Jemma Simmons is a terrible liar (needanewplan) wrote in valarlogs, @ 2019-11-07 05:27:00 |
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Jemma probably shouldn’t have been shocked that when Enoch got her and Fitz out, they ended up back on Kitson. Where they were wanted and thus had to lie low. Because well, wasn’t that just their luck? Honestly, all she wanted to do was go home. There also was a serious lack of vapor trails and waves of euphoria. Okay so she didn’t actually remember much from the planet but this place was definitely far less fun this time around.
Of course they were stopped on their way out. Of course their attempts to say they’d work the debt off was met with the fact that they were only useful by being killed. What Jemma hadn’t expected was the guillotine. Honestly, after all they had been through, this was how they would die? No one would believe that!
Somehow though, their freedom was purchased and once it was clear this woman wanted to get to Earth? Well, sign them up since they were trying to get home. And with goodbyes to Enoch given once they had a way home…
Or Jemma could wake up decidedly not in her bed. Something was holding her head in place and just then she looked up at the guillotine blade and quickly grabbed the chain just as it started to fall.
“Um, some help in here!”
God she really hoped Natasha was there. In the sudden adrenaline rush from seeing the blade, she hadn’t really been able to think back to know if she was alone or not, let alone process the dream and what was clearly going to go very wrong despite the brief moment of feeling hope and like they’d get home. Oh no. She had to focus on holding the chain to keep from being decapitated.
Luckily for Jemma, Natasha had not quite yet moved out. She’d found a place, set the Finches up there, but Jemma honestly lived closer to the office so it was more convenient.
At least that’s the excuse she gave herself. Maybe there were other reasons but those boxes were going to remain firmly packed.
There was a weight on her chest when she woke up, and a fat’s face half an inch from her face. Shooing the cat off, she crawled out of bed. Was that… the sound of a chain? “Jemma?”
Okay, so it was the sound of a chain and something much worse. She rushed over, grabbing the chain to ease the staring, and looking the machine over to figure out how to get Jemma out. “You know, this level of kink is impressive but is very inappropriate considering our professional relationship.”
Okay. Okay she was okay. She wasn’t alone, which was good, because honestly Jemma wasn’t sure just how long she would have been able to hold the chain if no one was there and had to rely on hope that someone would stop by. Now the trick was figuring out how to get out.
Well, it should be simple enough. With her hands freed up, she blindly reached to where the restraining assembly was clasped and fumbled until she heard it click open and quickly got out of the contraption and looked at Natasha as she rubbed her neck absently.
“Bloody gambling planets.”
Because that explained everything.
That actually explained everything. “This is a hell of a game show.”
Natasha let go of the chain, watching the blade slide down to where Jemma’s neck had been with a heavy, somewhat satisfying-under-other-circumstances thunk.
One couldn’t underestimate how satisfying a good thunk was.
“Most people would have panicked, you handled that well.”
There was a slight wince as the blade fell (she did see someone decapitated in the Dreams after all who had been right next to her) but other than that? Well, no real reaction. That could either be a good thing or a bad thing. Most days, Jemma couldn’t really tell.
“Well it was panic and be decapitated or...not. And I like my head where it is.”
“Think of all the work you could get done if you were on two pieces, though.” Natasha folded her arms, stepping around the device to inspect it. “A gameshow. Let me guess, they’ve got all kinds of hunting games too?”
“Not sure it works that way.” Sighing, Jemma just looked at the contraption and shook her head at the comment on it being a game show.
“It wasn’t. I mean, not a game show. A game, yes. But not like the ones you see on television. Kitson is basically a gambling planet. Apparently this was one of the older games. Also used as punishment if you broke house rules.”
A much more lethal Vegas.
“Interesting. More Hunger Games than the Price is Right.” And yet, somehow expected. Natasha tapped her fingers on her arm, feeling a surge of … annoyance. She was a spy, a spook, and assassin. She wasn’t made for space and aliens and super-powered monsters.
In Russian, she muttered, “Whatever happened to good old fashioned espionage.”
Jemma would be more than happy if she could leave the space and alien planets and time travel behind. It was brilliant as a Doctor Who episode or spending time with Martha. But this? This was definitely not brilliant.
“Something like that.”
“I’ll call someone to break this down and transport it to the Agency,” Nat decided. “In the meantime, lets get something to eat.”
Surely there was a shitty diner with decent food open at this hour, and she thought Jemma could use the distraction. And hash browns.
Right. Getting the guillotine to the Agency - seriously how much of the things at the Agency had ended up coming from her Dreams? It was bloody ridiculous. But better there than coming back home and seeing the guillotine all over again.
“Something to eat, yes. That would probably be good.”
In theory. It was definitely a distraction at any rate.
Gently, Nat put an arm around Jemma so she could guide her into getting dressed and then outside of the house.
She wondered if Jemma needed a kitten. Maybe she should get Jemma a kitten.