#warriorjemma

A week after Grandfather’s banquet, Fitz let Jemma know of an opportunity for a new Saturday evening special activity.

“There’s ice cream!” he pleaded.

“They’re letting us eat ice cream as an activity? This late in September?” Jemma asked skeptically.

“Well, technically we have to weed out the flower beds at the First School. But we also get to eat dinner outside, so that would be fun. Plus the ice cream!”

“You just really want the ice cream.”

“Well, I haven’t had it in years!” Fitz protested. “Plus, I know how much you like getting your hands dirty.”

“Not weeding. But,” she continued as Fitz’s face fell, “it could be a nice change for an activity.”

“So…” he said.

“Yes,” she answered, knowing what he meant. “I’ll go.”

He beamed. “Oh, good. I’ve already signed us up.”

“Before you asked me?”

“Well, spaces were going fast,” he explained, suddenly intent on the ground in front of his feet. “And I thought it sounded fun and something that you would want to do. If you didn’t want to, I figured I could always find someone else who wanted to go instead, and explain it as a genuine mistake to any interested officials. I, eh, hope that was okay.” He glanced up at her, and she caught something she couldn’t define in his eyes.

“It is, Fitz. Thank you for thinking of me,” she said and moved on to discussing the upcoming exam.

That Saturday, they worked hard for their ice cream, weeding out dead flowers, pruning bushes, spreading mulch, raking leaves, and generally preparing the landscape for the coming winter. Despite the lateness of the season the day was still pleasant and the work kept the participants quite warm, rendering the ice cream an even more welcome prospect. Once the school grounds had been satisfactorily tidied up, the sun had begun to set and the dinners had arrived, warm in foil trays. Jemma and Fitz collected their meals and found a tree on the edge of the grounds to sit under and eat.

“I think this is all vegetables,” Fitz said suspiciously, poking at the casserole with his fork. “I was hoping for beef.”

“It’s not bad,” Jemma said, taking a bite. “Besides think of the ice cream.”

Fitz sighed and took a bite too. “It’s okay,” he conceded. “But not as good as lasagna.”

“It’s nutritious, Fitz,” Jemma said. “What more do you need? It’s almost as if you want food to taste good on top of being good for you.”

“Hey! I don’t see why it can’t be both. Back before, people used to devote their lives to inventing different ways of preparing foods, and everyone knew how to cook meals and would eat whatever they wanted to, whenever they wanted to and – ” He stopped, catching sight of the grin on Jemma’s face. “Hmmph.” He huffed, shrugged his shoulders, and then dug into the casserole.

Once he had scraped the last bite from the foil, he set it down and looked over at Jemma’s tray, which had a few vegetables remaining still.

“You know the rules,” Jemma reminded him.

“I know,” he sighed. “But what harm could a few vegetables do?”

“That’s the sort of thinking that people used to use to justify eating everything they wanted, whenever they wanted,” she teased. “And then look what happened – obesity, malnutrition, and a plethora of other health problems.”

He groaned. “All because of three little vegetables. So hurry up and eat them before I fall prey to them and end up like those ancient unhealthy people.”

Jemma waved the last forkful at him cheerily and then popped it in her mouth. No sooner had she swallowed than Fitz had shot to his feet.

“The ice cream! It’s here!” He grabbed their foil trays and pulled her to her feet, almost running to the nearest recycling receptacle to dispense of the trays. They were the eleventh and twelfth people in the line, and received their cups of ice cream quickly.

“Mmmm,” Jemma sighed happily, savoring the sweet taste of the frozen treat as they walked back to their spot under the tree.

“Just think about eating this whenever you wanted,” Fitz said, his ice cream already half gone.

“I do see the temptation,” Jemma admitted as they sat down. “It’s probably a good thing we don’t have access to it all the time.”

“Nah,” Fitz said. “I wouldn’t go that far.”

They both laughed. Jemma ate slowly but the ice cream vanished quickly anyhow. She sighed as she ate her last bite and then set the cup aside wistfully.

“Here.”

Fitz held out the last spoonful of his ice cream, half-liquid but still delicious. “Oh, no, that’s yours,” she protested.

“I want you to have it.”

“I couldn’t.”

Fitz sighed. “Just take it before it melts all over you and ruins whatever romantic sentiment there might be left in this.”

Jemma laughed and obligingly took the last bite. “You’re not really a romantic.”

Fitz shrugged and looked up at the painted sky. “But you are.”

Jemma was uncertain how to respond, surprised despite herself. “Was that in my card?” she asked, an attempt at joviality burdened by her slow response.

“It was,” Fitz confessed, giving her a grin. Then it faded and he looked down, rubbing at the back of his neck. “But I knew anyhow.”

“Oh.” Jemma wondered then if he knew her the same way she knew him, a collection of memories and facts and knowledge that one couldn’t quite define but knew anyhow.

Fitz took a deep breath and looked back at her. “Do you know what else I know?”

“What?”

“The courtship guidelines.” His face looked slightly red and she didn’t think it was just from the glow of the setting sun.

“Anything interesting there?” she asked, leaning towards him with a smile. “Well, there was one about kissing,” he said, smiling and leaning closer as well, and she knew for sure the red wasn’t the sun.

“And?” Jemma asked, inches away from him.

“It said we could,” Fitz said, a statement sounding like a question.

“Jemma.”

Through the haze of sleep, Jemma felt the mattress depress as someone sat down next to her.

“Jemma,” the whisper came again more forcefully this time accompanied with a slight shaking.

Jemma groaned and rolled over to face the speaker. She forced her eyes open and then blinked them shut again.

“What is it, Bobbi?” she asked.

“You need to get up.”

“What? What time is it?” Then a thought struck her and she bolted upright, gaze locking onto her sister. “What’s wrong? Did something happen?”

“No, everything’s fine,” Bobbi said, patting her knee through the blankets. “We just need to talk.”

The scene at the Rec Room the night before came flooding back to Jemma. “Now?” She had a few choice words for her sister, but wasn’t looking forward to her sister’s choice words to her.

“Yes. It’s our only chance, so get dressed and meet me at the door. We don’t have that much time before we need to leave to see Grandfather.” Bobbi waited for Jemma to crawl out from the covers before leaving.

Jemma dressed in the dark, fighting tiredness and a pit in her stomach that had arisen at Bobbi’s reminder of what today was. A glance at her electric clock showed that it was 4:07 AM – despite being an early riser, it was an earlier than usual start to a day that she already knew was going to be both far too long and far too short.

Jemma was still yawning as she met her sister (who looked far too awake) at the front door and was ushered outside where only a few stars were peeking through the clouds.

“Where are we going?” Jemma whispered as they crept down the sidewalk. Even if their Borough was a quiet one on the edge of the City, it was still technically under curfew at this hour.

“Just follow me,” Bobbi whispered back.

