Archive of Our Own ^beta

He flexes his hand because it's shaking, a manifestation of the blood boiling within him.

"Doctor, she's ready for you."

It takes focus to bring the tumbler of scotch to his lips, and he hopes he makes it look easy. The alcohol burns all the way down, just like the rest of him.

He stands up, straightens his vest, and goes back to work on his prisoner.

She's trying to sleep, but every time she closes her eyes, she sees it all over again.

She knew that the Framework distorted the lines between fiction and reality, but Fitz just killed a person—a real person—in order to protect the android that was modeled after her.

She's sick to her stomach, she's furious, but not at him. She knows him, better than anyone, better than she knows anything about reality.

He has been twisted and shaped into everything he's never wanted to be, and she can't let that happen. She won't let it—

She swallows down bile and turns to her side. How ridiculous is it that she has to sleep in a virtual world? How ridiculous is it that she has to try to sleep when Fitz is out there somewhere and AIDA—

AIDA AIDA AIDA AIDA

She keeps tossing and turning, fighting against the darkness that surrounds her. Her rage has found its target in AIDA, but it's Jemma who's being consumed.

She's helpless and bleeding, but she's still a subversive. Still a potential Inhuman who lied her way into their ranks. The scotch churns in his stomach and he almost thinks he's going to wretch.

"Fitz," she says. "Fitz, it's me. Jemma and I are here to help you."

He balls his hands into fists and almost screams at her. Jemma Simmons is the one who started it all, and yet everyone thinks he's connected to a woman whom he's never met. A woman whom he never saw until she leapt out of the bushes on that island, calling him the same name that Skye does.

Fitz.

They claim to know him so well, but they don't even call him by his first name.

"She did it for you. A part of you knows that."

He turns to her, this woman who infiltrated them, who came from a world that demeans and enslaves. She's weak, and her eyelids droop, but she keeps talking.

"I never really thought it was possible, you know? I never saw it growing up." She winces as she shifts into a different position. "But the first day I met you two, I knew. You guys didn't even know. I couldn't believe how blind you were, but you saw the light eventually. You just . . . you need to find the light again, Fitz. I know it's in there."

He doesn't even know her, and how could she dare to presume that she knows his story? How could she invent this lie where he's one of them? And connected to her? He'll have to scream just to control the trembling. It's not just treason—it's slander. And after all he's built, after all he's accomplished, the fact that she can just lie there and lie to him is more than any man could take.

He can't lose control in front of her, so he leaves. He goes straight to his office, slams the door shut, and shoves everything off his desk. He watches as things tumble to the ground, as they break like he's breaking. This was supposed to quench the fire, but he burns, he burns, he burns. He closes his eyes and sees Jemma Simmons burned into his eyelids. He's not what they say he is, but there was something when that woman screamed out his name, something when she looked at him. She's trying to deceive him. She's pulling him in.

Skye might think he loves her, but he's never hated a person so much. 

She can't just lie here.

She can't just sit here and do nothing.

She's been resisting this pull all along, talking about finding their friends, about protecting their friends, about saving their friends. She knows they can all see through her. Anyone who has seen her and Fitz together knows that they fight for each other in any universe. And now that she knows where he is, now that SHIELD knows what they are, she can't bear to stand by anymore. And she should care about finding a strategy or seeing if Coulson could help, but the truth is that the anger is burning in her bones, and no one should expect her to endure it. 

When she sneaks out of the base, armed to the teeth, she hopes she knows what she's doing.

He tosses and turns in his bed, and these are new sheets, these are expensive sheets, and they are supposed to help.

But his insomnia is back and it's worse than before, because he can't get that woman out of his mind, can't silence all the voices in his head. There's Skye, of course, and that nut job Radcliffe, but there's also—

It's a voice that sounds like his own, but more savage than he's ever been. It's raw and hoarse, and it calls her name like she's his last, best hope.

But he's the hope. He and Hydra are humanity's hope. If they think they can get inside his head and make him think that he's not what he is, he'll show them exactly what he's become.

