Work Text:
A CHANCE OCCURRENCE
XXX-XX-XXXX
Processing.
Processing.
Wait.
“Did the machine always take this long, Harold?”
Processing. Wait.
“I’m sorry, Ms. Shaw, but you could say there are a few quirks that need working out.”
Processing. Please wait.
“Rebuilding a nearly sentient computer is, believe it or not, a time consuming project.”
Complete. Social security number reads --
“Mr.Reese is unavailable at the moment,” Harold repeated, his expression forlorn. He scratched at his neck, watching with worried eyes as Shaw encircled his desk once again.
“Bullshit,” Shaw grimaced, halting to a stop.
“You know I take your complaints with the utmost consideration,” Harold continued, “and, if we were to have operatives outside Mr. Reese and Ms. Groves, I assure you I would most quickly address your grievances.”
“It’s a simple complaint, Harold; I’m not marrying Root . I don’t care how many lives it’s going to save! It’s going to cost this one,” Shaw emphasised, pointing dramatically at herself. Harold sighed, spinning his chair to look towards the monitor.
“Well, I guess I could always send Fusco in your place,” Harold mumbled, risking an eye in Shaw’s direction.
Shaw blinked, a mere glimpse of Root and Fusco, married, smiling, kissing flashed across her conscience. She grimaced, almost if somehow, sometime, somewhere, it had happened before.
“Whatever, I’ll do it.”
“Heard I was your first pick, Sam,” Root grinned, slipping the ring down her finger.
“Sorry to disappoint, but the ring didn’t fit bear,” Shaw returned, frowning.
Root grinned, unphased, and continued to fiddle with the wedding ornament. Shaw sighed, tossing the ring’s box into a nearby trash can.
“So who’s our number?” Root questioned, finally focused on the task at hand.
“Based on the surroundings?” Shaw said, gesturing to the government building across the street, “Some kid failed by the system.”
Root nodded, catching Shaw’s eye. The pair had certainly had their own dealings with unpleasant childhood conditions.
“Alright, let’s go,” Root decided, nodding affirmatively to Shaw. They crossed the street, walking side by side. Root reached for Shaw’s hand, and, rolling her eyes, she complied. Root smirked as she intertwined their fingers, gripping Shaw’s hand like she was never going to let this one go.
“And you would be?” the desk clerk said as they entered the building; he was a scruffy, short man with a lopsided frown, almost as if he wasn’t really dedicated to being in a bad mood.
“Mrs. Turing, nice to meet you,” Root extended her hand, smiling broadly. He looked at it briefly, before deciding against returning the handshake. Root retracted it, shrugging.
“And this one?” he asked, squinting his eyes at Shaw. Shaw glared at him characteristically, and he quickly turned back to the former visitor.
“This is my wife, the second Mrs.Turing,” Root gleamed, raising their entwined hands to the view of the clerk. Shaw grimaced, quickly yanking their hands down and away from his surprised expression. Root turned to her, smirking, but Shaw didn’t look her in the eye.
“We’re interested in fostering one of the kids in your district,” Root continued, “...Mary?”
His expression became visibly drained, and he sighed before clicking through a few files on his computer. He pulled up a specific file and turned the monitor around to face the couple.
Mary Sue Poots; she had long, brown hair and a devilish grin that Root could only admire. She had no known parents, relatives, and a little bit of a mischievous streak. She had been in five different homes over the past year.
“That’s the one,” Root smiled, pointing delicately to her picture on the screen, “Don’t worry, we’ve already filed all the paperwork. It should all be there.”
“Well, sorry, your luck ain’t great. She ran away a few weeks ago. No one can find her,” the clerk huffed.
“Ran away?” Root questioned, alarmed eyes turning to Shaw’s. Shaw shrugged her shoulders, equally confused. Harold hadn’t found anything about that.
“Uh huh. She hasn’t been here or in school for almost a month. Trust me, her friend has been showing up almost everyday to see if she’s come back yet,” he explained, grumbling.
“Her friend? When does she usually come around?” Shaw interjected.
“You just missed her. She left a few minutes ago,” he said, pointing to the clock.
“Shit,” Shaw sighed, giving a subtle nod to Root before stepping back outside. Root returned the look, accompanying her.