They passed several houses, including Skye’s, until they came to the end of the road which was blocked off by a fence. Beyond the fence was some vacant land, once pasture for livestock, but it had lain fallow for as long as Jemma could remember. There was a narrow gap between the chain link pasture fence and the wooden fences surrounding the back yards of the houses, which they squeezed into and went a few meters away from the road. Bobbi glanced around – as if anyone else would be crazy enough to be awake at the hour – and then pulled a detached segment of the fence up. It gave a quiet rattle but no one came running and Bobbi slipped through, holding the gap open for Jemma to follow.

“Are you insane?” Jemma asked, aghast. “This is trespassing. This is against the rules!”

“We won’t get caught if you just come on,” Bobbi hissed back.

Jemma frowned but clambered through the hole – she couldn’t fault Bobbi’s logic and being caught breaking the rules was the only thing worse than breaking them in the first place. The girls slowly waded through the tall grass, moving in a pattern known only to the older.

“I hope you know where you’re going,” Jemma whispered after a few minutes of weaving had taken them out of sight of the faint glow of the Borough streetlights. “And how to get back without breaking any bones or getting caught.”

“Of course. Now shh!”

It took another few minutes for Bobbi to stop, causing Jemma to almost run into her.

“Here.” Bobbi leaned over and brushed some leaves from a large rock and sat down. Jemma sat next to her gingerly; thankfully it wasn’t damp, but it still was cold. They sat in silence for a moment, Jemma full of questions but determined to let Bobbi speak first.

“I guess I have a few things to explain,” Bobbi said at last.

Jemma snorted. “More than a few things to explain.”

“Lance coming down was unusual, I know.”

“It’s more than unusual,” Jemma hissed. “I’ve never seen it done before, never even heard of it being done before.”

“I should have told you Lance was coming down. I meant to, but I just didn’t have a chance,” Bobbi said.

“A ‘By the way, my Match – whomever you’ve never met because I moved to the Capitol as soon as I could and didn’t come back for a first meeting as I could’ve – is coming in to join us for our only private family day where we say goodbye to Grandfather’ took much time to say?”

“You want the truth?” Bobbi bit back, her temper ruffled.

“I would appreciate it, yes.”

“The truth is that I asked very hard, and that I used up a lot of good favor in getting this, I’m sure. I laid it out both logically and emotionally, I showed that granting this request would not decrease efficiency and denial of it would have detrimental effects on my work, on the family relationship, and thus on the Society as an irregularity. I used my position in the Capitol, being far removed from my home Province and Lance being removed from his Province as well, to suggest that a visit home would give some growth and closure while simultaneously showing that I was well-rooted in my new Province and that a visit here would not change that. I had to explain that it would strengthen my relationship with Lance and vice-versa while making sure to not give a false impression about any sort of weakness.”

Jemma gaped at her sister, and she continued.

“It was very difficult and very delicate work, presenting processed and vetted data along with personal observations and reasonable extrapolations. And I did it for you.”

“For me?” Jemma asked.

“Yes. I wanted to see you in person, to be here at your Banquet, to be here when you found out your Match.” She sighed, and the anger fled from her voice. “Of course I wanted to see Mother and Father again, and to see Grandfather and be here for his Banquet. But I know how challenging a Banquet could be, and I was hoping I could help you adjust. I know we haven’t been as close over the past few years, but you’re still my little sister.”

Jemma reached out and grasped her sister’s hand. “And Lance?”

“The same thing; of course I wanted him to meet Mother and Father, and Grandfather before his Banquet, and to see the place I called home while growing up, but I wanted you to meet him. I hoped that seeing him, seeing us together, would help alieve any nerves or fears of your own Match. Of course, that was before I knew it was Fitz,” she said ruefully, and Jemma gave a little giggle.

“Thank you, though,” Jemma said after a moment. “I do appreciate it, and I’m glad you could come. It’s just been one surprise after another and there’s so much to take in.”

“I’m sorry,” Bobbi said, surprising her yet again. “I forgot how much you dislike sudden change, even something as simple as a schedule adjustment. I should have told you Lance was coming down.”

“I’m sorry too,” Jemma said, sighing. “I was quite rude to him last night, and I shouldn’t have been.”

“An apology to him wouldn’t be out of place, but I think he’s forgiven you already,” Bobbi said. “He was far more caught up in the fact that I hadn’t told anyone he was coming.”

“What an odd thing to be worried about,” Jemma said lightly, and Bobbi elbowed her. “I already apologized, citing the rapid pace of the visit, but he’s still miffed,” she said. “He’ll get over it in, oh, a few months at least.”

“Just in time for your Marriage Ceremony then?” Jemma asked as innocently as she could, and Bobbi dropped her head into her hands.

“We haven’t received a date yet, so I don’t know.”

“But it should be around that time, right?” Jemma said, grinning.

“Yes, it would be likely around then,” Bobbi said.

“Are you blushing?” Jemma asked, suppressing a giggle as she tried to see her sister’s face in little starlight there was.

“Stop teasing,” Bobbi said, sitting back up and stretching out her arms. “We need to head back before it gets light.”

“Oh, alright,” Jemma said, relenting. “One more question, though – why did you bring me out here?”

“I didn’t want to wake Mother and Father up with our conversation,” her sister said. “And I guess I just wanted to show you this place – I found it years ago, but you were too young before to risk bringing you out here.”

“It is rather against the rules,” Jemma said, deciding not to protest the young comment.

“Not directly, but it would be frowned upon,” Bobbi said. “So, just don’t come out here unless you really need to.”

“Why would I need to come out?” Jemma asked, frowning.

“No reason,” Bobbi said, standing up. “Come on, let’s go.”

The two reached the house before the sun had started to come out, and Jemma climbed back into bed for a few more minutes of rest before they had to leave for the Banquet. She woke up to her mother knocking on her door, telling her it was time to go. She grabbed her compact and a form letter that she had prepared for her grandfather and re-ponytailed her hair as they walked to the train station.

Most of the Banquet passed in a blur for her – they greeted Grandfather and helped him get ready for the slew of guests that stopped by all through the morning. She didn’t recognize many of the guests but a few she knew from previous visits to Grandfather, other residents of his building. She was pleasantly surprised to see Skye’s parents stop by to talk with Grandfather before they went to work; she had forgotten that Phil Coulson had worked under her grandfather years ago. Their visit was brief, but they made sure to say a few words to her family before they left. Phil wished her a peaceful banquet, but Melinda had gently placed her hand on Jemma’s arm for a second and leaned closed.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered and then the Coulsons took their leave.

Lance had arrived with the first of the guests, and talked with Grandfather the several times there was a lull in visiting. Bobbi would occasionally join them, but for the most part the family allowed them their space, aware that they would have all afternoon to speak with Grandfather alone.