She steals a car and she's racing through the night. Can she get to where AIDA is? Does this new Madame Hydra have a lair? There's got to be a way to sneak in, and she could just—no, no, no. She'd be dead before she got anywhere close. But where is she going, then?

She's not sure where she's headed, but she's getting there fast.

He storms into the room, and he could swear that there should be flames in his wake. He flicks on the light and she stirs, shielding her eyes from the light.

"Fitz, what the—"

"Why are you doing this?"

She can barely open her eyes, but somehow, she blinks at him. "What?"

"Why are you conspiring to get inside my head? What do you want?"

He slams his palm against the wall and feels the pain reverberate through his bones. It's not enough.

"Fitz, this place isn't real. We're trying to save you."

He slams the wall again, and turns to her.

"Why are you lying? Why are you messing with me?"

This whole time, he's expected his anger to leech off into her, but instead her voice gets softer.

"Fitz, it's AIDA who's inside your head. Or Madame Hydra, or whoever. She's the only one twisted enough to make you think you love someone other than Simmons."

He doesn't love her and he wants to scream it. He wants it to permeate the walls, to level this building. He loves whom he loves and nobody, not an Inhuman traitor or a subversive spy, can take that away from him.

To prove it, he takes Skye out of her cell. Maybe the cold night air will sober the both of them up.

She's honestly surprised that no one's stopped her by now. Don't these sorts of regimes come with a curfew? Somehow, she's angry that they're letting her get away with it. She's so blind with rage that she doesn't know where she's going until she's already there. The Triskellion looms above her, and it used to be a beacon of justice. Now, it's a black eye. The fact that AIDA could take something so good and just twist it into—UGH!

She's made it to Rogers Field, but of course she came to one of the places she loves most, where she loved the man she loves most. She kills the car and steps out into the night, shivering in the cold. She still doesn't know what she's doing, and she's starting to realize that she doesn't care.

"What are you doing?"

She mumbles it under his hand, and he shushes her. There are still guards around, and he has just enough presence of mind to be wary of them. He needs to cool off, clear his head, and then he can show her who he really is. He'll show her so clearly that she won't be able to question him.

He's boiling so hot that he doesn't start to simmer until they're out past the security checkpoints, to the place that makes him feel serene.

The voices are still echoing in his skull, and one of them is definitely Jemma. She's screaming his name, and he has to ignore the way it sounds like the despair. No one would despair over him. No one would—

"Fitz!"

He stops in his tracks and he stares at her, at the woman he sent two teams after, standing right in front of him. He takes out a gun and points it at her. She glares at him.

"What are you going to do, Fitz?" she deadpans. "Shoot me?"

He has half a mind to. She's the one they're lying about, after all. She's the one pointing a gun straight back at him. 

She's shaking, and she looks in Daisy's eyes and knows exactly what her friend is going to say.

"No, Jemma," Daisy pleads, "you can't do this to yourself again."

She's thinking about it, too, about the Fitz who had two hands raised in surrender, the Fitz who ended up not being Fitz at all. She stabbed that android in the neck, but he was more like the real Fitz than this man is. This man is holding her friend hostage.

"What are you going to do, Fitz?"

She's not going to pull the trigger any more than she's going to let Fitz kill Daisy, but she has to threaten to do one to avoid doing the other. His hand trembles, and he takes a step closer, like he's not sure he's seeing her clearly. He uses his other hand to steady the gun, and Daisy seizes her freedom. She scrambles behind Jemma, but Fitz doesn't even blink.

"Who are you?"

The real Fitz has never addressed her this way, with seething frustration. And yet, she finds hope in the fact that he hasn't shot her yet,

"You know who I am, Fitz." She looks around her. "Do you remember this place? The time we spent here?"

He squints at her. "This is the place where the agents do their drills."

She gives him a sad smile, shaking her head. "This is the place where we tested the DWARFs. We spent so many hours here, trying to get those things in the air. Drone technology was pretty new back then, and we were trying to pack so much functionality into them that it took us a while until we realized we were going about it the wrong way."

