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Jemma gets into three fights before May gives in and shows her the right way to throw a punch.
The first fight, predictably, is because of Fitz. For all that the two of them bicker, Fitz is more precious to Jemma than anything else in the world. May still hasn’t gotten out of them how the two of them met, only that they came to Fury already fiercely bonded and endlessly defensive of each other. She thinks maybe they were in a bad home together before Fury, but only knows that they claimed they would run away if not rehomed together.
Skye, for all her insecurities, makes friends easily and abundantly. May can’t really keep track of them, their nicknames seem to change three times a week. But Jemma isn’t like that. Her affection is limited and careful. She likes the babysitter, and Steve, and the weekend librarian. All older than her, which she doesn’t seem to mind. And besides that she has Fitz, whom her world revolves around. And Fitz, for his part, has a biting wit and an angry streak a mile wide, but he’s not one to defend himself.
So of course it’s because of Fitz. That’s not surprising, it’s the fighting that’s surprised May, though perhaps it shouldn’t have.
Jemma is waiting for her in Principal Hill’s office when she arrives. The boy she punched was sent home with a broken tooth. There’s a small cut on the knuckle above Jemma’s pinky, but besides that she looks no worse for wear, sitting primly in one of the seats along the wall. She doesn’t look over as May approaches her.
Maria stands, smiling politely at May. “I’ll give you two a minute.” She leaves the room, shutting the door behind her.
May turns back to Jemma. “Care to explain what happened today?”
Jemma’s gaze remains straight in front of her, unwavering. “He was being mean to Fitz.” Her voice is quiet and grave.
“And you punched him, because?”
Her fists clench. “I was angry.”
May sighs, and kneels down in front of Jemma. From this angle she can see the tears threatening to spill over in Jemma’s eyes. “You can’t let your emotions own your actions. I’m not telling you you can’t feel, or that you didn’t have the right to be angry, but emotions shouldn’t always be what drives you. They can empower you to make the right decisions, but they shouldn’t be the only thing leading you to a wrong one.”
“Steve says you have to stand up to bullies.”
Steve. May was going to have to have a talk with him. “There’s a difference between defending yourself because you have to, and going after someone else because you want to.”
Jemma visibly steels herself, taking a long, even breath and clenching her body. She finally looks at May. “Are you going to give me up?”
For a second May doesn’t respond, because she’s taken aback by the question. But even the hesitation is too much—Jemma nods, and looks away, the tears finally streaming down her face.
May rests her hand on Jemma’s leg, and for a moment she flinches back from it, and then relaxes. “I’m not going to do that, Jemma.”
Jemma’s whole body crumples inward. “Why?”
May isn’t good at the whole ‘opening up and talking’ thing, so she takes a moment to gather her words. “Because I made the decision to take you kids in, and I didn’t mean as long as it was easy, or if you behaved. I’m in this for the long haul, no matter what happens.”
“So you’re stuck with us?”
“That’s not what I said. I’m choosing to be here.”
Jemma blinks at her for a few seconds, rubbing the back of her hand over her wet cheek. “Why?”
“Because you’re worth it.”
Jemma wavers, more tears coming to her eyes, and then she collapses against May with a sob, wrapping her arms around her neck. Jemma is small for her age, almost as small as Skye, and skinny, so it’s not hard for May to stand up with her and let Jemma cling to her side, crying into her shoulder. May isn’t sure if Jemma’s too old to be doing this, and the extra weight makes her hip ache painfully where there used to be a bullet hole, but she doesn’t really care.
“How about we go home? Maybe we can watch a movie.”
Jemma clings a little tighter. “Home. That sounds good.”
-
The second time May has left her and Antoine and Skye with the babysitter, Bobbi. May and Fitz were at his IEP meeting, so when they get home they’re both worn out and not feeling very good about themselves. May lets her keys clatter onto the little table in the hallway, and then Bobbi’s nervous smile comes around the corner.
“What happened?” May asks, already dreading the answer.
“We ran into a little trouble at the park.”
Bobbi leads her into the living room, where Jemma is sitting on the couch with a bag of frozen peas pressed against her face. Skye is laying across her lap.
“Jemma,” Fitz gasps, running over and kneeling next to them on the couch. “What- what happened?” He pulls the bag away from her face and gently skims his fingers along her cheek, just under the angry purple of her swollen eye, looking like he might cry.
“I’d like to ask the same thing,” May says, coming to sit on the other side of them. Skye readjusts so her feet are in May’s lap.
“Ms. May,” Jemma starts, which she only ever calls her anymore when she knows she’s in trouble, “I assure you that fighting was not my intention, but there was this girl—Raina—at the park, and she pushed Skye out of the swings. I had to defend her.”
“Yeah, May, she scratched my arm.” Skye lifts her arm to show four pink clawing marks.
“What, exactly, happened?”
“I saw the whole thing,” Antoine says from the armchair, “Raina was being mean to Skye because she wouldn’t give her the swing, so she pushed Skye and tried to drag her away by the arm. Jemma ran over and started yelling at her, so Raina hit her, and then Jemma tackled her to the ground and they wrestled until me and Bobbi ran over.”
May hums. “And what did her parents have to say about all of this?”