There was plenty of food for the guests and family, though Grandfather had his own private portions. The dishes were delicious but for the second time in as many days Jemma couldn’t appreciate it for she had little appetite.

Lance left in the afternoon when the open visiting hours had ended and it was time for the family to say their private goodbyes. Grandfather spoke with each of them in turn, and he was pleased when Jemma gave him her letter.

“I also thought you might want to see this one more time,” she said, pulling out her artifact and presenting it to him. “To remind you of Grandmother.”

“Thank you,” he said, turning it over in his hands and then opening it. “Could you give me a moment?”

“Of course,” she said, stepping away to the window. There wasn’t much of a view but she could see the resident gardens below, and focused her attention on it. The plants were fading and there were leaves on the ground; it would be time to prepare it for winter soon. After a minute, she heard the click of the compact as it closed again and Grandfather called out to her to take it back.

They talked for a few more minutes, and then it was Bobbi’s turn to say goodbye. Their conversation took quite a while longer than hers had and Jemma peeked in the door after a half hour to see if they were indeed still talking. She caught a brief sight of a round silver object as her sister handed it to Grandfather - an artifact, she wondered? But when her sister came to let their mother know it was her turn, she looked so tired that Jemma didn’t dare ask.

Grandfather fell asleep in the early evening and then quietly stopped breathing a little while later; it was all over and the family dismissed by half past eight.

Lance had joined them at their house once they got back, and they made small talk for half an hour before he and Bobbi left for another overnight train back to the Capitol.

The next morning brought a return to a normal schedule, and Jemma saw her sister just long enough to find out that she had business with some local Officials that day. Then Jemma rushed off to her own trial work position at the Genetic and Biological Sciences Laboratory. Although computers were responsible for most calculations, they needed to be independently verified by sample testing occasionally. In addition, lab technicians and researchers had to be familiar with and able to perform blood tests and genetics investigation in the instance of an undiagnosed illness or unpredicted deficiency; thankfully such cases were rare, but the Society must be prepared.

There were a few glances when she arrived, but most of the workers either didn’t know the news or didn’t care enough to remark on it. Her supervisor Anne merely handed her a large stack of samples to run and asked her to get through as many of them as she could that day. Jemma was grateful for the full workload as it afforded her a distraction from her grandfather’s upcoming Banquet and the revelation of her Match being Fitz. She concentrated on the tests and the day sped by; she was finishing the last sample when Anne stopped by.

“Jemma, I appreciate your dedication and productivity today, but your scheduled time is up,” she said. “You should head out.”

“I’m almost done; I’ll leave as soon as I finish this test,” Jemma replied. “The sample will be ruined if I don’t,” she added quickly.

“That’s true. Just don’t be late for your dinner,” Anne said with a smile and walked to the door. “Have a good night.”

Jemma managed to finish in time to catch the next train, arriving only ten minutes after dinner had. She joined her parents, eating quickly in order to leave on time to meet Fitz and Skye.

“Where’s Bobbi?” she asked, noting her absence.

“She left a message that she would eat at work, and possibly join us later in the Music Center for free rec hours. Are you going to the Game Center with Skye and Fitz tonight?” her mother said.

Jemma nodded, and swallowed her last mouthful as she stood up. “We’re going to meet Trip there. I actually should head out; Fitz and Skye are probably already on their way to the station.”

“Have a good time,” her father said.

“You too,” she said, blowing both her parents kisses as she left the table.

She walked past two houses when the Coulsons’ door swung open and her friend came hurtling down the sidewalk in a repeat performance of the previous night.

“Jemma!” Skye ran down the sidewalk to catch up with her. “Can you believe it? Fitz! What’s it like to be Matched to your best friend? Aaah, it’s crazy!”

“Hi, Skye,” Jemma said, not pausing her pace. Skye scooted forward expectantly. “How are you doing today?”

“Never mind about me! Spill! You and Fitz!”

“Apparently news travels fast.”

“You’re stalling! But of course everyone knows – two people in the same province, much less two people who know each other, much much less two people who are not only friends but best friends! Come on! What are the odds of that? Like a million to one?”

“About two-hundred-fifty-nine-thousand-three-hundred-seventy-five to one,” Fitz said, coming up behind them.

Jemma stared at him.

“That’s awfully precise, Fitz,” Skye said with a grin.

“It’s actually not,” Fitz said, falling into step next to Jemma. “I had to make some assumptions about Anomalies and Singles, since that data isn’t publically available, so it’s a rough estimate at best.”

“But you did the math?” Skye said, lifting her eyebrows significantly at Jemma.

Fitz shrugged. “It was an interesting calculation.”

“How was your day, Skye?” Jemma asked, cutting off any other discussion on the matter for the moment.

The three spent the train ride discussing the work they had done that day and several of the school assignments that were due soon. The three hurried into the rec center, Jemma in the lead.

“Hey, girl!” Trip called out to her, waving as she entered. She waved back, and he called out greetings to Skye and Fitz behind her as he made his way over to them.

“Congratulations!” Trip said, giving her a gentle squeeze on the arm. “And congratulations to you, man!” He continued, giving Fitz a not quite as gentle punch in the arm. “I mean, wow! What are the odds?”

“Two-hundred-thousand-something,” Skye said. “He calculated it exactly.”

“It’s not exact,” Fitz started to explain again.

“Close enough,” Skye said, cutting in. “How have you been, Trip?”

“Life is good.” He grinned. “Want to play a game? There’s an open table right here.”

“I’ll play you a game of Check,” Fitz said eagerly, then paused and turned to Jemma. “Unless you would like to play something?”

“No, I’ll sit out.”

“Skye?” he asked.

She smiled and waved them on. “No, I’m good. I’ll just watch with Jemma.”

“Alright, game on, then!” Trip said, setting up the game. “I’ve got a good feeling about beating you this time.”

“Not a chance,” Fitz replied. “I’m going to win it for my Match.” He winked at Jemma.

Jemma rolled her eyes, but Skye grinned and gave him an enthusiastic thumbs up.

“Aww, man,” Trip complained. “Now I have to let you win.”

“What do you mean, let me win?” Fitz protested.

Jemma ignored their good-natured bickering and turned her attention to Skye. It was noisy in the rec center, but since they were on the edge of the room, they could carry on a fairly private conversation if they talked quietly.

Jemma was about to ask after Skye’s parents when the other girl spoke, bringing up the same subject they’d discussed earlier.

“I still can’t believe Fitz was matched with you.”

“What’s so hard to believe? You don’t think I’m a good match for Fitz?” Jemma asked, more sharply than she intended, already tired of the topic.

“No, of course not! That’s just it – you two are perfect together.”

“I don’t know about perfect. But the Society doesn’t make mistakes in matching, so therefore we are rather compatible. Plus there’s the seventeen years of data behind us that shows we work well together.”

