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Bobbi was thinking again, as she always did after testing days such as those. It helped her process everything that she had consciously ignored in the heat of battle, filed away for later; Bakshi being one of those problems. Like why the man had to try and kill himself right in front of her. Yeah… That was one them, or how he’d gone and landed himself in medical for not doing it well enough. I mean, if you’re going to kill yourself… Do it well, or answer my damn questions.
With the Hydra pawn down in medical and the image of the deathly off-white foam seeping from his mouth still firm on the backs of her eyelids, Bobbi was unaware of how intensely it made her spin her ever present batons. Around and around, then blink. They became quicker without her permission. Blink. Bakshi. Quicker and quicker, the swish of air being displaced with each pulse of the sticks filtered through the lowly lit corridor. They were tossed around her fingers, so fast, not twirling, that the beautiful agent lost control of the right and sent it flying forward, coming to meet the ground and skidding along the corridor as the left baton vanished from her nimble fingers soon after. Bobbi cursed, low and in a whisper whilst knitting her brows into a frown, very bad words fell without warning from her mouth. This wasn't her, she grumbled again, that man so allegiant to Hydra had done a number on her when he'd broken that cyanide capsule. It was deliberate and if he wasn’t so close to dying she might just have gone down and done it herself!
She went to recover the abandoned batons, allowing a lopsided smirk to pass her worried lips when she realised how close it had come to bumping into the outside of her teammate's door. Jemma’s door. Kind Jemma, she regarded. Always willing to please when no one else would. Bobbi loved that about her, it was needless to explain how she could always make the older smile, even going as far as to say that it was a talent. She was the one who was in such a state of admiration that if Hunter ever escalated an argument into a full blown domestic war (all from his inferior height), Jemma would have probably leapt in to shoot the man down with daggers and biochemical poisons before he could even breathe another breath.
Suddenly she wasn't so angry anymore.
Thanks, Jemma. She hushed into the silence.
Simmons had retreated into her bunk earlier that night, a peculiar mix of emotions on her features that the older wasn't quite sure she could read, and that being Bobbi's job to do so, became perplexing to her, more so in fact. The buzz of curiousity was still fresh in her mind. There was a distinct innocence to her stance and features that the agent did not associate with her before then.
Bobbi bent to pluck the fallen batons from the floor, finding that even before realising she was doing so, she had pivoted up on the spot rising to come face to face with Jemma's door. Considering the time of night (her watch noted an ungodly hour) the blonde's rap of knuckles were soft on the wood and barely even registered let alone had it been loud enough for Jemma to hear. But the curiosity was again too great, after no reply for several minutes Bobbi lowered her voice and whispered just away from the surface, "Jemma are you still in there?"
Her hands folded around the handle before freezing, there was a little noise from inside, a whimper? Agent Morse shook her head unsure. Then another. It sounded like muffled crying and it absolutely did not break her heart when she finally placed the sound as that of coming from her young scientist friend. She took initiative and pressed into the door with her weight, reducing the click of when the handle ducked and opened into the room's darkness to an inaudible alternate.
Bobbi was awestruck. She would never forget what she found on the other side. Jemma, for one, in her own little universe, was curled up on the top of her covers. That being the only 'usual' part about it to the agent. She found, scanning lower from where her eyes automatically focused through the dark on her face, something that wasn't so normal to her. She tried to reason it as the dim light playing tricks on her eyes but then again she couldn’t lie to herself, she was the mockingbird, not a blinded child.
Jemma's hands were in an ice grip around what looked like a little stuffed rabbit, raggedy but not unloved, kneading at its ear as she cried until it was so twisted or creased that it could simply drop off, it looked so old. Bobbi's confused eyes fell in bemusement from the small plush animal to just below the girl's waist where her baggy pyjama top, comically printed with little Einsteins, had risen to just over her waist line, exposing something which made the agent's heart stop dead and flip several times over. Jemma was wearing a diaper? Or at least a larger version of one she was used to seeing on young children. There was even the little child-like pictures over it’s synthetic material.
