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When Jemma comes to her, May is surprised.
And not surprised at all.
“I can’t do anything for him here,” she says quietly, staring at her hands clasped tight in agitation. “And I think I might just be getting in his way.”
“You two always used to be combative in the lab, Simmons.”
“It’s not that,” she says immediately. “I can handle him. I just don’t think he can handle me.”
“Why are you telling me this?”
“Because I haven’t seen Coulson in weeks. You’re the only one here who can give me permission.”
“And if I won’t give it?”
Jemma looks down, goes so quiet May fears she’s made everything a lot worse.
“You’re not really asking, are you?”
“I don’t want to leave, May, please,” Jemma says suddenly. The tears in her eyes are desperate and hungry and heartbroken, and they need release. “I don’t want to leave him or Skye or you. But--”
“Okay.” May clears her throat. She is not equipped to handle this passionlessly.
“Thank you.” And it sounds like bright relief.
“She made it onto the plane?” May asks Trip as he enters through the loading bay.
“Yeah, she’s safe. Are you going to tell me what that was about?” His easy countenance covers a more serious question.
“Not if she didn’t.”
May gets in touch with Maria, who gets in touch with Pepper. They place her in a small lab at Stark Tower. She has it to herself, and it's outfitted with enough resources that would usually make her act like a kid in a candy store.
Or at least that’s what it sounds like to May when Jemma describes it over the phone.
“You got the samples?”
“Yes,” Jemma confirms. “Skye’s and Coulson’s. How did you get them, anyway?”
“They were happy to help.” This is a huge lie. Right now Coulson’s attention is fractured a hundred different ways, trying to keep up with newfound responsibility. She told him it was for his physical.
She didn’t tell him that Jemma left. Not yet.
Skye, to be fair, was more than happy to help. She just didn’t know exactly what she was helping with.
“Daily updates, Jemma. That’s the deal.”
“I promise.”
The problem (one of many huge, heartbreaking, unsolvable problems) is that he doesn’t notice for three days.
Three days.
On the fourth day, May enters the lab early, sees that he’s missing, and panics. He’s not in his bunk, nor the mess. She searches the entirety of the Playground silently, urgently, alone. But she should’ve known.
She’s not sure how he made it past everyone without someone stopping him, but he lowered the cargo ramp of the Bus, climbed up the stairs and is now fisting the long-abandoned sheets of Jemma’s old bunk, lost at sea.
It takes him a few minutes, but when May comes into focus in front of him he speaks, voice thick with fear.
“Where is she?”
“She’s on a mission. She went to go study GH-325 in a lab with more facilities, so that she can hopefully bring it back to you.”
It’s the kindest way to put it. It’s not a lie; it’s just a version of the truth.
“I don’t remember if she said goodbye or not.”
May doesn’t tell him the answer. She can’t criticize Jemma for the way she left, because she would’ve done the exact same thing. She has done the exact same thing.
“Let’s go back inside, Fitz.”
“No,” he says automatically. He’s starting to spin out. “No, I--I--I. Can I please--can I please just stay here for a bit?”
“I’m not leaving you alone.”
“Can we just stay here for a bit?”
She nods, sitting down on the floor against the wall, and she waits as he rides it out.
Every time she calls, she asks about him.
“How is he?”
Meekly. Like she doesn’t deserve the information.
“The same,” May says, because it’s kinder than the truth.
“I can still hear her talking to me,” Fitz says one night, and it’s actually the most lucid she’s seen him in a long time. But after a long moment of silence he shakes his head, continues on with his rambling, and May tries not lose herself in it.
“Trip asked me to ask you where you left the extra crutches.”
“All the extra med gear is in the storage closet on the Bus.” Jemma pauses. “I guess he knows I’m gone then?”
May’s brow furrows. “He drove you to the airport.”
She makes a noncommittal sound.
“Everyone’s noticed, Jemma. Did you really think they wouldn’t?”
She’s quiet for a long moment. “I don’t know.”
“We’re--” May’s hesitant to say the word. “We’re a family, Jemma.”
“Are we still?”
“That hasn’t changed.”
“Does anyone still want me in the family, seeing as I’ve abandoned everyone?” It’s meant to sound a bit sarcastic, but May sees right through Jemma, even over the phone.
“Anyone who’s upset by the choice you made can go through me.” But she sighs, tired. “Nothing’s unfixable, Simmons.”
“Were you ever going to tell me?” Phil asks, and there are still hints of the first betrayal behind his eyes.
“I was hoping I could get her to come back before you’d have time to worry,” May says. That much is true. Even if she understands why Jemma had to leave, ultimately May wants her back where she belongs.
“She just needs some time.”
Skye seeks her out one night, eyes wide with some untamed feeling.
“He told me it feels like she died and he survived.”
May doesn’t know what to say to that.
“You’re not really going to use GH-325 on Fitz, are you?” May says, finally, finally; and Jemma goes silent on the line. She was in the middle of a long diatribe that basically resulted in I have no idea what’s going on, and May’s not surprised.
“Even if I manage to re-engineer it, I’m not sure it’s safe to,” she says quietly.
“Then why haven't you returned?”
May already knows the answer, but it takes Jemma a long time to say it.
“I'm scared.” May can see it, clear as day, tears welling helplessly in her young eyes. “I'm scared that I can't help him. I'm scared that I can't even help myself.”
May understands this. She is a girl that forced herself out to sea alone, so that if she drowns she won’t take anybody down with her. May had recognized it when she first came to ask for permission to leave.
Daily updates. So that she had something to hold onto. That’s the best May could do.
“I can’t fail, May. I can’t. He’s never needed me more than right now.” She is shattering; she is gritting her teeth and taping herself back together.
“Exactly, Jemma. He needs you, home, right now. We all do. And you need us. You don't have to handle all of this alone.” May takes a deep breath. “I understand why you wanted to leave. You needed space to breathe. But it’s time to come home.”
There is a long moment where Melinda reminds herself to breathe. Jemma sniffles. “Will you come get me?” she asks, tiny, and May's never felt more like a mother.
The quinjet lands without a hitch. Jemma is curled up in the copilot's chair, worrying the hem of her sweater.
May squeezes her shoulder. She stands in trepidation, grabbing her bag so she has something to do with her hands. It feels like someone's trying to flatten her to the ground, but May anchors her towards the open door. As they deplane, she can see Fitz's head peeking out the little door windows leading to the base, watching. May wonders if someone had the good sense in there to hold him back or if he's just as nervous as Jemma is.
The girl is scanning her long-unused ID badge (--Agent Jemma Simmons--) and the door is opening and he is wrapped around her almost instantly.
May leaves them to their reunion, sighing in relief as one of their wounds finally starts to heal.