Hey

If pressed, Jemma could have been easily convinced that Coulson had procured himself another flying car. The scenery whipped past the windows of the SUV with frightening speed, Coulson apparently not only knew exactly where they were headed, but was intent on getting their as fast as possible.

‘When we get inside, I want you to stay downstairs – no matter what you see or hear – you wait for me to give you the all clear – and if anyone else but me comes down those stairs Jemma you run, get in the car and call for back up’.

Coulson had entered a state of eery calmness, deadly determination driving him forward. Reaching across the centre console unexpectedly and grabbing her hand, Jemma found Coulson’s gaze trained intently on her for the first time since they had left the base.

‘We’re almost here Jemma, I need you to get the phone from under the seat and check the feed for me again – I’m sorry, but I need to know what I’m walking into to-‘

Jemma unsuccessfully tried to let out a steady breath that she hadn’t realized she’d been holding, and had to choke down the small sob that escaped her.

‘Monitor the feed – your eyes don’t leave that screen, you understand?’

It was the only thing Coulson had said to her when she met him in the hanger. After that, she was briefly convinced he wasn’t really aware of her presence as he sped down unfamiliar country roads. She couldn’t properly make out the hulking figure in the feed, it was bi-pedal, and at least part human, but resembled nothing she had ever seen before. She watched as the monster raged against the walls of the small room, desperately trying to understand what was going on, but her questions were met with silence.

‘Sir – where is this – is this where May is headed – can’t we call and warn……’

The last question died on her lips.

Through the hazy security feed, in the dimly lit room, Jemma hadn’t noticed the other figure in the mess of the rubble until it started inching across the floor.

Her sudden silence seemed to snap Coulson out of whatever state he had been in;

‘Jemma, what’s going on – show me – ‘

He reached out to take the device but Jemma couldn’t look away from the horror unfolding before her, the small figure had almost reached the doorway when the monster descended upon her – Jemma yelped with fright and dropped the phone as Coulson tried to snatch it from her grasp, just as the monster reached for what she now recognised as Melinda May’s wounded form.

She couldn’t make out Coulson’s exact exasperations, her breath was quickening beyond her control and a high pitched ringing was rising in her ears. She shut her eyes against the blur just beyond the car windows and tried to clear her mind, control her breath. Don’t you dare cry Jemma Simmons, not now, not when you got yourself into this. Coulson was silent beside her for a few moments, giving her time to collect herself, and she knew the request would inevitably come as the car began to slow.

Nodding silently, not trusting herself to speak, Jemma reached behind the front seat, where the phone had fallen out of view – her thundering heart sank when her hand finally settled on the device, holding the phone up to the light to confirm her suspicions, she saw exactly what she has expected – the screen was now black, displaying only the large spider-web crack that had shattered the screen.

Jemma didn’t realize they had stopped, until Coulson’s hand on her shoulder drew her attention;

‘Stay with the car, I’ll signal you when it’s safe’.

Coulson was out of the car and heading through the front door before Jemma had time to react. Gathering herself, she looked around as she exited the car and retrieved her field bag and weapon from the back seat. If she had been given a thousand guesses of where the horrors she had seen were occurring, she would not have guessed here. The neighbourhood was picturesque; tree-lined and perfect, generous detached houses were set comfortably apart, surrounded by meticulous landscapes.

Jemma snapped back into her senses when the muffled crack of a gunshot pierced the quiet morning air; field kit slung over her shoulder and gun raised at eye level the way May had thought her, Dr Simmons steeled herself as she abandoned the idle vehicle and rushed into the still-dark house before her.

The door was still unlocked as Coulson made his way inside, he left it open, careful not to make a sound as he crept quietly through the house, his familiarity with his surroundings helping his eyes adjust to the darkness. It was eerily quiet until a sudden ‘thud’ drew him up the staircase.

As he made his way carefully to the only door that stood partially ajar at the end of the hallway, Coulson could faintly here a murmuring voice – as he drew closer, a sickening recognition clicked into place.

‘I could have saved you Mel’

Andrew Gardner’s voice carried through the empty hallway, he sounded mournful.

