Jemma Simmons (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
shes_biochem) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
all_inclusive2014-08-04 09:36 pm
shes_biochem) wrote in all_inclusive2014-08-04 09:36 pm
Entry tags:
...getting better at it
Even after she had found and opened the door, it'd taken Simmons more time than she'd like to figure out what she's looking at. It speaks to how much her mind has been plagued with worry and brainstorming and countless, endless time spent devoting her energy towards healing Fitz. She'd been nose-deep in a book on her way to get something to eat when she'd opened the door and hit some sort of barrier.
Though that's not the important part.
(It's an interesting part, she's not discounting that, but it's secondary to what's before her)
Simmons presses her palm up against the strange barrier and watches the scene in front of her. It's them on the Bus. They're playing Scrabble and oh, she remembers this. She remembers how happy she'd felt at the team coming together. Without her intentions leaning towards it, her gaze turns to Ward, who is protesting one of Simmons' own plays. Her eyes turn flinty as she regards him, trying to search for cracks in the surface, as if looking back on this moment, she can try and see the snake hiding behind the man's skin all along, but there's nothing there. She's so bitter and upset because why bother saving her life if he could so easily throw it away only months later?
And why can't she go in there? Why can't she walk in like any other door and scream at the top of her lungs not to trust him. Her gaze turns to Fitz, next, so happy and untouched and unbruised and she shifts her palm over so she can lean her forehead against the strange barrier, watching wistfully and thinking that it had been so much easier than.
True, they had been in the dark, but they'd been happy, weren't they?
"You're going to pay," she says to the Ward in the past, who's smiling and laughing and wearing his sheep's clothing like a second skin. "And I hope I get to be a part of it."
Though that's not the important part.
(It's an interesting part, she's not discounting that, but it's secondary to what's before her)
Simmons presses her palm up against the strange barrier and watches the scene in front of her. It's them on the Bus. They're playing Scrabble and oh, she remembers this. She remembers how happy she'd felt at the team coming together. Without her intentions leaning towards it, her gaze turns to Ward, who is protesting one of Simmons' own plays. Her eyes turn flinty as she regards him, trying to search for cracks in the surface, as if looking back on this moment, she can try and see the snake hiding behind the man's skin all along, but there's nothing there. She's so bitter and upset because why bother saving her life if he could so easily throw it away only months later?
And why can't she go in there? Why can't she walk in like any other door and scream at the top of her lungs not to trust him. Her gaze turns to Fitz, next, so happy and untouched and unbruised and she shifts her palm over so she can lean her forehead against the strange barrier, watching wistfully and thinking that it had been so much easier than.
True, they had been in the dark, but they'd been happy, weren't they?
"You're going to pay," she says to the Ward in the past, who's smiling and laughing and wearing his sheep's clothing like a second skin. "And I hope I get to be a part of it."