. Morse answers what she can, and has May, Coulson and a very awkward Fitz fill her in on some of her life from before Bobbi joined the team. Fitz stutters worse than ever when Jemma asks about how they know each other, and he limits his answers to their academic experiences at SHIELD Academy.
Andrew has been nearby to help guide the more difficult chats, and has also had some one-on-one time with the youngster. Their therapy sessions, in which Jemma normally feels quite comfortable and speaks freely because she ‘appreciates his commitment to confidentiality’, have looked different these past couple of days. Jemma has become much more subdued than normal. Questions posed by the therapist are often answered with one or two-word responses… sometimes only with a sad shrug.
The normally curious little girl has been seeking much more quiet time alone, which her caretakers have patiently provided. Hunter, upon returning from the successful extraction of Joey, had felt awful about his slip-up. Perhaps to try to atone, he has been attempting to spend extra time with her.
It was he who recognized early on the signs that Jemma just wanted to be left alone. He came up with the suggestion that whenever the youngster was feeling overwhelmed or wanted some time to herself, that she simply and nicely request some ‘me time’. This seems to help Jemma immensely, as she is now able to shyly say, “I think I need some ‘me time’”, and everyone understands that this is their cue to give her some space with her thoughts and feelings.
Agent Morse is having a tough go of it however. Jemma accepted comfort from her when she learned the status of her parents, but when Bobbi has since offered similar comfort, she has been consistently rebuffed. The agent has had to watch her struggling ward withdraw further and further each day. She worries that the rapport that has been so carefully built is crumbling around them. Whenever she offers to hold the little girl, or invites her to climb into bed with her for snuggles, Jemma simply shakes her head and turns away.
In Jemma’s young emotional mindset, she cannot betray her parents by treating Agent Morse like one. Of course, she doesn’t know how to share this perspective or even how to give words to her feelings, so poor Bobbi simply faces ‘rejection’ time and time again.
Now on the jet and cruising at 30,000 feet, Bobbi has set the autopilot and looks over at her little co-pilot. Jemma has been temporarily distracted from her grief by utter curiosity at riding in the cockpit for the first time. She readily agreed not to push any buttons, but did ask a few questions about the physics, the technology and the handling of the plane.
Now that coordinates have been set, and Bobbi can focus her full attention on her ward for a bit, she turns to her. “Okay honey, let’s go have a talk.” Morse gestures toward the cargo bay. Andrew, who knows what talk is coming, unbuckles and mentally prepares.
Morse sits Jemma down and takes a seat next to her.
“Okay sweetie… I want you to know what’s going to happen when we arrive… all right?”
With a slightly nervous gulp, Jemma nods.
“So… your mother is living in a nursing home. It is a very nice one… Director Coulson made sure that it’s the best in all of England.” Bobbi adds with a slight smile. “She really is getting the best care possible.”
Jemma nods again, slowly. “Th-that’s good,” she says quietly, around a lump in her throat.
“It is,” Morse agrees. Her expression turns more serious now. “But honey… I want you to know what to expect when we get there. Your mum… she’s been diagnosed with something called ‘Alzheimers’. Do you know what that is?”
Jemma shakes her head, hating to admit that, and thinking that it sounds a bit scary.
“Well… “ Bobbi begins, then hesitates.
“Jemma, Alzheimers is a progressive disease of the brain,” Andrew chimes in.
Bobbi blinks. She had hoped that he would help her explain the illness in a child-friendly way, but Garner seems to have other plans.
“You see, Alzheimers is a form of dementia, and is unfortunately common in older people.” Andrew speaks matter-of-factly, but kindly. In his sessions with Jemma he has been made aware of her heightened intelligence, and even moreso, her dislike of being talked down to.
“It usually begins very mildly. The most common symptom is memory loss. A person can forget things in their past, or in their life. They can become easily confused.”
Jemma’s little eyebrows furrow. “Wh-why? Why does it happen?”
And so Andrew explains, in great detail, the causes and effects of Alzheimers in general, before returning back to Mrs. Simmons’ particular case of it.
“Jemma… many people who have advanced Alzheimers, like your mother?” he begins carefully. “Eventually their memory becomes so affected that… that they even forget very important people in their lives.” At this, Garner looks to Bobbi, thinking that the next bit should come from someone Jemma is closer to.
A clearing of the throat, and then, “Jemma, honey. It’s quite likely that your mother… she may not remember who you are. And if she does, then she may be very, very confused at the fact that… that you’re a child now.”
