#i am completely normal about doctor fitz

[soaring-to-tower]

i will always love you - @sunalsolove & @cherrylimeade

i have nothing - whitney houston

i am, once again, a sucker for a hydra!fs au- this amazing collab has Jemma being the one trapped in the Framework with a Fitz entering as a bodyguard trying to pull her back to reality

Read it here (locked to ao3 users)

banner art by @eclecticmuses

[thebrochtuarachs]

Something in the Rain - “A Month Apart, Part 1”

A/N: Hi everyone, thank you for your patience as I whipped out this chapter. I had the initial outline on how this chapter will go but more frequent than none, it changes a lot in the middle while I'm in the writing process. :) I love this story and I hope it just gives you the good feels while reading this. We're two years into this pandemic and the world is still crazy. I hope you're keeping safe and being kind to yourself. :) As always, your comments and suggestions are very much welcome.

A modern day meet cute instance between Jamie and Claire.

AO3  / C1: A Day In June : C2: Definitely, Maybe : C3: So We Meet Again : C4: Friday Lunch : C5: Finding Solid Ground : C6: Situations : C7: Interruptions

XXXXX

After their first date, their schedule for the following two weeks we’re packed - with Jamie settling back in the firm after his 2-week trip from London and Claire’s schedule at the hospital and preparing for her trip to Seattle.

Being a lawyer and a doctor weren’t the most flexible jobs - with patients and clients to attend to, surgeries and hearings to prepare for, plus, with both of them in administrative positions, it is additional work on top of their normal duties. But Claire and Jamie were determined to make it work, so they decided to communicate better, be extra patient and understanding, and really commit whatever available time they had.

The first week, Jamie couldn’t make lunch as he had a court hearing to prepare for and Claire couldn’t make dinner as she was on the night shift. So Jamie, one day, surprised Claire outside the hospital by picking her up, invited her to quick breakfast dates instead, and dropping her off at her house to make sure she got home safe.

The second week was a bit lighter but with Claire going to Seattle on Saturday, she had to do extra administrative work to make sure everything was set for her leave. She offered to have dinner takeaways at her office in the evenings which he happily accepted.

The night before her flight, Claire and Jamie were hanging out in her office, sitting at the sofa, admiring the Edinburgh skyline with a little wine and cheese tray.

“I’m sorry we couldn’t go out” Claire apologized.

“Don’t worry about it, Sassenach.” Jamie turned to Claire and patted her hand. “I honestly would prefer to do anything if it means I get to spend time with you - whether sitting here in your office on a Friday night or sitting in the gallery watching your surgery.”

“You’re too good to me, James” Claire quipped in a feigned dramatic voice.

“Ah, you give me too much credit, Claire. I hope you know that you make an effort too, especially these past two weeks”

“Me? It feels like you’re fitting more to my schedule than I am yours!”

“But you met me during breakfast even though you looked too knackered from yer shift.”

Claire couldn’t deny that and she could just smile with Jamie’s understanding.

“Are you all packed up for tomorrow?” Jamie asked, changing the subject.

“Yes. The weather’s mostly rainy in Seattle so I brought extra items for the wet and cold.”

“And what’s your schedule for the month?”

“Have I not sent you my itinerary? Hold up -” Claire took out her phone and quickly sent an email to Jamie. “There, I sent you my schedule but between teaching and surgery, my time’s the same as here just minus the administrative work, which I tell you not, I’m pretty excited to be free of it for the next month”

Jamie just nodded. The next month.

It’s all rather bad timing if you look at it. The first month, they’ve been rather inseparable with going to lunches almost everyday and weekends at the center. The following month, quick dates and meetings as Jamie was away at London and their crazy schedule at the hospital and the firm. And now, going into the third month since meeting, they’d be completely separated by roughly 4,485 miles.

“Did you hear what I said, Jamie?” Claire asked while waving a hand in front of Jamie’s face.

“I’m sorry, what?” Returning to the present, unaware that his mind has gone away a bit.

Claire gave him a softened look and sat closer to him. “What were you thinking?”

Jamie stayed silent but Claire’s look urged him on.

“Nah, ye’ll think me daft” Jamie said but Claire shook her head.

“Fine” Jamie stretched his arm to pull her closer and she gladly leaned on his shoulder. “I was just thinking about how I’ll not be able to see ye for a month, how much I’ll be missing ye, and how excited I am once ye return here.”

“Oh,” Claire knew the feelings were simple but it’s his words and the way he said it that touched her most.

“I told ye it’s daft.”

“It’s not daft.” Claire tried to mimic Jamie’s accent but they both just have to laugh at her attempt. Turning serious quickly, she took Jamie’s face by the hand and looked deeply into his eyes. “You know that I am going to miss you too.”

Jamie just nodded in agreement, looking at Claire so sweetly and lovingly that she couldn’t help but lean in for a kiss.

Since their first kiss after their date, they hadn’t been shy in showing affection to each other. Nonetheless, it’s all been very respectful to the boundaries to whatever stage they are in their relationship. Hand touches, hugs, pecks and kisses here and there but never really beyond that.

But with her impending departure, Claire seemed to be eager for more. Instead of completely pulling away, she kissed him again some more.

Jamie quickly picked up the signal and allowed himself to pull Claire closer and to his lap. A few minutes later, Claire felt Jamie’s tongue on her lips asking for entrance which she happily obliged. The air around them was electric.

Jamie was first to pull away before the moment got away from them. Claire sighed - not from disappointment, but by the fact of how chivalrous Jamie really is. And she doesn’t really mind it one bit. “I’ll be back before you know it.”

The following day, Jamie picked up Claire to drop her off at the airport. They thought they had time for a quick bite but traffic was so horrendous that they got to the gate just in time before boarding began.

With barely any time left, Jamie pulled Claire to a tight hug as the PA system called her flight. “Go, you’ll miss your plane”

Claire reluctantly released Jamie with a grunt. “Let’s go somewhere when I return”

“Sounds like a plan” Jamie tried to hide the longing in his voice but it was too late.

“The month will be over before you know it, okay? Message me everyday, call me every afternoon when you can” Claire encouraged him. With one last kiss, they bade each other goodbye as she started walking to her gate and Jamie was no longer in sight.  

As Claire waited for take off, the silence of a constant message ping on her phone slightly unsettled her. It was then she realized the vast distance between Seattle and Edinburgh. A single tear escaped but she quickly pulled it together. She’s not even gone yet but homesickness hit her right away.

-

So the four-week long distance trial began.

The 8-hour time difference is not too crazy between Seattle and Edinburgh with their available times falling at the start and end of the day. They’ve been coping well with their synced calendars and communication options.

Jamie sends flowers and snacks to Seattle Grace, earning Claire points from the staff for all the treats she’s been giving away.

Claire, on her end, sends late messages to Jamie to wake up to in the morning and asks Mrs. Kim’s Korean Street Food Hub to delivery chicken wings to Jamie every so often.

They’ve also reserved some time on the weekend for extended calls with conversations falling from happenings to their week to what hairstyles and colors they’ve done in the past.

It wasn’t till late in the 3rd week that things started to shake up.

It was a random Thursday evening in rainy Seattle. Between two surgeries and one class, Claire was ready to call it a day. She was settling on her sofa, drinking her tea for a little night cap when her phone pinged. It was 9:30PM Seattle meaning it was 5:30AM Edinburgh, too early for anybody to contact her over there unless it was important.

Grabbing her phone, her notifications show it was from Geillis. It was a link to a tabloid along with a message “HAVE YOU SEEN THIS?”

With the link, she can see the preview of the title “Jamie Fraser is off the market!” Curiosity prevailed Claire and she clicked the article

-

On the other side of the world, Jamie, as always, promptly arrived at the firm. Just as he was to pass Mrs. Fitz, she called him out.

“Ah, lad”

“Yes, Mrs. Fitz?”

“I dinna ken yet what ye or Claire are yet but have ye spoken to her today?”

“Today? Not yet. Why?”

She motioned for him to come round the reception and take a peek at her monitor.

She showed him the same article Geillis sent Claire and as soon Jamie saw the accompanying photo, he fished out his phone and immediately contacted Claire. It was midnight in Seattle but Jamie didn’t care - he wanted to clear things before things got misinterpreted.

“Erm, hello?” a groggy Claire answered the phone on the other side of the line.

“Hi, were ye asleep?” Jamie asked as he walked the hallway to his office.

“I was but I answered already, what’s up?” she replied, her voice still muffled by sleep. She knew why he was calling though but wanted to hear it from him. “Did you just arrive at the firm?”

“Yes,” he replied, closing the door to his office for privacy. “Well, I don’t want to keep you long but an article came last night about me and well, in case ye’ll see it, it is not true.”

Jamie heard Claire sigh on the other end, “I’ve seen it” she confirmed.

“Ye’ve already seen it?” he repeated in disbelief, looking at his watch, it’s only been posted a few hours ago.

“Geillis sent it to me earlier, I think it just came out then. She’s a bit of a morning person so…”

“Claire, it isn’t true. It was all in a bad angle. The Dunsany’s have been a long-time client of ours and we had an unexpected dinner meeting yesterday. I was just escorting their daughter to her car when the paparazzi got wind of us and ran with whatever story they could think of.” Jamie quickly explained in summary.

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Yeah. I mean you say it’s not true and I believe you.”

“You don’t have any questions?” he asked, a little baffled.

“Not really. I mean was there more to it?”

“A bit but something we can talk about later.”

“Okay”

It was both refreshing and confusing as to why Claire seemed nonchalant about all this. On one end, she might be really understanding. On the other end, she might be harboring ill-feelings she didn’t want to discuss.

It was Jamie’s line that turned silent. Claire, guessing he might need more despite her sleepy state, obliged him. “Jamie, I won’t lie. I was surprised at first because of the photo and how the article was written with your family histories. Add to that, that I didn’t see it in the calendar and you didn’t text me about it.”

“Why didn’t you call -?”

“But” she interrupted him, “I also know you, Jamie, and I know about us. If I was really concerned, I’ll call you right away. But I’m not and we’ll be meeting later anyway, so I know we’ll talk about it eventually.” she paused to catch a breath. “Besides, you already explained it, I don’t need to know any more because I trust you, Jamie.”  

“Okay” it was Jamie’s turn to give the one-word reply.

“Are we okay now?” she asked.

“Yes, as long as ye are too.” Jamie replied to which Claire mummed in agreement. “Thank ye, Claire.”

“You’re welcome. Now, I’ll go back to sleep and see you later.” With that, Claire ended the call, a small smile crept on her face knowing the relief and joy Jamie probably feels right now.

[whump-town]

A Cumbersome And Heavy Body

Chapter One: Tired Of This Body

Summary: Stubborn until the very end, Aaron Hotchner isn't going to go down without a fight. It's just getting hard to tell the difference between fighting them and fighting the cancer.

Word count: 7,883

Author’s Note: ugh... well, here it is. Don’t be afraid to send me hate mail or leave a comment. I love it when I make you guys sad (in a loving way of course) :)) good luck you little shits and may the odds be ever in your favor (FYI, they’re not)

Warning: the subject of this fic is cancer and it’s treatment, cursing, maybe out of character (idk, man. hotch is weird)

I've grown tired of this body Cumbersome and heavy Tired of this body Fall apart without me

“I understand you’re here with concerns of a mass you found—”

He was shaving. The mirror fogged from his shower and the room heavy with steam. Leisurely, he’d wasted time getting ready. That particular morning, he’d gotten up before his alarm and he was happy for the distraction of the near-boiling water pouring over his back while the cold tile bites into his shoulder. An easy stress-reliever before the day fully starts.

Dragging a cool rag over his face he’d caught sight of a slightly swollen place on his chest. He’d dropped the rag in the sink and gently probed the area. He’d expected the sting of a bruise, not a knot of hard lumps.

It wasn’t a bruise.

“I regret to inform you—”

He hadn’t even known there were lymph nodes in the chest.

“Can you take your shirt off for me, sir?”

There’s a whole staff of people fluttering and dodging his eyes. A blur of motion as they work around him. Of them all, Hotch has already developed a soft spot for. Dr. Fitz and the glasses that are too big for his face despite his attempts to make them fit his face. There are rubber bands wrapped around the earpieces to push them tighter around his head and a piece of tape holding one of the lenses in. It’s strangely endearing.

No matter how many times Hotch tells Dr. Fitz that Aaron works just fine, he still nervously throws in the courtesy. He’s just like Reid and it’s that thought that makes him both comfortable and so unbearably alone.

With a nod, Hotch tugs his shirt out from where it’s tucked into his pants. The cold air hits his bare chest and he holds his breath for a moment, shivering slightly before he takes control once again. Foyet’s scars are on broad display for the whole room but, to their credit, none of them blink. They’re not here to dissect the scars covering his body or take stock of the weight he’s put on.

He just goes where he’s pulled. If he flinches when they touch him, no one comments. It’s for the better, mostly.

“The tattoo is going to guide the external beam radiation at your tumor,” Dr. Fitz explains once again. His hands tremble slightly as they hold the little needle in his hands. “It’s just three dots.”

Hotch nods, his mouth a little too dry. This whole process a little too much. He nods his understanding, fists clenched at his side to force himself to show no outward reaction. It doesn’t bother him as much as it should those dots are going to be with him forever. His first and last tattoo.

Forcing a steadying breath, he glues his eyes to the ceiling. It stings but it’s not unbearable. The needle digs into his chest, pushing the ink in. It’s the second and third dot that get him. His skin is getting hot, sore enough to make him gunt as the last one is placed.

“Not nearly as fun as a normal tattoo,” one of the other doctor’s observes. Hotch, blinking back tears, looks over at his other doctor. A woman whom he’d never have figured the “tattoo” type. His brain is a little preoccupied, worn down. He’ll get over not profiling her very well, he just might not forgive himself for the slip-up.

Hotch just… grunts. Not a real answer but the easiest.

He’s offered a hand up but he doesn’t take it. Shoulders sore and arms weak, he pushes himself up. Leaning to the side when his head starts to pound, his mouth really, really dry.

“Alright—” a cold gloved finds his shoulder. “You’re just panicking,” he’s reassured. “You need to breathe. In through your nose and out through your mouth.” The hand squeezes his shoulder but he keeps his eyes squeezed shut. It feels like he’s going to pass out. But… he doesn’t. He breathes as instructed and slowly, the room calms back down.

As he peels his eyes open, chest tight and hands trembling, he finds the room still every bit as busy as it was before his little fit. The world really doesn’t stop.

“Are you sure—,” Dr. Fitz twists and worries his hands. Obviously, he’s worked himself up too. Probably blaming himself for Hotch’s reaction. He should have let him take a break or warned him a little better. “Most people find it helpful to have someone here,” Dr. Fitz observes. “Do you— Do you want to call someone?”

His eyes drop to the floor, his mind-- Haley. She would be here. Cracking jokes and poking at his side. Things used to be so much easier with her around. There was this magic about her, a drug her presence doped him up. She would light the room up and hold his hand. She’s not here, though. She’s dead and he’s having a hard time convincing himself this isn’t some sort of penance.

Snuffing out a light like her, it was bound to have its consequences.

They’ve marked him and with his advanced stage, he’s got an aggressive treatment plan, and the radiation starts tomorrow. So, no. No, he doesn't want to call anyone. He just wants to serve his time. Besides, who would he call?

JJ? With two children of her own and a painfully busy schedule.

Reid? His mother occupies his mind as is.

Morgan? He’s grappling with a relationship with Savannah, attempting to salvage all of the complex things life has thrown at him.

Dave? Hasn’t he already lost a child? The last thing he needs is to sit here for any given amount of time and watch this.

And he’d never, never put Garcia through this.

“No,” he rasps, laying back down. “I’m okay.”

He closes his eyes and when a single hot tear runs down his cheek, he doesn’t wipe it away. I’m okay.

I’m okay.

There aren't immediate side effects and he’s not sure if that’s a relief or worse. He’s anxious, nearly sick with nerves. Would it not be simpler to just get sick already? To throw up or get sore or just— anything.

The machine hurts his ears. Fifteen minutes of lying perfectly still gets hard after about two minutes. The whole process exacerbated by the way the low hum of the machine makes his head feel like someone’s digging at his skull with an icepick through his ear.

He’s assured he shouldn’t start feeling any symptoms for a few days. Likely not until the second week of treatments.

It takes five days for a stitch in his side to take his breath for a moment, doubling over as he struggles to breathe for a moment. Chest tight and head fogged. They just add another pill bottle to the other whole collection he’s accumulated on his nightstand.

It feels like there’s an elephant sitting on his chest. A hand gripping a fist full of his hair and dunking his head back under the water. Ties binding his wrist to the bed. A knife buried in his side.

It feels like the ground he’s standing on is rumbling, shifting beneath his feet and at any given moment it’s going to pitch him forward. A free fall and he doesn’t know if he’s ever going to land on his feet.

He’s staring at the ceiling. Fists gripping the sheets as his stomach twists and churns. Swallowing around the uncomfortable burn in his throat, he turns his head to the side. Watching the movements just outside his bedroom window. Jack’s outside, kicking his soccer ball, and waiting for Daddy to come to join him. Hotch, will have to join him sooner rather than later. Even with the yard fenced in, anything could happen out there.

Funny. Just a few weeks ago, anything could have been blown under the rug with “at least it’s not cancer”. Now he’s plotting his will out in his head, making sure he covers every little thing. Who will lead the team? Where will Jack go? Can Jessica handle arrangements and should he start preparing the comfort letters now?

In the face of it all, he’d thought he could accept this. Life goes on. Things happen. He doesn’t want to die. All of those poems, the books, and the lies. “Do not stand at my grave and weep. I am not there. I do not sleep.” Well, that’s right shit, in his opinion. What comes next? Not light. Not hope. His body will succumb to cancer leaving behind the carnage of his actions.

Hodgkin's Lymphoma…

He’d known, in that morbid way his thoughts tend to twist, that he shouldn’t get his hopes up. That it would be silly for the doctor to smile, sympathetic to his plight, and advise him to talk to his therapist about this new progression of paranoia. For a pat on the back. Instead, he got the cold examination table under his back, and the nurse giving his trembling hand a squeeze as the needle had plunged into his chest.

It’s all been a haze since that phone call. Since the confirmation. Now he’s got more blood tests scheduled for Monday. That’s what his life is now. Radiation for fifteen minutes for four days a week. On the fifth day, he gets blood work drawn. They check for enzymes and cells. He doesn’t really care to understand.

He should. Don’t mistake the careless, numb ache thinking about all this gives him for complete inattention to detail. It’s just a little much for one person.

Hotch finds himself wondering what Reid would tell him about the whole process. Statics that would knock the wind from his lungs and odds that would make him feel just a little better. That he’s too old and too stressed out. That radiation aimed at his chest can harden his arteries and increase his already high chances of a heart attack. That he should have seen this coming-- his father died at 47. Lung cancer. A heart attack.

He should have seen it coming.

“Daddy?”

He has to lean into his nightstand as the ground warps beneath his feet. “I’m coming,” he manages, closing his eyes and blindly hoping that his door is shut and Jack can’t see him. He wishes he’d smoked more. Indulged in Dave’s cigars. Gone drinking with Derek. Danced like Penelope. Fuck, smiled more.

He didn’t even know there were lymph nodes in the chest. He’d gone to law school. Spent his early adulthood learning to read complex course material and how to cry softly in a room with another person less than five feet from him. Maybe he should have studied Biology… but then he’d just have to come to terms with the fact that this whole mess was bound to happen. Predisposed. Genetic and environmental.

His fault.

--------------------------------

Six in the morning is not a typical time to be fielding calls from concerned police officials. “He—Hello?”  Which, now that phone is tucked under his chin, and the call answered, he realizes that he should have checked the caller ID. As stated, is it six in the morning and he doubts anyone too important is calling him at this hour.

Unless, of course, his luck has finally run out and yet another political disaster has occurred. Leaving him to clean the wreck.

The other end makes a strange noise before he’s greeted with, “--finally! I was almost worried you wouldn’t answer!”

Oh.

Emily.