“No, that’s exactly it. I just can’t believe that the Society has noticed what we’ve all been noticing for years,” Skye said.

“Years?”

Skye actually jerked back at the sharpness of Jemma’s tone.

“Well, yeah, I’ve known you two for years. What’s wrong with you?”

“Nothing,” Jemma said, trying to modulate her voice. “But you expected us to be matched?”

“No. Because no one gets matched with someone they already knew.”

“But if being matched with someone you already knew was a more common result, you would have?”

“Well,” Skye said carefully. “If being matched with someone you knew was more likely, I would have considered the Match having a good chance of occurring.”

“I suppose that’s fair…” Jemma trailed off as she caught sight of someone entering the rec center. Skye followed her gaze.

“Hey, it’s Bobbi!” Skye waved once enthusiastically and then stopped as she caught sight of the person next to Bobbi. “Umm, Jemma?”

“Yes?” There was definite ice in her voice now, but it wasn’t directed at her friend.

“Who’s that, umm, I mean, isn’t that…”

“I assume so.”

“You mean you don’t…oh.”

Jemma crossed her arms and waited as Bobbi made her way over.

“Hi, Jemma, Skye,” she said, smiling.

“Hi,” Skye said after a second with no response from Jemma.

“Umm,” Bobbi said, looking almost shy, something Jemma couldn’t remember ever having seen before. She glanced at the man next to her, the man whose fingers were twined between hers. “This is Lance Hunter. Lance, this is Skye Coulson, and my sister Jemma.”

“Nice to meet you,” Skye said with a smile.

“Lovely to meet you,” Lance replied with a grin. “And Jemma! It’s a pleasure to finally meet you in person. The port screen doesn’t do you justice.”

“Nor you,” Jemma said, smiling back with her teeth. “You’re shorter than I thought.”

“And congratulations are in order, I believe! Bobbi said you had your Banquet last night.”

“Thank you,” Jemma said, her smile too large still. Her sister sent her a sharp glance.

“Is Fitz here?” Lance asked after a second, glancing around the room.

“He’s right there,” Bobbi said, nudging his shoulder. “At the table, the one on the left.”

“The left table or the left side of the table?” “Both.” A small crowd had now gathered around Fitz and Trip, both of whom were intent on the game. Based on the small pile of pieces each player had on their side of the table, the game was nearing its finish.

“Who’s winning?” Hunter asked, glancing at Jemma and Skye. Jemma focused on the game table, less out of actual interest than as a means of avoiding Bobbi’s attempts to get her attention.

Skye shrugged. “It looks close; both Fitz and Trip are good players.” “I see.”

There was an uneasy silence for a moment and Skye discreetly nudged Jemma.

“If you’re doing the silent treatment, do I need to as well?” she whispered out of the side of her mouth. “Cause I can, but oh boy is this awkward.”

Jemma sighed. It wasn’t really fair to put Skye in the middle, nor Lance too much; she barely knew him as it was.

“I understand you’re an Official too, Lance?” she asked with the barest glance at him before looking back to the game.

“Uh, yes, that’s right,” he replied. “I’m part of the security force in the Capitol. I’m a very low-ranking Official, though.”

“But he’s very good at his work, and they test for promotions at the end of the year,” Bobbi put in.

“Ah, but if I get promoted, I might get stuck behind a desk more and then I would get to work with you less,” Hunter said, half-teasingly.

“Do you get to work together often then?” Jemma asked, curious despite her desire to remain aloof.

“Not often, no,” Lance said. “But occasionally Bobbi is observing or leading a situation that I’m assigned to.”

“What sort of situation? Is there violence in the Capitol?” Her interest was definitely piqued now; there were few “situations” here.

“Oh, nothing like that,” Bobbi said quickly. “It’s merely cases where an Infraction needs to be issued or a curfew enforced or things of that nature.”

Lance quirked an eyebrow and opened his mouth, but at that instance a cheer went up from the crowd around the table.

“Aww, well done, Fitz!” Skye called out.

The two boys shook hands and made their way over to the girls and Hunter.

“Nicely played too,” Skye said to Trip.

Trip grinned. “Thanks, but were you even watching?”

“I was!” she protested. “Just not quite all of it.”

Fitz had come to stand beside Jemma. “Congratulations,” she said.

“Thanks. Glad to be a man of my word, and not to be proven false in that statement. I don’t think I would’ve lived that down.”

“Lance, this is Leopold Fitz and Antoine Triplett,” Bobbi said. “This is Lance Hunter, my Match.”

“Call me Fitz,” Fitz said, shaking his hand. “Nice to meet you.”

“Same,” Trip said, extending his hand as well. “And call me Trip.”

Lance crooked an eyebrow. “What’s wrong with your first names?”

Trip laughed. “Both of us have third-generation first names and popular ones at that, so short of family members, it was more distinctive to go by last names in primary school. And then they kind of stuck.”

“Did you come in yesterday with Bobbi?” Fitz asked.

“No, I just got in a few hours ago. Since I don’t have a sister who was having her banquet, there was no reason for me to come earlier.”

“What reason do you have?” Jemma asked the question that had been bothering her since she first saw him.

“The banquet tomorrow,” Lance said, looking confused and glancing at Bobbi. “Your grandfather’s banquet? Didn’t Bobbi tell you?”

“No.” Jemma folded her arms and stared at her sister, who had the grace to look away at least.

“Did you want to play a round?” Trip asked, eyes flitting between the three of them.

“We actually need to head out, but thank you,” Bobbi said, squeezing Lance’s hand. “My parents are at the music center and we should spend some time there with them. We just wanted to swing by and say hello.”

“Nice to meet you all,” Lance said, turning to leave.

There were a chorus of good-byes and nice-to-meet-yous from the group and then silence as the pair disappeared.

“Well, that was interesting,” Skye commented. She glanced at Jemma, who was still staring at the door, arms tightly folded, frowning heavily. Skye then fixed her gaze on the boys, and nodded her head toward Jemma and then toward the game tables.

“How about a game of cards?” Trip asked, having quickly caught her drift.

“I should go,” Jemma said briskly.

“Are you sure?” Skye asked gently.

Jemma nodded. “Yes. I need to stop and see Grandfather.” Before Bobbi decides she needs to visit as well, she thought. “Sorry to cut out,” she added, glancing at the three.

“No, it’s fine, we understand,” Trip said. “Enjoy your visit.”

Skye squeezed her hand and leaned close. “We’ll talk later, okay?”

Jemma nodded. “Have a good night.”

“I’ll come with you,” Fitz said.

“I’m fine,” she said, not really wanting company.

“At least let me walk you to the train stop,” he said. “Please.”

“If you insist,” she said, conceding due solely to the last word. While he wasn’t usually rude, Fitz rarely used the word please.

