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She knew how her brain worked. Everything neatly stored in little boxes, organised so she could find everything she needed to think. It was a reliable system, one that stemmed from the advice to put her fears into a little box and she liked it. With the amount of information she had in her mind, she couldn't let herself be jumbled. Especially not now, when so much was on the line. The lives of her team, her family, her Fitz, they all depended on her being organised, on her brain actually working the way it was supposed to.
So why couldn't she focus?
It felt as if her whole brain was swirling. A mess of colours and images. Things she part recognised, half-finished memories, burning through her. It was dizzying, as if she was running on a treadmill going too fast to keep up, and she felt inordinately helpless. One would think not knowing the full details of things, feeling helpless would become normal after so many years working for SHIELD, with all the situations that they couldn’t know the background of because their clearance levels weren’t high enough, but it was never a comfortable feeling, and one she dealt with by having extreme control over her own mind. She didn't like this one bit.
Wracked by an influx of memories Jemma sank to the floor of her lab. Her knees pressed against her chest and she inhaled shakily. It still felt strange to be in here alone, everything quiet and tidy. No clinking of instruments, no started statements that ran off as he realised the answer, to bounce ideas off or to finish the thoughts she couldn't follow through. She missed Fitz.
Fitz. That train of thought forced yet more memories to the forefront. At first an involuntary smile came to her lips, just thinking of all the time they had spent in the lab. It was their favourite place to be on the Bus, even if they weren't working on anything specific. Just tinkering about, equipment they had only been able to dream of at their fingertips. But it wasn't fun, or even half as productive alone. All the things she worked on felt unfinished, like she was without him. Perfectly functional, but not as smooth running and without the certain particular additions he added that pulled it all together.
Then more memories filled her, even as she thought her brain couldn't hold anymore. Feeling whole and complete with Fitz's hand on her shoulder and a little bundle nestled in her arms that couldn't fit more perfectly. Smiling down at the little face that gurgled happily, she was filled with a huge flood of love. Everyone described the connection between parents and their babies but Jemma knew it was purely a rush of endorphins. There was a scientific explanation of course.
Human babies are a lot less developed than most animals, so the connection between parent and child has to be a lot more developed, so that the parent protects the child from all of the predators they earn it protect themselves against. There was a scientific reason for it. But all Jemma knew in that moment was that she loved the perfect child in her arms and the arms she herself was in.
An intense wave of panic shattered the perfect memory. She could see her little family, on their own mission. Out in space, so exposed, trying to find Sybil. They weren't safe. No one could know where they were. Otherwise they would be found. There was a reason she couldn’t remember. Because here, her brain wasn’t safe. They knew that all too well. But she could remember. And she liked the memories. But her family was in danger. And it was Jemma's fault. Her people were supposed to be cared for, hidden away and protected. But she herself was putting them at risk.
There was a creak at the door and the sound of footsteps broke through her daze. Too rhythmic to be human, she knew they could only be from Enoch.
He approached, taking her in. "Are you okay, Jemma Simmons?" he asked, his voice cool and emotionless as usual.
Looking up at him, her fear was clear in her eyes. "I remember…” she managed to
get out, her voice shocked and cracking.
Enoch of course stayed calm but he moved briskly to her side.
"You remembering puts my best friend Leopold Fitz in grave danger," he said matter of factly. "We must rectify this situation."
There was a pause as for a moment every neuron in Jemma's body cried out against it. Wipe the memory of her baby? She should be there with them. They needed her and she needed them. What sort of mother would she be if she couldn’t even remember the little girl that had arrived at such an inopportune time, just before they had to separate, but who she loved even more than the beautiful baby’s father? The memories were sacred. Ones she wanted to hold tight. It felt as if her heart was being ripped apart as she had to say goodbye once more.
Enoch noticed something was wrong and lay a hand on her shoulder.
"I know it is hard but it must be done.”
The only response she could give was a resolute nod. Enoch moved behind her, and she felt cold fingers start to adjust Diana.
In that moment, Jemma held onto that memory. Her baby girl in her arms and Fitz by her side. She couldn't think of a time where she had ever been happier. Forgetting was for the best, she was well aware. But her heart ached as she held onto the happy moment.
A smile was on her lips but she wasn't sure why.