“Harold, have you heard anything about this friend?” Shaw asked, opting to sit on the bench outside. Root sat next to her, listening.
“I located a few correspondents between Mary’s teachers which talk about someone named Jemma Simmons. Apparently, Mary has had some issues staying in class. Jemma seems to be one of her only friends in the area, although she’s attended the same school district for years. Her teachers say she’s charismatic, but is prone to trust issues and some bouts of anxiety. Jemma seems oddly converse; she’s a straight A student, British, and part of three different honors societies,” Finch rambled, summarizing what information he could find.
“Charismatic with trust issues, trouble staying in school…” Shaw recited, looking at Root with a slight smirk, “sounds almost like someone we know.” Root looked back, eyebrows raised.
“Charismatic? Was that a compliment, Sameen?”
Shaw frowned, rolling her eyes, “did you not hear the rest of the sentence?”
“Sorry to interrupt, but it looks like Jemma has returned. Her car just pulled into the parking lot,” Finch interjected, sounding wholefully relieved that he had the chance to stop their banter before it progressed.
Shaw frowned quizzically, “why would she come back?”
“Why don’t we ask her?” Root smiled, waving to the teenager as she exited her car. Jemma, to their surprise, responded with a brilliant smile. She ran over to them, panting slightly as she stopped at the bench.
“Are you Mrs. Turing?” she asked, not looking at one of them in particular.
“Yes,” they replied in unison, although differing noticeably in level of excitement.
“Oh, thank the heavens,” Jemma said, “I got a call from the desk clerk that you two knew something about Skye?”
“Skye?” Shaw asked, “do you mean Mary?”
“Yes, yes; she prefers Skye, however,” Jemma explained, an endearing smile on her face.
“Ah, I see. Well, unfortunately, we don’t know as much as we wish we did,” Root began sympathetically, “we’re looking for her, too.”
“Oh,” Jemma deflated.
“But!” Root continued, giving her a reassuring smile, “we are very good at our jobs.”
“The best,” Shaw added, agreeing smugly, “and if you could fill in some holes for us, I’m sure we can find her.”
Jemma raised a skeptical eyebrow, but she easily regained her eager energy.
“What do you want to know?”
“Let’s start with the basics,” Root said, then paused, “are you listening, Harry?”
“Perpetually,” he returned, opening the line for Shaw to hear. Shaw smiled, the sounds of a chew toy squeaking in the background.
“Harry?” Jemma questioned, but Root just shook her head, waving off her concern.
“So, how do you know Skye?”
“She’s my best friend. I met her five years ago in 7th grade, and we’ve been friends ever since,” Jemma answered fondly. Root smiled.
“Cute. So, have you had any contact with her since she… left school? Do you have any idea where she may be or who she might be with?”
“I’ve gotten… messages,” Jemma sighed, looking away, “letters. They’re all very cryptic. Skye is resourceful, yes, but she’s no magician. I’m worried whatever she’s doing, it’s going to end very badly.”
Root and Shaw shared a glance.
“That’s one way to put it,” Shaw said, speaking lowly. Root coughed, giving Shaw a disapproving look.
“If you guys really can help, you’re free to look at the letters as much as you want. They’re all at my house.”
“Then let’s get moving, kid.”
Jemma’s room was very neat. Everything had its own box. Nothing unnecessary, spare some misplaced CDs. There was a disappointing lack of firearms, but no room was perfect.
“Nice place,” Shaw remarked, running her fingers over the bed post. She took in the surroundings; two shelves, a dresser, a night table, and a framed picture of her and Skye next to her bed.
Shaw quirked an eyebrow.
Interesting.
“She’s only sent a few letters,” Jemma said, lifting a handful of documents to place on her bed, “they’re all very strange, and she never responds to my correspondence.”
“Thank you, Jemma,” Root smiled, beginning to sift through the bunch. Shaw opted to question her further, her interest now piqued.
“So, do you have any idea what she might be doing out there?” Shaw asked, resting next to Root on the bed. Root smirked, taking the opportunity to lean into her. Shaw grumbled, but ultimately decided she didn’t want to mess up Jemma’s bed by shoving Root off of it.