“I’ll be back soon,” Fitz told the other two, and then followed Jemma out into the night.

It was only a few blocks to the station and they covered the distance quickly, Jemma keeping a fast pace to dissuade Fitz from talking. He kept up without complaint, and remained silent as well. A sign at the platform announced that the next train on the correct line would be arriving in four minutes.

“Good night, Fitz,” she said. “I’m fine waiting.”

“It’s okay, I’ll wait too,” he replied, ignoring the subtle dismissal.

They stood quietly for a minute, Fitz glancing between Jemma and the other side of the platform that she was staring at.

“What is it?” Jemma said with a sigh.

“I didn’t say anything,” Fitz said.

“No, but you want to, so just say it,” she replied, expecting some sort of comment on her mood that night.

“I was just going to say I’m sorry,” Fitz said.

Jemma wrinkled her brow and turned to him. “What for?”

“It can’t be easy, preparing to say good bye to your grandfather and then having Lance Hunter show up without warning for his banquet. It’s not fair and is completely out of the ordinary.”

“No.” There was a pause and then she continued. “I suppose it’s not really his fault. I don’t know what Bobbi was thinking. Or how they were granted approval.”

“I’ve never heard of someone getting a travel permit to attend a non-family member’s banquet,” he said, nodding. “I actually can’t remember hearing about any family members getting permits. Besides Bobbi.”

“She said she got permission because of my Banquet, and then an extension because of Grandfather’s,” Jemma said slowly, anger being replaced by confusion. “But it is unusual.”

“I’m sure there’s a good reason; the Society wouldn’t let it happen otherwise,” Fitz said.

“Of course,” Jemma said. Trust the Society; it has your best interests at heart, she reminded herself. She took a deep breath and tried to let go of her questions for now. She had an evening with Grandfather to look forward to, one last evening, and she didn’t want to waste it by being distracted.

Fitz reached for a hand and gave it a quick squeeze. She laced her fingers through his and leaned her head against his shoulder. “Thank you,” she said.

“For what?” he asked, surprise in his voice.

“Everything,” she said with a little smile.

They stayed quiet until the train arrived and she reluctantly moved to board. “Have a good visit, Jemma,” Fitz said.

“Have a good night,” she said, smiling. “Win some more games for me.”

“I will,” he called out, a grin lighting up his face.

The rest of the day passed quickly. Normally Jemma would have classes but as today was her Banquet, she was allowed to spend the day preparing for it. A Matching Banquet was one of the most important events in a person’s life, closely followed by the Marriage Contract Ceremony and surpassed only by one’s Final Banquet. It was a cause of much nerves and excitement as it marked one of the most important stages of becoming an adult, hence the practice of giving each Matchee the day of their Banquet to prepare inwardly. Outwardly there wasn’t much to prepare – each Matchee’s clothes fit perfectly and, unlike the lady whose compact she now owned, no one in the Society wore powders or paints.

Still Jemma was already in her room getting dressed by the time her parents arrived home from their work assignments.

Her parents and sister would attend the banquet in their plainclothes, but as a Matchee Jemma had the distinction of wearing a dress. It wasn’t new nor was it only hers – each province had a library of formal dresses for Matchees to choose from and the dress would be returned after the Banquet for another girl to use for her Banquet – but it was beautiful and she felt very grown-up in it. She stood in front of the mirror for a moment, half-afraid she would discover a flaw that had bypassed her the first time she had put on the dark blue dress when she picked it out. But no, the bodice was well-fitted and flattering, the waist defined without being too tight, and the full skirt ended right above her ankles. She twirled and admired the way the skirt flared out, and the sheer sleeves – butterfly sleeves the dress description had read – fluttered. Jemma quickly pulled on the borrowed shoes as well, silver heeled sandals with straps; completely impractical of course, but she privately thought the effect was stunning.

She was finishing putting her hair into a tight bun when there was a knock on the door.

“Come in,” she said, sliding the last pin into her hair. Her sister poked her head in.

“I just wanted to see how you were – oh.” Bobbi stopped speaking and stared at her.

Jemma smiled at her, and then the smile faded as her sister remained speechless. “Do I look alright?” she asked anxiously.

“No, you look beautiful! It’s just, wow.” Bobbi cleared her throat. “You look very grown-up.”

“That would be because I am,” Jemma reminded her with a grin.

“Well, I know that obviously, but…” Bobbi sighed and studied her again. “I guess you still seem thirteen to me.”

Jemma raised her eyebrows at her.

“I mean, just in that you were thirteen the last time I really saw you. And it’s hard to think about time passing for you like it’s passed for me.”

Jemma continued to look unimpressed and Bobbi laughed. “Never mind. But,” she said, cocking her head and appraising her sister. “Would you like me to fix your hair?”

“What’s wrong with it?” Jemma asked, studying herself in the mirror critically.

“Nothing,” Bobbi said hastily. “But I think I know something that would look wonderful on you.”

Jemma agreed and spent the next twenty minutes having her hair combed, brushed, fluffed, pulled, and pinned into an elaborate up twist that loosely framed her face.

“Well?” her sister asked.

“Very nice,” Jemma conceded with a smile, and gave her sister a hug. “Thank you.”

“It’s my pleasure.”

“Bobbi, Jemma, are you ready to go?” their father asked, knocking on the door. “Coming!” The sisters called out simultaneously, and then burst into laughter.

“Well, I guess four years haven’t changed some sisterly connections,” Bobbi said as they hurried to the front door.

They had only reached the sidewalk when the front door of the house across the street opened and a girl came hurtling out. She slid into place next to Jemma with a quiet shriek.

“You look beautiful!”

“Thanks, Skye,” Jemma said, smiling.

“I wanted to come over as soon as I got back from school, but Mother said I couldn’t bother you while you were getting ready. Though I wouldn’t have been a bother, I could’ve helped. And it would’ve have been good preparation for whenever my Banquet comes,” she explained rapidly. “I wish I was being Matched tonight, too,” Skye continued wistfully. “I think it would have been fun to go with you and Fitz.” Although Skye had been seventeen for several months now, the fact that she had yet to receive a Banquet announcement was a source of much frustration. Characteristically, however, when she had found out that both Jemma and their friend Fitz were being matched at their first Banquet after turning seventeen, she had been a little jealous but had shown only happiness for her friends.

“Don’t worry,” Jemma said, giving a smile she hoped was reassuring. “I understand once you arrive at the Hall, you don’t visit with anyone; you merely have time to sit and eat dinner and then the Matching begins. So it wouldn’t have made much difference.”

“I suppose not,” Skye said. “But I have to wait a whole month before I might possibly be matched now.” She sighed.

“It’ll be worth it,” Jemma said more confidently that she felt, knowing that the statement wouldn’t give her friend much patience.

“Skye.” Mrs. Coulson had opened the door and stepped out. “Come and eat; your dinner will get cold.”

