Jemma Winchester One Shots

Too Close to Home

whoooo it's been a long while. things that have happened since I last updated: graduated high school, started college. that's pretty much it. I'm trying to get back into writing but I've been crazy busy w school and work.

TW: mentions of child abuse, vomit, panic attacks, alcoholism

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I take a deep breath as the Impala passes under a highway sign that states St. Louis is ten miles away.

"You okay, Jemma?" Dad says and glances at me in the rearview mirror.

I nod. "I'm fine."

We're working a case in St. Louis, where I was born and lived with my mom. Apparently it's the same apartment we lived in. We think some demon got outdated intel and thought I still lived there with her.

Dad said I could have stayed home, but for some reason I said yes before I could think about it.

We find a motel and hunker down for the night. I'm bored. There isn't really anything for me to do on this hunt.

"Can we get pizza?" I ask.

"I guess so," Dad replies. "Why don't you come with me?"

I shrug and slide off the bed, following Dad out to the Impala. The drive is quiet until Dad speaks.

"Listen, the apartment complex we're going to is Scenic Gardens. That's where you lived with your mom, right?"

"Yes," I answer, my throat tightening.

"Jem, just say the word, and I'll drive you home. You don't have to be here."

"I'll be fine, Dad."

He exhales through his nose. "If anything starts to bother you, tell me, okay?"

"Okay."

~

"You okay?"

I huff. "Yes, Dad, I'm fine." This is the third time he's asked me that in the past hour.

"Hey." He lays his hands on my shoulders and squeezes them gently. "This is not going to be easy. It's gonna bring back a lot of bad memories. I would ask you to stay in the car, but for some reason you won't. I'm just looking out for you."

I inhale deeply through my nose. "I know, Dad," I say quietly.

He hugs me tightly. "I love you so much."

"I love you too."

"Do you need anything?"

I let out a humorless chuckle and hold out my hand. Dad takes it with a small smile, and we follow Uncle Sam into the apartment building.

I take a deep breath. I never wanted to be here again. The brown walls are still the same, cracks running through them.

The stairs creak and moan as we ascend to the top floor.

There it is.

My apartment.

The door is closed with police tape covering it. Dad squeezes my hand.