“I don’t know if the guy she was with was her dad,” Bobbi says darkly, “but he just laughed. He thought the whole thing was funny.”
May feels a little burst of anger in her chest. “Well I’ll have to give him a talking to if we run into them again.”
“Am I in trouble?” Jemma asks, pouting up at May.
May lets her stew for a minute, and then smiles, pressing a kiss against her hair. “No, it wasn’t your fault. Thank you for looking after your sister.”
Jemma beams.
-
The third time is one of the worst moments of May’s life. The kids have been with her for almost two years. Maria calls herself, which she only ever does when it’s something bad. “Fitz and Jemma have been in a fight,” she tells May, “they’re on their way to the hospital.” May is surely breaking all sorts of laws, but she needs to get there more than she’s ever needed anything before. ‘You can’t let your emotions own your actions’, she’d told Jemma once, but now she’s eating her own words.
She manages to get to the hospital and is running to the doors as the ambulance pulls up, which is a testament to how fast she was driving.
Jemma looks far too small as they pull her out on the stretcher. Her face is pale and tear streaked, and she has a busted lip. She sobs as she sees May, holding out one arm for her, the other held tightly against her ribs. “Mum!”
May grabs her hand and kisses it, because she can’t reach her face with the EMTs already pushing the gurney into the building. “Baby, what happened?”
“He broke Fitz’s arm!”
“Who?”
“Grant did. He cornered Fitz during recess and then he grabbed him and broke his arm.”
Grant Ward, a notorious bully. He’d tried to bully Natasha, but she put a quick stop to it, and then he’d moved on to Fitz. May had tried talking to his parents about it, even tried going through the school, but they didn’t want to hear a single bad word against their son, so May had told the kids to do what they needed to do to protect themselves. She just hoped they wouldn’t have to. She relied on hope, and look what had happened.
“What did he do to her?” She asks the EMTs.
“We’ll have to do some x-rays,” one of the women says, smiling sympathetically. “But a few broken bones, in all likelihood.”
“It really hurts, mum.”
May grips her hand tighter, feeling more useless than she ever has. “I know, baby, I’m so sorry.”
“Where’s Fitz?”
“The other ambulance is on its way, they’ll be here in a few minutes,” the EMT says.
Jemma lets out another sob, and then grips her ribs tighter.
“Fitz is okay, they’re going to take good care of him, just worry about yourself right now,” May says.
Jemma shakes her head, but doesn’t respond.
A doctor stops them in front of the double doors leading to the ward. “I’m sorry, ma’am, only family is allowed beyond this point.”
“I’m her mother,” May says, and then as they still don’t move she snaps, “I’m her mother, do you need to see the paperwork?”
The doctor inclines his head and lets her through, but then they’re taking Jemma off to get x-rays and she’s left standing in the hallway, feeling like she’s failed something big, some sort of test. Her hip aches.
A nurse lets her into what will be Jemma’s room while she waits, and she comes back to give her updates on Fitz, who has broken his arm in two places and is refusing to talk to anyone, but is otherwise okay when May goes to check on him. It takes them a while to finish with Jemma, but they finally bring her back and get her settled in. She asks May, very quietly, if May would sit with her on the bed, so now she’s carefully held against May’s side, as May strokes her hair. They have her in a boot and they’ve wrapped her torso, and she has two stitches in her lip.
The doctor comes in, and she gives them both a warm smile. “We have the x-ray results. A broken rib, three cracked ones, and two broken toes. And the left wrist is most likely sprained, so try to take it easy for a while. We’ll just need to process both of the kids’ paper work and then you’ll all be able to go home.”
“Thank you,” May says, and the doctor leaves. She presses a kiss to Jemma’s forehead, and lets her lips linger. “You really scared me.”
“I’m sorry,” Jemma whispers.
“I know.” May sighs. “That boy is twice your size, Jemma, what were you thinking?”
“I wasn’t,” Jemma admits. “He hurt Fitz. I heard him scream and I just, I don’t know. I had to do something.”
“I can’t stand seeing you hurt.”
Jemma smiles. “It’s not too fun from this side either.”
A nurse comes in with their paperwork, and he gives a conspiratorial quirk of the lips. “I heard what you did,” he says to Jemma. “That was awfully brave, protecting your friend like that.”
“Oh.” Jemma blushes. “Thank you.”
“I probably shouldn’t be telling you this, but you really did a number on that kid. Broken jaw and ripped scrotum. He’s going to be feeling that for a while.”
He gives them the all clear to leave, and May helps Jemma out of the hospital gown and carefully pulls on her regular clothes.
“You know that’s pretty impressive, for no training.”
Jemma’s eyes glitter. “Really?”
“Mhmm. And maybe if you knew what you were doing you wouldn’t end up like this next time.”
“So if there’s a next time … I won’t be in trouble?”
May smirks. “Depends on the circumstances.”
Jemma grabs her hand as they shuffle out of the room and down the hall to get Fitz. “So I can do karate with Antoine?”
“I actually had something else in mind.”
-
Six weeks later, Jemma stands before her in loose sweats and a tank top, her hands bound tightly with cotton wraps. She has a determined glint in her eye, and by the set of her jaw May knows she means business.
“Okay,” May orders, “put your hands up.”