Skye rolled her eyes, but listened to her. Jemma didn’t blame her – her friend’s mother tended to be stern and was not one to be crossed, though she had some old memories of laughter and teasing from the woman. “I want to hear all about it later. And I wish you optimal results,” Skye said, giving the Society’s best greeting as she walked back to her door.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Jemma said with a wave– she and Skye and Fitz had settled into a pattern years ago of attending the Saturday free rec hours together – and then hurried down the sidewalk to catch up with her family.

They arrived at the train station without being accosted by any other friends or neighbors, which made Jemma slightly nervous – Fitz and his mother Lisbeth lived just three doors down from the Simmons family and their paths should have crossed even in the short distance to the station. Fortunately, they still had five minutes until the train arrived when the pair arrived, Fitz a few strides ahead of his mother.

“I thought we were going to miss the train,” Fitz muttered to Jemma under the cover his mother greeting the others.

“You waited until the last minute to get dressed, didn’t you?”

Fitz looked affronted. “I gave myself a whole twenty minutes, which would have been plenty if Mother hadn’t retied my cravat five times and then spent several minutes fussing over curls that went the wrong way.”

“You do look nice,” Jemma remarked, noting the dark blue silk around his neck. It was amusing but unsurprising that he had chosen the same color for his cravat as she had for her dress – after a lifetime of being best friends their tastes in many areas tended to run along the same lines.

“Thank you.” Fitz glanced at her and then blinked, taking several steps back to actually look at her. She grinned and gave a little twirl. “You look…really nice,” he said after a second.

“Leopold!” his mother scolded. “You look beautiful, Jemma.”

“Right, that’s what I meant,” Fitz said, grinning. “You look wonderful.”

His mother shook her head but said no more, drawing back into a conversation with Jemma’s parents and Bobbi.

“I think she’s nervous,” Jemma whispered to Fitz.

“Not sure why,” Fitz said. “It’s my Banquet, not hers.” He looked down at the ground, scuffing his feet along the pavement, and Jemma waited. “Though,” he continued quietly, glancing quickly at his mother, “I think she is remembering her Banquet. And missing Dad.”

Jemma nodded, and squeezed his arm gently. “I’m sorry. This must be hard on you both.”

Fitz shrugged and looked up at the darkening sky. “It’s been years; I don’t really think about what it was like to not have him gone.”

Jemma barely remembered the night a dozen years before when her parents had come into her room and gently explained that Fitz’s father was gone. It had taken several days for her to fully grasp that he had died without a Banquet, the result of a rare Anomaly attacking the transportation office he worked in: the bomb had destroyed the office and killed eight people, including three citizens who had been walking down the street. She remembered more clearly the next week at primary school when Fitz had refused to answer to his name, insisting that Leopold was his father’s name; their teacher had conceded temporarily due to the tragic circumstances and agreed to call him by his last name, but by the time the year was out his choice had stuck and Fitz’s mother was the only to still call him by his given name.

They were saved from further conversation by the arrival of the train, and the hustle to get onboard. Jemma and Fitz shared a bench, with her family and his mother in the rows behind them. She tried to tune out Bobbi’s tales of the Capitol and descriptions of life there.

“Are you nervous?” she asked her friend.

“No,” Fitz said even as she placed her hand over his to stop him from shredding the edge of his sleeve. “Well, I guess maybe a little,” he conceded.

“93% of people are nervous before their banquet,” she said.

“Oh, well, then that makes the first time in my life I’ve been fully ordinary.”

She cracked a grin. “Wouldn’t the teachers be proud?”

He laughed. “What about you? You’re not worried?”

“Why should I be? It’s a very scientific process, and the Society doesn’t make mistakes,” she said firmly. “I’m sure I’ll be very happy with the result. I’m sure we’ll both be.”

Fitz looked down at their hands. “I guess I just don’t want things to change. I like things the way they are.”

“Oh, Fitz,” she sighed. “You know things have to change. But it’s a good change. Like a butterfly coming out of a chrysalis.”

He didn’t look encouraged. “Butterflies are extinct, so what does that say about your analogy?”

“You know what I mean,” she said, suppressing an eye roll. “Besides, why should you worry? Somewhere out there is a very lucky girl who will soon find out that her best match is you. And she’ll be your best match as well.”

“I hope so,” he muttered.

“Oh, Fitz.”

“Look at the Hall, Jemma!” He pointed out the window and she leaned over him to catch her first glimpse of the City Hall, dropping the conversation. The stone building was a beautiful sight with all the exterior lights lit, shining as brightly as their future.

Inside, the banquet hall was full of light and talking, mostly done by the parents and older siblings of the ones for whom the Banquet was in honor – those about to be Matched were mostly too nervous to talk; of those that did, they kept their voices to whispers.

Jemma and her family were seated by one of the Officials in charge after they entered. Jemma barely had time to give a last encouraging smile to Fitz before they were whisked away to a table covered in linen, glass, and silver.

She looked for him in the crowd before dinner was served but there were too many pale, nervous faces for her to distinguish his. She settled for a mental wish for optimum results.

By the time the meal arrived, she still had no reason to be nervous but her stomach was refusing to listen to her head. She swallowed a few tasteless bites – her taste buds were being illogical too – before resorting to just pushing the food around on her plate.

She noticed that Bobbi, seated next to her, had no such traitorous body parts and quickly (though somehow delicately) finished her dinner. Which was unfair. It was her banquet, not Bobbi’s, so why should her sister enjoy the food so much when she couldn’t?

Jemma managed to make it halfway through her slice of cake when the Official in charge – a women with dark hair and a severe expression – announced that the Matching would begin and called the first name.

“Akela Abigail Amador.”

A girl in a dark grey dress stood up, her face solemn and her hands steady. “Michael Joshua Peterson.”

A video of a young man – grinning broadly – in another hall appeared on the screen and Jemma joined in the applause as a wide smile transformed the face of the young woman. She sat down again and the next name was called. Jemma knew it could be a while before her name was called, but the exact number of Matchees with family names beginning with A through R – or even S before Simmons – she had no way of calculating. She still gave it her best estimate, though, and it alieved some of her nerves for a while. Until, with her estimate of one more Matchee to go before her, she heard her name called.

“Jemma Marie Simmons.”

She stood and faced the screen, clasping her hands together to ensure they didn’t decide to start shaking at the last minute.

The screen stayed blank.

Jemma dismissed the idea of a computer failure almost instantly – those were unheard of incidences, and there at least was precedence for the other option: her Match was here in the hall.

There were some quiet murmurs through the hall, and she felt the subtle shift in the room’s atmosphere as all of the unmatched young men sat up straight on the edges of their chairs – ready to stand up if their names were called. Strange. Now her palms were sweaty. Was it the thought of being so close to her Match? Perhaps she had seen him on the street, or even had a class with him. She may have already seen him tonight though she couldn’t recall any faces that had begged for a special note.

