Hey

‘I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry’

Jemma cringed, eyes not daring to leave the road, as she whipped around another tight corner, jostling her precariously secured passenger beside her.

She had quickly hung up her call with Fitz, relaying Coulson’s strict instructions, and leaving him to prepare but couldn’t overcome the stream of nervous rambling she now had nowhere to direct but at May.

Eye’s on the road Simmons, wrapping your car around a tree 5 minutes from base will far from qualify as ‘getting home safe’.

That’s what she told herself anyway – that was her excuse for not being able to look at May. Jemma was obviously aware she was small in stature but had never noticed how truly tiny she was, curled under the blanket in the passenger seat. She couldn’t see her like that now; she was a patient.

Jemma took her final opportunity to steady herself as she turned onto the last stretch on road leading to the base, rattling through her surgical checklist, visualising the methodical weave of each necessary stitch. It was working too, which is why she nearly lost control of the SUV when an icy pair of fingers glanced against her wrist.

‘May?’

The woman’s eyes were glassy and unfocused, taking her hovering hand, Jemma tried to tuck it back beneath the blanket but was met with unexpected resistance.

May gave several wheezing huffs, blinking her eyes rapidly, as if trying to clear her vision – or signal her somehow – was she trying to say something?

‘Don’t try and speak May, we’re almost home – ‘

She raised her arm again, hovering over the centre console. Following her line of vision, Jemma realized she was trying to point at something, struggling to barely twitch her swollen and inflexible fingers.

‘We’re almost there, 2 minutes – less than 2 minutes – what are you trying to….’

Jemma’s eyes searched desperately across the dashboard, before finally landing on the burner Coulson had given her, still propped up on the dock.

‘The phone – you want the phone?’

Holding it out to her uncertainly, Jemma was surprised by the force May grasped for the phone with; her damaged fingers sluggishly but intently moving across the keypad. Jemma was torn as she flicked her eyes between the looming silhouette of the base just ahead of them and May’s shuddering form in the passenger seat; she wanted to pull over – May was practically quaking, jerking violently as her eyes attempted to slide shut, struggling to focus on the small screen before her. Jemma was just pulling up to the entrance to the hanger when she finally went slack, eyes rolling as they fell shut and the phone slipped from her grasp. Jemma reached for it instinctively before it slipped out of reach, sparing it a glance as she waited for the hanger doors to rise. There was an unsent text message still open on the screen, designated for a number with no caller ID. There wasn’t much time to deliberate as she pulled into the parking bay, triggering the hanger doors to shut behind her, but she quickly hit send, hoping it’s recipient understood whatever it was May was trying to convey as she alerted Coulson to their safe arrival before tucking the phone back into her pocket.

Grabbing her field kit from the back seat, Jemma rushed around to the passenger side, grimacing as she saw how much blood had soaked through the blanket. Sighing with relief, Jemma turned to the sound of approaching footsteps, very much in need of both a Fitz hug and his considerably stronger arms to lift May from the car. While she apparently didn’t have to sweat the strength issue, Jemma’s heart sank when she locked eyes with an irate Mack, rather than Fitz.

The glare he fixed her with, however, was nothing compared to his reaction as the lockdown alarms started blaring across the base.

Wisteria Lane Compromised

Lock & Key in Master Suite - Desk drawer

Exit Protocol -1

60 mins to clear

Bobbi was on some digital minimalism type kick about not checking your phone before breakfast, and Hunter briefly regretted not joining her as he read the covert instructions that were about to derail his otherwise pleasant morning. He stole one last wistful look at the coffee and donuts he had just brought home for breakfast. debating exactly how morally corrupt it would be to continue with his woo and screw undertaking on his wife that morning before disclosing their new impromptu obligation. Typical May, cockblocking him at every convenience.

Hunter was saved from facing the dubious results of his moral musings as Bobbi descended down the staircase with an urgency his homecoming wouldn’t usually inspire. And he knew things were bad before Bobbi even opened her mouth.

‘Coulson’s here – well, close – he needs us to meet him up on Summerhill – I didn’t ask for details, he sounded really fucked up.’

What little Coulson did say must have really gotten to her, as Bobbi had plucked the keys from his hand and her coffee from the table and disappeared into the garage without further explanation. Grabbing a donut from the box, he shrugged back into his jacket and followed her.

To his surprise, Bobbi was loading supplies from their lock-up into the back of his truck.

‘Thought we were taking your car?’

‘I’m taking my car, you take the truck – Coulson said he needs a second vehicle’.

‘Fuck me – I’ll be billing him for fuel on the expense report for this’.

All he got was a short huff from his better half, more annoyed than amused by his comments, the chances of reclaiming his days plans at any point soon were slipping away faster and faster.

‘It’s less than 30 minutes from here – I’ve forwarded the GPS link to your phone’, Bobbi caught him off guard with a cheeky pinch as he grabbed his own gear from the locker, ‘Try to keep up love’.

