Chapter Text
Monday Morning, 1949
“Stop, THIEF! Someone, stop HIM!”
The woman cried out with all her might as the attention of the crowd around her perked up ever so slightly. The perp on the other hand wasn’t about to stop running. This lady had a very nice purse, and he was more than willing to take it off her hands. Having a .38 special thrust into your belly tended to be a compelling reason for people to let him do as he pleased, and this one was no exception. Fuckin’ civilians.
Rounding a corner, the perp ducked into an alleyway and took a seat behind a dumpster, clear out of the view of the street. Wasting no time, he began to rifle through it, pulling and tossing out all kinds of girl-junk; a golden lipstick tube, a mirror (which gave a satisfying crack as it hit the wall behind him), a bunch of receipts…
And now a checkbook. Bingo.
Opening it, he suddenly heard the distinct sound of a hammer being pulled back against the barrel of a gun.
“I suggest you put that down. Hands where I can see them.”
The voice was a woman’s; soft, almost tomboy-ish.
No way I’m gonna get nabbed by a lady-cop.
“Alright. Alright,” he said, putting down the checkbook, “you got me, miss. You got me.”
He kept his head down, focusing and then finally acting. He ducked forward and pushed the cop back into the opposite brick wall with a thud. Wasting no time, he kicked away her gun.
Guess its my lucky day. A purse…and a shield for me…
She looked up at him, her eyes wide. “Hey, calm down…nobody wants to hurt anyone here,” she said, raising her hands above her head, “Let’s all just take a second…”
“Ain’t nobody calming down here, miss.” he said, pulling out his own gun. He cocked it back, finger resting squarely on the trigger. Shame he had to kill this one; she was pretty. Fair skin, nice and fit. He even saw a bit of Asian in her. Not bad at all.
”You shoot her and I swear to god I will blow you away, buddy. Drop it NOW.”
Female. Accented. What was that, a cockney twang?
Great. Another one.
Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted another woman, dressed in a long coat and dress, the shotgun in her hands aimed right at him. He smiled, dropped his gun, and felt a blow across his head as he fell unconscious, his head filled with one lingering thought.
I’m had. By…two…chicks…un…fucking…believable….
Jemma stared at the perp she had just decked to the ground. Switching to look at her partner, her face turned from relief to anger.
“Skye, I told you to wait for me, I was right around the corner! You could have been killed!”
Her partner, dusting herself off and retrieving her gun, gave her a defensive glare.
“I wasn’t about to let him get away, Jemma. Even if he was just a street robber, we have a duty to stop these people. I knew you were right behind me; I didn’t have anything to worry about!”
“What if he’d gotten you before I arrived? What if he’d shot you and gotten away? Then what…?” Jemma scoffed, her jaw clenching.
Skye’s expression softened at her words. She could sense what Jemma was really getting at.
“Hey.” she replied, propping her shotgun against the alley wall, “I’m still here. He didn’t get me. And you know I can take care of tiny street thugs by myself.”
She smiled at Jemma. That damn smile. She couldn’t stay mad at that, not even for a second. Exhaling the last bits of her anger away, Jemma relented. Holstering her gun, she pulled Skye by the coat closer to her.
“I know. But…you make me worry sometimes.” she said, finishing with a kiss planted right on Skye’s forehead.
They parted, the two of them admiring the small moment they’d just shared. The sounds of police sirens began to fade in from the distance. Taking a step back, Jemma pulled out a pair of handcuffs and offered them to Skye.
“Care to bag your perp before the Met gets here? I’m sure you can tell Chief Coulson all about how you took care of this urchin back at the station.”
Chief Coulson eyed the two of them closely, reclining back in his chair. He didn’t look particularly amused.
“And where were you in all of this, Detective Simmons…?”
“I - well, I was in pursuit as well -“
“Meaning you weren’t with your partner, correct?”
“N-no, not exactly sir, but I -“
“Your partner was alone when she encountered the perp. An armed perp. If there’s ever even a CHANCE that a perp is armed, you need to call in backup. I don’t want any heroes here. Heroes don’t make it long at all, especially these days…”
He sighed, massaging his temple.
“…You know, I’m glad that the two of you are on my squad, but for Christ’s sake, I don’t need to attend another funeral for a cop who got a little too eager.”
