Chapter Text
Jemma wasn’t sure how long she had been asleep when the knock came, and the door opened. She was so stiff, every muscle burned, and her bones cracked as she rolled over and looked from Will’s bedside to the door.
“Hello?” A female voice asked, her face obscured in the sliver of curtain around the doorway.
Jemma willed herself to get up, and she frantically searched the room for something, anything she could use to defend herself when she heard the curtain draw back, and a small sigh.
“I don’t think it’s in your best interest to move around like that, not in your condition.” The voice was placid, but tinged with concern, and Jemma was relieved to discover that the intruder was at least on her right.
She shifted her weight slowly and prepared to throw herself at the other woman if she had to. Will had to stay safe and they needed to be together.
“Dr. Simmons please, calm down. Mr. Daniels is still in a medical coma. Do you remember giving consent to him being treated?”
“What? Who are you?” Jemma sputtered, a soft hand on her shoulder before she could process a plan of attack.
The woman turned her around, and Jemma looked into a pale, heart shaped face with large brown eyes and a haircut that could only be described as efficient. She was smiling gently, but something faint in her expression was flat, and glazed.
“My name is Anissa Holden, I’m the assistant to the head of the Eurydice Initiative. I’ve been told to make sure you showered, and changed.” “Eurydice Initiative? What? Is this Earth?“Jemma demanded in rapid succession, like she was firing her thoughts through a gun.
Jemma was eased into a standing position she hoped looked casual and glared at her as she waited for answers.
“Yes, as you’ve probably deduced; you are back on Earth, and safe. Your companion, Will Daniels was brought back through the portal with you, his condition was so severe that the only way to treat him was to sedate him and work with all possible resources to keep him alive. As for the Eurydice Initiative, Dr. Simmons; it’s the organisation responsible for bringing you home.” Anissa Holden spoke clearly, but with the little inflections practiced by someone who was told she might have had a monotone.
She had leaned against the side of the chart tower to assess Jemma herself, but she didn’t look up to much. Jemma shivered, it was like looking at a freshly molded doll, something about her was ever so slightly off.
"I-“Jemma began, still trying to get out all of the questions and keep the woman distracted. She didn’t get far.
"Dr. Simmons, please. The Director has expressed a desire for you to be given fresh clothing and a shower. I’ve brought shampoo in lilac, sea salt lime body wash, a blue 4-bladed ergonomic razor, and the largest cotton towel available. I believe the Director may have leant it from his personal collection.”
Jemma looked to the products, and burst out laughing.
It was everything she could have possibly wished for, on her best day. There was no way she had survived the encounter with that thing. She was dying, and her brain was slowly showing her everything she wanted to see as she went.
She picked up the shampoo bottle and inhaled deeply, a wave of deep calm coming over her and a memory dusting itself off in her head of a stop over trip to a pharmacy in Versailles after one of her early missions.
“If you like, I can arrange them for you. ” Holden was still disturbingly placid, as though Jemma’s agitation was a slightly chilly breeze.
“I won’t go anywhere or do anything unless I have the guarantee of Will’s life going unharmed in my absence.” Jemma said stonily, wondering why death seemed to take such a long time to come for her.
“Yes, The Director says you have a personal guarantee.” Holden said simply, walking to a panel in the wall that opened into a small bathroom, and setting everything on the counter.
Jemma waited for her the return to the door before asking why she should take this mysterious benefactor’s personal guarantees to heart.
“Should that matter? If the purpose of your organization was to bring us home, you’d know I wouldn’t trust any of you.” Jemma continued, irritation flaring now at both the woman, and her own body betraying her.
“It does, as proof, the Director has given me a message for you to read.” With that, a hand was extended and Jemma noticed a small scrap of paper on top of the paper chart monitoring Will’s heart rate.
It was simple, and more than anything else, it made certainty wash through Jemma in an exhausting wave; she was alive.
The note read simply:
I told you I’d catch you.
Jemma saw it and knew she was alive because not one thing had gone her way since she’d met Grant Ward, and dying should have given her a break.