Throwing the door open, Coulson stepped over the threshold, momentarily stunned by the jarring scene before him. Andrew was crouched over his ex-wife, almost protectively it seemed as he caressed her hair but when his gaze snapped up to meet Phil’s, his eyes blackened instantly and the man’s body began to contort.

While his murderous stare never left Coulson’s, Dr Gardner’s next words were clearly for Melinda…

‘Don’t worry, darling…..I’ll take his filth from you’

Coulson discharged 2 rounds in quick succession, the first not seeming to faze the hulking blue figure that transfigured before him, and the second barely shunted it backwards as it slashed a clawed hand through Melinda’s middle.

Coulson emptied the rest of his rounds into the monster before lunging forward, throwing his full weight against the monsters chest as it stumbled backwards from the impact of the ICERS.

‘Stupid half-breed, forever picking fights you can’t win…’

Half-breed? With sickening realization, more pieces of the twisted mess he found himself in began to fall into place for Coulson. This must be Lash – the monster that had been slaying Inhumans – the monster Dr Gardner had been ‘assisting’ in the search for…. But why take Melinda?

Coulson wrapped his bionic hand around the monsters throat, and the answer emerged before him as the figure began shifting back into the more recognizable form of Dr Gardner – Lash had no reason to take Melinda, but Andrew, Andrew had an old score to settle.

Coulson felt like his rage might just burn straight through him, as he tightened his grip, Andrew sneered through a half-gnarled mouth…

‘You going to kill me too Phil?’

He wanted to. He could – He should –

Before his thoughts could take hold of what little willpower Coulson had to keep the man alive, he reached into the rubble beside him and used the first piece of wood he laid hands on to rock Dr Gardner’s skull hard against the floor beneath them.

The man had already gone limp but Coulson only released the choking grip he had around his windpipe when he heard Jemma’s soft gasp from the doorway.

The young scientist seemed transfixed by the figure that now lay unconscious beneath him, half formed between the monstrous Lash and Dr Andrew Gardner. But Phil only had eyes for Melinda. He hadn’t allowed himself the chance to look at her, he couldn’t, not until now. Shuffling across the floor, Phil came to kneel by his partners side, his chest threatening to explode as he took in the extent of her injuries. Steeling himself, he leaned closed to her, and had to take a moment to steady himself in order to hear the faintest of sounds from her chest.

‘ – is she - ?’ He had almost forgotten Jemma’s presence completely, as she stood frozen in the doorway.

Not trusting himself to speak, he nodded, closing his eyes as the reality of the situation threatened to overthrow his control.

Jemma knelt softly beside him, to her credit, only flinching slightly as the creature behind them began to stir. The agent raised her weapon instinctively, and Coulson gently took it from her grasp.

‘Help her – anything you can do – just get her stable enough to get back to base –‘

Jemma was already nodding, silent tears slipping forth as she watched Coulson lay May’s hand gently back on the ground before turning away to deal with Lash. She knew some of what he was feeling – when Fitz had been injured, she wouldn’t – couldn’t - be removed from his side; she clung to him, she cried for him – Coulson had no such luxury, and the realization of the burden he carries as Director threatened to overwhelm her.

Jemma had to seal those thoughts away, seal everything away, as she began examining May. Years of training moved her hands over the woman’s tiny frame with a confident calmness she could not have consciously conjured. After quickly checking that her neck and spine were stable, Jemma tore away the rest of May’s shredded shirt; the gashes across her abdomen were far from superficial, but thankfully not as deep as they could have been. Jemma applied the clotting powder from her field kit liberally and proceeded to pressure wrap her abdomen as best she could, without jostling her too much. May’s shallow breathes were accompanied by a strained whistling, which Jemma suspected was from the damage to her windpipe but there was still the possibility of puncturing her lung with one of her numerous broken ribs.

Part of Jemma’s training at the academy was based on the studies and reports of field injuries from agents; seeing the damages they endured and understanding their causes allowed them better insight – insight Jemma cursed in moments like these. She could see it almost vividly in her mind as she took account of May’s injuries – the splintering of her ribs as she was thrown across the room; the force around throat, crushing her windpipe; the sharp tear of the monster’s steely talons through her skin. Jemma had to force her mind to stop, pushed the images back as far as they would go, she was sickened enough already.