He pointed at the opposite wall, over to nameless stars on a nameless plaque commemorating those who fell in the line of duty.
“The last thing I need is to add another one there.”
“Exactly what I told her after she nabbed our robber, sir.”
“Detective Simmons. I know she’s got a stellar record for a rookie, but she needs to learn discretion. You’re our best, rub some of that know-how off on her.”
cough “…Teacher’s pet…” cough
“I heard that, Detective Skye. You’re not off the hook here….”
*- a few minutes later - *
“I think that went pretty well, don’tcha think?” Skye said, closing the door to their chief’s office.
“ ‘Well’ is a relative term, Skye. You’re lucky he didn’t bump you down to beat cop.”
“Bah,” she replied, waving her hand at Jemma’s face, “Coulson knows I’m good. He did pick me personally out of the new recruits…Imagine that, the Chief of the Metropolitan Police, Central Ward, chooses me! I’m like a walking lucky charm.” As if to accentuate her point, she twirled around, her long coat flaring out behind her.
Jemma sighed. Skye was a wonderful, wonderful woman….when she wasn’t trying to be a superhero.
Real life isn’t like the comics, love.
“Detectives!”
The two of them turned around at the familiar voice. Before them was their rather voluptuous case liaison, one Bobbi Morse, holding a stack of files.
“Got a new load for you; Chief says you specifically requested Traffic cases, so here’s yours…” she said, unloading a particularly large file on Skye’s desk, “…and yours, Detective Simmons. Got an arson case here from Northeast DC, looks like a good time. Let me know if you need anything else.”
“Wait what?" Skye pleaded, "I told the Chief I wanted something interesting to work on! I’m so far above this stuff, Traffic is for kids -“
“— which you are —“
“— at least I’m a real cop and not some desk —“
“— don’t you DARE finish that sentence —“
The door from behind them opened, their Chief sticking his head out.
“ENOUGH! My precinct is a professional outfit, not a playroom!! Skye, you’re on Traffic for recklessness, not another word. Simmons, keep your partner in line or else you’re next. Morse, get back to your desk and stop taunting them.”
SLAM
So much for being the teacher’s pet… Jemma thought to herself.
“Wait wait,” Skye chirped, clearly un-phased by the Chief’s threat as she spun around on her chair, “Would you be so kind as to bring us some food, Miss Morse…? I’m starving….”
Bobbi’s eyes winced ever so slightly as she walked up to the pleading detective.
“Detective Skye…I’m your case agent….” she said, hands on her hips, “…not your maid.”
Turning around, she raised her hand goodbye at the two of them. “Get your own food! And don’t die out there…!” she said as she walked off.
Leaving behind the hubbub around her and Skye muttering some very unsavory words about this recent ordeal, Jemma leaned back in her chair, now feeling the fatigue of their latest grab hitting her. Stretching her arms out, she debated how to go about the rest of the day. Files, charts, reports? Reports, files, charts…? So many options.
Reports it is.
She looked up from her writing after a few minutes to look over at Skye, now busying herself looking over one of her traffic cases. Her face was one of poise, a far cry from the slightly childish edge she tended to put out for everyone. Jemma couldn’t help but smile discretely at her partner, on and off the force as it was.
Their relationship was of course a bit of a secret; the world hadn’t progressed far enough that their kind of relationship could be shared in the open so easily. Only the Chief, Morse, and a few select others knew about them. Over in Britain, her home country, people were jailed and shamed for such things; she shuddered to think of the consequences of someone outside her circles finding out what they shared.
It was a strange match; she’d gone to college, worked in Army Intelligence during the war, and afterwards found detective work a worthy way to keep her mind occupied. Skye on the other hand was a bit of an enigma. Her parents had abandoned her before the war, and left her on an orphanage doorstep. Being left by your own parents would’ve been something Jemma couldn’t have borne for any length of time, let alone the years that Skye endured. She’d left the orphanage as soon as she hit 21 and joined the force, rising through the ranks until she became one of the youngest detectives the DC Met had ever seen. Not surprising that Chief Coulson snatched her right up; she was a natural at this stuff.
Her youthfulness reminded Jemma of her own early days on the force, how she struggled to even bear the weight of standard issue handguns. She was sure that Skye probably had no issues with that. Even now as one of the best detectives on the force, Jemma held Skye in remarkable regard.