“Morning,” he greets, rubbing his eyes with the palms of his hands. He’s a little too grumpy for this right now but she’s obviously called for a reason, her happiness seeping into tone, and he’s not going to purposely ruin that. How many hours ahead is London, again? Why is she awake?

“I was worried,” she admits. He can hear her working, the drag of her pen across paper, and the shift of the leather chair she’s sitting in. Even her keyboard clicking away as she multi-tasks. “Your last letter was nearly two weeks ago. Is everything good at home?”

Home. He smirks, she’s been overseas now for several years. Yet, she still refers to Virginia as home. The thought makes him shake his head. He’d never draw the conclusion out loud to her but he can imagine that little slip-up is one of the reasons that her on-again-off-again boyfriend Michael grows frustrated with her. It’s not her fault. It’s an understandable mistake but it certainly reflects a certain tone for her affections of London.

Her preferences.

“They’re fine,” he answers, evenly. “Jack’s doing well in school. Dave’s stopped hounding me about potential love suitors.” He pauses to splash water across his mouth, preparing to wash his face. “Garcia enjoyed last month’s tea flavor, what was it-- raspberry?”

He places his phone on speaker and sets it on the shelf above his sink. Ducking his head, he listens to her while he washes his face. Going about the habitual process of shaving. A comforting thing he’s always done. He’s got no preference when it comes to facial hair. A beard is just as easy as a clean face. It’s about shaving. It’s soothing. It’s one of the few things that’s remained constant in his life.

She’s talking-- he thinks about how the weather in London has hit a point in the season that she doesn’t particularly like. Raining and cold. That she wants to come home but she isn’t sure she should. Will she really be able to tear herself away from the Virginia weather? From them?

He’s half-way done shaving when his eyes drift to his shirtless chest.

He wonders how many times he shaved, how many mornings did he wake up before he realized-- before he saw the tumor or the lump or mass or whatever the hell the medical term is. He lowers his head, sighing in defeat but mostly anger. How’d he let it get to this?

“Anyways,” she sighs. Sounding every bit as tired as he feels. “How is home? How are you?”

He looks at himself in the mirror. His head is absent of reason. No logic or forethought.

“I have cancer.”

-------------------------------- Everything about Aaron Hotchner is traditional and simplistic. It’s not a bad thing. In the years that she's known him, she’s grown fond of that. It makes him predictable and reliable. Something that happens infrequently in people the older that she gets. A part of her does feel wrong for clinging to that, to him, but she cherishes his friendship. Through the ups and downs.

Their means of communication are letters. Once a week she can expect to find two to three pages of neatly written updates on her family across the pond. He’ll ramble about anything in those letters and that’s what she enjoys about them the most. There is no hesitation to tell her what he thinks. In those letters, she can find Aaron. Incredible soft, thoughtful Aaron.

It’s been two weeks since he’s sent a letter. Not to sound clingy but she’s kind of hurt. More so, she’s nervous to find out what’s taking up so much of his time. He’s routine with his responses. Almost every Thursday night she can curl up with his newest letter and a glass of wine and read about the BAUs newest adventure. It’s always a bonus when throws in his subtle little “I” statements. I miss you’s come rare but when they do happen it’s nice.

Sighing, she caves. It’s Friday, she hasn’t heard from him in two weeks, and she misses him. By the time she has his contact picture pulled up and the ring tone dialing-- his goofy picture from his badge grinning at her-- she realizes that her eleven am is his six am. Just as she’s starting to think he won’t answer it goes through.

“H--Hello?” he sounds like shit. Over the course of the last year, she’s managed to forget what he sounds like. His voice is startlingly deep which does surprise her just a little.

“Finally!” she mumbles. “I was worried you wouldn’t answer!”

He yawns and it makes her smile. “Morning,” he grumbles and she can hear him scratching tiredly at his face. She feels guilty for waking him up for only a moment. That is until she remembers he gets up at six. So it’s likely she called right after his alarm clock went off.

Tucking her phone between chin and shoulder, she turns her computer on. Settling in behind her desk and getting to work. “I was worried,” she tells him. Not sure if she’s meaning to sound mad at him for not sending his “everyone’s alive and well” letter or mad that she doesn’t know how he is. He’s thrown her off her routine. “Your last letter was nearly two weeks ago. Is everything good at home?”

Her worry bleeds into the statement but he’s too tired to feed it or make fun of it.

She can hear him huff softly, an almost laugh.

“They’re fine,” he answers softly. His voice is drowsy, “Jack’s doing well in school. Dave’s stopped hounding me about potential love suitors.” She hears the tap run, he pauses, and she can hear him splashing water on his face. “Garcia enjoyed last month’s tea flavor, what was it-- raspberry?”

She smirks, it was raspberry. Although, she doubts Garcia liked it as much as he says. She’s not a huge raspberry fan. Besides, Emily had sent that tea with one specific tea drinker in mind: him. The thing about Hotch is, he’s traditional, but he’s also complicated. That’s just Hotch for “I enjoyed the tea you sent”.

Really, she’d just wanted him to be introduced to more teas than his just his simple black tea. Be more creative. Have some fun.

“I’m glad Garcia liked the tea,” she says with a smirk. “She’s been texting me all week.” Pictures, texts, and a few Snapchat. Emily doesn’t entirely know how to use Snapchat yet but she’s getting the hang of it. “You guys being grounded is relaxing, I’m sure, but that woman’s got way too much time on her hands.” Emily shakes her head at the thought. Lovingly, of course.

“Anyways,” she runs a hand over her face and she lets out a sigh. “How is home? How are you?”

There’s a long pause on his end. All his busy movements coming to a halt. It makes her heart pick up its pace, her gut twisting. Suddenly, that knee-jerk thought, that stupid thought that something might be wrong feels true. She’s just about to say his name when his voice cuts through.

“I have cancer.”

Her first reaction is oh. At least she was right.

That is immediately followed by-- oh fuck.

“Are you…” she swallows thickly, work forgotten. “Have--” Where does she even begin?

He clears his throat, “Hodgkin's Lymphoma.” He answers without her actually having to ask. It feels to get it off his chest, literally. To tell someone. “I guess--” he makes a choked sound like the shock of this news is setting in again. “They have to put, uhm, ink to locate the right place. So, I… I have a tattoo of sorts now.”

She laughs a half-pained sound. “I’m sure Morgan doesn’t consider it to be a tattoo,” she manages around the tightness of her throat. She cringes at the thought, ink and a needle just digging into his flesh. Cancer invading his body.

He doesn’t say anything for a moment but when he does, she understands the silence.

“I haven’t told them.”

As much as she wants to be mad at him, she shouldn’t really expect anything different. He’s painfully shy and private. God knows if she hadn’t found him half-dead in the hospital after Foyet, he’d have gone as long as possible without telling them. He certainly wouldn’t have told them while still hospitalized.

It’s the same lack of forethought that goes through them, a moment of blindness. He’d felt the weight of restraints pulling his limbs down when the admissions had left his lips. She feels only conviction, “I’m coming home.”

It catches him entirely off guard.

She winces when he starts coughing. His first symptom since starting radiation. It’s a horrible sounding dry cough that makes her lungs ache just to hear.

The coughs fold him over, the force at which they leave his mouth is painful. What is it that makes coughing so painful? That’s never made much sense. It’s just air, right?

“Hotch?”

He rubs at his sternum, trying to externally soothe the muscles. “I’m okay,” he chokes. Shakily, his right-hand bears his weight as his left turns the faucet on. With his palm, he manages to sip a few mouthfuls of water. It just doesn’t stop the coughing. “I’m okay.”

She highly doubts that. There’s not a single thing about what she just heard that sounds “okay” by anyone standards-- certainly not his. “Are you going to work like this?” she asks. It’s hard to believe he’d allow himself to be seen in any state that isn’t tip-top shape. On that note, she also knows that way too good at putting on a show, and, for profilers, the team sucks at making that distinction.

The anger that evokes in him is undue. Admittedly, he overreacts. “I said I’m fine,” he barks. “I don’t need you checking in on me, Prentiss. I don’t need you here, too!” To watch. It’s bad enough, okay? That he’s going to have to tell his six-year-old son that he’s dying. Each morning a little more than the last and some days feel like he’s already half-lowered into the ground.

And the others. Reid and those sad eyes. The way Morgan won’t be able to look at him, just avert his gaze and storm out of the room. Dave’s crushing hug and JJ’s silent tears. Garcia… He can only imagine the raging in-betweens of what the news will do to her. Stress baking cookies he won’t be able to stomach. Knitting him hats, sweaters, and blankets with feverish vigor that he won’t be able to escape.

He could use one of Garcia’s love knitted blankets right about now.

Forcing himself to take a deep breath, he relaxes his tight grip on the sink. Knuckles paled and fingers aching.

“Sorry,” Emily finally manages after the long moments of silence.

Hotch hangs his head, biting his lip hard to stop the flow of emotions trying to work their way up. “No,” he rasps, thickly. He sniffles, scoffing when he rubs his eyes with the back of his wrist, finding tears. “That was… inexcusable. I’m so sorry,” he leans down, body in half as he rests his forehead against the cool porcelain of the sink.

This doesn’t even feel like his body anymore.

“Aaron?”

There are tears streaming down his face, he’s too tired to fight them off. “Hmm?”

“I’ll see you soon.”

He hums in agreeance, unable to trust his voice.

“Take it easy, okay? I love you.”

The line dies before he can hasten out a reply.

--------------------------------

She’s been waiting on a reason to leave London for longer than she’s willing to admit.

Her dying friend proves to be reason enough.

Clyde has obvious mixed feelings but he can’t hold her back. He and Hotch had gotten set on the wrong foot. The rivalry between the two men is childish but endearing. Almost nothing has made her feel as loved as the proud smiles they both wear when she greets them. Clyde overwhelmingly pleased he’d won her back to London and Hotch smug she’ll travel hours to come to see him (she hadn’t done that for Clyde).

Almost nothing beats that.

“Emily!”

Her eyes are scanning the crowd before her, searching for her mismatched ragtag family. Sore thumbs, bobbing up and down in the crowd, they wave her to them. She notices he’s not there immediately.

“Princess,” Morgan sighs her name into her hair and she turns her face into his shoulder. Drawing in the strength she can feel wavering with a new wave of anxiety washing over her. It helps that they’re here. Derek’s arms wrapped around her after what feels like a lifetime away.

It’s only taken her three decades but she’s found her family and she’s not letting anything drag her away this time.

Garcia pushes at Morgan, causing a choked laugh out of them all. “Stop hogging all the Emily-lovings!”

Morgan smirks, trying to hide the relief swelling in his eyes like tears. He gets one more good look of her, eyes combing over her before parting with a sad smile. Relieved.

There’s a blur of motion. She’s pulled to each of them.

Garcia hugs like she’s trying to crush ribs and Emily lets her.

Hugging Dave brings tears to her eyes. Fuck, she’s missed them.

“Don’t make me chase you,” Emily threatens when she spots Reid near the edge. Pulling him close she rests her head against his shoulder, happy when he squeezes her back. “I’ve missed you, boy wonder.” Her genius. Just as scrawny as when she left him. She doesn’t want to do that again anytime soon.

Dave claps his hands together, grabbing one of the three bags she’d dropped. “Let’s get lunch, kiddos. We can talk about London.” He winks at Emily and she knows that this is going to spin into a conversation about potential love interests. She hasn’t had love on the brain in a while.

London… not everything she wishes it was. Cold and rainy. Relentlessly.

For the first month, she was over there, all she wanted was to come home. She just kept waiting for the rain to ease up. Then there should be that wet, hot humidity that clings to everything. She’d hated that before but now she’d just give anything to have it. For Reid to drag her out for coffee and the sun to bring out the chipper inflection in Garcia’s voice.

How the sun looked on Jack and Henry’s little head when she’d run around the park with them.

Fuck London, she’s just glad to be home.

“So,” she’s allowed them their fill of questions. Things about INTERPOL and if she’s still leaning heavily on take out food or if she’s managed even the faintest bit of finesse concerning cooking (she hasn’t). Leaning onto her elbows, she asks the question that’s been bugging her for hours. “Where’s Hotch?”

Dave leans back in his chair and JJ’s the first to crack. Of course, her poker face just isn’t that great. Her eyes move to Dave, concern written across her face. They might not know but it’s not that hard to figure out they know something isn’t right.

Reid shifts uncomfortably, averting his eyes, and focus.

“Your guess is as good as ours,” Dave informs her. He settles back in his chair, arms crossing on his chest. “He’s…” he sighs tiredly. For a moment he just shakes his head. Rubbing a hand over the coarse hair on his face and then rubbing at his eyes. “He’s Aaron,” Dave mumbles. “Complicated and… reserved.” He looks at her now, zeroed in on just her. Just them.

Her heart races at just the thought of them knowing.

JJ clears her throat. She distracts her worry with rubbing her nail at the glass. “He says he’s at meetings,” she tells Emily. “Says--” she shakes her head, flustered. Upset. Pulling in a breath, she shakes softly as it comes in. “Every day, he sends me an update email. Just a list of things he expects to get done for the day or places he might be.” JJ tucks a strand of her hair back from her face. “Our jobs circle around each other, a lot. It makes my life easier if I can find him without running all over the place.”

Morgan turns his head, away from the conversation. Wishing to be uninvolved but unable to escape.

“He’s lying,” JJ concludes. She worries her lip with her teeth. “His lists are…” her eyebrows furrow as she struggles to say exactly what she means. “Last week,” she says with a nod, having come up with her perfect example. “He said he’d be in a meeting. Didn’t tell me where, he always tells me where.” Her eyes scan over the table, looking for more. “Something’s wrong and he won’t tell us.”

Morgan huffs, shifted now so that his arms are wrapped tightly around himself. His legs crossed, even. Distant. “I don’t see why we don’t just let him be.” His tone betrays what he’s really feeling. That anger and the vulnerability. His words are reflexive. He’s always pushed away when things get tough.

Emily wants to rise to his defense or to say anything but she can’t.

“Reid went into his office yesterday--”

Reid flinches. The memory or the feeling, he draws himself in. Shielding himself from whatever is being said.

Garcia looks down at her lap.

“He was asleep at his desk,” Dave finishes, despite seeing just how uncomfortable Garcia and Reid look. “Out like a-- Asleep like he hadn’t rested in a while. It took-- I had to shake him awake. He was warm to the touch and shaking.” Dave looks down to the table. “Shaking. He was weak and I’d known,” he looks up, frowning sadly. “I’d known something was wrong before but whatever is, we’ve got to get to the bottom of it.”

The bottom of it… God, they’re going to be devastated.

Lunch brightens. It’s forced to when the conversation shifts to the children. To Henry starting fourth grade and Jack’s in middle school now. Since when did those babies grow up?

Sooner than maybe she’s ready for it, she has to leave them. She’s too tired, too jet-lagged.

And maybe… Maybe she’s ready to bother Hotch. To reacquaint herself with his grumpy, silent nature. Isn’t it silly to think she’d hated him once?

Now she knows where his house keys are hidden.

The key hits the lock and she realizes how this might not be as great of a plan as she had planned it to be. “Hotch,” she calls into the dark. She peaks around, hoping if he’s home he’s not on edge. She’s seen him hypervigilant, she knows this is an awful plan. Even calling ahead might not have been enough. So, it’s more than brave for her to just come barging in.

She puts her back near the coat rack, still hunched into herself in case he comes barreling around the corner. He doesn’t. “Aaron?” His car is out front, despite the darkness of the room suggesting the house is empty. The blinds are drawn shut, blocking all-natural light into the house. The air is cool. “Aaron if you’re here please, please don’t shoot me.”

Shutting the door behind her, she progresses into the living room. The creaking of floorboards draws her attention to the other side of the house and she spots him.

He comes around the corner of the hall, from the direction of his room. Tired eyes move up to find her, his lip quirks into half a smile. “Emily,” he greets under his breath. He’d heard the door open but the binds weighing his wrist and ankles to the bed had been too much for him to lift. Pained and slowed, he’d made his way to figure out who was home.

Certain it’s not Jack, he should have had a little more trepidation about coming out here to investigate.

She approaches him slowly, soaking in every line and angle of his body. The way he’s favoring his right side is a new thing but the crescent moons under his eyes are a comforting familiarity. Pulling in a breath, she drags her eyes all the way up to him. He’s lost some weight and it just makes his cheekbones that much more hauntingly sharp. It draws attention to the scars on his face, thin and aged.

With a smile, she shakes her head at him. “Just as ugly as when I left,” she informs him.

He smiles tiredly, sighing at her playful taunt. It makes the hug she pulls him into relieving. The aches and chills he’s felt all day lessen as she wraps her arms around him. Something about the way her hand cups the back of his neck while the other rubs his up along his spine.

She’s standing on the tips of her toes, stretching to get to him. He leans down into her, closing his eyes. She just holds him that much closer. Against her, she can feel the beating of his heart. The way his nerves had amped his heart rate up and now, as the beat slows, the way he calms under her touch.

“How are you?” she asks quietly. They pull apart and she feels the absence of his warmth immediately.

He pulls in a weak breath, one he lets out a strangled cough. Shakes his head and offers a shrug. “I’m okay,” he assures her.

She doesn’t fail to notice how his right hand shakily reaches out to steady him against the wall. They’ve never agreed on the definition of okay and, so, it’s not that surprising they wouldn’t now.

Burying a cough into the elbow of his arm, he starts to tremble. His breathing takes a heavy quality as he stands there. It takes only a moment for him to draw himself up to his full height,  swallowing down against the pain and forcing his body to bend to his will. If she didn’t know better, nothing would look wrong at all.

“Can I get you anything,” he asks, clenching his teeth to keep steady despite how exhausted he feels. “How long are you staying?” He knows she won’t actually answer that first question, so he steps by her and lets her follow him into the kitchen. Hyper-aware of the way he moves his body. Trying to look normal instead of stiff.

She follows him, watching for clues in the slips of his armor. One of the many benefits of having known him so long and knowing him well is that he can’t get much past her. “I’m staying for as long as I’m welcome,” she replies. It’s better than the truth, that she’s staying until he’s better.

He appreciates her choice of wording even if the truth is still there underneath it all. Leaving him the burden of the situation, which is considerably worse.

He sticks with a simple hum of understanding, knowing she’ll understand it as such. “Staying where,” he asks. Suspecting he already knows the answer. “Here?” He fills two glasses with water, desperate to soothe his dry mouth. Turning to her, he offers the first glass.

She accepts the glass without comment. “I didn’t think about where,” she lies, smirking over the glass rim at him. He shakes his head but doesn't comment. “Here would be good though.” She looks up at him and he shakes his head with a smile. “It would!” she defends. “I know you miss me and I could help around with Jack. If you won’t admit to it, I know he will.” Her smile twists mischievously, “besides, he’s my favorite Hotchner and I’ll make time to spend with him regardless of where I stay.”

He shakes his head but he’s already formulating how to move the guest room around to accommodate her. There’s not much in there. A bed with some regular looking sheets and two or three boxes of random things.

Putting her glass down on the counter she sighs. “We don’t need to worry about that right now.” Nodding her head back towards the hall she says, “you look miserable. Go to bed.”

He realizes that while she was talking he’s slowly started leaning more and more on the counter. Accumulating a lean to ease the aches wracking his body. She’s right. He looks miserable because he is. He’s exhausted.

“Do you need to take any medication?”

He shakes his head, not letting it bother him when she tucks herself against his side. Allowing him to lean into her. He doesn't but the warmth her body brings is pleasant enough to keep him going. 

He took everything he needed this morning. The medicine for the radiation rash he’s developed across his chest, the preventative pills for the fibrosis that might build in his lungs because of the radiation, and a whole other list of things he can’t really remember. He just has the bottles on his nightstand and knows that most require two dosages.

His bed is warm and soft, his eyes closing against his will. Logically, he knows he shouldn’t let her see him like this. This is his battle and he doesn’t want to burden anyone else with it. There’s a comfort in sharing, though. Rather it be the brush of her fingers on his forehead, pushing back his crazy or the kiss she presses to his temple before whispering “get some sleep, Hotch”.

And, honestly, he’s tired of being alone.

“Emily?”

She turns in the doorway.

“Thank you.”