As gently as she could, Jemma tried to straightened May’s injured leg; her knee twisted out at an unnatural angle – not broken, Jemma determined – but likely a fracturing of the previous break she had suffered some years ago. Using the sheers from her bag, Jemma cut away the remnants of the torn cotton leggings from her left leg, assessing the large splinter of wood embedded in her thigh. It was deep, and Jemma knew better than to try and remove it now. As she tried to feel for the end of the shard embedded under her skin, Jemma’s hand slipped against May’s inner thigh, and she had to swollen hard against the bile that rose in her throat as she realized the sticky mess was still too wet to be blood alone. Jemma numbly tried to clean away as much of the mixture as she could with a handful of gauze, but more bright red blood trickled down the woman’s too pale skin to replace it.

Jemma flinched at the hand that settled on her shoulder; she hadn’t heard Coulson leave the room. He silently set a small stack of towels and a folded blanket down beside her, his gaze fixed on his partners crumpled form. When he finally looked at Jemma as he helped her to her feet, she found she couldn’t look him in the eye and she quickly averted her gaze to Dr Gardner’s shrinking form, which was now propped up against the wall. His body was battered and bruised, the large gash in his forehead still bleeding freely down his face.

‘Should I – ‘, Jemma started to ask uncertainly.

‘No.’

Coulson had bent down to his wounded partner’s side, unfurling the folded blanket he had brought and laying her gently on top of it, wrapping it loosely around her as best he could. When he fixed Jemma with an expectant stare, his features were carefully schooled into what Daisy termed his ‘Director Face’, and Jemma responded automatically to his unspoken questions.

‘She’s safe for transport, sir, but she’ll need immediate surgery’. He nodded tersely, thankfully saving Jemma from an expanded report on their friends injuries and wasted no time in lifting her carefully into his arms.

They both stalled for a moment, Melinda’s small, laboured breaths hitching and stopping completely, before resuming with a long, whistling sigh. Jemma hastily shoved her equipment back into her field bag and followed Coulson down the stairs.

Pausing beside the passenger door of the car, Coulson spoke with a quiet authority she was reluctant to argue with;

‘Lay the passenger seat back – as far as it will go – I’ll strap her in’.

‘Sir, Jemma began hesitantly, we should lay her in the back – I can drive if you want to stay back there with her’.

He shook his head, ‘You’ll be driving anyway, I need you to go on ahead – take this – contact Fitz and have him clear the medical wing of any unnecessary personnel, as soon as you arrive, message me, I’ll lock the base down remotely’.

He produced a burner phone from his jacket pocket and Jemma looked hesitantly back at the house before accepting it.

‘Are you bringing him back?’

She didn’t miss the way his jaw clenched before he responded;

‘Yes Jemma, I’ve called in a few favours to secure the house – they should be here soon and I’ll be right behind you – please – I know I’ve asked so much of you already…’

Coulson’s words seemed to catch in his throat as he trailed off and Jemma had to bite the inside of her cheek to remain in control, hating that he felt the need to apologize to her – completely unaware of how much of her current situation she had contributed to herself.

Jemma quickly arranged the passenger seat, and tried to avert her gaze as much as possible as she settled into the driver’s seat. Coulson arranged May as delicately as he could in the flattened seat, pausing to gently fix the blanket around her as he fastened the seatbelt across her tiny form, before he finally withdrew and eased the door shut.

Jemma gave him a small nod as she started and turned the car; she would get May home safe. When she looked in her rear-view mirror, Coulson had already disappeared back inside the house. Quickly dialling the only number she knew by heart, she set the phone on the dashboard and finally let her tears fall freely.

When she heard the receiver pick up at the other end, she didn’t wait for a greeting, and choked her words out through wracking sobs.

‘Fitz – I need your help – I’ll be at the base in 10 minutes and really really need your help…’

He didn’t ask what had happened, he knew she couldn’t answer.

‘Okay – ok – 10 minutes, and I’ll be right here, breathe Jemma, we can do this’.

‘Fitz, I – I –‘, I really don’t think I can, the rest of the words died on her lips and she tried to force her breathing back under control as she looked across at the unconscious figure curled up next to her, pushing her foot down on the accelerator.

She had to do this. She was a doctor – and she would repair what little she could of what her friend had broken from her that day.