As she pondered, Skye looked up from her files. Locking eyes together, they gifted each other a small smile as they resumed their work.
Skye paced around the bed she shared with Jemma, her hands emoting left and right.
“…And then I kinda fell asleep in the file room looking for some transcripts, and I forgot my key so of course I had to call out for help, and this nice guy, I think his name was Officer Ward…?”
Jemma, sitting in bed with a book, nodded half-attentively at her lover’s story. “Mhmm, Officer Ward helped you…”
“Here’s the thing though, as soon as he let me out, he started coming onto me, and I mean like REAL cheesy lines. I thought I was gonna gag.”
“Oh yes, how could you have withstood such treatment….”
“That’s not even the good part! He grabbed me, and told me that I owed him something.”
At this, Jemma let her book drop down. She could feel her heartbeat quicken as her mind began to process what she’d just heard.
“He…He grabbed you?”
Skye, perking up a bit at the newfound attention, immediately recanted. “Oh no no, not like that! He just kind of grabbed my arm and I told him I’d give him more than just a brass knuckle sandwich if he didn’t let me go. I had him scared, you should have seen him run!”
Sigh. Skye, my Skye. What am I going to do with you.
Jemma sat up, motioning Skye to come up next to her. As soon as they were close enough, Jemma planted the biggest kiss she could muster right on her soft lips.
“Jemma…”
Hushing her partner, Jemma craned her head into the crook of Skye’s neck.
“Love. I know you can take care of yourself, that you’re a great detective, and that you’ve got the toughest edge out of all of us on the squad.”
She traced circles on Skye’s thigh as she continued.
“But…after today, I had the most awful thought that…”
“That what…?”
“That you’d do something that you couldn’t get yourself out of.”
“Jemma, I -“
“Let me finish. I…I trust you, Skye. I trust you so very much. But you have to promise me…” she said, sitting up and looking into her partner’s deep brown eyes, “…promise me that you’ll be more careful.”
Her voice was tinged with fear. Jemma felt what could have been a tear roll down her cheek.
Skye looked back at her, a thoughtful frown appearing at the corner of her lips.
“I’m sorry for scaring you, Jemma. I…I know that I can be a bit of a handful. I always have been. But…I should know better. You're right.”
She returned Jemma’s kiss, resting her hand on one tear-stained cheek.
“Plus. I am the best detective on the force, after all…”
Jemma laughed, her fear disappearing as easily as it had come. How Skye could consistently put her at ease was just beyond her understanding. It was a superpower, for sure.
“I said you were great, not the best, love….”
“Oh, you want me to prove it to you…?” Skye replied, making moves to straddle herself on top of Jemma, “You know I’m highly trained in persuasion, right?”
Jemma gave her a flustered look, her ears and cheeks turning red. “Well. You know...you're not the only one with special skills, right….?”
She took the instant after her words to grab Skye and pull her down, the two of them rolling and giggling in their embrace. As Skye taunted Jemma to take things one step further, the mood was shaken by a sudden ring from the kitchen.
Giving her partner a slightly sullen look, Jemma pulled herself off their bed and walked over to pick up the phone.
“Jemma Simmons.”
“Detective, it’s Coulson. Sorry to bother you after hours, but we’ve had something come up. I need you and Skye on scene, corner of P and 28th.”
“Yes sir, right away. We’ll be there shortly.”
Putting the phone back down on the receiver, Jemma sauntered back over to Skye, now sprawled across the bed with her eyes closed.
“Sweetheart. We have work to do.”
“Ugh. Can’t we just play hooky for a night…?” Skye protested.
“Hey,” Jemma replied, tapping Skye’s cheek, “the District needs its top detective.”
She could make out the frown on Skye’s face slowly forming. Planting a kiss to soothe her frown, Jemma wandered to their closet to change. As she slipped out of her nightgown, she looked back at her partner, now ogling her semi-naked form.
Grinning to herself, Jemma picked out her work outfit.
“If you get up and get ready, I promise we’ll catch up right where we left off.”
She turned around completely, revealing her uncovered chest. She felt a pleasurable heat build inside her as she watched Skye become much more flustered than usual. Grinning to herself, she cut away from Skye, donning some proper clothing.