Someone has to be here. She wants to be here. “You’d do the same for me.”

--------------------------------

Legs crossed, hair pulled into a half-assed knot atop her head she watches him curiously. He’s up an hour later than she’d expected. No coffee to go along with the egg he has for breakfast. Between them, they have an entire morning spent without nearly a word. Just a simple, “do you want an egg?”

He gets ready but not for work.

“What’re you doing?”

She gets ready too. For what, she’s not sure, but she’s interested none-the-less. Even if she thinks she knows the answer. It’s very interesting, she thinks, to step into the living room and find him staring dumbly back at her. No, not interesting. It’s fun.

Stepping around him, she pulls her coat off the rack. “Isn’t it obvious,” she asks, slipping her feet into the boots. “I’m coming with you.”

Flannel and jeans aren’t his typical go to but it’s a relaxed look. One she finds she doesn't hate.

He crosses his arms on his chest, eyebrows furrowed and a stern frown in place. Startlingly in control for a man she watched choke down half an egg before calling it quits. He hadn’t even had coffee. Now he shifts his weight, left to right. “Emily this isn’t--” he just stands with his mouth open. After a moment he shakes his head. “You don’t want to come.”

So it is treatment.

She pulls her jacket tight around her shoulders and without comment pulls his down too, offering it to him.

He takes it with a sigh, shaking his head, but pulling the sleeves over his flannel. With a sigh, he grabs his keys off the counter. He points a finger at her, looking every bit the father scolding a troublemaking child. “You’re not coming inside the hospital. It’ll be an hour. You’ll drive someplace else. I’ll text you when it’s done.”

She smirks, pleased she’s won this round. Placing two fingers to her temple, she gives him a mocking salute. “Aye-aye captain!” Today, she won’t push. He’s come this far, weeks into his therapy. If he needs some time, then he needs time. Just so long as he knows she’s here now.

Leaving him is harder than she anticipated.

She takes his seat, half-listening as he stands at the door.

“There an outlet about five minutes North,” he says. He watches her move the seat around. Trying to drag the seat closer to the steering wheel so she can actually reach the pedals. “It’ll give you something to do. There’s a bookshop up there too. I-- I take Jack there.” He runs a hand over his hair. “A coffee shop and a smoothie stand and--”

She catches sight of the grey through his hair. Looking away, she clenches her jaw. Worry the edge of the steering wheel. “Aaron,” she finally stops him. “I can take care of myself for an hour. I’m a big girl.”

He shakes his head, ducking to so she can’t see the blush creep up his cheek. “Right,” he manages. “I’ll be back in an hour.”

She nods, “an hour.” She waits until she can’t see him. Those doors closing behind him. Swallowing him whole. It’s just an hour.

She was gone for an entire year. More than that really. Years. What are years to a single hour?

The coffee shop is quant. She can imagine him here. Tucked away within the stacks of books. Reid would like it here. The covers are old but, she thinks with a smile, he’d find something, not to date. Seeking a classic and turning away when it’s not in its original translation. That’s where Garcia has always been his balance. She’d pull him from a rant and sit him down with a cup of tea.

How had Emily ever left them?

Her hands tremble as she runs a finger over those old book backs. Mostly, she wonders what Hotch must be thinking. Heaven or hell. If all the work they’ve put into this job will account for anything at all in the end.

If it’ll hurt.

Her phone goes off. Done. Simple enough.

“I brought you a smoothie!” She’s got his sunglasses on when she pulls up. Not even offering to get out of the driver’s side.

He’s hurting more than he cares to admit. Tired and the rash on his chest burns. Seeing her pull up, he’s glad she doesn’t do more than hook her finger into the sunglasses and peer over their edge at him. Climbing into the car he takes one look at the smoothie and shakes his head. It’s dark green and even if he were hungry he’s sure that isn’t very good. “No thank you,” he mumbles, leaning back into the seat. He tilts his head against the rest.

She’s not really in the mood for arguments. More so, he’s just gotten out of treatment and all he’s had is an egg. “You’ll drink it,” she informs him, putting the car in drive. “Maybe not now but eventually.”

He grunts. Doubt that. If he’s going to manage to stomach anything, it’s not going to be that. Besides, he’d got plans: take a nap. That slowly goes down the drain.

Emily turns up the radio, humming along to a song he doesn’t recognize.

Turning his head, he watches her drive. He hasn’t told her yet but he’s very thankful she’s come back. Even if he’s slightly tainted the return with… She’s here taking over his life. Worming her way into his spare bedroom. Force-feeding him weird green smoothies. He doubts she’ll stop there.

“Hotch?” He doesn’t wake up when she shuts the car off. From there on, she’s gentle. Careful as she extracts herself from the car. “Aaron,” she rubs his shoulder.

He pulls in a small breath, turning slowly to her. Half-lidded eyes find her, confused.

When they left the house he’d looked better. Better than now. Not so exhausted.

“You fell asleep,” she informs him, backing up as he sits up. He has to use the seat to get there but he makes it happen. She waits back for him, letting him take his time getting out of the car. All while holding that damn smoothie she’s convinced she’s going to make him drink.

He’s rubbing the sleep from his eyes when his phone goes off in his pocket. She turns at the door, waiting. He motions her on with a wave, taking the call. “Agent Hotchner speaking.”

She stops for a moment to watch him pull in the whole persona. Not Aaron who just fell asleep in the car but Hotch the rock. It’s sad, really, how quickly the one consumes the other.

She’s reading on the couch when he comes in.

He doesn’t say anything as he slips past, going back towards his room. He comes right back out. The loosely buttoned flannel is forgotten, replaced by a suit across his thin shoulders. Once, those suits had pronounced the sharpness of his body. The way his shoulders sit strong and straight. Now, that jacket doesn’t even look like it belongs to him.

“Where are you going?”

He only glances at her, ducking his head back to the task at hand-- putting on shoes.

She gets up off the couch, flipping the book text down. “Aaron,” she comes around the side. “You can’t go out there.” To work. It’s not healthy to go out there. He had fallen asleep on the ride home, not even twenty minutes ago. He won’t manage out there.

He turns to her as she steps into the room, scowl in place and a look of indifference pulled between them. All the protection he can garner for himself. “It’s not up for debate,” he replies. As if this is out of his control. He just can’t help but think it would be easier this way. It would hurt less, dying out there. A coherent death. He’d feel it. Quick and overwhelming.

But coherent. He’d know.

Not in a hospital. More machine than man. Unable to speak or too weak to think.

It would be better to die a hero.

“Aaron,” she calls, he’s just walking away. “You’re being unreasonable.” She wants to scream. To shout at him or grab him the collar of that oversized dress shirt and shake him. Force him to realize that he’s being stupid. Does he think she’s stupid? They both know this is self-destruction. Skipping treatment. Going into the field. All for this stupid image that he’s convinced himself is necessary. For who? Huh?

It’s better to suffer around people you love than to have them bury you. The only burden is the weight of your casket across their shoulders.

He turns, teeth clenched. Jaw set. “Am I?” he asks. His face has darkened, his cheekbones drawing his cheeks in. “I’m going,” he informs her, “regardless of whatever it is you have to say.”

He won’t look at her. That’s how she knows that no matter how illogical he’s being, he knows exactly what he’s doing. Back turned to her, he stops for just a moment. He knows this isn’t what he should. That this is neither his best option nor the right choice. Still, he opens the door. Stepping out he turns his head, eyes cast to the side. “I--” he shakes his head, he doesn’t know.

Before he can shut the door she calls his name out, fear overriding the anger. “Aaron,” she clenches her fists at her side. “Please be safe.”

His adam’s apple bobs in his throat as he swallows thickly. Glancing at her, he nods his head. At least he has the decency not to lie to her. To pretend this is anything but foolish and a death wish. He shuts the door behind himself without another word.

Leaving her standing there.

Waiting.

She’ll still be waiting that night when Reid calls her. Incoherent.

“I-- I don’t know what’s wrong Emily! He won’t-- He’s bleeding and I--I… He said to call you.”

She shouldn’t have let him leave.

@laiba-the-person, @emily-hottie-prentiss, @unionjackpillow, @clockedstar, @baumarvel, @blakeprentiss, @qvid-pro-qvo, @aaron-hotchner187, @ssalavellan

[imaramennoodle]

Hey guys! Here’s part 1 for the kotlc the 100 au.

Tags (lmk if you wanna be added to the taglist): @vibing-in-the-void @everyonehasthoughts @clearlysokeefe @never-ever-too-many-fandoms

Part 1:

Sophie Foster sat bolt upright as the door to her cell clicked and slid open. Her eyes widened as she caught a glimpse of her mom standing behind two guards.

Sophie’s mom, Edaline Foster, was the head doctor of the Ark. She was also part of the council. And when the council was involved, things hardly ever ended well.

A gaurd marched in and slapped a pair of handcuffs onto Sophie’s wrist. She gasped.

“No! I’m not eighteen yet! I still have another year!” She struggled to escape. It was no use. Sophie was going to die. They were probably skipping the retrial and getting rid of all the criminals now, to save air. Sophie knew that they were running out. That had been why her dad was killed, because he had tried to tell people what was happening.

On the Ark, anyone who committed a crime, even the smallest one possible, like getting into a fight, was sentenced to death. If they were under the age of 18, they would be in prison until their eighteenth birthday, when there was a retrial to see if the criminal was guilty enough to be sentenced to death.

Sophie was marched outside of her cell. She twisted against the handcuffs and the guards holding her arms back.

She felt a needle go into her neck and started to feel dizzy. The last thing she saw was her mom whispering words that she couldn’t quite make out.

-

Sophie’s eyes snapped open. It was dark.

As her eyes adjusted, she realized that she was strapped into a chair, next to a girl with long, shiny black hair. Around them, there were others, all also sitting in chairs, confused.

A voice spoke over some kind of loudspeaker. It was Chancellor Endal. “I am sure that you are all confused about what is happening. My answer is this: All one hundred of you are being sent to the ground,”

There were surprised gasps and a few people started yelling about how they would die the moment they reached the surface.

“... on Mt. Weather,” the chancellor continued, “You will find enough supplies to last you three months. Good luck, and may we meet again.”

There was a click, and everyone was silent. Then, there was the sound of something powering on, and their tiny ship shot off of the Ark.

A boy with strawberry blonde hair had unbuckled himself from the harness and was now floating around the ship.

“What are you doing!” Sophie yelled, “That’s dangerous!”

The boy grinned.

“Hey, aren’t you the one that wasted a month’s supply of oxygen on an illegal spacewalk?” Sophie said.

He held up a thumbs up. “That’s me! Glad to know that I’m known everywhere.”

Suddenly, the ship went almost completely dark, the only light coming from a few emergency lights scattered around the ship.

Then, they crashed.

Sophie stood up and searched for the boy who had been floating around. If he was hurt, she was the closest thing that they had to a doctor. Sophie had been training to be one before she was arrested for knowing that the Ark was running out of air.

The boy had stood up and was now brushing off his shirt.

“You shouldn’t have done that. You could have died.”

He shrugged. “So what? When they sent us down here they basically sentenced us to death.”

A boy yelled something from near the huge door. Everyone’s heads turned to look at him.

A soft voice broke the silence. “Tam?” The girl who had been sitting next to Sophie elbowed her way towards the boy.

The boy’s face lit up and he pulled her into a hug. Sophie vaguely registered them as looking really similar to each other.

“You’re the Songs!” said someone from somewhere behind Sophie, “I’ve heard about you!”

“Yeah,” said the girl, who didn’t look very happy about it.

“Do you wanna be known for something else?” asked the boy.

“Like what?”

“Being the first girl on the ground in a hundred years.”

With that, the boy pressed the red button to open the door. It lowered down, and the girl uncertainly stepped onto it, and then onto the ground.

She stood in the sunlight for a few seconds before yelling, “We’re back!” at the top of her lungs.

Everyone took this as a sign to run out of the ship at once.

Sophie was the last one to leave. She picked up a map on her way out and made her way towards a ridge, where she held the map up and looked between it and the other mountains.

“Why so serious?” asked a boy with messy blond hair and a wrinkled shirt who had snuck up on Sophie.

“That’s Mt. Weather,” Sophie pointed to a mountain on the map, and then to the actual one, “They dropped us on the wrong mountain.”

-

Sophie was not happy to see Wylie. She hadn’t even expected to see him. He was the chancellor’s son, so he must have done something pretty serious to get sent to the ground.

Sophie was busy helping a girl bandage her broken arm when she first saw Wylie. He tried to apologize to her, but she just ignored him and walked away. After all, Wylie was the reason that her dad was dead and that she had been in prison for the past year.

She finished bandaging the girl’s arm. “You should be fine for a couple of days,” Sophie said. The girl smiled and walked away, leaving Sophie alone.

Fitz, a boy who Sophie had seen a couple of times in her Earth Skills class, wandered over to her. “You know where Mt. Weather is, right?”

Sophie nodded. “Yup. It’s just over there.” She tried to point towards it, but it was blocked by a group of trees.

“Great. Can you come with us to get some supplies from there?”

“Sure?”

Fitz led her to a small group that consisted of Dex, the boy who had floated around the ship, Keefe, who seemed to be Fitz’s best friend, and Linh, the girl with a brother.

Sophie unfolded the map and looked at it. “I think we have to go that way.” She pointed towards the forest, and the group set off for Mt. Weather.

They had been walking for thirty minutes before they got to the river. It looked perfectly normal, except there was no way to cross it.

Keefe pointed to a sign across the river that read ‘Mount Weather’ in large letters. “Look!”

Everyone turned to look at what he was pointing at.

“How are we supposed to get over?” asked Fitz.

“That’s easy,” Linh said, “We swim.”

She took off her shoes and socks and started to get in.

“Linh, no. You can’t even swim, and if you could, we have no idea if the water’s even safe. You could get radiation poisoning,” Sophie said, grabbing her arm and holding her back.

Linh twisted away. “I read somewhere that it’s human instinct to know how to swim, and besides, it doesn’t look too deep and I can see a couple of fish. I’ll be fine.” She jumped into the water.

“See! It’s perfectly fine. I’m not dead yet.”

Something dark slithered just under the surface of the water, behind Linh.

“Behind you!” yelled Keefe.

Linh didn’t pay attention until it was too late. The thing must have grabbed her leg, because she was yanked under the water and started trying to get away. Sophie’s eyes widened.

Keefe jumped in to try and get the thing away from Linh.

It must have worked, because after a few minutes, the splashing stopped and Keefe started pulling Linh towards the shore.

Fitz reached over and helped him pull her back up.

Linh coughed a couple of times and sat up on her elbows. Sophie sighed in relief. They had only been on the ground for a couple of hours, but four people had already died and Sophie would do pretty much anything to keep the rest of them alive.

Dex was standing a couple yards away. He called everyone else over. “We could probably swing across on this vine,” he said, “It looks pretty sturdy.”

“Who wants to go first?” asked Keefe. Nobody answered, so he shrugged and grabbed onto the vine.

Keefe got a running start, then jumped up onto the vine. When he got the the other side he let go and yelled “I made it!”

Sophie smiled at Keefe just before something came out of the woods behind their small group and hit him just under his ribs. Keefe collapsed

It was a spear. There were other people on the ground. 

-

Edaline Foster was in the area of the Ark where they were monitoring the 100 through metal wristbands that tracked things like blood pressure and heart rate.

A few of the many screens had gone dark, showing that someone was dead. Edaline scanned the remaining screens and let out a breath when she found Sophie.

Grady Ruewen, another member of the council, who also happened to not like Edaline very much, appeared behind her. “You’re needed in medical.”

Edaline nodded with a tight smile and walked back towards her job. Elwin, her assistant, went up to her.

“There’s a girl here who wants to know about the quarantine in the prison. Says she wants to see her boyfriend.”

The council hadn’t told people about the mission to the ground and had instead said that there was a virus outbreak in the prison and that nobody could visit anyone.

A girl with long brown hair pulled into a ponytail was standing in the waiting area. She walked up to Edaline.

“What was there an outbreak of?” the girl asked.

“Strep,” Edaline answered, “and no, there is no way for you to visit your boyfriend. It’s very contagious.”

“Really? Then why did I see a guard that was stationed there walking around just a few minutes ago? What did you actually do with my boyfriend?”

Edaline sighed. “You’re in engineering, right?”

The girl nodded. “Youngest zero-g mechanic in the history of the Ark. I’m Biana, by the way.”

“Good. Come with me.”

Biana rolled her eyes and followed Edaline.

Edaline led Biana towards an unused area of the ship, where the escape pods were kept. They hadn’t been used in a hundred years, but Edaline figured that Biana would be able to help her.

“Why did you bring me here? All that’s here is a couple of rusty old pods.”

“Because you’re going to help me get to the ground.”

Biana just looked at her. “Are you crazy? The ground isn’t supposed to be survivable for another 100 years!”

“I’m not supposed to be telling you this, but your boyfriend’s on the ground, along with 99 other criminals. My daughter, Sophie, is with them.”

Biana stared at Edaline for a minute. “You’re serious. Is Dex ok? Is the ground seriously survivable?”

“I don’t know, but right now, this pod is our only chance of getting down there. Can you fix it?”

“Yeah, but I’ll need a lot of new parts. This thing is ancient.”

“I can get the parts. Just worry about getting it to work.”

-

Sophie and Dex were the first to make it back to the clearing where the drop ship had landed. They were followed by Fitz and Linh.

Tam ran up to them. “What happened out there? Where’s Keefe?”

“We were attacked,” Dex said.

A few other people, including Wylie, had wandered over.

“By what?” Fitz asked

“Not by what, by who. Everything we thought we knew about the ground was wrong,” Sophie said.

“What do you mean, everything we know is wrong?” Tam asked.

“There are others out there. People. They threw a spear at Keefe and we don’t know if he’s alive or dead.”

“But we’re still gonna look for him, right?” asked Fitz.

Sophie nodded. “We’ll go tomorrow. Right now, we need to focus on finding food and setting up tents.”

-

Edaline was standing over Chancellor Endal, trying desperately to save his life.

One of the guards had found him laying in a hallway after being shot in the chest, and her and Elwin had been doing surgery on him for the past thirty minutes.

“He needs more blood,” Edaline said.

“We’ve already used more than we’re supposed to-“

“I don’t care!” Edaline said, cutting off Elwin, “We just need to make sure he lives long enough to see his son again.”

Elwin sighed. “Whatever you say.”

After they had finished, Edaline was sitting in the waiting area.

“How is he?” Grady, who was sitting a few feet away, asked.

“I don’t know. I hope he’ll be fine. I don’t want to deal with you as chancellor for any longer than I need to.”

Grady raised an eyebrow, but didn’t say anything. He was the acting chancellor, in case Chancellor Endal died or wasn’t able to be chancellor before the next election.

“We think we’ve found the person who shot him,” Grady said after a few minutes.

“Who?”

“Tam Song,” Grady said, holding out a tablet with a picture of a boy on it, “His sister, Linh Song, was sent the the ground along with the rest of the hundred, and he’s been reported missing from his job as a janitor.”

“So what, you think he shot the chancellor, snuck onto the drop ship, and went to Earth with them?”

Grady nodded. “Yes, that’s exactly what we think.”

“You really think that a seventeen year old kid could have pulled that off?”

“Yes.”

Edaline stood up and left the waiting room. 

Biana was tinkering with the control panel of the pod when Edaline walked in. “Finally! I need a few new parts.”

She stopped talking when she saw Edaline’s face. “What happened?”

“Nothing. We just need to get this to work as fast as possible. What parts do you need?”

[iatheia]

EDA reviews Part 6 - books 47-55

Previous part 1, 2, 3, 4 & 5

47) The Slow Empire - Uh, couldn't really follow this one at all. There are books when the first person narration works, but not here - too many jumps in setting, too little connective tissue, most of it told from the POV of a person who is barely connected to the protagonists? And that's even before they started repeating chunks of text wholesale between various parts - and I couldn't figure out if it was intended, or if it is the ebook was acting out on me. More than half way through the book, I still couldn't entirely tell what the story is supposed to be about, or if the plot has even started yet. Even having finished it, I find myself somewhat aghast. There are a few glimpses of something interesting, but for the life of me, I can't figure out what. 4/10

48) Dark Progeny - Also not really feeling it. It's not a bad story, but I do rather prefer a Doctor Who story to actually feature the Doctor and the companions front and center, whether they are POV characters or not. Here, though, they are barely in it - it's even more egregious than the previous one in actually giving the supposed protagonists stuff to do, and even on rare occasions we do switch back to them, it is all pretty generic. Anji developing telepathic abilities and the Doctor trying to calm her down all the while Fitz is freaking out in the background? Yes, please, more of that. Following around 20 interchangeable OCs that have nothing to do with the trio? No thank you. 6/10.

