Jemma Winchester One Shots

You're Not A Monster

Word count: 2384

Warnings: self-hatred, physical assault

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My hands are shaking wildly. How did this happen? I clench them into fists. How did this happen? They're still shaking. How did this happen?

FOUR DAYS AGO

"Jem, will you hand me the flour?"

"Sure thing, Dad."

I use my empath powers to float the flour over to him. He reaches for it absentmindedly. "Jemma!" he shouts as soon as he sees the floating bag of flour. I laugh. "Jemma, don't do that. You know I don't like you using your powers unless you have to."

I try to stop my laughter, but it only intensifies. All of a sudden, all of the plates and silverware sitting on the table fly off, clattering loudly to the floor. Dad whips around. I stare at the items scattered on the floor.

"Was that you?" Dad asks.

"I-I didn't—it wasn't—it wasn't on purpose," I stutter. I stand, hands starting to shake, nearly knocking over the bench. "It was an accident. I-I'm sorry."

The light bulbs above our heads shatter, glass falling in sharp shards. I let out a small yelp, covering my head with my arms. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry! I didn't mean to."

"Hey, hey, Jemma, breathe. Calm yourself down. It's okay. Are you hurt?"

I shake my head.

"Okay. It's okay. Why don't you go lie down for a little bit while I clean this up?"

I nod and back away from the mess I made. "I'm sorry, Dad."

Dad gives me a small smile. "I know you are. It was an accident, Sunshine. Just go get some rest."

THREE DAYS AGO

"Hey, you," Dad says as he enters my room. "How you doing?"

I shrug. "I'm fine."

I'm lying. Last night, I made the sheets and blankets on my bed fly off, then I blew out the light. I can't control my powers. The worst part is, it feels kind of good when I do it.

"It's dark in here," he remarks.

"Yeah. I accidentally broke the lightbulb."

"Again?"

I nod. "I'm sorry, Dad. I-I just can't control it."

He looks up at the remaining part of the lightbulb. "Me and your uncle were going to check out a hunt two towns over. Maybe we should call someone else to handle it."

"No—Dad. I'll just come with you."

He nods. "Okay. Sounds like a plan. We're leaving in an hour."

NOW

I sigh as I slam the door of the Impala. I've been good today. My powers haven't acted up, and I haven't felt any urges. But I've been getting angry easily. It's starting to scare me.

We're interviewing the wife of the man who we think is infected by a Khan worm. He sucked the blood and marrow out of a man, then got away. We have to find him before he kills someone else. God, I hate Khan worms.

"You okay?" Dad asks and places a hand on my shoulder.

"I'm fine," I snap and shake his hand off.

"Hey." He grabs my shoulder and spins me around. "Breathe."

"I am breathing." Out of the corner of my eye, I see the lid of the house's mailbox open, then completely snap off. "Let's go."