And then I’ll be all yours, love.
“Detectives, good to know you could stop by.” Coulson said, holding up the police tape surrounding the scene.
The trio walked amid a sea of squad cars and beat cops taking statements and fending off early-bird reporters. They were in a suburban area of the city, covered with lots of old colonial row homes amid big, towering willows and oak trees.
“What’s the situation, sir?” Jemma asked.
“Well, we got an anonymous call about an hour ago from a payphone around the corner about a commotion happening here, at this address…”, he said, flipping through his notebook, “…2805 P Street. Owner of the house is a local entrepreneur, owns a few restaurants in the city.”
He lifted another police tape barrier up, leading Jemma and Skye inside the house. It was a lovely three-story row home, with a red-brick exterior. The interior was darkened, the electricity in the house presumably having been cut. Coulson rounded a corner and stopped.
“And here’s our John Doe.”
He motioned toward a man's body lying on the floor, two bullet holes placed cleanly on his forehead and chest. He was dressed in a sharp-looking grey suit, as if he'd just come from the office.
“A John Doe…is this not the owner of the house?” Jemma asked.
“No, the owner is out of the country; frankly we have no clue how this guy got in here. No signs of immediate forced entry or attempted burglary.”
“Do we have a list of possible fugitives, Chief?”
“Not at this point, no. We’re still canvassing the area; we reached out to Missing Persons, waiting on them with anything they might have.”
“Alright. Do you mind if Skye and I take a closer look around?”
“Of course. Take your time; I’ll be outside controlling the hecklers.”
As Coulson stepped out, Skye and Jemma found themselves alone with a body and an entire home to take a look at.
Skye squatted next to the body, her already-gloved hands examining the head wound. “Precision work; high-caliber weapon from the looks of it…no extensive damage, might be full-metal jacket. It looks like a professional hit. And he definitely didn’t die here; the floor under him is clean, no blood pooling or other residue. It’s like…like somebody killed him and left him here.”
She got up, standing in front of the body and imitating holding a gun.
“If I wanted to take this guy out with this kind of damage…I’d want to be relatively close. The longer the distance, the slower the bullet at impact and the more likely that it would lodge itself in. If I was here…” she said, moving closer to the body, “it’d be a clean in-and-out shot. Interesting.”
Jemma listened as Skye described her take on the crime, herself looking through the rest of the home for anything out of the ordinary. Picking up a few photographs, she gazed at the people in each.
“Handsome family. Lots of sons and daughters here…but I don’t see any wife in these photos. Hmm.”
She walked down the hallway and into the back kitchen. Looked like a typical family home setup, a few dishes in the sink. Her eyes came upon the back door, slightly ajar.
That looks a bit suspicious.
Drawing her gun, she pushed open the door and stepped out into the backyard. It was small and dark, but there was enough light to make out a glistening patch of something splattered up on the back wall. Walking up to the stain, she quickly realized it was blood. Lodged in the wall in the center of the red were shards of metal. Bullet fragments.
“This must be where our vic died…CSI should be out here ASAP.”
Holstering her gun, she returned inside and found Skye just finishing her examination of the victim.
“There’s blood and bullet fragments on the wall in the backyard; I have a feeling that’s where our victim bit it. Anything special come up while I was out?” Jemma asked.
“No, nothing. That’s the weird part,”Skye replied, taking her dirtied gloves off. “There’s very little blood pooling around the chest, really around anywhere. You’d think that there would be more blood around here; he got shot in some very bleeding-prone areas.”
“That is odd. What do you think…?”
“I’m not sure. I think we need CSI to come and bag and tag everything; get this guy over to the ME for a closer look.”
“Agreed. I also think we need to contact the homeowner; the back door was open, so someone must have entered/exited the house during the crime to have left it open without damaging the lock. The owner might know if anyone around could have that kind of access.”
“Sounds good, partner.” Skye said, smirking.
“What’s that?” Jemma retorted.
“Oh, nothing, nothing. I just…I think it’s cute when you’ve got your detective on.”
She gave Jemma a wry smile as she turned and walked out the front door of the house.
You’re insufferable, you minx. Jemma thought, thankful that the darkness hid the blush creeping across her face.