49) The City of the Dead - If you are invoking magic in a sci-fi universe, you need to be able to handwave it. It doesn't need to be awfully complex, "something something aliens, something something energy" is usually enough, but without it, you can't just throw magic about willy nilly. There are rules.

There are moments when it is a beautiful story, evoking a lot of dream-like wonder, and if it managed to remain a hazy dream, it probably would have been better for it. At the same time there is something very uncomfortably cynical about it, to the degree it left a bad taste in my mouth. There is a narrow line between not shying away from the ugliness of the world and deliberately making something ugly just for the sake of it, and often it felt like it was leaning towards the latter. Dunno, I started out wanting to like it, and feeling rather conflicted about it, but by the end became utterly indifferent. 7/10

50) Grimm Reality - Pure crack. Mind Robber wishes it could be as hilarious and off the wall as this story is. It throws every cliche fairy tale narrative device in the book at the characters and expects them to take it with the straight face, all the while realizing that the rules of the world are completely bonkers. And it manages to sustain this energy throughout, which is a no small feat. It's actually pretty exhausting by the end of it. Fairy tales stories do not belong to a lengthy literary genre, and even taking time deconstructing them, at 95K words becomes it becomes just too much - figuratively, and, on occasion, literally. Still, pretty great, I wish more books had its energy 9/10.

51) The Adventuress of Henrietta Street - *sigh*. My expectations were pretty low to begin with, and I still am somehow disappointed. Credit where credit's due - it is probably most coherent of the books from Miles. And at least it's better than Interference. That's really not saying much, though.

Honestly, if you've read any story about prostitutes, murder, satanic sex rituals bordering on blatant pornography, eastern culture and "mysticism of female sex" used for fetish fuel, written by a dude who clearly gets off on all of this - you've read all of them. There is really nothing revolutionary or compelling about it. On the list of "plots I never want to see in Doctor Who", they are definitely up there. And the Doctor is dying again, because it wouldn't be Miles's book without it. And he's, uh... living in a brothel, trying to marry someone, in order to, uh..... ritualistically tie himself to Earth, for, reasons? Did I read that right? After over 100 years of living on Earth and wanting to do nothing else than seeing the back of it, right. And writing books not quite about sex but definitely about sex. Because that's the thing the Doctor apparently does now. Self insert what self insert. And Fitz and Anji are just... there. On an occasion. All of it exposed on in a dull faux academic style without a shred of characterization, all the while absolutely nothing of note is happening, despite being a singularly longest EDA.

Just, if you hate the characters so much. If you don't understand what makes them tick to this degree. If you don't even care to learn. If you consider any established emotions they should have about the plot you are putting them through beneath you. Why are you writing in a shared universe to begin with? 2/10

(I did have an unintentional moment of hilarity with it, though. There is a character that is referred to as Lord ______, as if his name is censored. TTS would always pronounce it as Lord Underbarunderbarunderbar. Always gave me a chuckle).

52) Mad Dogs and Englishmen - A hilarious story, a very easy read, flowing from scene to scene. There are several occasions of fridge horror treated with levity that I would have rather have avoided. Plus, it is as incestuous as a book about books can get, and yet.... It is just absurd enough to work.

Plus, the whole, “His books are full of black magic, mind control...and perversion - moral and ethical and sexual. He is polluting the atmosphere of our group”, “What’s next? Rewrite War and Peace so it’s about guinea pigs?” - Oh, the shade. It is a good book in its own right, but just for this alone, 10/10

53) Hope - It's a pretty average book. Not outstanding, not horrible. Would have made a decent episode, all things considered, in a bread and butter sort of way. It does have some great ideas - the refuge of humanity, the conflict between Anji and the Doctor finally coming to light - not quite the type of conflict I was hoping for, though. If only it had a bit more nuisance, without neatly delineated black and white, if the antagonist didn't end up being a mustache twirling villain, if the Doctor didn't end up strong-arming everyone in a much more macho manner than he normally goes for (with a rather clunky dialogue). It had potential, even if it didn't end up being realized in full. 8/10

54) Anachrophobia - Very meh. The set up was fairly contrived, it never made me care about any of the characters, including whatever the hell the Doctor and co were doing, not to mention any of the secondary characters. Not terribly engaging, after a point I was mostly flipping through it. There is some big conflict brought up at 95% mark, and it is resolved in just couple of pages via a deus ex machina and a paradox. Overall, I might have said that I would have liked it better if I was in a mood for existential horror, but I took a break in the middle to listen to the Lease of Life - and it actually touches upon several similar themes, but with and outstanding character drama and much more graceful execution, which made this book look even more poor in comparison. 5/10

55) Trading Futures - I will give the author all the points for keeping an eye on the future. Perhaps, in 2002, predicting tablets being used as menus in fancy restaurants wasn’t that big of a reach, but I absolutely had a spit take when TTS has read to me something about “eye-phones”. There are some modestly clever moments throughout the book. Too bad that the rest of it is a complete rubbish. Not terribly original, either - a lot of ideas are copied directly from other books and other franchises. Reasonably entertaining, all things considered, but in a much more slapstick sort of way than was probably intended. 7/10

Overall impressions so far - This batch is, for the most part, fine. Some stories are worst than others, some better. With one exception, nothing horrendous, but nothing to write home about, either. They are, for the most part, serviceable. Individually, they have decent enough plots. But. There is very little character work. They can generally be read in any order, or dropped entirely, and you wouldn’t miss anything. The Doctor is mostly coasting from the excellent streak in the last batch, always in a spot light. I am starting to tire of the whole amnesia arc, though - it was good, but it ran its course, and at this point, with everything functionally back to norm, with barely a stray mention of it here and there, we are starting to be overdue for some semblance of resolution of all that. Henrietta Street is entirely a step in the wrong direction - not only it does nothing worthwhile for the characters, it’s just getting unnecessarily further into the weedworks, adding yet another plot thread that is forced on other writers to carry (they mention it occasionally, but it’s not like there is much to build upon) - rather viciously reminding of the previous mess of an ark “don’t you dare to think that it is over”. And I am so over it. Just, move on.

The companions fare rather worse. They are decent enough, they participate in action, in each book, they are mostly staying in character, with a handful of neat moments here and there (in a blink and you’ll miss it sort of way, though), they aren’t written off as an unnecessary burden to carry, which is an improvement. There is nothing meaty given to them though - they ask the necessary questions, do the things required of them, and generally stay out of the way when they are not needed. I guess Anji has at least some character driven moments, even though most of them are reduced to “I miss my dead boyfriend”. Which is... fine, we’ve all lost people, we all mourn them in our own way, but it has been 14 books since her introduction, and she is leaving in another 10. To have her character reduced to just that bit from her first book, with barely anything else to offer.... Plus, all the while, she rarely felt like she integrated into the team - because she is constantly eying her exit and returning to normality (even though she always decides to stay just a little while longer due to circumstances), it’s like from the very beginning she had one foot out of the door.

But while Anji is a bit of a one trick pony, at least she has that much. Poor Fitz gets absolutely nothing to do. The last meaningful book that addressed his character in any way was all the way back around book #42-43, and even that was just catching up on plot after his prolonged absence. He’s been essentially frozen since early 30s books. He is generally a fun character to have around, and does good supporting work, but can he please get something more impactful any time soon? Heck, by this point I’ll even take the recurrence of “finding a new love interest number 20 who will inevitably die by the end of the book” - it has been overdone, and it is certainly not a very exciting plot, not to mention reductive, but at least it’d be something. Though, I guess only one companion is allowed to carry that staple at the time, and right now Anji is it, two dead lovers is just an overkill.

And it is an absolute shame - especially when considering that on the other side, Big Finish was in the middle of streak of some of the best stories. Over the same time that these novels were published, we had audios such as Project Twilight, Eye of the Scorpion, Colditz, One Doctor, Chimes of Midnight, Seasons of Fear, which were full of character.

[1-800-gaygentsofshield]

The Hive

Jemma and Daisy were still in an odd talking phase of their relationship when the Hive took control over Daisy. They just had their first kiss right before that dreaded mission, before the SHEILD plane got hijacked and Daisys team got temporarily disbanded. The kiss was long awaited and happened in the aircraft landing/loading pad. Once Jemma got word of the mission an odd sensation blossomed in her chest, she knew that it was going to be the start of a very long, very hard fight but couldn’t place a finger on it. As soon as she got that feeling she looked for Agent Daisy Johnson who happened to be loading up for said mission.

-

“Hey Jems, Lincoln and I were just packing up.” Daisy smiles, her usual lighthearted tone as Jemma walks up to her and hugs her, her arms wrapping around her upper torso. The hacker immediately responded to the Brits sudden display of affection, wrapping her arms securely around the tiny scientist and pulling her close. “Just, please be safe on the mission Daisy. We need you here.” Jemma whispers, tilting her head up a bit to look the taller agent in the eye. “I will always come back because my home is right here.” Daisy says softly, her voice rough and low as she pokes Simmons lightly in the chest. A smile takes up residence on the shorter agents face before they lock eyes, their heads gently tilting to meet each others almost instinctively. One of Jemmas hands comes up to comb through Daisys short, highlighted, curls while the other rests on her chest, allowing the Brit to feel the hackers rapid heart beat. Their eyes flutter closed as their lips finally press up against one anothers, Jemmas cheeks flushing as Daisy pulls her closer into the kiss. The pair kiss soundly, their velvety lips gently caressing one another as they savor the long awaited moment. Once the need for oxygen is absolutely necessary the two pull away slowly, their foreheads resting on each others as their eyes flutter open. “Come back to me darling.” Jemma whispers, kissing Daisy once more on the lips soundly before pulling away fully. “Eye eye Doctor Simmons.” Daisy teases with a wink before heading back and packing up the remaining supplies. 

-

The first time Jemma talked to Daisy after she was rid of the virus they were both complete messes. Jemma opened the self containment pod door and stepped in, watching Daisy jump up from her bed behind the glass. “Jems.” Daisy breathes out, pressing her hand up against the glass. “Hey.” Jemma gives her a watery smile as she presses her hand up against the glass as well, observing the tired and guilty look on the agents face. “I just wanted to tell you how sorry I am..for hurting the team, for letting Hive even get close to you. I hurt Mac, Fitz..you’re the only person I didn’t hurt on the team but I could’ve..I could’ve hurt you Jems. I’m so sorry.” Daisy whispers, her voice cracking at the end as she bows her head down in shame. “Hey, hey. Darling look at me.” Jemma says, fighting back the tears that well up in her eyes. Daisys eyes slowly come up to meet the scientists, her brown orbs swirling with inner conflict and turmoil. “You were being controlled. I know the real you would never even lay a finger on anyone on the team, let alone me. That Daisy wasn’t you. The Daisy I know is kind and sweet and tries to do British accents but fails horribly at it each time.” Jemma assures her, laughing at the end of her statement. “I think its bloody brilliant, with all my bad girl shenanigans and such.” Daisy says with a British accent, breaking into one of the laughs Jemma has missed so greatly. 

-

The memories feel like centuries ago as Jemma walks into the lab, grabbing Daisys test results from Fitz and scanning over them. “Shes clear, all of her tests are normal and all of her vitals are ok.” Fitz announces and she practically runs out of the lab, if it was a cartoon she would have left a cloud of dust in her wake.

She rounds the corner to Daisys containment room and opens the door, Daisy sitting on the bed with her knees curled to her chest. “J-Jemma..Jemma what are you doing in here you should be in the module.” Daisy says, lifting her head off of her knees as her eyes widen. “Daisy your test results are in, your vitals are okay and everything looks normal. You can get out of here now.” Jemma says softly, tucking a strand of hair behind the agents ear before letting her hand rest on her shoulder. Daisy shakes her head and wipes a few stray tears away, gently shrugging off Jemmas hand. “I-I could hurt you..I dont deserve to be a agent anymore Jems.” Daisy mumbles, glancing at Simmons before returning her attention to the wall. “What are you talking about, of course you deserve to be an agent love.” Jemma reassures her, scooting closer to her on the bed. “No I dont..I’ve got blood on my hands. All of those memories are at the surface right where they should be. I deserve to feel this pain everyday Jemma.” Daisy says, now finally looking Simmons directly in the eyes. Jemma wordlessly shakes her head and pulls Daisy into her arms despite her soft protests. Daisy nuzzles her face into the Jemmas sweatshirt as the tiny scientist runs her hands through her soft brown curls, whispering sweet nothings into her ear as she sobs.

Once Daisys breathing evens out Jemma slowly pulls away to wipe the stray tears off the hackers face, gently kissing her forehead. “I missed you so much Jemma.” Daisy whispers, her voice horse and raw. She looks up to meet the Brits loving gaze and is rewarded with a soft but passionate kiss. “I missed you too Daisy. So so much.” Jemma whispers, gently caressing Daisys cheek before leaning in to steal another kiss. 

[shark-from-the-park]

FIC: The Fitzier of It, Episode Two

A Fitzier The Thick of It AU in several parts.  You can find Episode One here .

In this installment, spin doctor James continues to try to get noticed hired by Minister Francis and those around him offer helpful advice…

Warnings for very bad language throughout, NSFW discussions, endlessly snacking LeVesconte and John Franklin.

@casperthefriendlylittlefan @litttlesilkworm @boisinberryjamarama @thegreenmeridian  @coffeesugarcream @cinemaocd @the-jewish-marxist @hereliesnils @nashilena @itisa-profoundbond-sarandom @idlesuperstar @what-a-terrorific-mess @pipuhattar @kahootqueen69 @jaredharrisankles @shit-in-silk-stocking @bobbole @twerkinshield @fellowshipofthegay @aconfusedwriter @uncannybrightside

Episode 2

“Alas, I find myself out of touch, gentlemen.”  Sir John Franklin was saying over steepled hands.  “The electorate wants something new.  Someone younger and more dynamic.  Even… someone more radical, perhaps.  I am no longer the man for the hour.”

This little speech would have had more impact had not James and Dundy been hearing various iterations of it for the past few weeks.  

“James, I want you to go to Francis.”

“Sir John, I’ve tried!  I went over there last week, Sir…”

“Now, James.  I know that you and Francis haven’t always seen eye to eye.  In fact, you two have been butting heads for as long as I can remember…”

“Sir John, I did try…”

“Now James!  The political landscape is changing.  This enmity between the two of you has gone on for long enough.  It’s high time that you and Francis, well… kissed and made up, so to speak.”

Dundy snorted violently and James shot him a death glare, even as he was horrified to feel himself blushing.  

Undeterred, Sir John spoke on.  “Now I know that Francis is a difficult, combative sort of man, James, but no doubt his heart is in the right place.  If you’ll only give him a chance.  You’ll need each other, when the news of my retirement is made public.  No doubt he will want to rule over you with a firm hand, James.  And we all of us know that you’re not used to that.  But you’ll just have to swallow down your pride and submit to him -”  Dundy appeared to be choking.  James hoped he’d be quick about it.  “- You’re both good sorts.  He’ll learn to see your worth in time.”

James had not gotten this far in life without learning to accept defeat, especially when defeat entailed Sir John stopping talking.  

He cleared his throat and studiously ignored Dundy’s shaking shoulders.  

“You’re right, of course, Sir John.  I’ll go and see Francis again.  I’ll see if I can get him on his own and make amends.”

Sir John smiled magnanimously.  “There now.  I knew you’d see sense.  Frankly, I’ll be glad when you and Francis can finally put your quarrels to bed.”

*****

Lurking in elevators was not James’ favourite part of the job, but being the head of communications for her majesty’s opposition had taught him the value in it.  

And he was very, very good at it.  

There was many a junior minister who would automatically piss their pants at James’ looming, immaculately tailored visage ambushing them from the lift’s blind spot.  

This was all to the good – James’ bread and butter.  

But Francis Crozier, of course, was a different matter entirely.  If he had ever in all his years been cowed by an enforcer or a party whip, James had never heard tell of it.  

All the same, when the man himself finally came striding down the corridor towards him, all rumpled grey suit, no tie, and comfortably-soled Clarks boots favoured by scruffy dads the world over, James immediately wanted to slap him.  

The Irishman’s eye-roll upon spotting James was impeccable – honed over years of practice to ooze just the right amount of world-weary disdain.  

“Well done, James. You appear to have gotten the drop on me.”  He drawled, one thick finger stabbing at the button for the ground floor.  

“Well, I wanted to have a word without your hirsute bodyguards present.”  James could actually feel his mouth pulling into the prim little grimace he reserved for their altercations.  “Francis, have you considered what you’re doing?  You are squandering your shot at the top job by refusing the assistance of the one man who can actually help to get you there.”

“You know James, I’ve often wondered how the corridors of power functioned at all before you were born.  Enlighten me on that, why don’t you?”

“For God’s sake, Francis. If you could just stop putting all of your energy into being offended all the time, we might actually be able to have a productive conversation, for once.”  James hadn’t meant that to come out sounding quite as petulant as it had.  

Francis turned the full force of his curled lip and razor sharp eyes onto him.  

James involuntarily took a deep, preparatory breath.

“I know what you want, James Fitzjames.  Your sugar daddy is finally giving up the goat.  You’ve racked the entirety of your public school brains, casting about for the next sucker you can sink your hooks into.  All so you can cling onto your power and influence like a limpet and remain a self-important, uppity, egotistical prick a little longer. Finding, due to the deplorable state of political discourse in this country, that the only candidate with any grass-roots support is this backwards Irish turd, you’ve decided to polish me up.  Is that the long and the short of it?  Well, this turd doesn’t want to be polished.”

The lift doors dinged open on the ground floor even as James’ mouth hung open.  

“I never…”  He spluttered (and he never, ever spluttered). “Francis…  I don’t…”

“Good conversation James, we should do this more often.”  Francis sardonically straightened his jacket lapels before striding from the lift.  

James watched him go, blinking as the lift doors began to shut again.  

*****

“I’ve never called him a turd.”  James muttered over a late lunch.  

“I can believe that.  You’d never say anything that vulgar.”  Agreed Dundy, shovelling forkfuls of lasagne into his mouth.  

“I might have… I mean, I did…  call him ‘backwards’ a few times, I suppose.  I mean, no more than, probably, seven or eight times.  I used to throw around that word a lot, back in the early days with Sir John.  I was a different man back then.”

Dundy nodded in agreement.  “You were an insufferable prick back then.  You were young, though.  Now you’re an older, more sufferable sort of prick.”

“Oh fuck off Dundy.  Don’t even know why I’m talking to you about this.”

“Because you can’t bear solitary introspection?”

“I mean, who else is he going to get to spin for him?  Hickey?  Francis wouldn’t touch that immoral piece of shit with a barge pole.  I’m the best, most senior, most experienced communications officer this party has. Why wouldn’t he want to work with me?  I’m a safe pair of hands! Is he really going to cast me off just because of a few offhand jokes I may have made years ago?”

Dundy chewed thoughtfully while he let James finish.  “You do realise, I suppose, that the reason this is all so personal for you…” He paused to take a few gulps from his bottle of Peroni. “Is because you’re obsessed with him?”

James couldn’t quite make his normally agile mouth form words.  