What a pity if her beautiful dress and fancy hairstyle would not provide the first impression of her to her Match.

“Ah. I see that your match is present here tonight, Miss Simmons.” The Official smiled at her, which somehow made her seem even more terrifying.

Steady. Breathe, she reminded herself. One. Two. Three.

The Official glanced down at her screen, as if to verify the name before calling it out.

Four. Five. Six.

“Leopold Andrew Fitz.”

Now she could see Fitz as he bounded up from his chair; probably an automatic reaction from being called on in class, since he looked as stunned as she felt.

Each stared at the other for what felt like hours, and then he broke into a grin; she mirrored the expression and dared a tiny wave.

Jemma felt a tug on her dress, and glanced down in time to see her sister – smiling fully – give a second sharp jerk to the edge of her skirt.

“Sit,” hissed Bobbi from between her teeth, and she obeyed, head still a whirl.

“Congratulations!” her mother mouthed, reaching across the table to squeeze her hand. Her father grinned at her and whispered, “Wonderful!” She grinned back, relief washing over her.

“Fitz!” she whispered, turning back to Bobbi.

“How odd,” her sister muttered, brow furrowed.

Jemma frowned. “What?”

“Nothing, sorry. Congratulations!” She smiled brightly.

Their mother gave a quiet cough and slightly inclined her head towards the front where the next young lady was discovering her match. Bobbi gave Jemma’s hand a quick squeeze and they both turned to the front, dropping the matter.

There were only about a dozen girls matched after Jemma, but she had a hard time concentrating and couldn’t wait for the Banquet to finish. She only vaguely acknowledged the Official who handed her a silver box containing a microcard with information on her Match.

Fitz! Her and Fitz! It seemed impossible, though she knew their future clearly.

They would receive their job assignments in the next few months, being assigned to the same city. Four years, and then they’d be signing a Marriage Contract together. Then there would be a couple of children within a few more years. Their children would go to school, have their own matching banquets, and receive their job assignments. There would be ten years of peaceful though structured retirement, allowing them to spend some time seeing their grandchildren grow and possibly attend their matching banquets. And then in sixty-two years and three-hundred-and-forty-two days, Fitz would have his final banquet. And in sixty-three years to the day, Jemma would have hers.

The thought sobered her and she shook herself back to attention just in time to join in the applause for the last Match announced.

“This concludes tonight’s banquet,” the Official said. “Thank you for coming and congratulations to the newly Matched.”

There was a final round of applause and then quiet chatter took over as the entire room got up to leave at once.

The Official in charge appeared in front of the Simmons before they had made it halfway to the door.

“Could you please come with me?” she said. “I’d like a quick word with you.”

They followed her to a small room off the main banquet hall, where Fitz and his mother were already waiting.

Mrs. Fitz gave her a bright smile as she entered, and Fitz – her Match – echoed it.

Jemma returned their smiles, feeling almost embarrassed for some reason, before turning her attention to the Official.

“Jemma and Leopold,” the Official began. Out of the corner of her eye, Jemma saw Fitz open his mouth – as she had known he would – and then close it again without speaking as he thought better of interrupting an Official to contradict her.

“Congratulations to you both, and to your families. As this situation is so uncommon, I just wanted to have a brief word with you all before you left. Most of the information on your microcards is already known to you, but please do ensure that you read it – there are a few new courting guidelines.”

“Of course, we’ll do that right away,” Jemma said, and Fitz nodded.

“Very good. An Official will be in touch with you soon to schedule an official first outing,” the Official said and dismissed them to catch their air train.

Jemma’s and Fitz’s mothers chattered excitedly as they entered the empty train, all as proud as could be and smiling happily. Bobbi and Mr. Simmons followed, occasionally interjecting into the conversation but mostly listening and grinning.

“Here,” Fitz said, holding out his hand to her as they boarded. She took it, grateful for the assistance as she was unused to the long dress and high-heeled shoes. He held her hand just a second after she had released his, and she realized belatedly that for the first time she didn’t have to let go.

Jemma sat down carefully next to Fitz, aware of how different their return trip was from the one just a few short hours earlier that day. She had known everything would change tonight, but she hadn’t expected it to change between her and Fitz. How did they proceed now? They were more than friends now, but they were more than Matched as well. She knew him too well to ask any of the conversation-starting questions she had thought she would ask her Match but she couldn’t just ignore the fact that they were Matched and just treat him the same as always, could she?

Jemma looked about for anything that could help her come up with a topic of conversation and noticed Bobbi was sitting in the corner of the car, staring out into the darkness.

Which was odd.

Bobbi always talked to people, always fit in, so why did she look so out of sorts tonight? There was something in her expression that Jemma couldn’t quite place. Almost tiredness – it had been a long day – but something deeper than usual.

Before she could discern it, Bobbi looked up and caught Jemma’s eye. She gave her a smile which didn’t quite reach her eyes and stood, making her way over to where they sat.

“So,” she said, perching herself on the bench in front of them, “should I offer congratulations or condolences on your match, Fitz?”

Fitz stared at her, mouth opening and closing without forming words.

“Bobbi!” Jemma glared at her sister. If she was just going to cause trouble, why did she come over?

“I’m just teasing,” she said with a smile. “Congratulations; I’m very happy for you both.”

“Thank you,” Fitz got out, though he kept from looking at Jemma.

Jemma didn’t say anything, merely stared back at her sister with displeasure at the joke. Bobbi raised her eyebrows at her, but turned her attention back to Fitz.

“So, how’s school going? And what’s your current work assignment?”

Fitz quickly grew comfortable again and he and Bobbi passed the rest of the train ride discussing his classes (fine but boring), work assignment (information sorting, which he considered a bit dull at times but he was good at it), and his hopes for a permanent work placement (sorting transportation data, making travel even more efficient). By the time the air train arrived at their stop, Bobbi was telling Fitz about other areas of data sorting and transportation design that might be of interest to him.

“You should consider asking your supervisor if you can experience that work before you undergo your final test,” she said as they exited the train. “Some of them are small fields, with the main work being done in the Capitol, but at the very least it would give more data to determine your best placement.”

“I’ll definitely consider it. Thank you, Bobbi,” Fitz said, reaching out a hand to help Jemma down from the train. This time she held on, and after few rapid steps he slowed his pace to match her careful gait in the high heels.

Bobbi glanced at their clenched hands and excused herself with a slight smile, claiming she had remembered something she needed to tell her father.

Jemma shot a look at Fitz, who kept glancing at their hands as if he couldn’t believe his sense of touch. She could barely believe it herself. The silence weighed on her, though, and she tried to come up with a topic of conversation.