Bobbi's grasp tightened on her batons impossibly as she tried to back out of the room, still listening to the small biochemical scientist cry, although how she hadn't been noticed yet was beyond her. There was a rasp in her breath not uncommon to confusion or fear as she tried desperately to process the situation way too fast.
Repressed sobs were escaping from Jemma's mouth in quick succession which was just holding a teetering soother in, green in colour with a little crocodile emblem. It was threatening to fall onto the pillow below with every second and every sob, each hitch convulsing in her chest as if it was painful. Bobbi couldn't leave now, she had made it most of the way to the door but with her back to the closed exit, she couldn't pull herself to physically open it up, to leave Jemma in this state. Dammnit, the agent mouthed now pissed with herself for intruding on such a private moment. It was adorable she found herself thinking. Her eyes were glued on the crying girl in front of her, now so curled in on herself that it took a bit of searching to find the old worn bunny.
The agent ground her teeth in determination and wondered just what exactly she was planning on doing when she quietly strode further into the room again. To her friend’s side she went, flicking on the bedside light. Bobbi's gaze was soft as she looked down upon her endearingly, she looked nothing more than an innocent child in the warmth of the light with all the apparel and her small height. It did nothing but add to the illusion. Little Jemma who was so scared when she first met the tall combat specialist, who was so lost when she returned to the S.H.I.E.L.D. facility that it almost hurt to watch her unsurely draw away from the others as if they were indeed still in Hydra. Little Jemma who was crying so hard yet so silently that the blonde just had to reach out a comforting (if slightly shaking) hand to rest on the girl's shoulder and rub circles over the loose material of her pyjamas.
But as soon as Bobbi's hand made contact with Jemma's arm, the scientist jerked back in panic, rising and kicking herself back until her shoulders were pressed firmly against the headboard and the grey-toned wall. It looked awfully uncomfortable. What had she done? The agent jumped back herself at this startled reaction, surprised, quick on watching the pacifier which had been in Jemma's mouth tumble to the ground at the side of the bed. The scientist was clawing at the covers beneath her like a wild animal, hiding all evidence of the diaper she wore par the slight crinkle of plastic as she shifted from side to side.
Oh Jemma, Bobbi cringed, sad for the state the girl had gotten herself into, even sadder that she felt like she had caused part of this fear.
She had isolated herself like this away from the others, not wanting to even talk to Skye or May or Coulson… Or Fitz, all of whom she had become closer with in the month since her return. It was something Bobbi wanted to understand but she couldn’t find time out of the missions to do so. Her bemusement from earlier had all too soon disappeared along with all trace of confusion. Those were replaced by ones the woman was confident she had never felt towards another adult before. She felt the urge to soothe the crying scientist, more so than the urge to run out the door batons in her wake. Her face drew into a shape of worry, she took another step forward.
Jemma shrunk back even more, though logically speaking she knew that was impossible. Bobbi hushed softly under her breath, the testing smile Jemma had first laid eyes on at Hydra had returned and was covering up the painfully obvious lack of competence she had in this situation. Her lips curled into a nervous grin.
"It's okay Jemma. I won't tell anyone." Bobbi reassured careful of how she approached the easily spooked girl for both her benefit and for Jemma's before noting the way the scientist's shoulders sagged in relief. It took her another few awkwardly silent minutes before the agent wagered Jemma had felt safe enough to return to the mattress instead of perching on the pillows. In this time Bobbi had crouched down to retrieve Jemma's pacifier from the ground, placing it upon the side table.
She was trying, that’s what counted… Right? Even if she was completely out of her depth.
As she sat again, Jemma slid from the headboard and into the tiny fetal position she had been curled into earlier, blankets pooled around her like a nest. Bobbi hesitated as she did so but soon enough, her hand was busy rubbing Jemma's shoulder again. What the hell has happened to make her this upset? She wanted to ask. "What happened to you?" She tried instead. There was no reaction for a brief moment then Jemma finally shook her shoulders in return and in one single syllable, murmured tearfully into her rabbit, her lips pressed against its ear. "Fitz."