“I used to find it pretty funny that you didn’t clock it…” Dundy continued. “…but it’s starting to wear a bit thin now.  Do you know, years ago, when we first started working with Sir John, you used to literally go out of your way to interact with Francis.  And then when it became obvious that he didn’t think very much of you, you got even worse.  Taunting him down corridors just so he’d take a verbal swipe at you and you could tell me all about it at lunch the next day.  What he said to you, what you said back, what exact colour his face turned…  You’d get so excited talking about how awful and uncouth and boring he was.  Do you know, Francis Crozier must legitimately be your favourite topic of conversation.  Usually insulting him, I grant you, or laughing about how much you’ve riled him up.  It’s getting a bit embarrassing at this point, Fitz.  So here I am, doing my friendly duty, for once.  Maybe next time you approach Francis about his leadership bid, you should just drop to your knees and suck him off.  Or maybe you could offer yourself to him arse first.  Break the ice and get it out of your system.  Two birds, one stone, that sort of thing.”

James’ fork had clattered onto his plate at some point. He couldn’t seem to order his thoughts.  

“Dundy… you are… you’re… miles off with this whole thing, you know… Ha. Francis?  Ha.  It’s utterly ridiculous.  I mean… You’re completely missing the point.  He’s not even – I mean… He’s… Francis.  He’s…  This is about the good of the party.  And about my career.  And about your career.  And OK, it’s about his career too.  And about the good of the party.  For fucks sake…”

Dundy rolled his eyes and gave James a look which he must have perfected on his twin toddlers.  

“Hey Fitz, remember when you told me about your gap year and how you fucked that weird guy in the toilets at Heathrow?  And then mid flight you realised you still had the condom stuck up your arse and you had to spend twenty minutes in the plane loo trying to fish it out, all while a stewardess was knocking on the door asking if you were alright?  All so they wouldn’t think you were smuggling drugs when you got to Bangkok?”

James blinked at the hard turn in conversation, but just about managed to nod.

“Do you remember when I told you the one about how I accidentally came all over Jane Garibaldi’s face that time and got her right in the eye and she made me take her to the walk-in centre and tell the nurse what had happened?”

James nodded dumbly.

“You laughed your head off through both those tales, Fitz.  And a hundred other embarrassing stories.  You’ve got no shame.  Never saw you blush once.  But you’re blushing now, alright.”

James spluttered. “That’s because you’re talking about Francis Crozier!”

“Exactly.” Concluded Dundy sagely, swigging down the rest of his beer.  

*****

“D’you reckon it’s time we brought Fitzjames on board yet?”  Enquired Ed Little, seemingly out of the blue.  

“Nah.” Francis answered at once.  “He pissed me off the other day in the lift. Entitled public school wanker.  Let him stew a while longer.”

Blanky looked even more thoughtful than usual.  “Let the lad come down another peg or five, maybe learn a bit of humility.  Then and only then, Edward, will we bring him to our loving bosoms and let him sup the milk of socialism.”

Francis grunted in amused agreement.

“You know,” Mused Ed after a moment, with a muted little smile.  “I reckon that maybe there’s only one of us whose loving bosom Fitzjames is interested in…”

Francis snorted in derision and rolled his eyes.

Blanky howled.

*****

Episode Three here...

[agl03]

Throwing it back to Season 4 for this one (sorry hiatus and rewatching is making me re-contemplate and analyze old stuff): What is the regret of Fitz’s that AIDA fixed wasn’t that his father left but that he wasn’t enough for his father to stay? Then there’s a clear sense of shifting his personality “to be enough for his father” which would lead to the Doctor. Just a hiatus rewatch inspired thought I wanted to share!

Hi Anon,

Okay, this will likely open some sort of can of worms but this is my take on the whole AIDA/Fitz/Regret thing.  This is my take and my option from my own watches, interviews, and reading the Season 4 Declassified.  I know some out there think I’m full of crap on this one but this is my Hil and after all this time I have established a fort and am not going anywhere.

I do not question that AIDA fixed regrets for the rest of the team.  All were very clear and had been set up at some point going into the Framework.

Mack:  The daughter his lost and the chance to be a father/normal life.

May:  Saving the girl in Bahrain

But that was in season 2 so this is the first example of what I’ll get into later about loopholes.  Because based on the actions of May’s LMD the regret that should have been fixed to make her happy was exploring that romantic relationship with Couslon.

Radcliffe had AIDA fix Bahrain to get May to stop fighting to get out, not to make her happy.

So technically AIDA didn’t choose what to fix for May….Radcliffe had already done that before the others were dropped in.

Coulson: Not going into Shield and becoming a teacher.

Mace:  Being the hero and leader he always wanted to be.  

Then we get to Fitz.  AIDA was a MASTER of manipulation, especially after she read the Darkhold and began to strive to be something more.  She found loophole after loophole in her parameters and programming.  

Just one example of this is when she killed Radcliffe.  Her job was once to protect him, but she got him to admit he himself could be a threat to the Framework, protecting it being her “Prime Directive” and allowed her to kill him in the real world.  

I will die on the hill that Fitz was her target all along.  First, she needed him to complete Looking Glass  The others that got tossed in were merely collateral damage/because Radcliffe said to get them.   She kept out of the way for the most part.  Had Jemma or Daisy been abducted as well their avatars wouldn’t have interfered at all.  AIDA would have been unchallenged (Mace thought he was fighting her but she was in control).  Second, she took him because she wanted what he had with Jemma, she wanted to love and didn’t understand how that worked.  

So while the rest of the team had regrets fixed, Fitz’s life was manipulated to an extreme degree, starting with his Father’s presence, then later when AIDA took Jemma’s place at the Academy.  She removed all of the loving and positive influences in his life and set up that world that would lead her right to where she needed him to be to build Looking Glass.  And used his loyalty and protectiveness for those he loves to get what she wanted.  He did it to protect her.  

I’m also a bit curious because the Darkhold supposedly told the reader how to get what they wanted.  So I am downright curious if the dang thing told AIDA she needed FItz or if she just decided it was him between his talents are her wanting love.

The “I thought his presence was what you would have wished for” was a load of crap, it was the ‘loophole’ she used to start her control over him, and her trying to continue to manipulate him as she did in the Framework once they were out.  She had been in his head, seen the bad memories, seen all the betrayals, and seen how awful his father was.  The writers also took the time in 12 to show Fitz getting the chance get the “message” from his father from Robocliffe and he walked away.  Later they had the conversation between Mack and Jemma and Jemma explained Fitz had chosen not to find him.   Fitz had made a deliberate choice to not find his father with the tools he has.  That doesn’t sound like a regret to me…that was an ongoing choice that Fitz had made not to bring that man into his life.  She gave him Alistair because his presence in Fitz’s life helped her manipulate him and get what she wanted.  

The Season 4 Declassified also revealed that Alistair’s casting was last minute.  So I also maintain that Radcliffe was originally going to be the corrupting influence on Fitz in the Framework.  I had predicted before the Framework Arc we’d see a more morally grey Fitz influenced possibly by “you're like a son to me” Radcliffe…well, they went well beyond morally grey on me (but hey I still pretty much nailed Radcliffe’s arc…yay?)  But the writers decided they wanted Radcliffe’s redemption and they wanted the shock value and immense pain of a very evil Fitz.  

And at some point, it just has to be said.  The writers did what they did because its how they wanted the story to go.  

TLDR.  AIDA used loopholes in her programming over and over to get what she wanted.  The ‘regret’ she used for Fitz was merely one of many things she set into motion to get what she wanted. 

[littlesciencebabies]

ok so after sitting on the episode for a little while, i’m now able to make coherent thoughts about this whole thing

so, firstly, the writers Doing That to us was complete and utter emotional manipulation, and i have no idea how they thought in case we didn’t get s6, it would have been anywhere near a satisfying ending.....like yeah, it’s AN ending, just definitely not a satisfying one

Doing That also completely ruined all of fitz’s and fitzsimmons’s development this entire season. just completely wiping it clean. my only hope is that the writers remember specifically the conflict between fitz and daisy and address it in a satisfying way (but after tonight, can i really trust them??)

however, i am trying to remain optimistic somewhat. here are some things that we can probably hope/expect to get out of season 6:

early s6 jemma being basically early s3 fitz, where she stops at nothing to find the man that she loves in a remote galaxy/constellation/wherever he is

another fitzsimmons proposal, preferably the same one fitz gave to jemma in 5x06 but this time she hears it!!!!!!

fitz seeing the footage that mack recorded of the first wedding and being a mixture of absolute shock that they already got married and just general awe of how beautiful jemma was in that dress

a second wedding!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! (like how many ships get one wedding, much less two?!?!?!?!?!!!!)

maybe, hopefully, bobbi and hunter get to come back to maybe help find fitz in some way, shape, or form (at least hunter has to come back, since he helped freeze fitz in the first place) and they get to see the second fitzsimmons wedding!!!!!!!

fitz meeting deke again (if deke is still around, is he still around? it wasn’t clear in the episode) and maybe liking him this time now that his first impression of him won’t be that deke sold out daisy

fitz realizing he will eventually have a daughter and a grandson!!!!!!!!!!

fitz actually dealing with his mental health problems (specifically the doctor, but i’d also appreciate a nice good mention to his brain damage back in s1/s2 and how that still affects him) in a healthy way this season, unlike last season where it was A Mess because of all of the stress he was being put through

(i doubt the writers will do this, but this is what i personally wish to see in terms of a resolution between fitz and daisy) daisy still being highkey pissed at fitz for taking out the implant against her wishes, but being very conflicted because This Fitz never actually did that, so she tries to go on acting as if everything is normal, but the memory of what Previous Fitz did is too traumatizing for her, so she eventually brings it up with Current Fitz and they have a really great talk about their mental health problems and fitz apologizes even though he didn’t actually do what Previous Fitz did, but recognizes it was Wrong ((also this would hopefully be after fitz went through what i mentioned in the previous bullet point))

but yeah,,,,,we’ll just have to wait a whole ass year before we see if any of this is true but this optimism is what’s holding me over for this entire year.....it’s gonna be a long fuckin year, y’all

[soaring-to-tower]

kill claudio - @cherrylimeade

i only have eyes for you - the flamingos

my first full song edit!! at the request of mel for her AMAZING hyda!fitzsimmons season 2 AU

Read it

[thenerdintheattic]

Byron and the rock star

Fandom : Doctor Who (new!who and eda)

Characters : Eight, Twelve, Fitz and Bill

Pairing : Eight/Fitz

Warning : none that I’m aware of tbh

Words :5 253

Note : so a couple of days ago I started obsessing with Eight and Twelve starting a band together because why not? Due to severe boredom at work, I’ve had a lot of time to write, so there it is : the Doctor kicking time regulations in the nuts to start a band with himself.  I’m not really sure about characterisation. I think Bill is okay, but I haven’t written about Eight in a long time and don’t think I ever wrote about Twelve.  Also, English is not my mother tongue, so please feel free to let me know if you see any grammar/spelling/vocab mistakes, I’m always in for improving :)

  “Doctor, hmm … this doesn’t look like 21st century London.”       The Doctor went out of the TARDIS, sniffed the air and took a look around.     “Ah. Yes. I see. It’s because it’s not London. We’re in Bristol.”                 “Bristol?”   Fitz Kreiner turned around to sweep with his eyes the place they had arrived to. The TARDIS had landed in some sort of peculiar circus. It was the centre of a massive roundabout and one could cross the street circling it by using four tunnels going in four different directions. In front of Fitz a double-decker had been painted in green and was now used as a burrito restaurant. All around, people were skating and playing football, or just crossing from one tunnel to another while a group of young people was tagging a wall. Actually, the walls surrounding the place were covered in graffiti, an explosion of colours and shapes, the heart of the artistic centre of Bristol.     “We may not be in London, but we’re definitely in the 21st century.” The Doctor announced rather proud with himself. Fitz thought that it was not that far away from where and when they had planned to go after all. “This is the St James Barton Roundabout. Also known as the Bear Pit.”             “The Bear Pit? Odd name”         The Doctor looked up and Fitz followed his gaze. Right behind them was a massive statue of a black and white bear. Fitz took a step back to see it better. He could not really realise how big it was but he felt slightly uncomfortable looking at it. He turned around and started to walk towards the entrance of the nearest tunnels. He stopped when the Doctor called him but did not come back to him.     “I’m going to explore!” he glowed at him. “Are you coming?”                 “Start without me, I’ve got to check something in the TARDIS. And be careful!”             He shrugged and left him. The Doctor always had something to check with the TARDIS. Fitz loved his Doctor and he knew that his friend felt the same. But their relationship was far from being normal. How could it be when the two of them were travelling in time and space in a police-box shaped time machine? But Fitz loved him anyway, despite his strangeness, his flaws and fragility. He loved him because he was the sweetest man he had ever encountered and also, because the Doctor needed him, he needed Fitz to take care of him as much as Fitz needed the Doctor. And when the Doctor was too alien or Fitz was too human, Fitz would remember that it did not matter because he was worth any trouble.                     He exited the tunnel and went up a flight of stairs. He arrived in a busy street, probably the city centre. He followed the crowd, marvelling at the fashion sense of the people around him. When he got tired of so much promiscuity, he abandoned the crowd and turned right. He ended up in another busy street with even more shops. But it did not matter. He went inside one shop and tried on a couple of hats. He was admiring himself in a mirror and wondering if the Doctor would like it when he noticed her reflection. His curiosity picked, he turned around. She was behind him, looking at some clothes. Taking advantage of the fact that she had not noticed him yet, he detailed her. She was tall and wearing jeans with a yellow jacket that made her dark skin look even more beautiful. As she was focusing on another piece of clothing, she smiled. That’s when he decided to come and talk to her.               “Hi there, gorgeous.” He smiled and winked when she turned towards him. She stared at him in complete bewilderment before starting to laugh.                  “Are you talking to me?” she asked with no trace of aggressiveness.                   “I don’t see anyone else as remarkable as you.”              She looked around, clearly amused.      “Sorry mate. I’m not really interested.” She took a step closer to him, as if she was going to tell him a secret. “I’m not into guys.”     Fitz smiled broadly, almost relieved. Flirting was a second nature for him and checking out a pretty girl or a handsome guy would always be his first instinct. But he also knew that he would not act upon it. Not anymore. He usually did not get much anyway out of his pitiful attempt at seducing people, but even if it did work, he would simply pay the lady or the man a drink and disappear. There was only one person in Fitz’s heart and bed.                               “That’s totally cool. I wasn’t really interested in you either.”      She frowned and crossed her arms with a predatory smile.     “I know that I just blew you off but that’s not very nice to hear all the same.”                 He raised his hands apologetically.         “Sorry. Didn’t mean to offend you. I do find you hot, but there’s already someone.”                   She raised an eyebrow.               “I see… And how does she feel knowing that you flirt with other girls?”             “He doesn’t notice most of the time. And when he does, well, he doesn’t mind.”         The second eyebrow rose. He shook his head and they both smiled at each other. Fitz liked that girl, there was nothing sexual there, but he had the feeling that they could become very good friends.   “I’m Fitz, by the way.”                 “Bill.”     They fell silent, as if everything had been said. As Fitz was still staring at her, Bill looked away. The guy seemed dorky but she liked him. She could tell he was a bit of a loser but instead of pitying him, she felt close to him. She, too, was usually struggling to flirt with girls and she kind of recognized herself a bit in him.             “I know we’ve just met and I’m totally not flirting, but do you want to grab a drink or something?”   Bill pondered that for a minute before nodding.             “Sure. But I’m supposed to meet a friend of mine for a coffee, you should definitely join us, I’m sure you’ll like him.”                 Fitz agreed. He thought about going to get the Doctor but knew that he would be able to find him anyway.  “Alright.”   He joined Bill and they went out of the shop before starting to walk towards a coffee shop nearby. The girl looked inside, searching for someone and when she did not see them, went to order a coffee with Fitz. Seeing that there was nothing stronger than caffeine in there, he felt slightly disappointed – he could have done with a brandy, or even just a beer.                   “My friend isn’t here yet but he’ll be here soon, he went to buy new strings for his guitar.” Bill explained.       “I play guitar too.”         They took their drinks, a latte for Bill and a dark coffee for Fitz, and found a table near to the entrance. They waited barely five minutes until Bill waved to a man entering the coffee shop. Fitz had expected him to be around the same age as his friend but he was older, around 60 and dressed in the most peculiar way : a black attire with a white shirt that looked out of this time. And his hair looked even crazier than Bill’s. There was also something oddly familiar about him            “Doctor!”   Fitz frowned. Doctor? Surely another kind of doctor. Unless…                 The man joined them, a huge smile eating his face. He did not seem to have noticed Fitz, his whole attention being focused on Bill.   “I found them, Bill!”       “Yeah, that’s great but we have company. Please behave.”     His eyebrows went as crazy as his hair as he turned and discovered Fitz. He stared at him for some long seconds in a way that made Fitz feel both uncomfortable and … at home. Fitz probed the man’s eyes. They looked very old, older than the man’s appearance suggested. They were also filled with so much sadness, sadness that was not there when he had entered the coffee shop, Fitz was certain of it.     “Hello Fitz.” He said with a tenderness that surprised Bill.         He sat next to her, ignoring (or not seeing, more likely) her puzzled expression.           “I wasn’t expecting to see you here.”                   “How do you know me?” Fitz asked. He was not sure to want to hear the answer to that.   “Don’t you know?”       Of course he knew. The Doctor did tell him about regeneration and even if he had not, Fitz would have been able to recognize him anyway. But he was not going to let his guard down so easily.       “It’s me. The Doctor.” The man grinned.             “Prove it.” His voice was harsher than he had intended to be. The smile on the Doctor’s face faded.   “Fitz, Fitz, Fitz. You were born in 1936. Your mum was staying in an elderly home, where I first met you, with Sam Jones. Your dad was German and you were bullied at school because of it. You drink a bit too much, I think I told you that before. You always oversleep in the morning and when you do get out of bed, you need your cup of coffee before doing anything. You did a lot for me, Fitz Kreiner.”   “I still am, Doc!”               The Doctor grimaced.                   “Please don’t call me that. I never liked it.”       Fitz ignored him and turned his attention towards Bill.                 “So, you’re travelling with him?”             She nodded with a big smile on her face.           “Yeah. You did too?”     “Yes. He was a different man by then, though. Right Doc?”       The Doctor crossed his arms.     “I regenerated several times since then, yes.”                 “Wait! What do you mean ‘regenerated’?” Bill interrupted.     “When he’s about to die, he changes his body. His old self dies, in a way, but the Doctor survives. He becomes a new man.”     “That’s typically you! Going around and changing faces. You know what? That’s weird. You’re weird.”   “That’s an understatement.” Fitz joined in.       The two companions shared a look and smiled at each other. They understood one another.                 “Anyway.” The Doctor rolled his eyes, breaking the moment. “Your Doctor must be around somewhere.”   “Probably looking for me. Unless he’s still checking the TARDIS.”           “This one does that too.” Bill laughed. “Always has something to check there. I’m sure he doesn’t even know what he’s doing most of the time. It’s kind of sad, really.”                 “If you had lived as long as me and seen so many people go away, you too would hold on to the thing that has been with you through the darkest of times.”           Those words woke a deep, primal fear in Fitz’s heart. Questions that could never be answered formed inside his brain. What had happened to him? Why had he stopped travelling in the TARDIS? Had the Doctor ever remembered what Fitz had tried so hard to protect him from?                   Bill, on the other hand, rolled her eyes.               “He likes to play all grumpy and dramatic, but inside he’s a teddy bear.”             “A teddy bear?”             “I should find my Doctor.” Fitz interrupted.       The Doctor agreed and the three of them left the coffee shop. They walked for a while in silence until the Doctor stopped.               “We should leave you here.” He said. “I wouldn’t want to meet myself.”           Fitz nodded and as he was about to say goodbye to Bill, a call behind them froze the three new friends.   “Fitz! There you are!”                   The three of them exchanged a look and slowly turned around to see Fitz’s Doctor running towards them.   “The TARDIS picked up temporal dis…” he stopped mid-sentence when he noticed the strangers. “Oh. Hi. Care to introduce your new friends, Fitz?”           He exchanged a look with the older Doctor who grimaced.       “Dreadful fashion sense!” he groaned.               “Like you have any notion of fashion sense!” Bill exclaimed.     “Mind you, I’ve been worse than that.”             The younger Doctor frowned and looked for Fitz’s gaze but he seemed to be avoiding him.     “Who are you?” he asked the strangers.             Bill walked forward with a smile.             “I’m Bill Potts. Nice to meet you.”                         “And I’m the Doctor. Doctor Disco.”       “You are not calling yourself Doctor Disco!” Bill shook her head. She could forgive her friend’s eccentricities but this was beyond her strength.       The younger Doctor looked at them, half bewildered half worried. His Time Lord instinct was telling him to go away, quick, and he decided to listen to it. Some mysteries were better left unsolved.   “Come on Fitz. Let’s go.”             He exchanged a look with Bill and after muttering a ‘goodbye’, followed his Doctor. They had not gone five metres that the older Doctor came after them, followed by his companion.   “Doctor! Wait! I take that you still have your violin.”     The Doctor slowly turned around, frowning. He gave a quizzical look to Fitz, who simply shrugged and stepped backwards, just like Bill did. The two Doctor were now facing each other. One was smiling, eager to witness the look of recognition that would soon shake his other self. The other one was still frowning. The man in front of him seemed to know him and yet, he had no recollection of having seen him before. Had he forgotten him? That would not even be surprising and he started to wonder how many companions he had forgotten over the years. Unless he did not know the man at all and Fitz had been talking too much. No, he trusted Fitz with his life. There was also this look on the other man’s face. A look that he knew very well. And those eyes … Where had he seen the light in those eyes before?               “Who are you?” he asked knowing that he would not like the answer.               “Come on Doctor, you know who I am.”             Yes. I also know where I’ve seen this expression before : in a mirror.     “Good grief! Do I regenerate into you?”             The older Doctor, far from being offended, laughed.   “Not directly, I’m afraid.”           The younger Doctor raised an eyebrow but did not answer. He detailed his future self with attention, aware that he probably would not keep any recollection of this extraordinary meeting. Beyond the smile and the idiotic expression, he perceived there a darker man than he was himself. He was conscious that events, some of which he remembered, so of which he didn’t, had already started to eat away his innocence and light heart. He was not the same man he had been after his regeneration, pains and sorrows had already begun to change him. He wondered with some kind of horror if what had happened to him was the reason why his future self was so sombre.     “So how about this violin?” the older Doctor repeated.               “Why do you care so much about that?”             “I’m a musician myself, and with you playing the violin and Fitz here, I thought we could start a band!��   Not only had he gone dark but he was also completely mad. The younger Doctor would have seriously worried for his fate if his future self had not been showing so much enthusiasm and excitement. One must never cross one’s own time line, or so the first law of time said. Or whichever law it was. And there he was, about to give a massive kick to time travel regulation to start a band with one of his following regeneration. The younger Doctor smiled from ear to ear.   Let’s live a little.               “A band? Are you serious?” Fitz demanded.     “You should be flattered. I play the guitar because of you.”       Fitz lowered his head to hide his blushing and if the two Doctors were getting too hyped to notice, it was not the case of Bill. As the Time Lords decided to go and fetch the Doctor’s violin and Fitz’s guitar in the TARDIS before going to the Bristol University, she slowed down a bit, to stay behind with Fitz.         “So.” She started. “Are you and the Doctor …”                 “Me and the Doctor what?” he asked defensively. ��     “He’s that special person, right?”           He hesitated before taking a cigarette out and lighted it.             “How did you guess?”                 Bill shrugged and looked at the two Doctors walking in front of them.                 “I’ve seen how you look at him. I’ve had crushes before too, you know.”         “It’s more than a crush.”             She smiled sadly. Nardole had mentioned the Doctor’s wife, River Song, but she had never imagined him with anyone and knowing that at some point in his past, he had had someone like Fitz Kreiner loving him and caring for him made her happy.     “You two!” the older Doctor shouted at them without turning back. “Don’t linger on. If you get lost, kidnapped or put yourself into mortal danger again, we won’t come and get you.”               Bill and Fitz glanced at each other and ran to join their friends.