The look of concern on the little girl’s features turns quickly to one of confusion, then of utter despair. Before her emotions can overwhelm her however, Jemma takes a long, deep, shaky breath and softens her features until somehow, only sadness lingers there.
“Okay.”
Andrew and Bobbi catch each other’s eyes, surprised at this remarkable show of emotional control from the youngster. Recalling the past few days as best she can, Morse realizes that aside from her initial response to learning of her parents’ status, little Jemma hasn’t shed a tear. At least, not in front of her. That can’t be a healthy reaction, can it? Though then again, she is British…
Jemma takes her quiet, subdued demeanor off for a nap soon after, at Bobbi’s encouragement. When they are about one hour from arrival in England, Morse goes to wake her. There is one more discussion that needs to be had before landing.
Bobbi smiles softly as she approaches Jemma’s ‘nest’, a mound of blankets enveloping the child across three bucket seats. Jemma is asleep with her eyebrows slightly furrowed, her arms clutching her stuffed rabbit close.
Hating to disturb this image of peace, Morse gently rouses the weary angel.
“Hey sweetheart. I’m sorry to wake you. Did you sleep okay? I know this isn’t the most comfortable place in the world to nap.”
Jemma nods, pushing tangled brown hair out of her face and slowly sitting up.
“Good. Well, we aren’t quite there yet. There’s one more thing we need to discuss though, honey.” Bobbi rather takes advantage of her charge’s sleepy state and scoops her up into her lap for a cuddle.
“You see… in all this time, your parents have never moved houses. So the home that you grew up in? They still own it.” Bobbi pulls something out of her pocket and holds it up for Jemma to see. “This key… this is a key to their home… your home. It’s been about 20 years since you’ve seen it last, so it may look a little different, but it’s still there. And right now, no one is living in it.”
A few moments pass for the youngster to ponder this information, before Morse continues.
“I thought that… that you might like to visit. You can see your old room, maybe even see if there is anything you’d like to pack, and bring back with us to California.’
Jemma blinks, trying to process all of this impossibly complicated information. “So… my room…” she begins slowly. “It’s not my things in there? It’s… my ‘grown-up’ things?”
Understanding too well how the thought could be throwing the little girl for a serious loop, Bobbi nods in the affirmative. “I imagine so, yes. You lived there until you were 16, when you got your first PhD.”
“Really?” Jemma seems to awaken fully at that thought, and a hint of a smile even crosses her face.
“Oh yes,” Bobbi replies, glad for the brief moment of levity. “You got your second PhD at 17, and entered SHIELD academy immediately after. You, my little genius, were the youngest student ever admitted.”
To her great surprise, Bobbi looks over at Garner with a grin, only to find him shaking his head with serious disapproval. Morse blinks and shoots him a quizzical look, but as they can’t speak freely in present company, she chooses to simply change the subject instead.
“So honey… we can stay at your house in Sheffield during this visit if you’d like. If you would rather not though, we can also go stay at an inn, close to the nursing home.” Bobbi runs fingers through tangled locks as the youngster considers this. After a few minutes, she prompts, “So, what do you think?”
“I want to go home,” Jemma states decisively, though with perhaps a touch of apprehension nonetheless…
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The trio arrives in northern England late that evening. Too late to visit the nursing home, much to Jemma’s disappointment. As Bobbi drives them from the cloaked quinjet in a field outside of Sheffield to the childhood home of Jemma Simmons, everyone remains mostly quiet and deep in thought. Jemma stares out the window, feeling dazed yet comforted by the mostly familiar greenery and rolling hills, the farmland, then city streets, parks, shopping centers and football stadiums.
They pull the black SUV up to a charming house in a residential area at about 9:15pm, local time. Normally Jemma would be well asleep by then, but she had had a nap on the journey over, and the time difference of eight hours meant that no one was tired yet.
Young Jemma exits the car when they arrive, and stands for several long moments staring at the house. Lips slightly open in befuddlement, she silently makes a point to identify every single thing that has changed over time. The large tree in the front yard is now much taller than she remembered. There is a new flower bed underneath the living room window. The gnomes that used to stand guard off the front walkway are gone, now replaced by an elegant birdbath. New rocking chairs adorn the front patio.
The little girl has no way of knowing that almost all improvements to the home made over the past 8 years or so, have been made possible by her sending money home to her parents from SHIELD paychecks.
