bravejemma | IC Inbox

[She gives a huff of impatience at herself. She should have recognized the reference, maybe would have, given a few more minutes.]

Except instead of "leaping" into different people, we were leaping into different versions of ourselves.

[She almost can't believe she's having this conversation.]

Versions of ourselves which had undergone severe lobotimization.

One imagines that it may have been a warning.

A very tempting warning.

[Between them is the awkward dissonance between the proposed future and their present. She doesn't know, but suspects -- if his alternate was anything like hers, the temptation of something that beautiful and uncomplicated was great.]

You think so?

[Had they already spoken about this while the event was at its worst? He's still not sure which Jemma said what.]

[Truthfully, she's not sure, either. After that much sleep deprivation, the only way she knew if she was in this world or the other was the ring she wore.

She doesn't look up at him, lest she give some of her guilty conscience away.]

An anxiety-free existence, even if you're not sure what's going on or why? Of course it is. Or it can be.

You understand the theories. There's a strong possibility that it'll happen regardless of what we do to circumvent it.

[Would that be preferable? He's not sure.]

I don't believe things are predestined, Fitz.

Oh, destiny is what the uncultured call it. You know better than that.

And I don't believe it, whatever you want to call it.

[Fate, destiny, George, there's not a name you could give it that would make Jemma its pupil.]

Then you're entirely too married to Euclidean three-dimensional theory.

[He shakes his head, huffing.]

And you're entirely too married to your stubborn, Calvinist-inspired Scottish cultural identity to look past your own nose.

[Not the greatest comeback, but hey, if you're going to spring an argument on her you're going to have to work with what she comes up with.]

Questioning the validity of religious norms has absolutely nothing to do with acknowledging the high probability that fourth-dimensional spatial awareness is potentially validated by our very existence in this space.

[They don't question that Daisy's place in the timeline is valid. Why is this such a sticking point?]

And that doesn't have anything to do with what will or won't be. Fre will in human beings makes it much more complicated than that.

[She pauses only briefly.]

Why are you picking a fight?

I'm not picking a fight, Jemma. [It's just that his tone is getting sharper.] But do you really believe that a future like that happened because we consented to it?

[Really BECAUSE, THIS FEELS A LITTLE BIT LIKE A FIGHT...]

I don't know. I'm not prepared to say that. If it was set up against something much, much worse? Maybe we did.

[Spirited discussion between peers!]

I'dve died first.

[His mouth tightens. Perhaps he had. The other Jemma seemed particularly concerned about the possibility.]

Or maybe I did.

[It would have taken less to make him capitulate, and they both know it. She would do just about anything to keep him from death again, and she can't imagine things had changed that much.]

At any rate, that's not consent. It's extortion.

So what do we do to make sure it doesn't come to pass?

Get home. Get everyone home, to their timelines.

[It's not a GREAT plan, but it's what she has.]

If there's nobody here, that future doesn't exist.

We don't even know when it is. It could be tomorrow, and we're nowhere close to being ready.

Or it may be ten years from now. [You know, metaphorically speaking, since while time passes here it seems to be otherwise irrelevant.]

I suppose we work harder, then.

I won't let you stay trapped here that long. I promise you that.

[ he'll sell every piece of himself to the merchants if it means that it'll earn her freedom somehow. ]

[The worst part is that she knows he means it. He's let her take air out of his lungs to save herself, what else could he possibly give? In a place like this, it's really better not to ask.

And she doesn't care if it's going to be awkward, if he's going to stand there obligingly while she hugs him, or if he reciprocates. She does it, arms fitting around him and holding on good and tight.]

Just don't let me stay stuck without you.

[She's been stuck without him. She could hardly bear it.]

[He hooks his head over her shoulder, offering comfort as she seeks it. It's not for him. He knows that. She's just using Fitz to supplement for Will. It's better to be with friends than alone.

He's aware of a flush of something internal, a need to retreat to Klaus. He'll have to stop by during tea tomorrow.]

It'll be fine. I get four more.

[Such a silly pair they are.

She exhales heavily, not really a laugh, not really a show of exasperation.]

Even one more will be too many.

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