A comment on the weather was too trite, school and work had already been discussed, and anything to do with the Banquet – she was still processing what this Match actually meant for them in how they interacted and lived. She was still thinking – and biting her lip – when Fitz stopped walking.

“I suppose this is it,” he said and she looked up, startled, to realize that they had reached his house.

“I suppose so,” she said as their families said their good byes and separated to their respective homes.

“Uh, good night, Jemma,” Fitz said with a shy grin. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

On the day of her Banquet, Jemma Simmons awoke to her sister’s face less than an inch from hers.

“Happy birthday, sis!”

“Aaaah!” Jemma bolted upright, Bobbi leaning backward just in time to avoid getting her jaw smacked by Jemma’s knees. “What are you doing?!”

Bobbi merely cackled, and Jemma whacked her with her pillow.

“What”

Whack!

“Are”

Whack! Bobbi, still laughing, curled up into a ball to shield her face from Jemma’s attacks.

“You”

Thwack!

“Doing!”

Bobbi rolled off the bed as Jemma brought down the pillow again and there was a dissatisfying “thwap” as it collided with the mattress. The laughter continued from the floor.

“Are you quite finished yet?” Jemma demanded after a minute, leaning over the edge of the bed.

Her older sister gave a few more breathless giggles, tears pouring out of her eyes, before nodding.

“I’ll ask again – what are you doing? I thought your air train didn’t get in until this afternoon!”

“I took another one,” Bobbi said, sitting up and trying to catch her breath.

“Just like that?”

“Well, I pointed out the efficiency of traveling overnight and having breakfast here rather than having a couple meals served in transit, and that appeared to have done the trick.” She grinned. “And it was worth it to wake you up like that.”

Jemma threw her pillow at her sister as she went off into another round of laughter at the memory.

“I’m sorry, but your face!”

Jemma crossed her arms. “Well, I wasn’t expecting to be woken by a sister an inch away rather than hundreds of miles away, where she was supposed to be.”

“Come on, don’t be mad,” Bobbi said. “I wanted to spend as much of today with you as I could. And help you get ready for your Banquet, of course.”

Jemma raised her eyebrows. “By scaring me out of my wits? I thought you were a mature adult now – setting me a good example, busy with your work at Central, everything for the good of the Society.”

Bobbi winced. “That’s not really fair – my work isn’t up to me. I’m still your sister, the same one you woke up on my Banquet day three hours early because you had decided that I needed that time to get ready more than I needed it to sleep.”

“Oh, I did, didn’t I?”

“Yes, you did. And I nearly fell asleep on the way to the Banquet.”

Jemma flushed. “Well, that wasn’t my fault.”

“No?”

“No.”

“At any rate, I wanted to return the favor by making sure you didn’t oversleep,” Bobbi grinned and, standing up, held her hands out.

Jemma rolled her eyes, but let herself be pulled out of bed. Once standing, she gave her sister a hug. “It’s good to see you.”

“Same here. And happy birthday.”

Breakfast was a simple affair of oatmeal in foil trays, but Mother had set the table for a full sit down meal instead of the rushed, halfway out the door occasion it usually was – Jemma wondered if the extra effort was for her or Bobbi. Their parents had to attend to work as usual but both girls had the day off. The sisters had lingered at the table, Jemma catching her older sister up on some of the Borough affairs, and Bobbi sharing a few anecdotes about her neighbors and co-workers in the Capitol. By mid-morning they had somehow run out of news to share, and Jemma ran her usual length on the tracker while Bobbi made some work calls on the port. Bobbi was taking her turn on the tracker and Jemma was in the study viewing a microcard of research that she had borrowed from the library at her trial work position with the Genetic and Biological Sciences Laboratory when the doorbell rang. She hurried through the kitchen, almost tripping over the fourth chair – it had resided in the corner since becoming superfluous almost four years ago – before reaching the front door and opening it.

“Grandfather!” Jemma cried when she saw who stood there.

“Happy birthday, my dear!” the man replied with a smile. “Let me look at you – seventeen already! It seems like just yesterday you were learning to walk.”

Jemma gave the man a hug as he entered. “What are you doing here? I was going to come by and see you later!”

“I thought I’d come and surprise you instead. After all, I’m...” He paused. “I can still get around. And today is a busy day for you! Your Banquet and your birthday on the same day. Are you nervous?”

“No,” she replied as they sat down on the living room couch.

Grandfather looked skeptical. “Not even a little?”

“Well, maybe just a little,” she conceded. “I mean, two important milestones in a single day. But no one could be disappointed in me and the Society doesn’t make mistakes, especially not in Matches.”

“Doesn’t it?” Grandfather asked quietly.

“Grandfather, you know it doesn’t,” she said gently, for a moment afraid that he had already started declining although his Final Banquet wasn’t until the day after tomorrow.

“Of course not, dear,” he said and smiled. “Here, I wanted you to have this.” Grandfather handed her a slim metal box.

“Oh, Grandfather! An artifact for my own? Thank you!” She beamed at him.

“It’s called a compact; women used to use them to carry face powder. It belonged to your grandmother most recently, but it had originally belonged to one of your ancestors – a grandmother a forgotten number of greats ago. But she must have been a great woman in her own regard to be have had an item passed down so far,” Grandfather said. “I know some of that greatness has carried down to you, and I hope your legacy lasts as long as hers has.”

Jemma threw her arms around her grandfather. “Thank you,” she whispered. “I hope I live up to all you expect.”

“You already have,” he whispered in her ear, and then released her as someone else entered the room. “Barbara!”

“Grandfather!” Bobbi called out, and half-ran into his embrace.

Jemma stepped away from them, turning her back as she harshly brushed away the few tears that had escaped despite herself. She wished that her sister hadn’t interrupted – Bobbi had always had a way of taking the spotlight when she entered the room.

“Stop it,” she told herself. After all, Grandfather’s final Banquet was in two days and Bobbi hadn’t seen him since she left for the Capital. Plus, she and Grandfather had grown quite close over the past few years and he had just given her an artifact, something she didn’t believe her sister had.

She turned the box over carefully. Carved into the silver metal top were the initials M.A.C. and below it the numbers 1944. She gently pushed down the catch and the lid popped open, revealing a shallow compartment on the bottom. A small mirror, slightly cracked and spotted, was set into the lid and she smiled at her distorted reflection.

It was the perfect size to take to the Banquet tonight and the perfect size hold her pills, the same three that everyone over sixteen in their Society carried. She opened her officially issued pill case and transferred them over: Blue – life-sustaining – provided enough nutrients to live without food for a week if something terrible happened, green – peace-promoting – calmed the nerves if one was anxious, and red – a mystery whose effects were whispered about but no one knew anyone who had taken it for sure – was only to be taken if a high-ranking Official instructed one to do so.

“Jemma,” her grandfather called. “Come over and tell me about your week.”