Bobbi was out and away as he climbed into his truck, opening the GPS link on his phone with a rueful green, recognising the area immediately. He knew a few short cuts to Summerhill, or as May called it, Wisteria Lane.

‘I’m sorry Mack – but we really need to move –‘

‘Neither of us are going anywhere until I get some sort of explanation – I’ve just had Daisy whining in my ear for 10 minutes about May being AWOL for training – and now the whole base is in lockdown with Coulson nowhere to be found!’

His tirade was cut short by Fitz’s arrival, as he all but slammed through the emergency door wheeling a gurney. 
‘We need to go quick before we get locked out of the-‘

He stopped short at the sight of Mack, looking uncertainly between him and Jemma, not sure what the mechanic knew about the situation. 
Jemma flicked a panicked glance over her shoulder, into the car behind her, drawing Mack’s attention their for the first time. Jemma saw the shock and revulsion flicker across his face before he schooled his expression.

‘Bloody hell’, if Mack was shocked, Fitz looked outright horrified.

Jemma felt a sudden surge of protectiveness over her friend, she knew what they were seeing; the blanket had slipped down to reveal her bare shoulders, and clung to her tiny form in the places where the blood had soaked through.

‘Don’t just stand there! Mack – there’s been an incident, when the Director returns, he will brief you. Now I need you to either move out of the way or help me get my patient to surgery before we are locked out of the MedBay and I have to do a field transfusion.’

With a terse nod, Mack lifted May gingerly from the front seat and set her on the gurney. Fitz still looked shell shocked but immediately sprung to action, pushing May towards the hallway. Mack caught her arm as Jemma made to follow him;
‘Where is Coulson?’

‘He said he’d be right behind me – he – he isn’t hurt’.

Mack released her, his expression still dark.

‘I’ll wait here, you do what you have to do’.

Hunter wasn’t surprised when he arrived onto the designated street ahead of Bobbi, but he was surprised to see Phil Coulson sitting on the front step as he pulled into the driveway; the only thing out of place in the otherwise picturesque setting.

Coulson rose to meet him as he exited the truck, but didn’t offer any sort of greeting;

‘What’s Bobbi’s ETA – she needs to be briefed’.

Hunter was busy removing the gear from the back of the truck, and was glad he had his back to Coulson as he responded.

‘We don’t do briefings – we’re not S.H.I.E.L.D anymore, remember? We’re here as a favour –‘

Hunter stopped short as he finally took a proper look at Coulson. He looked roughed up from afar, sure, but standing closer Lance could see the dark stains of drying blood on his clothes. Looking over his shoulder, the house stood dark and still behind him, and Hunter’s gut twisted as he registered May’s conspicuous absence. He’d tried to meet the other man’s eye but Coulson seemed to be looking straight through him.

The crunch of gravel signalled Bobbi’s arrival behind them, and she approached with a solemn expression on her face, clearly sensing the tension that he hadn’t.

‘There’s one hostile still inside, he’s subdued for now’, Coulson reached inside his jacket pocket and produced and ICER, ‘empty the whole clip into him and prep him for a hostile transport in whichever vehicle is fastest. The site is contained to the last room on the left on the second floor, the room will need to be stripped back – take any debris with you. There’s a secure airfield 5 minutes from here – you would have passed it on the way – there’s a quinjet in hanger 9 – I’ve already forwarded you the credentials and GPS data for the base.’

The two former agents moved immediately, but Hunter paused as he noticed Coulson hadn’t made a move to follow them.

‘Sir?’

‘Cover his face before you bring him down – I’ve already had to stay my hand from killing him once’.

His words took a second to sink in; he was serious, Hunter realized. Leaving his former employer alone with his murderous thoughts, Lance moved through the hallway after his wife.

The house was quiet, and clean, and BIG. If Hunter didn’t already know the whole neighbourhood (including his own comfortable home several blocks over) was populated by a mixture of retired or inactive Special Forces and CIA operatives, he would think May had a lucrative second career he didn’t know about to be able to swing such a place. Making his way up the stairs, he saw the light spilling through an open door at the end of the hall, with Bobbi waiting in the doorway. He was about to make some sort of joke about her waiting for a written invitation to get starter when he saw the wreckage spread out before him. The smell was almost overwhelming; blood and sweat and – something Hunter couldn’t quite place that had his gut churning. He moved quickly across the room, ignoring the unconscious figure slumped against the wall, and opened the small window. Shifting the splintered wood in his way with his foot, Hunter stepped on something unexpectedly soft and bent to pluck it from the rubble, dragging a mangled piece of plastic with it. Over the blood rushing in his ears, Hunter still heard Bobbi’s stifled sob from behind him as he set the broken mobile down on the window ledge; the tiny stuffed pandas still attached to it swung happily in the breeze from the window, oblivious to the drying blood matting their plush fur.