  The Doctor was a university teacher. Fitz had almost burst out of laughter when Bill had announced it as they were getting inside his office. He was having a very hard time imagining his friend preparing and giving a lecture without getting distracted and losing his train of thoughts. His Doctor, though, seemed impressed and was looking curiously on the desk of his future regeneration.   “Susan!” he exclaimed when he saw her portrait. “And who’s that?”                   The older Doctor looked at the picture of River Song with heartache.                   “Spoiler.”   Fitz’s Doctor shrugged and walked away. He took his violin out of his case while the other Doctor was plugging his electric guitar. Bill looked at them with interest. Her Doctor could prove to be annoying with his instrument sometimes but she was very curious to see what their little band would be.   “The Doc and I already have a couple of songs rehearsed.” Fitz said.     “I know. I remember them.”     “I’m not sure that they’re fit for electric guitar, though.” The younger Doctor intervened. “They’re more romantic than rock.”       “Rock can be romantic.”             The older Doctor started to play a melancholic, sad tune, that Bill had heard him play a couple of time before.               “That’s not romantic, that’s barbarian.”               “And you’re too sentimental!”                 “I think we can find a compromise, right Doctor?” Fitz had put himself between the two of them. “You two have two different styles, but I’m sure we can make this work.”  The two Time Lords agreed reluctantly and Fitz and his Doctor started to play. Bill listened as her Doctor joined in and couldn’t help a smile. She observed them for several hours, playing and arguing, but she got bored after a while and decided to go out.                When she came back, three hours later, they were still playing. She listened to the soft music of the younger Doctor’s violin as the other two were playing in the background. When they saw her, the three men stopped, silently deciding to take a break.       “How did it go?” she asked with a wide smile.                 Fitz shook his head.       “Quite well when they stopped bickering.”       The two doctors shared a look and decided not to reply to that. Fitz rolled his eyes but beneath his mask of annoyance, she knew he had had a great time : the flame in his eyes was not fooling anyone.   As he and the older Doctor were comparing their guitars, Bill came closer to Fitz’s Doctor. She had not had the occasion to speak to him yet and was very curious to know more about him. He was looking out of the window and turned around when she sat in the armchair that was sitting there.   “Hi.” She said.                   He replied with a charming smile that made her roll her eyes. Fitz was flirty in a not so subtle way but his Doctor was a charmer too, not with cheap catch phrases – somehow she felt it would have been wrong -  but in a more romantic way that was not without reminding her about Lord Byron. She realized that love was a very important part of both their lives. Looking for it, growing it, celebrating it and she thought that the two of them could not be better paired. Her own Doctor on the other hand was completely different. She knew he had been married and yet, imagining him in love with someone seemed very peculiar to her. It made her feel sad.           “Miss Potts, right?”       “Yeah, people usually call me Bill, though.”       “Right, Bill. How did you end up with him? With me?”                 She looked at her Doctor. He was now chatting with Fitz.           “He’s my tutor.” She paused. “He’s amazing, he’s like the best person I know. But don’t tell him that, he’d be insufferable.”                     The Doctor mimicked locking his mouth.             “Wait, but if I told you, he’ll remember it!”       He shook his head with a smile.               “I wouldn’t worry about that. I probably won’t retain any memory of this…”   “How come?”                   He shrugged, almost in a fatalistic way.                “That tends to happen. A lot.”                 Bill pouted but chose not to say anything. She focused her attention on her Doctor and Fitz again, observing them interact with each other. The Doctor was explaining something to him, he was wearing his professor expression, the one he took when he was teaching her something. She smiled fondly. Bill loved the old man. She had never known her dad and had lacked a paternal figure in her life, until the Doctor had arrived. She turned towards the other Doctor again.     “Can I ask you a question?”       “You just did.”                 She ignored that and took it as a ‘yes’. Even if he was pretending to be annoyed, the Doctor never refused a question. She was convinced that this was true whatever in incarnation. He had to retain some core personality traits and missing an occasion to share his knowledge was definitely never an option.   “Why us?”         “You’ll have to be more precise.”           She sighed.       “Ok, stop me if I’m wrong. You have a tendency to travel with humans. Fitz, me. And I’m sure there’s been plenty more.”                   He nodded.       “So why us? Why humans? Why not Martians or whatever?”                   The Doctor turned towards the window and for a moment, she thought he was not going to answer.   “I have travelled with other species but I guess you’re right, most of my companions were humans. To me, you’re the most fascinating species.” Bill raised an eyebrow but he did not let her comment on that. “You’re such a complex species, all physically so similar.”                 “You can’t possibly look at Fitz and me and tell us we look the same.” She interrupted.             “On the outside, maybe not. But at the core, on a physiological level, you’re the same. Same species.”   “Ok, we’re all the same inside.” She did not sound convinced. “If you want. But still. I’m female, Fitz is a guy. Even inside we’re different.”               He shrugged.     “It’s only gender.”         “Only? You’re a guy, you were born a guy. Surely you’re different from female Time Lords. How do you even call them?”                   “I’m a man now. Next time I might be a woman”           She frowned.                   “Don’t tell me Time Lords can also change sex.”             “Why not?”       Bill opened her eyes wide.         “That’s … weird. But kinda cool. Have you ever been a woman?”           He shook his head.         “Not that I remember.”               Bill let this information find its way towards the ‘need to have a talk with the Doctor’ part of her brain.   “Ok.” She finally said. “Let’s say that us, humans are very similar, I’m not saying that I agree but you know… Is it the only reason why you travel with us? If it is, I’ll be a tad disappointed, I must tell you.”   “I didn’t say similar, I said physically similar. That’s the paradox of it. You look the same but you’re all so different at the same time. All of you, when you first step in the TARDIS, are a complete mystery to me, no matter how many humans I’ve travelled with before. Discovering you is as exciting as discovering a new planet.”           Bill grinned.       “You’re pulling my leg.”               The Doctor shook his head and looked at Fitz.                 “I’m not.”           Bill’s smile faded. She followed his gaze and put her hand on his arm.                 “He’s different to you, though.”             “Something happened to me.” He started hesitantly. “I forgot who I was. I became a mystery to myself. Fitz was my constant, I knew him better than myself and he knew me more than himself probably.”   “I’m sorry.”       He shrugged and they both fell silent.

  Fitz observed Bill and his Doctor chatting. He wondered what they were talking about and resisted the urge to join them. The Doctor sitting next to him drew his attention away.                 “Hey Doc.” He smirked at the grimace that followed.                   “Hey Fitzgerald.”             Fitz’s smirk turned into an expression of horror. The Doctor laughed and Fitz decided to imitate him when he stopped feeling like he had been hit in the stomach.         “Ok, point made.”         “It’s nice seeing you again, Fitz.”             Fitz sighed. He had a lot of questions burning his lips but he knew that the Doctor would not answer any of them, which was making the whole situation very frustrating. What was the point in having a future version of his Doctor if he couldn’t ask a couple of question? His curiosity, though, always got the best of him and he gave in.         “What happens to me, Doctor?”             The Doctor did not reply at once. Probably he had forgotten how and when they had parted, Fitz thought bitterly. No, that was unfair, he decided. He could not blame the Doctor for forgetting. It was not his fault if he was all messed up but it was Fitz’s responsibility to make sure he was ok. The only good thing he would ever do.               “You know I can’t tell you that.”             “Come on, you’re blatantly ignoring your laws of time to start a band with yourself and you can’t even give me a clue about my future?”           The Doctor smiled but shook his head.                 “There’s one thing I can tell you. The best is yet to come, Fitz. Don’t lose hope.”           “Is it with you?”               “I can’t answer.”             “It has to be though. My best can only be with you.” Now there was desperation in Fitz’s voice that broke the Doctor’s hearts. “Without you, I’m worth nothing. I’m a loser.”   “It’s not my role to show you how wrong you are, it’s his. But I can promise you he will.”           The Doctor’s expression that had softened became hard again.             “And now stop whining. No one ever accomplished anything by whining.”       “Sorry.”   “Hey. Bill’s got a great idea.”     The younger Doctor’s intervention prevented Fitz from being rebuffed again by the older Doctor. They both got up.                   “That wasn’t MY idea, Doctor.” Bill protested, in vain as the Doctor ignored her.             “Bill can be our singer.”               The older Doctor raised a sceptic eyebrow.       “I’m very flattered guys, really. But I can’t sing.”             “This one can’t play the guitar.” The Doctor gestured towards his future self. “That’s not a problem.”   “Oi! No need to be rude.” The older one protested.     “I’m not rude. But one needs to be honest with oneself.”         Before the two Time Lords could start bickering like an old couple again, Fitz stood between them.   “The lyrics for my songs are in the TARDIS and we’re not going to get them, that’s one problem solved. As for you two, stop depreciating yourselves. You’re both great, admit it and move on. Besides, self-pity is usually my stuff, I won’t accept competition.”     The Doctors frowned, agreed to apologise to each other and the incident was forgotten.   “Anyway, I think we should go, Doctor.” Fitz started. His Doctor was about to agree but Bill cut him.   “Oh wait. I’d like to listen to you. Do you think I could have a private concert?”               Fitz grinned charmingly.               “Of course!”     He grabbed his guitar and the two Time Lords imitated him after having shared a look. Bill made herself comfortable in the Doctor’s armchair as the three musicians were conversing in a low voice. Finally, they seemed to agree and took position – Fitz in the middle, slightly in the back and the two Doctors on his flanks. One silent minute passed and the violin started. The music was slow and melancholic, a tune that seemed to suit this particular incarnation of the Time Lord. Then, Fitz’s guitar joined in and they played together a song that they had played together a hundred times. It should have clashed when the electric guitar joined in but it didn’t. The Doctor reproduced their soft tune and Bill thought they were doing rather well. When the first song finished, she clapped enthusiastically. They played two more songs, more rock, livelier, where the older Doctor lead the other two. Fitz was obviously having a lot of fun and even the younger Doctor was using his instrument perfectly, in a range that was not so familiar to him. If she had to be perfectly honest, Bill would not have thought that the violin and the electric guitar would be well matched, a reflection of their owners’ characters. But they did rather brilliantly and as she was watching Byron and the rock star getting on so well, her heart lifted a little. They finished their improvised concert with Fitz original song. It was serene and romantic, like a ballad and Fitz’s voice, slightly out of tune, brought shivers down Bill’s spine. When they were finished, the three of them bowed in front of their small audience and she cheered.           “That was amazing!” she congratulated them.                 The Time Lords accepted her comment with modesty and a smile, but Fitz had to make a fuss of it. His Doctor stopped his fervour by putting a hand on his mouth.               “Thanks Bill, that’s very kind. But I’m afraid we should leave now. We’ve already stayed together too long.”                 “He’s right.” Her Doctor stepped in. “Besides, if Nardole finds out I started a band with myself, I’ll never hear the end of it.”             Bill agreed and they started to say goodbye. She hugged Fitz, making him promise to visit her if he was still around in 2018, as the two Doctors were shaking hands.               “It’s reassuring to know that my future is in good hands.”         The older Doctor smiled faintly. He knew what was ahead of his younger self and if the temptation to give him a peek was high, he resisted and kept his mouth shut. Instead, he turned towards Fitz.   “It was nice seeing you again, Fitz. Take care.”                 “You too, Doctor.”         Fitz was about to step back but the Doctor trapped him in a hug. The Time Lord did not want his old friend to see his face, and if Fitz saw nothing indeed, Bill did notice his wet eyes and promised herself to take good care of her Doctor.           “Goodbye, Bill.”               To her surprise, the younger Doctor kissed her on the cheek and after having taken their instruments, he and Fitz were gone.       She and her Doctor looked down from the window at them walking away. It was only long after that they had disappeared that they turned towards each other.           “Does it happen often that you run into yourself? It must be when you’re a time traveller.”   “Now and then.” He replied with a mysterious smile. “And always when it’s needed.”            

[whydoyouthinkileft]

I swear, this season is like you can SEE the different writers writing different episodes and their attitudes change so FAST from one to the other

I am so honestly curious to see what Daisy saw in common between Deke and Fitz, since I always find Deke to be way more like Jemma

speaking of Daisy, it's like... in this episode she was like okay with them in the first part? has all the anger gone towards Yoyo and the fact that Coulson is dying?

also technically Daisy doesn't know yet that saving him would end the world. But IF she knows and she and May keep trying to save him against HIS will and also risking the world for him, then now we fully reach peak 'team members are all doing what THEY want the most and bye greater good'

Deke put all those lemons on her bed, bless, I felt so awkward on his behalf when Daisy called it a prank lol but he also understood Daisy's feelings for Lincoln and decided to be supportive and that warmed my heart, he didn't even immediately excused himself and sulked, he was smiling and telling her more about himself

by the way the Lincoln bit killed me. KILLED ME. To be fair he died what, eight months ago for her? 6 months on the run, s4 at most took a month and a half, then the time in the future... actually let's say it's been a few weeks since 5x14, could be nine months

Talbot wtf

also Mack going to check if the enemy was still alive while ALONE and barely warning the others was weird

Fitz is completely different from the past episodes? Softer to people, being nicer to Deke ? like... why ? what? oh yeah, apologizing to Mack for locking him up, okay. But Mack was talking Jemma into being more understanding of Doctor Fitz, and NOW he's mad because Yoyo killed a person, but... there is something that doesn't work for me I really appreciate Mack's speech to Fitz, but it still feels weird from the guy who was so okay with it when talking to Simmons who was having doubts. It's like... everyone was pushing Jemma to keep staying with him but as soon as he did something they didn't like, they were suddenly against them also Yoyo started the invincible part, she wasn't pushed by Fitz and Jemma, she's a grown woman who can make her own decisions?

and WOW first scene with Jemma and Daisy alone since forever, will we ever know the relationship they were having offscreen for six episodes? because now they are apparently okay, they just talk normally despite being at opposite sides in the past episode okay, finally we know Jemma's stance on Coulson dying or not

what KIND OF BULLSHIT was Jemma even saying with moral implications lmao I thought she was past those?? couldn't she just object that 'it's your mum, Daisy, are you sure?' because honestly, working on a skeleton seems less morally grey than being okay with what was done to Daisy, and with other things they all did in the past. Also is revenge-killing above it too? Because Jemma was so okay with it?

the alien guys tho, sucking up to Talbot. Bet he's Kasius' grandfather. or father. YES. THAT'S HIM. I KNEW IT. also this is what made the Kasius interested in Earth. and he was the one also sucking up to the green alien who died. 'he's the wisest' 'no, bro, you are the wisest but yes it is me'

oh FINALLY Thanos' mentions - couldn't Talbot have won over against him, even from far away?

Talbot homie what the hell

honestly I don't know why but Fitz with the drill in his hand and Jemma working on that centipede thing made me a bit anxious ? I don't know what to expect

the Kasius theme makes me sick, I had forgotten how disgusting and creepy I found the whole Kasius-Sinara thing

the only people that didn’t leave me ??? in this episode were Coulson and Deke, how weird

[sad-trash-writing]

Who’s The Hero Of Your Story?, Ch. 14

AO3 Link 

“Daisy, he’s changed direction to northwest.”
 “Meaning?”

Jemma rolled her eyes. “Take a left. He’s following the road, which means watch out for civilians.”

“Coulson’s nearly got all the civilians evacuated,” Fitz informed Jemma from the station to her left. Fitz joined up about a week after Jemma officially accepted SHIELD’s offer. Despite him drooling over the equipment SHIELD had, he was a bit wary of signing up for another mysterious organization, though they won him over pretty quickly. “Daisy just needs to head him off before he hits our perimeter.”

“Working on it,” Daisy grumbled, through the comms. The whoosh of air accompanying her words told Jemma that Daisy was flying through the air, hopping from rooftop to rooftop. Of course, the GPS beacon pulsing on the screen in front of her could also tell her that. “This guy’s moving pretty fast.”

Jemma rubbed the base of her neck. It was still a bit sore from the procedure, but the doctors at SHIELD said she was healed enough. The scar left behind was still raised and tender, but it had only been a few weeks. “You’re only two blocks away from him Daisy.”

“Alright, I’m heading down. Any update on what this guy can do?”

Jemma tapped the keyboard to pull up the display of all the scanners they had pointed at this new powered person. Even the mobile equipment on the Zephyr was years ahead of anything Jemma had worked with before. Thankfully, she had a few weeks of practice on it before SHIELD sent her out to run backend on Daisy’s missions. 

The scanners popped up, but were all blank still. 

“Sorry, Daisy. We can’t get a solid read on him just yet. Be careful,” Jemma replied. 