When Bobbi carefully asks Jemma for a tour of the inside, the bewildered girl finally leads the way in. She proceeds to walk the adults around to different rooms, but doesn’t say a word. Bobbi and Andrew’s curious questions are met only with a nod, a shake of the head, or a shrug.
The adults are concerned, but not necessarily surprised. This situation would be exceedingly difficult for anyone to process, genius or not. Thus, no one pressures the youngster to use her words tonight.
Jemma, for her part, feels completely overwhelmed and finds the notion of speaking impossible. How could sound ever make it past the giant lump in her throat? As she moves from room to room she feels a slight warm comfort at the things she does recognize, but a cold disconnect from anything new. And stronger than anything, she feels awkward and a bit resentful that she is having to share this, her *family* home, with these two ‘outsiders’. Despite feeling close to Agent Morse after several months in her care, this feels a bit like two different worlds colliding. The house just isn’t home without her daddy and mummy inside it with her.
These feelings only strengthen as Jemma slowly enters the doorway to her own room. It is not what she remembers. Her yellow flowery bedspread is gone, replaced by a solid dark green one. Gone are her many toys, stuffed animals and the bookcase bench at the foot of her bed. She notices with a pang that her projection lamps are missing, the ones that displayed colorful stars around the room. She’d have to sleep without that tonight.
Finally, a brief glance at the bookshelves shows that all of her favorite childhood stories are gone, the ones her father used to read with her every night. At this thought, tears sting Jemma’s eyes, and a burning rises in her chest and throat. She fights back the oncoming emotions with all her might, but her guardian can’t miss her strained expression.
Morse turns to Andrew and says, “You know, I know it’s late, but I’m starting to get hungry. Would you mind heating up the dish that I brought in? Bake at 400 degrees… ah, I think 200 degrees Celsius… for about 30 minutes.” Having known that this trip would be challenging, Bobbi had had the forethought to have Hunter help her prepare a shepherd’s pie to bring along. Comfort food.
Andrew agrees with a smile, and heads off to the kitchen.
After a brief pause, Bobbi kneels to be eye level with her ward, gently cupping her chin in her hands. “Hey sweet girl. It’s all right. I know; this is a lot. You… you still have a beautiful bedroom though,” she states, then mentally kicks herself. That isn’t going to help right now.
“Honey… what do you need right now? What can I do?”
That lump in Jemma’s throat threatens to choke her again, and all the youngster can do is shake her head.
“Would you rather spend tonight at an inn, honey?” Bobbi asks gently.
Another shake.
Jemma suddenly slips off her shoes, moves to her bed and climbs in, disappearing completely under the covers.
Morse thinks she understands. “Do you need some ‘me time’ right now?”
Jemma peeks out of the covers enough to nod, her face relaxing somewhat gratefully.
“Okay. I’ll let you know when dinner is ready and see how you’re feeling then, all right?”
At Jemma’s nod, Bobbi considers approaching to place a kiss on a small forehead, but before she can take a step, Jemma has disappeared under the covers again. A quiet sigh can be heard as the agent quietly steps out, then closes the door behind her.
Time change or no, this is going to be a long night.
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As predicted, Bobbi got very little sleep that night. Andrew had slept in the guest room, but Bobbi opted for a couch in the living room. She wanted to give the little girl some space in her grief, and felt that it may seem disrespectful to sleep in Jemma’s parents room. It was comfortable enough, but quite cold, and Bobbi couldn’t quiet her mind enough to drift off.
Upon waking around 6:00 am, the agent is chilled and stiff. The living room curtains block out very little light. Their late arrival and late bedtime after a late dinner means that she believes she can count on at least Jemma sleeping in longer than usual. Morse arises, takes a long leisurely shower and then decides to go for a walk outside to clear her head.
She had taken no more than 10 steps down the front walkway when an unfamiliar voice from across the street calls out to her. “Oy. Excuse me.”
Bobbi looks over to see an elderly man waving at her. Bemused, she steels herself for whatever this is going to be about, and goes to meet him at the sidewalk.
“Good day, sir,” she says, with a kind smile. “What can I do for you?”
The man looks her over appraisingly. “Well, young lady, you can tell me what you’re doing in that house,” he states, not bothering to hide the suspicious tone.
“Oh… oh yes. Well, we are in town to visit Mrs. Simmons. We just arrived last night.”