At some point, she lowered the gun, but he still holds his. She should be basking in the old memories, but there's a bitterness in her heart that she has to swallow down. There's still a deadness in his eyes, and it's the mark of what AIDA did to him.

Lies. These are all lies. He knows what's true. He watches the agents marching every morning, and that's why he likes it here. He built this organization, and this field is a testament to its efficiency.

"In the spring, we used to bring our lunches so we weren't interrupted," she says. "Not even by our own stomachs. We pretended that it was work, but it was more like a picnic. You'd bring a blanket, and we'd sit down to eat, and I would think that the only thing that could make it more perfect was if you kissed me."

The heat that the cold air leeched out of his bones flares up again with the spark of irritation. If she fancied him, well, she wasn't the only one. She should know that even if he wasn't devoted to Ophelia, he'd still have limitless options to go through before he could even consider her.

She stamps her foot on the ground. "Fitz! Don't you remember? Doesn't this place—don't I—doesn't it trigger anything?"

Trigger. He tightens his grip on the trigger, reminding himself that she is a subversive, that she's probably an Inhuman, and that she's definitely come here to dismantle everything he cares about. Of course they're all pushing this idea of a forgotten romance—wasn't that what Ophelia had said? That they'd try to take him away from her? Well, he only needs two bullets to stop them, and he has more than that if the situation requires it. 

"I remember that you were executed," he says. "Or you were meant to have been. I wonder if you can rise from the dead a second time."

He expects her to grind her teeth together, for her gaze to sharpen into a glare. Instead, she looks over at Skye and seems to soften.

"Go ahead, Fitz," she says. "You've saved my life so many times that you're really the only one with a right to it." 

He looks down the barrel and tries not to notice her eyes. 

"I've been trying to give it to you, you know. Ever since you brought me up from the ocean."

He pulls back, cocking his head at her.

"Give me what?"

She furrows her brow, like she didn't expect the question.

"My life," she says. "I've been trying to give you my life."

He feels so stupid that he wants to knock himself in the head. Of course that was what she meant, but why—

What does that even mean?

It's another tactic, he decides. They know it's late, they caught him in a vulnerable position, and now they're playing mind games. He takes his aim once more, ready to show them just how far their tactics will get them, and prepares to pull the trigger.

The only thing is, he can't.

She watches his eyes, angry and confused, and she kicks herself for giving too much away. She's been so desperate to save him that she hasn't been careful about her heart, going as far as declaring her love for Fitz to Ward, of all people. The man in front of her is not the one she knows, and she should know better than to tell him things she's never told anyone.

But he still hasn't shot her, despite his threats. He looks like he's trying to work himself up to it now, but his gun is still shaking. Is the real Fitz breaking through? If she keeps spouting memories, will he come back to her?

She's trying to puzzle it out when she feels a hand on her shoulder.

"I can get back in," Daisy whispers. "I didn't see a single guard on the way out here. I can take him back the same way. AIDA's got to have something somewhere that I could use to reopen our way out of here."

Jemma doesn't dare take her eyes off of Fitz, but she shakes her head. "He won't just let us get past him. We'd have to shoot him first."

"Yeah," Daisy says, "so I guess it's a good thing that you don't have a real gun."

She looks down at the hunk of metal in her hand, and Daisy's right—it's the same stun gun she used on those Hydra agents the other day. She's been too upset to notice.

He should pull the trigger—it's the right thing to do. So why can't he make himself do it?

"You take lives," he says, trying to remind himself as much as he's reminding them. "You enslaved Madame Hydra. You did what you want to do to all humans: locked us up, treated us like cattle. You think that having powers makes you evolved, makes you better than us. Well, we have rights. We have value. I won't let you erase that. I won't let you tell me that I was a part of something so unjust."

"Fitz," Jemma says, "that's not what happened. That's not who you were."

"Oh," he says, "I'm not, am I?" He almost has to laugh, even as his blood keeps boiling. "You're all alike, you know that? Always using humans as playthings. So, come on, tell me what you think I am."

Jemma looks over to Skye, who looks him straight in the eye.