“No clue,” Jemma replied quickly, nervously shifting her gaze from the bed.
“Really?” Shaw challenged her, moving forward and causing Root to lose her balance. She caught herself on the bedpost, shaking her head.
“Don’t berate her, sweetie. What reason would she have for hiding something from us?” Root said, grasping Shaw’s arm and squeezing lightly. Shaw sighed, relaxing, but still eyeing Jemma with intensity. Jemma flinched.
“I’m dreadfully sorry,” Jemma said, beginning to ramble, “I did leave something out. Just a detail―so miniscule, really―don’t know why I would even bother! Seems silly now, seeing as you two―you know.”
“What?” Shaw asked, confused, “us two what?”
“Err―how do I put this. Married? Uhm, gay?” Jemma whispered. Shaw balked.
“We are not married,” Shaw stressed, gesturing from herself to Root and then finally making a large X with her arms.
“ Sweetheart ,” Root smiled, raising her eyebrows as if it might stop her.
“No, this girl is smart, she was going to find out in about five minutes away,” Shaw reasoned, staring at Root forcibly. Root paused, shrugging. She supposed she had a fair point.
“You’re… not? Oh, oh I’m so sorry, this was all a great misunderstanding. Let’s just return to the letters, shall we…” Jemma laughed hoarsely, wiping sweat from the top of her brow.
“It’s okay,” Root smiled, kneeling in front of Sameen in the bed to rest her hand on Jemma’s forearm, “you can still tell us. We’re like, mostly dating, if that counts.”
Shaw readied herself to comment, but Root silenced her quickly with a solemn jab to the leg.
“Oh,” Jemma blinked, “well, err… Skye and I, you see, we had a fight.”
“A fight? How does that have to do with us being married?” Shaw responded, growing frustrated.
“Um,” Jemma paused, playing with her hands, “well, we’re dating.”
“Oh,” Shaw paused, unsure how to continue.
“I’m sorry, Jemma,” Root interjected, sensing Shaw’s reprehension, “I know it’s hard to lose someone you care about, especially when you don’t know where they are or what they’re doing. If they’re alive or dead. It’s a lot.”
“It is,” Jemma hiccuped, feeling her emotions bubble. She took a deep breath, “anyway. Yes, we had a fight. See―Skye isn’t really what you would call… well off. She has trouble at some subjects at school, but she’s really dedicated. I mean, we study all the time. I know they think she’s dumb, but she’s really not. It’s not her fault that there’s a whole system built against her! Not to mention that she’s barely been able to stay with a family for more than a few months…”
“Slow down, Simmons,” Shaw interrupted, “if we’re going to help her out, we need to know the important info, fast.”
“Oh, right, sorry,” Jemma sighed, blushing, “what I meant to say is that we were fighting about college. We’ll be graduating next year, and she kept telling me she didn’t have the money to go to the same college as me. I told her we could look for scholarships and ask about financial aid… but she wouldn’t hear any of it. She stormed out on me, and the next thing I knew she was gone.”
“So you’re saying she left right after your fight?” Shaw prodded. Jemma nodded.
“And lookie here,” Root said, pointing to the letter in her lap, “ dear Jemma, I found a way to fix things. What does that sound like to you, sweetie?”
“Motive,” Shaw responded, a smirk on her lips. Root smiled back.
“Motive? You can’t be serious?” Jemma said, jaw open, “Skye would never hurt a fly. I mean, unless the fly had picked a fight with her, or something.”
“Not all that motivates us ends in someone getting hurt,” Root smiled, tilting her head, “but in the case of your girlfriend, I’m thinking she might be on the receiving end of an angry loan shark.”
“You mean the receiving end of his revolver,” Shaw muttered. Jemma’s eyebrows shot up.
“We need to find her,” Jemma said, running her hands through her hair anxiously, “we need to find her right now .”
“I believe I can assist with that,” Harold announced through the mic.
“What’ya got, Harry?”
The unlikely trio stood in-front of an otherwise inconspicuous gas station, guns drawn. Jemma, always one for following instructions, hid convincingly behind a nearby dumpster.
“Okay, so not a loan shark,” Root mumbled, “much worse.”