“Okay, let’s hope it involves something cute and harmless.”

Jemma watched as the little dot on the screen that represented Daisy drifted off the rooftops and towards the dot representing their target. The target didn’t seem aggressive so far. He appeared to be someone who just discovered their powers and panicked. Jemma suspected he was a new Inhuman, but they wouldn’t be able to tell until they brought him in for testing. 

Jemma listened as Daisy introduced herself to the man and tried to explain SHIELD, while she waited for the scanners to lock onto the man. It seemed to be going well for awhile. 

Then, an earsplitting sound ripped through the comms. Everyone on the Zephyr cursed and covered their ears and Jemma frantically tried to turn the volume down. 

On the other end, Jemma could hear a metallic crash and Daisy cursing. “So, that’s what he does,” Daisy grumbled. 

“Daisy? Are you alright?” Jemma called. 

“I can’t hear a damn thing right now. I’m going back in.”

“Daisy, what’s happening? What is his power?”

Jemma watched the dot of their target go flying backwards nearly a block. It paused for a moment, before darting back towards Daisy. The earsplitting noise rang through the comms again. 

“Jesus. Okay, he…have some kind of superson…breath or something, I don’t know,” Daisy replied, after a pause. “Every…he opens his mouth, things go flying. Sort of…I do, but it’s only in his mouth and I…way cooler.”

“I think, your comms are broken, Daisy,” Jemma replied. “You should come back to the Zephyr and we can work out a plan.”

“Can’t….ear you. And…getting close…perimeter….don’t have time,” Was the broken reply. 

The noise tore through the Zephyr again. Jemma slammed the button to turn it off, to everyone’s relief. Daisy’s hearing was going to be destroyed if she kept going after this guy. 

Jemma mirrored all her displays over to Fitz’s monitor. “I’m going in.”

“Wait, what?”

“Comms are down, and Daisy has no way of stopping this man’s powers, other than to counter them with her own, and the combination of them is just going to lead to more destruction,” Jemma replied, shrugging off her SHIELD jacket. Luckily she was already suited up underneath it. 

She ran into the cockpit and grabbed the two sets of aviation headsets and darted back towards the hatch. 

“Do you really think you should be going out so soon after your procedure?” Fitz cautioned. 

“Bobbi said I was fine to go into the field. That means into the actual field, not just the plane,” Jemma replied, strapping on a parachute.

“She said technically you were fine, but she wouldn’t advise it.”

“She probably wouldn’t 'advise' a lot of the bad girl shenanigans I’ve gotten into over the past year, so one more can’t hurt.”

Fitz rolled his eyes, knowing he wouldn’t win this argument. Daisy needed help, so Jemma was going to jump out of a plane to help her. 

Jemma lowered the hatch on the plane and jumped. 

She hit the ground a few blocks from where she judged the battle to be and jogged towards the last place she had seen Daisy’s GPS dot. 

She didn’t have to wait long to find Daisy. A deafening roar shrieked through the air and a black-clad body flew across the alley Jemma was in and slammed into something. Jemma winced. 

Shortly after Daisy, the target strode across the alley in the direction he had just thrown Daisy. 

Jemma slipped on one of the pairs of aviator headsets and crept out of the alley. At least she had the element of surprise on her side. 

She ran up behind the man before he reached Daisy and her vines snapped into action. 

They tangled around his arms, his legs, and his neck. She made sure one wound around his jaw, holding his mouth shut. The man struggled violently as Jemma tried to tighten the vines and made her feel like she was tied to an angry bull. 

Eventually, the man managed to get ahold the vines on his neck and flipped Jemma over his shoulder, sending her flying into a pile of garbage bags. 

Which turned out to be the same place Daisy had been thrown. 

“Fancy meeting you here,” Daisy groaned underneath Jemma. 

The man turned and darted down an alleyway. 

Jemma glanced over Daisy (well, as much as she could see of her, since Jemma had landed on top of her). She was bruised and battered, but no more than normal after a fight. Since she was making jokes, Jemma guessed she didn’t have any serious injuries. 

“I don’t think 'fancy' is the word I would use in this situation.” Jemma pulled a clump of slimy noodles out of Daisy’s hair and then rolled off the garbage pile. 

“Any situation is fancy when your former-supervillain girlfriend jumps out of a plane to help you save the city,” Daisy smirked. “I’m glad you decided to keep the vines.”

“So am I,” Jemma replied with a smile. Once Bobbi Morse and the other SHIELD biologists figured out exactly how Jemma’s vines were growing into her back, they figured out a way to keep them attached, but remove the more dangerous parts from Jemma’s spine. If the base of it kept growing at the rate it had before, Jemma would probably only have had a few months before the spikes jabbed into her spine and completely paralyzed or killed her. Now, she could jump into the field and help Daisy when she needed to and not have to worry if a wrong move would cripple her. 

“I’m also here to save your hearing.” Jemma handed Daisy the other headset. 

“Aw, you brought me a present. How romantic,” Daisy replied. 

“You’re ridiculous,” Jemma said, with a grin. 

“I know.” Daisy winked and slipped on the headset. “We should probably go find that guy,” She shouted, now that her hearing was dampened. 

As Daisy headed in the direction the target had disappeared, Jemma wrapped a vine around her wrist and pulled her in for a kiss.

As soon as their lips met, Daisy melted against Jemma’s body. Jemma pulled her even closer and wound her arms around Daisy’s neck to deepen the kiss. Jemma’s vines coiled around Daisy’s waist, just as unwilling to let Daisy go as Jemma was. She noticed they liked to do that a lot. 

When they were both out of breath, they broke apart. Neither wanted to be the first to let go, but the distant police sirens pulled them back to the present. 

Jemma smiled. Through the strangest turn of events, she was the happiest she had ever been. She was able to fight for good from both the field and the lab and she had an amazing woman by her side to do it with. 

She unwound all her vines from Daisy and grabbed her hand. 

“Let’s go save the world.”

~The End~

[theartofbeinganerd]

Have you ever had a burning desire for a FitzDaisy buddy cop AU where there’s a serial killer on the loose, while Fitz falls more and more in love with adorable ER doctor Jemma Simmons, and with a side of TripDaisy? No? Well, here’s the first chapter anyway!

I’ve been working on this for some time, and it’s a bit different from my normal stuff, but hopefully you’ll still give it a chance regardless!

*This chapter features some depictions of violence, though it's not very graphic and is pretty brief; however, this fic often features talk of homicide and other crimes, and if that is triggering in any way or something you don’t think you can handle, I'd suggest you tread lightly or skip this fic completely.

(Ao3)

-

Fitz stared unseeingly through the windshield, his fingers tapping an absent rhythm on the steering wheel as he listened to the static from the radio, waiting for the call that would give them something to do instead of just sitting there wasting the night away. Then again, perhaps in his line of work, having nothing to do was something he should be thankful for – his feelings on the subject tended to change from day to day.

He glanced up when the door opened and Daisy slid back into the passenger seat, grinning at him and shaking the paper bag in her hand excitedly. “I’ve got doughnuts,” she announced unnecessarily as she slammed her door shut behind her.

Fitz leveled an exasperated look at his partner. “Why do you insist on enforcing that stereotype, Daisy?”

She passed him his frosted doughnut, but not without pairing it with a rather impressive roll of her eyes. “Um, because it’s an excuse to eat an alarming amount of doughnuts? I thought you of all people could appreciate that.”

He sighed, but still took a bite out of the pastry in his hand. Around a mouthful of it, he pointed out, “The more we eat doughnuts, the harder it’s going to get to chase suspects down.”

Daisy scoffed at him, spraying crumbs of jelly doughnut over her uniform. “Speak for yourself, Fitz. You do remember that I’m dating a health nut, right?”

“Ah, so you’re trying to fatten me up then.” Fitz finished off his doughnut, brushing the crumbs off of his lap and setting a mental note to clean the car soon, given that it wasn’t technically his car.

“You are getting a bit pudgy, aren’t you?” Daisy observed thoughtfully.

“Wha – pudgy?” he repeated, aghast as he glanced down at himself. Upon hearing Daisy’s snickers, he shot a glare at her and snapped, “I am not pudgy.”

“Whatever you need to say, Fitzy.” Daisy gave him a teasing punch to the arm, shooting a smirk at him as he rubbed the spot exaggeratedly.

Fitz didn’t bother to respond, grumbling to himself and sinking down in his seat, settling in for a long night of Daisy harassing and poking fun at him. Far from the first time, he stewed over the fact that out of everyone, he couldn’t believe that he’d been partnered with Daisy.

Before he could get to the part of his brooding where he wondered why the universe had it out for him, the radio crackled to life. “Unit 616, do you copy?”

Fitz had just barely exchanged a glance with Daisy before she was grabbing for the receiver. “Unit 616, we copy.”

“Possible 459 at 137 Park Street.”

“We’re on it,” Daisy informed them breezily as Fitz put the car in drive and threw on the lights and siren as they headed out of the parking lot. As she replaced the receiver, she raised her eyebrows at him. “If they run for it, want me to chase ‘em down? Don’t wanna have you start huffing and puffing and let them get away.”

Fitz gripped the steering wheel a bit tighter and replied dryly, “Ha ha. Very funny.”

Daisy was almost inhumanly good at keeping her cool when they were responding to a call, and Fitz knew that it stemmed from the fact that she was secure in the knowledge that this was what she’d always wanted to do. She’d informed him during the beginning of their partnership that she’d decided a long time ago that she wanted to dedicate her life to helping people. He very much envied the fact that she’d found what she wanted to do with her life and followed it through.

Fitz hadn’t been afforded that kind of luxury – the very last thing he’d wanted growing up was to be a police officer. But, his father had been one all his life and just couldn’t bear for his only son (and only child) to do anything but follow in his footsteps, despite their lack of anything resembling a relationship. Fitz hadn’t been crazy about the idea, given that he’d seen what the job had done to not only his father, but his parents’ marriage, but saying no to his father was a skill he’d yet to perfect.

However, just because he was giving in to his father’s career choice, didn’t mean he wanted to stay under his thumb any longer than he had to. So, after going through the police academy back in Scotland, he’d relocated to America to join a precinct in a relatively small town, rather than join his father’s old one back home like the senior Fitz had intended. The move had given him a bit of breathing room, but Fitz was still more than a little unfulfilled in the career he’d never wanted. And honestly, he still didn’t think he was cut out for it, what with his weak stomach and entirely unintimidating appearance with a confidence to match.

He’d tried to tell his father all of this, of course, but the only responses he’d ever gotten in return were, “You’ll toughen up, boy” or “What does it matter? Cops get all the women – you’ll see”.

Neither made him feel any better.

Finally, they pulled up outside the address, and even through the dark, he could see that the door was open wide, light from inside spilling out onto the front stoop. Fitz turned the car off, pocketing the keys before he slid out and shut the door quietly behind him. He pulled his gun from its holster, meeting Daisy around her side of the car. Together, they crept up the driveway, and she warily peered through the open door.

“Police,” she called, and waited, but there was only silence in response. They exchanged a glance, then slowly entered the residence, guns at the ready.

Only a handful of steps inside, Fitz was hit with the overwhelming scent of iron and he nearly gagged, but he pressed his lips together and forced himself to focus. That smell was not a good sign.

Turning the corner from the entryway into what appeared to be the living room, Fitz’s entire body froze up and his heart lodged itself in his throat. Spread out around room were several bodies, covered in bright red blood. There was so much blood seeping into the carpet, in fact, that Fitz couldn’t tell what color it was actually supposed to be. There were so many glazed, unseeing eyes, heads turned the wrong way, flesh torn to give way to the crimson liquid pouring out, and the worst of all – there was a giant ‘H’ on the far wall, smeared in what he could only assume was the victims’ blood.

“Fitz?” Daisy hissed from behind him, “What is it? You’re blocking the damn door.”

“Oh god,” Fitz mumbled, stumbling back a few steps and running right into Daisy. She practically had to hold him up as his knees grew weak, and his stomach was turning in a worrying manner. He was about to dart for the door and lose his lunch to the bushes he’d noticed by the steps so he didn’t mess up the crime scene when he saw something frankly amazing.

One of the bodies closest to him, a little girl, her pigtails matted with blood and her Disney princess nightgown barely recognizable as fabric, twitched. Her arm moved weakly, and she turned her head just slightly, blinking at Fitz and Daisy.

“She’s alive,” he gasped out, darting unthinkingly right into the living room to squat down beside her. “Just hold on, we’re going to get you help.”

“Alive?” he just barely heard Daisy murmur, seconds before her shocked gasp. “Oh my god. We…we… Fitz, we have to make sure this place is clear.”

Fitz almost argued with her, not wanting to leave the girl alone, but he knew that she was right. Regardless, he still pulled his radio from his belt and called in, “This is Unit 616, we have multiple 10-54s; 11-41.”

The response was almost immediate. “Unit 616, backup and ambulance on their way.”

“Copy.” Fitz replaced his radio, and then told the girl gently, “I’ll be right back, just stay awake for me, okay?”

The little girl blinked a couple times, then gave him a tiny, clearly painful nod. Fitz rose to his feet and glanced at Daisy, noting the way that her face had gone deathly pale as she surveyed the room. Silently, she gestured to the door to their right, and Fitz nodded, following her lead.

The kitchen, bathroom and both downstairs bedrooms were clear, along with the first bedroom upstairs. However, in the back bedroom, they found two more young children, and a quick feel for a pulse showed that they were already gone. Fitz noticed Daisy gripping her gun a bit tighter before she replaced it in her holster, the residence clear of whoever had committed such a massacre.

“We should check all the others downstairs for pulses,” Daisy said, already heading out of the room and for the stairs. Fitz was quick to follow, but their search for life proved fruitless, save for the too young girl still clinging desperately to consciousness.

What seemed like hours – but in reality was mere minutes – later the paramedics arrived, and Fitz dimly registered that Trip, Daisy’s boyfriend, was the one that gently pushed him away from the girl so that they could transfer her to the gurney. Fitz’s eyes locked on the girl as they began pushing the gurney toward the door, and he flinched when he felt a firm hand land on his shoulder.

“Hey, you should go with them, keep us updated. I’ll wait for Coulson,” Daisy told him gently.

Fitz frowned, his gaze flicking from Daisy to where Trip had disappeared through the front door. “But…don’t you…”

Daisy gave his shoulder a squeeze, a small, forced smile curving her lips. “You go, Fitz. You’re already as white as a sheet – after everything else I’ve seen tonight, I don’t want to add that doughnut in reverse to the list.”

Normally, Fitz would’ve responded with a glare, but all he could manage was a quiet, “Okay,” before following the other EMT outside from where he’d been double-checking the others for any signs of life. He sat in back with Trip, and tried his very hardest not to see the poor, possibly dying little girl in front of him but it was nearly impossible. Her weak, ragged breaths kept drawing his attention back to her.

When they finally arrived at the hospital, Fitz got out of Trip’s way, allowing him and his partner to rush the girl inside. He stepped down from the truck and took a deep breath of the chilly night air, shoving his shaking hands through his hair and closing his eyes. But, all he could see was the horrifying carnage he’d walked in on, as though the images were seared into the backs of his eyelids.

After awhile, though, he had to give up and go inside, given that the rapidly cooling night air was starting to burn his lungs from all of the deep breathing. He was vaguely familiar with the layout of the emergency room, and quickly found the waiting room, sinking into one of the uncomfortable plastic chairs to wait for news.

All he could think about was this family that had gone to sleep, thinking they were safe and sound in their home, and someone had come inside and taken that from them, not mention their lives. They’d carelessly wandered right in and brutally murdered people that had done nothing to warrant such an awful end. It just wasn’t fair.

Fitz dropped his head into his hands, trying to blink back the tears building behind his eyes, but it was no use – the continued images of the slaughtered family refused to leave him alone, and he felt his shoulders began to shake with the effort of holding back his tears.

“Officer?”

He lifted his head quickly at the gentle prodding, and attempted to blink away the wetness in his eyes so that the face of the woman in front of him would become a bit clearer. “Um…yeah?”

She gave him a sympathetic smile, perching on the seat beside him and resting a comforting hand on his shoulder. “You came in with Sarah Hudson?” When Fitz just stared at her blankly, she added, “The young girl from the multiple homicide?”

“Oh.” Her name was Sarah. Somehow, that made it all the more real for Fitz, and he had to press his lips tight together to keep the next wave of tears at bay. “Yeah. Uh…how is she?”

The woman, who Fitz figured must be the trauma doctor on call tonight, winced, her lips twisting into a frown. “Not good, I’m afraid. She sustained multiple stab wounds – seventeen, if my count was correct – and lost quite a bit of blood. The wounds were precise, and the attacker was obviously skilled, but against all odds she survived.” Then, with a little sigh, she added, “For now, at least.” Giving his shoulder a soft squeeze, she asked gently, “Was this your first crime scene?”

Fitz clenched his fingers around his knees, digging roughly into his skin as he mumbled, “First one with bodies, yeah.”

She sighed, and Fitz just barely noticed her fingers rubbing against his shoulder in soothing, feather-light circles. “I wish I could tell you that it gets easier, but it doesn’t. But that sick, disturbed feeling, as though your stomach will never return to its proper place, that’ll fade a bit over time.”

Fitz managed a small, grateful smile. “Thanks…” He trailed off as he realized that the doctor had never introduced herself.

“Oh! Jemma. Jemma Simmons.”

“Thank you, Dr. Simmons.” Fitz rose to his feet, and Jemma’s hand fell away from his shoulder as she stood as well. “And uh…it’s Officer Fitz.” He nodded over his shoulder to the door, already digging around in his pocket for his phone. “I’ve gotta call the chief, let him know what’s going on with…Sarah.”

She nodded in understanding, but as Fitz started to walk away, she called after him, “Officer Fitz!” He paused, glancing back at her in time to see her warm, understanding smile. “If you ever need to talk, my usual shift is five PM to four AM.”

Without waiting for him to respond, Jemma turned and headed back toward the double doors that led into the ER. Fitz couldn’t get his feet to continue their journey outside, though, because as he watched her disappear, he finally registered just how gorgeous Dr. Jemma Simmons actually was – and she was warm and kind and a doctor, to boot.

How had he not noticed that?

-

495 - burglary 10-54 - possible dead body 11-41 - ambulance needed

[hepaidattention]

Her

Second part to, “Life Saver”. First part can be read here. 

Daisy can’t snap Fitz out of his Framework personality, but she knows someone who can. Jemma Simmons.

Daisy looked around, cautiously following behind as she watched her every exit. What the heck did he want? She almost was tempted to make a run for it and get out of dodge – but Fitz could easily just report her, and then she’d have to figure out how to get out of Hydra facilities without anyone on her side.

Plus, she wouldn’t deny she was just the tiniest bit intrigued. Why did The Doctor want to hack Hydra…? Did he not have all access as it was?

They reached his lab and he opened the door, gesturing her to go in. He might be evil but he still had manners. She walked in with hesitance, unsure if she was about to receive a get out of jail free card or a death certificate.

Fitz walked to his desk and cleared his throat. “The computers over here,” he said with a smug expression on his face. Smug Fitz was not her ideal. “I assume you know what a computer looks like.”

Daisy glared and took a seat beside him. “What do you need me to do?”

Fitz rolled his chair back some, giving her space. “I have all access to everything in Hydra. Everything but the Directors.”

Daisy looked at him, watching his face. He was up to something – but not this Fitz, not The Doctor. No, the Fitz that Daisy knew – he was in there – and he was up to something.

“I need you to hack into the Directors computer.”

“Okay… and find what?”

Fitz eyed her. “I tell you what you need to know, Skye.”

Daisy rolled her eyes. “It might be easier to hack into one specific part of what you’re looking for. Especially if it’s attached to another network. Might give me an in?”

Fitz let out a frustrated breath. “The drones, and whatever footage that’s been sent to her through them.”

That threw Daisy off. Did he just say the director was a her? Never mind that, Daisy. Not what’s important right now.

She nodded and worked her magic. It didn’t take long, thankfully. Honestly it should have been ten times harder than it was – but Daisy supposed the Framework wasn’t designed to keep Daisy Johnson out of the system. She got into the Framework in the first place, didn’t she?