"A hero," she says.

And he doesn't even have time to wonder what she means before something shoots out of the tip of Jemma's gun, lightning pierces his whole body, and everything goes black.

"I understand now."

It's the first thing Daisy's said since Jemma knocked Fitz out, and they're both breathing so heavily that Jemma almost missed it. She takes Fitz's limp arm from around her shoulders and leans against a wall to catch her breath.

"Understand what?"

Daisy helps her slide Fitz into a sitting position against the wall, and they both sit down on either side of him. He leans against her shoulder, and it's so eerie and perverse that she almost wants to push him away. She's glad Daisy's here to take the lead, because she's still struggling to stay in control.

"Why you let me back in," Daisy explains. "Why you all forgave me after what I did with Hive."

She looks over at her friend, at her dear friend who also happens to be the only other sane person in this crazy world.

"Daisy," she says, "it was never a question."

"I know that's how you see it, but I didn't get it until now. Fitz has done terrible things here, but none of that matters to me. I just want to help him."

Jemma takes a big breath and lets it out, sobered by Daisy's words. Somehow, the only thing she can picture is the determination in Mack's eyes.

"That's because this isn't Fitz," she says, more sure of it now that she's said it out loud. "And that wasn't you. You are accountable for your choices, not what some wicked person brainwashes you into doing."

Daisy's eyes fall to her lap, and her lips curl into a bitter smile. "There's a difference between knowing something and feeling that it's true. But I'll make sure I tell Fitz. I'll help him through this." She leans forward to check that the coast is clear, then turns back to Jemma. "It'll feel good if I can help him. Like I can finally put all of this to use." She waves her hands through the air, and Jemma can only wonder what she means. Everything Daisy learned after she came back to them, she guesses. Maybe a few things she learned before.

"Okay," Daisy says, "I'm hoping Fitz's fingerprints will get us past the locked door up ahead, which I'm pretty sure leads to AIDA's office. So you'll need to tell me what you want me to do with the body."

Jemma looks at the unconscious Fitz, then at Daisy, deciding to ignore Daisy's indelicate phrasing.

"I assume that we can leave him there. It's not like we can do much more than that."

Daisy shakes her head, "No, Jemma, I'm going to take Fitz back to SHIELD. We can put him in Vault D if we have to. I want to know what you'll want me to do with you . . . with the other you, when you go through. It'll probably be a corpse, right? So should I just leave you there, or throw you out a window or something? Maybe we shouldn't make it so easy for AIDA to realize you left."

"What? No!" Jemma's about to stand up to, well she's not sure what, but she has to make Daisy understand that if anyone stays, it has to be her. AIDA has to pay for what she's done, and Jemma's going to see to it. But Daisy pushes her down with a gentle hand on her shoulder.

"Shhh, Jemma, we can't just let the Doctor go free. And someone needs to make sure everyone stays alive, right? So you go, and I'll stay." 

Daisy makes her case easily, like it's the only obvious solution. Jemma furrows her brow.

"You're an Inhuman, Daisy. They're hunting you."

Daisy shrugs. "Yeah, and you're the biggest threat to AIDA's perfect world. She's probably told people you're Inhuman, anyway. And besides . . ." She pauses, lowering her eyes. "You really shouldn't have to see this." She nods towards Fitz. "I know you'll forgive him, but it'll go much better if you don't have that much to forgive. Plus, you know where their bodies are."

Jemma rolls her eyes. "I could easily tell you exactly where—"

"You know I'm bad with directions," Daisy lies, sticking her head out into the hallways once more. "Okay, what is it? Floor or window?"

Jemma stares at Daisy for a moment before she knows she has to accept defeat. Would staying really do more harm than good? She's taken enough deep breaths that her mind is starting to clear, and it's possible that Daisy's right. Besides, all-consuming hatred is exhausting, and Jemma is bone tired. 

"Window, I guess."

He's so grateful to have Daisy back into his life, even if he doesn't deserve her. He doesn't know what he'll do without their talks. He's especially grateful for the way she puts her hand on his knee and smiles, as if he wasn't in charge of her torture, as if he didn't scream himself hoarse shouting slurs at her in a cell. She's the one he hurt most, really, so any sign of affection from her means more than he can say.

