14 hours later, Jemma has already started plotting how to find Fitz while he's comatose in deep space. She considered satellite data, inhuman telepathic powers, and monoliths (the latter made her shiver and reject the idea right there and then) - nothing seemed sufficient or possible. No, she has to cross out "impossible" from her dictionary. She has dealt with inhumans with crazy powers, escaping the bottom of the ocean, getting to and from a far desert planet, getting to the future, and A LOT of other crap that she still had nightmares about. Not to mention her husband's very recent death.
From that perspective, nothing is impossible. She WILL find Fitz, wherever he might be - just as he has done for her. God, Fitz was so much braver than her...
Jemma couldn't let herself get distracted. Grief time is over.
If only Enoch was here. He planned this cryo-sleep chamber move with Fitz, he'd know where it is, or how to get to it.
Just as her head was done with giving that thought a verbal form, Davis reported from the cockpit, "you guys, a suited bald man is waving at us. We're in cloaking mode."
Jemma ran to the cockpit and saw the alien May and Fitz talked about. The locked jaw, curious eyes, shiney skin and an ironed suit.
"It's Enoch!" Jemma said with a compound of happiness and relief. "Get us down there."
"As you wish," replied the pilot, "but if this shit gets me in trouble with the director, I'm sending him to you."
"Mack will be absolutely fine with that," said the biochemist, "he wants to find Fitz nearly as much as I do."
"Whatever you say, agent Simmons."