"Well that's the least I've ever heard you say in one sentence around me, cutie.” Bobbi chuckled in an intendedly kind nature not forced in the least, all intents set on making the scientist laugh until she realised that it wasn't actually the quirky little scientist she was dealing with. Far from it in fact. Somehow the agent incontestably knew that she wouldn't process her humour the same way when she was in this headspace. Bobbi sighed in frustration, regretting saying what she had when the keening whimper came from her friend, transforming into a quiet hitched cry. "Shit, sorry. I mean, sorry. I didn't mean it to come out that way." Bobbi cursed below her breath, filtering out the grown-up words that she figured would not settle well with a child. "I'm a terrible person."
Ignoring the fact that her first acquaintance within the facility was wearing a rustling diaper, much more for her own confidence than any else, Agent Morse pulled the young scientist up from her position, using her armpits as leverage and rather awkwardly, brought her into her arms. The feeling of the diaper pressing against her thigh sending a rather questionable surge of something through her nervous system. It was like fire. Maternal? She didn’t know. Good? Maybe. All things were telling her she should not feel this fine about it but she did. She felt perfectly fine, even maybe enjoying the contact. Bobbi had seen this done a million times with kids in public but doing it herself, it seemed so much more... Awkward. It was all arms and legs and manoeuvring until they settled on a comfortable position. Copying what she had seen and gently holding Jemma's head to her chest, Bobbi supported the rest of her body with her -thankfully- strong arms, not that she needed an ounce of her full strength to do so with Jemma. She moved in a small rocking motion, testing out the limits.
Huh… It did feel right.
"Hey hey hey, shhh now, you'll wake the others up, silly." Bobbi now thanked herself that she had chosen to close the door. "There's nothing to be sad about, Fitz is just- being Fitz… He’s a silly boy." The mockingbird guessed as much at least. Jemma worried at the ears of her rabbit and pressed her face onto Bobbi's collarbone. "Not my Fitz." She was extremely thankful for the physical contact then, affectionate contact, but she was still terrified that Bobbi, amazing Bobbi who saved her life when they first met, stunning Bobbi was the one giving it to her. It was beyond the point of embarrassment now, she should have probably cringed, made herself be a big girl but all she mustered in that safe moment was as small, "Fitz probably hates me." Uttered in a whisper, eyes wide and teary, guilt welling at the pit of her stomach, she explained further, her voice becoming more urgent and frantic. "He hates me and everyone knows that it- it’s my fault he can't get better and that I'm just a burden to his recovery, to him being- being my Fitz again and-"
"Jemma stop." Bobbi's voice was surprisingly stern as she chided, her long arm reaching across to the side table and -puzzling to her as to why this was her first port of call- picking up the soother. She gave it a little dust off on her combat suit before pressing it to the girl's lips and when the girl didn't immediately respond in fear of the intimidating woman seeing her do something so infantile, the agent prompted, "Open." In retrospect, it was meant to be gentler but Bobbi found it difficult to pitch her voice when so torn. All knowledge was telling her that her skin should be crawling but it wasn't… She wouldn’t fully admit it but she was starting to enjoy this.
Jemma took the pacifier into her mouth and rid it of its musty taste within a couple of sucks. She was quiet again with exception of sniffles, cradled into the woman's torso.
"There, that's better." Bobbi praised lightly, on instinct bringing a hand up to tussle Jemma's hair. "Told you there was no need to cry didn't I. Y'all done Jem?" The hand began to smoothe over the scientist's hair, stopping only when she felt Jemma nod, "Good, you'll make yourself ill if you keep on crying like that. Coulson would have my ass for that." Shit. "I mean, he'd be very cross with me."
“Come to think about it… So would May.”