She's halfway through a ridiculous story he's pretty sure she made up when there's a knock at the door. Daisy gives him a look, and they both know who it is, both silently agreeing that she's silly for knocking. But Jemma is Jemma, and Daisy practically has to swear on her life that she was already out the door before Jemma will let her leave. 

Daisy smiles on her way out, though. It's nice to be smiled at.

"So," Jemma says, sitting down on the bed, "did you have a good visit?"

Fitz has to smirk at her before Jemma shakes her head, a good-natured smile on her lips. "Sorry," she says, "I don't know what to say. You don't have to talk about it if you—"

"No, Jemma," he assures her, reaching out for her hand. "We were talking about you, actually."

"Oh," she says.

He smiles, though he can't look at her. "Yeah, we were talking about what happened after you . . . after you left the Framework. Did she tell you?"

Jemma frowns. "I didn't know that there was anything to tell. I assume she took you back to the Playground."

"Yeah, she did," he says. "But she also took you."

Jemma purses her lips. "She dragged both of us back? How did she manage that?"

"Well," he says, "you were alive."

Her eyes widen, and he knows it'll take some time to tell the whole story, of how he fell in love with Jemma all over again. He wonders sometimes, if every version of him is destined to love every version of her. He doesn't believe in destiny, but it makes a certain sense.

"She died right after Hydra took over, so she didn't know anything about me. I was so angry at first, because the things you were telling me didn't match up with what AIDA programmed me to believe. It was like my brain was at war with itself. But by the time they let her in to talk to me, I just thought—I could see if I could be the man you were talking about. They didn't tell her anything about me, so I started fresh."

She's been watching him, studying him, but he can't meet her eyes. "Yeah?" she prods.

He doesn't know how to say it all. How can he tell her that it was just like meeting her in the real world? How can he explain that his evil, brainwashed self still found her familiar? It'll take him a while to find the words, so he gives her what he's got so far.

"Yeah," he says, "and she . . . she talked to me. Listened, really. Let me go on all about Madame Hydra and how wrong it was, and somehow, I realized that this girl didn't actually want anything from me. I'd never experienced that before, in that life. I'd never met anyone who just wanted to help."

"Ah," says Jemma, "that explains why you've been doing so much better than the others. You had some therapy."

"Maybe," he says. "I guess even in the Framework, we were still better together."

Jemma flops down next to him and huffs. "Well, we're no good apart. Somehow, we end up in a field in the middle of the night, pointing guns at each other."

"Yeah," he says, smiling. "You were yourself, though. What did you think you were doing?"

She shrugs at him. "I don't know . . . avenging your honor, I think. It's all a bit hazy." She looks over at Fitz, sees the concern on his face, deciding it will not do. "But I couldn't stay mad with you around, in the end. And I got some therapy of my own."

She gets closer to Fitz, eyeing his arm in a way that lets him know to lift it for her. He does, and she scoots in, leaning against him as his arm falls around her shoulder.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," she says. "I found where you were hidden, so I was the one who got to shoot AIDA in the head. All over, actually. I emptied the mag."

"Ah," he says. He gives her a smile, but he hopes she won't see that there's something underneath it, a confusion that he knows will take a little longer to sort out. "Well, I guess we all have our own way of coping."

"We do," she agrees, putting her head on his shoulder.

They sit there for a while, and as the silence grows he thinks about the person he was and the Jemma he met, how she'd enraptured him so completely that he wanted to come back to reality more than anything. He thinks about how lucky he is to have this real life, to have years of memories together, to have her next to him in bed. He's never felt this calm the entirety of his life inside the Framework.

"Fitz," she says, putting a hand on his chest. "You are what Daisy said you are. You are a hero."

He smiles at her, rubbing a thumb up and down her shoulder. "So are you," he says.

And as she settles into him, he thinks about how he used to feel like everything was wrong.

Now, things have never felt so right.