“What is with Samaritan and recruiting young girls to do bad shit?” Shaw asked, back faced against Root’s. She felt Root’s back shake, laughing at an increasingly inappropriate situation.
“Bad girls do it well?”
“If Samaritan doesn’t kill you, I will,” Shaw rolled her eyes, desperately trying to conceal her smirk.
They flanked left, approaching the door of the gas station.
“I’ll check the door,”
Root fiddled with the nod, ducking safely behind the window. It opened easily, and she pushed it ajar slowly. Shaw followed behind her, gun raised over her shoulder.
“Skye?”
“Get out of here!” a voice screamed from ahead, “get out, I warn you! I’m not giving you the files!”
“Skye, are you alone? We’re here to help,” Root yelled back, staring into the surroundings of the darkly lit gas station. Suddenly, a slim figure appeared from behind the register, holding a knife threateningly over her head.
“I - I warn you, don’t come any closer,” she yelled, blinking into the light.
“Kid, trust us. We’re not with Samaritan,” Shaw said, “Jemma’s here with us, she’s waiting right outside.”
“J - Jemma? Did you abduct Jemma?” Skye asked, voice heightened. She came farther into view, readying her hands.
“No, no, Skye! I’m perfectly safe!” Jemma stormed into the station, jumping through the door and a meter away from the other girl, “look, they didn’t lay a finger on me.”
“We told you to stay outside, Jemma,” Shaw said, gritting her teeth, “we don’t know what kind of Samaritan assassins could be hiding in here.”
“No one’s here,” Skye said, eyes hooded. She lowered the knife, slinking back against the wall, “fuck. Jemma, I… I fucked up.”
Jemma inhaled sharply, coming to Skye’s side. Skye kept her head facing the ground, shaking it roughly as she took in the situation.
“It’s okay, Skye,” Jemma said, squeezing her arm reassuringly, “whatever happened, we’re here now.”
“You don’t get it, Jem,” Skye said, finally meeting her gaze. The look in her eye was dire, full of fear and frustration. Jemma squeezed her arm again, offering her a smile as she began to form the words.
“I thought they were for real,” Skye continued, “offering me scholarships like I have never seen . I thought my skills with computers would get me somewhere, but not nearly as far as what they said they could do for me.”
“It’s always a game, kid,” Shaw said, shaking her head. She looked at Root to further the explanation, but the other woman was preoccupied with her phone, “hey, techhead, want to be a little sympathetic to the situation?”
“Oh, sorry,” Root said, clicking her phone off and offering a sympathetic smile, “but you’re not going to have to worry about them anymore, Skye. I just made a little arrangement.”
“A… what? Who even are you?” Skye said bitterly. Jemma gave her a slight nudge, and Skye softened.
“Well…as you two were getting acquainted, I decided to send a message to a little friend of mine with some connections,” Root smirked. Shaw shared her look.
“That’s the understatement of the century,” Shaw mumbled.
“Anywho, you’re off Samaritan's radar. Well, for now, but hopefully forever, that is if you can fulfill one condition,” Root said, filling in the details. Skye shook her head fervently, eyebrows knotted.
“I’m not going to make the same mistake twice,” Skye said dryly, some of her usual humor returning. Jemma’s smile widened, but she worried her hands nervously at whatever condition they might have to deal with.
“The condition being that when you and Jemma go to college, you stay in college. If you drop out, we’ll have no practical way of, err - supervising the situation,” Root affirmed. She saw Skye’s eyes momentarily fall, and continued hastily, “college being fully paid for by a sponsor, of course.”
“...A sponsor?” Jemma squeaked. The two girls looked at eachother, delighted but mostly confused. Shaw shook her head, leaning against the door and taking a precautionary view out the window. She knew Root was bullshitting, for the most part. No one ever really leaves Samaritan's radar. She sure knows she hasn’t, if the broken surveillance chip in her neck is anything to show for it. Regardless, she knew it was all about hope; that maybe, someday, they might just get the happy ending they deserve.
And, if she’d learned anything, it’s that hope is all you really need.
It’s all you really have, anyway.
Eyeing the matching rings as they walked away, Skye paused and leaned towards Jemma.
“Are they married?”
Jemma laughed, smiling.
“Sort of.”