Finally came a reply to this, a ‘sorry’ and she tutted, standing carefully with Jemma in her arms and easily carrying her through into the attached bathroom. “There’s no need to say sorry silly.” She placed her down on the side of the bathtub, making sure Jemma was stable enough to hold herself upright without falling before turning on heel to soak a cloth in steaming water. It had significantly cooled once rung out and by the time Bobbi had returned to Jemma it was pleasantly tempid. "Here." She held it out to the scientist and was met with a confused and absent look in return. What was she doing? Shaking her head, Bobbi balled the cloth up into her fist in frustration before pulling it out flat and folding it in quarters. Her mom used to do this for her when she was little, she remembered. Little. The term lingered in her thought. She crouched in front of Jemma. Was that Jemma? "You've really got me running rings, haven't you? Lucky I was still awake huh." A statement. She knew she wasn’t going to be rewarded with an answer. The agent began to wipe the cloth over Jemma's tear soaked face, letting the warmth pause on the bags under her eyes and a thumb graze over the skin once all the tracks had been absorbed. “There, bet you feel much better now Jem.”
Face washed and everything cleared away in the bathroom, Bobbi tossed the wet cloth into the sink and helped Jemma back up before the girl toppled forward, she caught her when the two collided. Jemma’s legs had gone weak, Bobbi worried, scooping her up for the second time that day and into her welcoming hold. She was awarded a small squeak of surprise at this, bringing a goofy grin to her lips. "Well you're clearly not walking yourself cutie." Jemma grumbled before giving in.
"Why're you doing this for me..." Came an even smaller reply, Jemma was edging out of her little space, not much but enough that she was abled to care for what was happening. She plucked curiously at Bobbi's lapel.
"Cause I care about you. But if you tell a soul, I'll have to tickle you to death." Bobby shortly nodded, snorting at her own joke, "And you don't want me ever tickling you... Cause I'm the best there is." She felt a laugh form in Jemma's chest, rumbling as she quickly danced fingertips over her ribcage and- her job was done. That smile. God, she’d have gone to hell and back for that smile. Then more reassuringly after the girl had quit wriggling, a second later, she spoke. "M’tired." Jemma rubbed at her eyes with the back of her hands once the task of toying with the woman’s uniform lost its appeal.
"Want me to go?" Bobbi suggested as they reached the bed, she lay the scientist down as gently as she possibly could, watching her pull away onto the bed yawning and work her way into the mess of bedding. "It's crazy o'clock, I probably have some-"
"No."
"-things I need to- what?"
"Can you- can you stay with me please Agent Morse?" Jemma looked as if she might begin wailing at a moments notice, her lip was wobbling uncontrollably. With her reply she had already snatched her bunny up, having its ear to chew comforting her for what she assumed would be an excuse to leave from Bobbi. "If you're not too busy."
“...It was really dark…”
Agent Morse had to think at first, split between finally having a moment alone to process what leap the two teammate's relationship had taken in such a short time or comforting the girl that was so far from what she had known her teammate to be but quite possibly the sweetest thing that Bobbi was admitting now that she had ever seen. But really, there was no question in it when she looked into Jemma’s eyes. The fear was relentless, Bobbi thought. Dammnit, Bobbi rolled her eyes to the heavens and made a brief ‘gimme’ gesture for her friend to come closer. “C’mere cutie.”
She finally gave in, allowing herself to join her on the bed. How bad could it hurt if she just spent one night? It was better than the stress she’d be going back to the base with in concern with Bakshi. Well, anything was. But Bobbi had to admit that Jemma was the best of those ‘other things’. Especially now, even though she could quite explain what had made it better now.
Jemma gave her a sleepy grin and clambered through the bunched up blankets to settle on Bobbi’s lap, all while she had completely forgotten that her padded rear was completely on show to the woman, it was forgon in the moment. She opened her mouth wordlessly for the agent to slip her precious pacifier into again and hummed happily when she was greeted with the familiar rubbery silicone teat on her tongue, even enough for her to giggle. Bobbi thumbed the soft material of the scientist’s pyjama top as she flopped back against the headboard with a final warning of; “Right you, get to sleep or I’m tickling you again.”