“Okay, what are we looking for exactly?” Daisy started to scroll through the archive of footage sent to this mysterious director. It was ridiculous how much these drones caught on camera. Fitz then proceeded to push his way onto the computer, moving Daisy out of his way. He gave it one glance and seemed to be pleased.

“Great, thanks, Skye.” In a blink of an eye a gun was raised to Daisy’s temple. Daisy was frozen, she couldn’t breathe. Fitz turned his head, giving her a cold, ruthless expression. “You were a great help. However, it seems your assistance is no longer needed.”

“Fitz,” Daisy said in such a soft whisper she was surprised she could hear herself. “Fitz, please.” She shook her head, eyeing the barrel of the pistol. “You don’t have to do this, okay? This isn’t you.”

Fitz tweaked a brow, the gun remaining steady in his hands. The side of his mouth turned up into a smirk, a scoff releasing from his throat. “That’s a new one. Most people just tell me I could be more to talk me out of blowing their brains out. But that I already am more … that’s a new one. Much more effective.” Fitz cocked the weapon. “Not effecting enough, sadly.”

“Fitz, c’mon. I know you! The Fitz I know cried last time we watched a documentary on monkeys! You can’t kill me.”

He watched her, almost as if what she told him made sense to him. That gave Daisy hope. He was hesitating, if anything.

“The only thing you have ever shot was a guy who’d been dead for a solid two weeks at least, and Jemma said you still felt guilty for months after.”

That made Fitz falter. His expression changed from cold-stone killer to a glimpse of the real Fitz slipping through. Then it dawned on her – she said Jemma. Duh, Daisy! Think!

“Think about what Jemma would say, Fitz. You know, deep down, if you killed me? Jemma might never forgive you. What’s more – you would never forgive yourself.”

The gun didn’t move from its spot – but she could have sworn the Fitz she knew blinked at her for a split second. “Jemma?” he finally asked.

Daisy felt her entire body relax some. “Yes, Fitz. Jemma’s here. She came to save you. We both did.”

The barrel of the gun lowered, Fitz now looking unsteady. “Simmons?”

He remembered. Daisy grinned. “Yes! Jemma Simmons.”

“Biochemist.” He muttered out. His brow was furrowed, pressing his hand against his head.

Daisy laid a hand on his shoulder. “Your girlfriend, Jemma Anne Simmons, has dug her way out of the literal grave to come save your butt. She-”

“Stop, stop,” Fitz begged, his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. “This is just in my head.”

She scrunched her brows. “Well, yes, actually. But not in the way you mean.”

“You’re not real.”

“No, wrong. This desk isn’t real. Me? I am very real.”

“You can’t be. You said her name.” Fitz let out a raspy breath. “I’ve only ever seen her in my dreams.”

He dreamed about her. Daisy wouldn’t deny that the little shipper inside her was screaming over that – but she had to move on.

“Who are you?” Fitz finally looked back up at her. She could see him gripping a tighter hold on his gun again.

“You know who I am, Fitz.” Daisy watched the gun as she said her words, but he never raised it up again. “I’m Daisy Johnson.” She lifted her eyes to see his face – there was nothing. No recognition of the sort.

“What’d you do with Skye?”

Daisy wasn’t sure what emotions he was feeling anymore. His face looked partly hurt, and partly confused. He looked like he was about to lose his marbles – but maybe that was a good sign. Before Coulson cracked he was near losing his head, too.

She decided she needed to go all out. Only, not here. “I am Skye. Daisy’s my real name.” She took in a deep breath and scooted her chair where she could look him in the eyes. Tears filled his eyelids. “You want to remember, don’t you?”

He looked at her with a scowl this time. “Remember what?”

“Her. Remember the woman from your dreams.” Daisy really hoped this would work. All she knew was the only way to bring the Fitz they knew back, was with Jemma. And more than just her name. “I know where she is. I can bring you to her.”

Fitz laid the gun on the desk, watching her intently. “Jemma Simmons is a mere fragment of my imagination. I don’t know how you know about her, but-”

“Watch the footage.” Daisy cut him off, gesturing towards the computer. “The footage of the British resistance woman. It’s Jemma. What’s more, you know it’s Jemma, Fitz. That’s why you had me hack in. You couldn’t care less about resistance, but this girl – you care.”

Fitz made little argument. He eyed her before turning himself to the computer and clicked on whatever the right video was. It flashed in front of him, Jemma Simmons ducking into a car. She looked like the walking dead. The video showed nothing of her identity, just her face, yet Fitz still whispered under his breath, “It’s her.”

“I know where she is, Fitz.” Daisy laid an arm the desk and angled herself so she could see his face. He looked at her, Daisy wanted to cry at how confused and hurt he looked. “Let me bring you to her.”

Fitz’s eyes scanned Daisy’s face, searching her eyes for some kind of inclination that she was lying. She was completely honest though, and Fitz eventually concluded the same results. His voice broke some as he said, “Okay.”

Fitz gave them both cloaking devices, that way they were able to walk out of Hydra without a single obstacle. They drove in silence, Fitz doing nothing but watching outside the window, and occasionally watching the mirrors. He was paranoid about something but she had no idea what. Or, she supposed she should assume who.

It didn’t matter though. Daisy knew if anyone could break through the Frameworks walls for Fitz, it could be Jemma. She was their only chance of brining real Fitz back to the surface.

They arrived. They walked in, Fitz following Daisy as she led the way. Daisy realized as they walked in that she was taking a big leap of faith – because if Fitz didn’t remember, she had just showed a head of Hydra the resistance’s main hide out.

“Jemma,” Daisy voiced as they walked into the main room of previous SHEILD headquarters. It was just like it was in reality, only it’s whole lot less dusty back home.

Jemma was going over something with Mace when she looked up, seeing the two standing in the door way, motionless. The moment her eyes landed on Fitz tears started to swell up in her eyes. “Fitz,” she let out through a sigh. Jemma ran up to them and immediately enveloped Fitz into a hug before any other words were spoken. Daisy watched them – seeing Fitz as he slowly but surely wrapped his arms around her, holding her just as tight as she was holding him. Daisy then decided to leave the two love birds alone, quietly leaving the room, dragging Mace along with her.

“God, I thought I lost you.” Jemma whispered over his shoulder.

It was her. Fitz was terrified over what was happening to him right now. He was currently holding the woman in his dreams in his arms. Before he knew it, she was pecking kisses all over his face, and then stopped when her forehead met his. Fitz wouldn’t deny there was something … familiar about all of it. She locked eyes with him, clearly waiting for some sort of reply. Fitz should be pulling away right now, telling her he has no clue who she was. He should kill every last one of these SHIELD agents. Yet, there was something in him that was telling him this was right. This was normal. That this was him.

She waited patiently, saying nothing. Her soft, caramel eyes pierced his soul as she stared into his. He felt so many emotions, emotions he didn’t even know he had, just by looking at her. Then it hit him. How could he have been so stupid? This Jemma was resistance – she was an Inhuman.

Fitz suddenly jerked back, ripping himself from her touch. “You’re one of them, aren’t you?”

The wounded look she gave him could have crippled him right on the spot. The tears in her eyes were no longer from joy as she said, “Fitz, it’s me. Jemma.”

This hold she had on him – it had to be Inhuman abilities. There was no way he actually knew this woman. This was all the resistance plot to lure him in, manipulate him. Yet, he still let her grab his hand, pulling him closer to her again. “How’d you do it?” he asked, his voice breaking. “Get in my head?”

Jemma shook her head with such passion as she swallowed down a sob. “The only one who’s gotten in your head is AIDA. We’re inside the Framework, Fitz. Your invention. You created this world for good, and Radcliffe and AIDA have mutilated it into pure evil. They’re your enemy. Not me.” She placed a hand gently on his cheek, brushing his tears with her thumb. “Please. You have to remember me.”

There was a war taking place inside Fitz. The only thing keeping him from pulling out a gun and shooting down every last one of them was her. The way she looked at him, it was so … recognizable. Like she’d stood in front of him before, tears running down her cheeks, only then, her hair was untamed, her complexion was pale from lack of sun, her sobs for someone else … a small smile formed on her cheeks as he assured her he’d save him… Fitz pressed a hand to his temple, shaking his head as he pulled away. “No, no you’re putting memories in my head.” His eyes clamped shut, his mouth suddenly unable to forms words properly. “You- you… This isn’t – that’s not real.”

Jemma gripped his hand even tighter, not letting him leave her grasp. “Fitz. It is real. Remember back,” she placed her free hand on his chest. “Remember when we first met? You were so quiet, and pasty, and handsome. God, I remember being so nervous. I had wanted to talk to you for months, but out of any person I had ever met,” she let out a small laugh, “I thought you might be smarter than me, and well, I suppose I was a bit intimidated.” Fitz’s eyes opened, sparking with recognition. Jemma grinned up at him, letting go of his hand to lay it on his cheek once again. “There he is.”

He took in a sharp breath. “This can’t be real.”

Jemma wasn’t giving up. “Do you remember what we promised each other? We promised each other we would never let anything tear us apart again, and I’m here to make sure nothing breaks that promise. Fitz, I can’t do this without you. I need you to wake up – to remember. I need you to come back to me.” Fitz met her eyes – a distant dream buried in his subconscious rising from its depths, and reliving itself right before his eyes. “Please, come back to me.”

Fitz brushed her hair behind her ear, her returning a broken smile in return. The words ’Come back to me’ sat on his heart and mind as he gazed at her – he will always come back to her. Always. He wanted to kiss her, right then, kiss her and let her know he would always be back for her. He couldn’t though – not now. But god, did he want to.

As if he was looking at her for the first time in weeks, Fitz searched her eyes before cupping her face with his hands and crushing his lips to hers. He could feel her smile against his lips before sweetly kissing him back, which followed with her tightly wrapping her arms around his neck. Memories flooded Fitz’s mind, memories of Jemma, of SHEILD. Everything he ever knew suddenly came to him like a lightning bolt. Every twisted memory AIDA had forged him filled in each gap with the image of Jemma Simmons, the light of his life becoming clear. Fitz moved his hands from her face to instead enfold around her waist, drawing her closer to him. Close enough that maybe, just maybe, he’d never have to let her go again.

But sadly, they had to part. Jemma pulled away, resting her forehead to his once again. She gave him a silly grin, looking in his eyes with such delight. “Welcome back,” she whispered to him.

Fitz returned the smile, reaching for her hands to fold into his. “I’m so sorry, Jemma. I can’t believe I… I did awful things, I…”

“No, Fitz,” she brought her head back to fully see his face. “Every single thing you’ve done here was never once you, do you understand me? This,” she let out a sigh of relief. “This is you.”

Fitz chuckled. “I was a real case, wasn’t I?”

Jemma bit her lip, trying not to laugh too hard. “Well, have you seen your hair?” She released a hand from Fitz’s grasp to run her fingers through his overly gelled hair. “What in god’s name were you thinking?”

Fitz just laughed. He grabbed her hand again, drawing them to his chest. He looked her straight in the eyes, his heart heavy as he said, “I love you, Jemma.”

Jemma broke again, tears running down her eyes. This time however, it was simply from the stress of everything finally feeling like it had been lifted from her shoulders. No, they weren’t home, and no, they had no idea how to get there. But it didn’t matter – because now, now she had Fitz. Jemma embraced him, tightly enclosing her arms around his ribcage, her face buried in his shoulder. Fitz held her, soothing her as she cried. Finally, after a moment of tears, Jemma breathed out, “I love you, too, Fitz.” She let out a heavy breath, adjusting her head to fit under the crease of his neck. “Please, don’t ever leave me again.”

Fitz’s hold on her tightened. “I won’t.”

“Fitz, I … I don’t know how to get home.”

She felt him shrug under her. “Then we’ll figure it out. Together.”

Jemma closed her eyes, a content smile resting on her face. “Together.”

[imagineclaireandjamie]

Jamie is the towns local vet, he is about to close the practice for the day when Claire rushes in with a sick/injured Adso! Sparks fly between the two.

Jamie closed the last chart of the day and stretched, enjoying the soft rock playing over the clinic speakers. It had been an unusually long day, but his paperwork was finally done, and he was ready to close shop for the weekend.

Just then, a cloud of curls burst through the doors, looking about as distressed as the woman who bore them and, for that matter, the wee cheetie she was holding carefully under its belly. It wore a crest of painful looking porcupine quills; the work of a half-hour at least.

Yet his protest that it was a minute to closing died on his lips as he met with the woman’s golden eyes.

Dumbstruck as he was, it took him a minute to connect the crisp English accent to her.

“I’m terribly sorry for bursting in so late, it’s just that it seems there are no other veterinarians open at this hour, nor for the weekend, and I came home to find that Adso had picked the wrong fight -“

The kitten narrowed its eyes and let out a rumble of displeasure, as though remembering its foe and their undoubtedly bitter battle.

“Nae trouble at all!” Jamie said a tad too enthusiastically. “Ms...”

“Beauchamp. Claire Beauchamp.” 

“Jamie Fraser. Call me Jamie.” He replied, standing back and motioning the way to one of the exam rooms.

She visibly relaxed and followed him back. “Thank you so much. Lord knows the little fool deserves it -“ was it Jamie’s imagination, or did the “little fool’s” rumbling get louder at that? - “but I worry he’d hurt himself more if I left it for next week,” Claire continued, placing the cheetie on the exam table; either unfazed by its behaviour, or used to it.

Seems ye’ve caught a witch, Jamie lad. He stymied his thoughts before they could say any further stupid things.

“A porcupine, ye say? Weel he’s luckily he didna get it worse then.” Jamie commented as he placed a hand on the cat’s fluffy rear in an attempt to stabilize him.

Lightning-fast, he pinched the quill near its base and tugged, simultaneously freeing it and producing a loud yowl from the unfortunate critter.  

“One down, about seven more to go.” Claire beamed at him.

“Ooch the first is the easiest,” Jamie explained, “these last ones, weel it depends on the beast, but I dinna think yon cheetie will let them go without a fight.”

He was somewhat embarrassed to find his Scots accent deepening in her presence, and he wondered if she noticed.

“Shhh wee cheetie, dinna fash” he murmured reassuringly, petting its unquilled lower half as he slowly lowered his hand towards what currently resembled nothing so much as a sentient and very angry dustball.

A quick paw reached out and batted his hand away, hissing.

“Adso!” Claire admonished the cat, strikingly like a parent castigating a small child, “let the nice man help you.”

Jamie couldn’t hide his grin as Adso reluctantly lowered his paw, as though he understood his human’s words.

Weel if she is a witch, I’d let her enchant me any day.

She turned an apologetic gaze towards him, “I’m so sorry, he’s really normally sweet…”

“Aye, it’s the pain doing it. I’ve had it happen with horses, so a cheetie’s no trouble.” He reassured her.

“A horse? Really! I’d wouldn’t imagine they would be so foolish as to take on a porcupine.”

She shot an accusatory look at Adso, and he looked away with as much dignity as he could muster in the situation.

Jamie couldn’t help but smile even more broadly. He was uncomfortably aware that he’d been smiling far more than was normal. Complete dolt, that’s what she thinks of ye, lad.

“Not generally, but some sometimes the two startle each other and there’s a wee stramash.”

Claire laughed, and Jamie felt oddly proud to have achieved that. When, he wondered, had he become such a bonehead around women?

He returned his attention (or at least his eyes) to the kitten, gently questing for information as he divested it of its painful ornaments.

“Ye’re not from here, I think?” He asked.

“No, I’m new to Inverness. Moved here to… finish up my medical residency.”

Caught by the sorrow of her tone, he didn’t get his hand back fast enough, and found it instantly mauled by the offended feline.

Claire let out a huff of laughter, but the echo of sorrow was still there.

Jamie extracted his finger from the beastie’s wee claws and tentatively pushed her on it.

“A sassenach in Inverness? That’s an odd choice, if ye don’t mind my saying.”

For a moment she looked as though she would brush him off, but then she let out a breath and something about her seemed to relax, to accept whatever it was she had to tell him.

“I don’t, it’s just… I’ve just gotten divorced. Wanted a fresh start and all that. Some distance.” She looked past the room as she said it, but returned to the present after a moment, meeting his eyes in a manner that had a hint of a challenge to it.

Jamie held her eyes, hoping he was managing to convey sympathy instead of the pity he imagined she often received.

“I understand, though for what it’s worth, I’m surprised any man would willingly part from you.”

He felt the heat rise in his face once more. Ye damn clumsy fool. She’s being open with ye and ye decide the best response is to flirt? Ye should be happy if she claps yer ears and walks out. No less than ye deserve.

Yet she did not clap his ears, nor indeed did she walk out. Jamie seized on the silence to make amends.

“I’m sae sorry, that was rude of me, I-“

“No, no. It was fine, really.” She seemed to hesitate over her next words, and Jamie held his breath.

“It’s just been a while since… I don’t know, since such advances were welcome, I suppose.”

Jamie felt as though he was bolted to the spot. He knew he should say something, but his mind had gone completely blank.

Strident rock chords broke their bubble.

“HEAVY PETTING / COME UP BREATHING” growled the singer  

Jamie looked as though someone had dropped him in a boiling pot. Ears glowing bright enough to rival a phone booth, he leapt out of the room and fumbled with the computer, mumbling something about “damn playlist,” and “Alec’s nephew, wee sod.”

Claire burst into laughter at this sudden spectacle, gasping for breath and earning an inquisitive “mrrp?” from Adso that perfectly matched the expression Jamie turned towards her as he re-entered the room. This did nothing to help with the breathing situation, which was becoming quite dire, all sound having been cut off in her mirth.

“Are you laughing at me?” Jamie asked, grinning as he leaned against the door frame.

“Yes, I most certainly am!” Claire gasped, trying to regain her composure.

Jamie found himself unable to resist laughing with her.

Another delicate bubble of silence enveloped them as they recovered.

“I should be on my way. Weekend clinic tomorrow.”

“Oh, aye. Of course.” He agreed, clearing his throat and trying to hide his disappointment. And what did ye think ye’d do, hey? Invite her to yer home just after meeting her? Along with her cheetie?

Claire picked up her unhappy but now de-quilled kitten, tucking him in the crook of her arm to prevent him from squirming too much as he saw her to the door.  

She opened her mouth, her face seeming to indicate something was on her mind. But she seemed to decide against it, simply smiling, thanking him, and bidding him a good night.

He beamed, transfixed by the warmth of her smile; a heat he felt right down to his bones.

“Nae trouble, Claire. Good night to you as well.”

Jamie stared at the door for some time after she left, enjoying the flittering of butterflies in his stomach before he realized he’d not thought to ask for her number.

—

The following week was one of the rare busy weeks at the hospital, and as such, Claire pushed her plans to meet the hot vet once more to the back of her mind. Yet as luck would have it, life intervened to give her another chance.

A plaintive howl emerged from behind the nurse’s desk as Claire walked up to it, eager to confirm her shift was indeed over so she could go home for the weekend.

Nurses Hildegarde, Fitz and Duncan were crowded around its source.

“I dinna care if it’s ill, it’s a mangy dog, no’ a person!” Geillis griped.

“Oh no, is Bouton under the weather?” Claire asked, leaning over to get a look at the miserable dog. Affectionately known as the “petit docteur,” Bouton was a familiar presence on the ward, beloved by the patients and staff (save for nurse Duncan, who seemed to be the only person in the world he didn’t get along with), and known for catching things that even the doctors missed.

“I am afraid so. He has been under the weather for the past few days; I am concerned for him.” Nurse Hildegarde explained, casting a sympathetic look at the poor beast.

“I’ll bring him to a vet!” Claire offered, rather too hastily.

At the nurses’ raised brows, she tried to amend her enthusiasm. “It’s just that I know a very good vet, and I live close… well, close-ish…”

Seeing her rising blush, Nurse Hildegarde hid a smile. “That would be so kind of you, Claire.”

“No trouble at all!” Claire hastily threw on her coat and rushed out, bearing a somewhat startled terrier.

“A vet, then? Geillis grinned slyly. “Think that means he likes it doggy-style?”

Nurse Fitz whacked her with a chart.