“Who is we?” he asks. His gaze suddenly moves beyond Bobbi, and she turns to follow it. She spots a pajama-clad Jemma standing awkwardly in the doorway, not wanting to step out without shoes. The little girl stares hard at the old man, clearly trying to recognize him.
“Blimey,” he murmurs, staring right back at the child. “That girl there… who is she? She is the spitting image of a young Jemma Simmons.”
Bobbi nearly chokes on air. “Ah yes… isn’t she?” She thinks fast. “Well, that’s because… she is Jemma’s daughter,” she invents wildly.
The man’s eyebrows nearly hit his receded hairline. “Why… you don’t say. Is she really?”
Bobbi nods, smiling, and waves back to the little girl. Jemma gives a polite wave, then retreats into the house once more.
The man turns back to his own house and calls out, “Lilith! Lilith… come out here.” He then turns back and states, “Forgive my manners. I’m Alfred. We have been friends and neighbors of the Simmons’ for oh… going on 30 some odd years now. We saw your vehicle out front, and wondered who was here.”
A short, kindly-looking woman with long graying hair steps out from their home and joins them on the sidewalk.
“Lilith, did you know? Jemma Simmons has a daughter.”
The woman named Lilith, who had been acknowledging Bobbi, blinks with surprise. “You don’t say.”
“Sure enough. I saw the little mite… spitting image of her mum when she was small.”
Lilith looks in wonder toward the house. “Well… now, how is it that Agnes and Charles never mentioned a granddaughter?”
Alfred shrugs and looks back to Morse. Once again, this has Bobbi stumped. “Oh well, I’m not sure. Jemma hasn’t been able to make it back in so long because of work. Then well… you may have heard, she went missing for a long while,” she says seriously, not minding if this changes the subject.
“Oh yes. Poor dears,” Lilith glances again at the Simmons’ house regretfully. “They were just devastated at the news. I daresay it may have contributed to the decline in Charles and Agnes’ health.”
Her husband nods in agreement. Then abruptly asks, “So, is Jemma here with you? We would love to see her.”
Adopting a look of regret herself, Morse shakes her head. “I’m afraid not. She’ll be flying in separately to visit her mother, but felt it important for her daughter to come right away and meet her grandmother, before she… well.” Bobbi trails off, seriously praying that this will be the end of the line of questioning.
“I see. So then, who are you, dear? Are you the child’s governess then?” Lilith inquires.
“Oh, oh, no. Sorry… my name is Barbara.” She chooses her legal name, though it makes her cringe inside. “I’m Jemma’s best friend. I’m looking after her daughter until she can fly out and meet us at the nursing home,” she invents.
“Oh, how nice.”
While a very skilled spy, Morse is quickly tiring of having to invent stories and answers. And people.
“Well, if you’ll excuse me, I need to make breakfast for the little one.”
“Of course, of course,” Alfred mutters. “And please, do send dear Agnes our well-wishes. She is very missed in the community,” he states sincerely.
Bobbi nods her agreement and turns to go.
“Wait, dear,” Lilith’s voice rings out.
Bobbi pauses.
“What is Jemma’s daughter’s name?”
Morse cringes inside, having attempted to avoid this question. After a moment’s hesitation, she finally decides, “She is named for her mum. Jemma Anne. They felt it was traditional.” With a non-committal shrug, Bobbi smiles and continues on her way.
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Two hours later, Bobbi, Andrew and Jemma arrive at the nursing home. When they check in, they learn that Mrs. Simmons is having an assisted bath, and then would have a brief check-up by her doctor. They will have to wait about 45 minutes before she will be ready to have visitors.
The trio make their way to the home’s cafeteria for coffee and tea. Andrew takes this opportunity to review what Jemma might see, and how her mother might seem or behave. He also gives the youngster another chance to ask any questions she might have, but Jemma simply shakes her head once more, having still not spoken once since the plane ride.
The time comes, and Dr. Garner sends them off with a smile, stating that he would wait in the cafeteria while the two have their visit. Bobbi leads Jemma back to reception, and learns that they have about 5 more minutes.
Morse turns to find a seat in the cozy, welcoming waiting area, and her eyes fall upon someone shockingly familiar. She comes to a sudden halt, Jemma knocking gently into her side.
“Oh!” is all she comes up with at the moment.
A remarkably handsome man with light brown hair looks up from a photo he had been staring at. He offers a somewhat strained smile and says, “Good morning.”
Bobbi nods, and manages back, “Good morning, Captain…”
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To be Continued…