Hero

SHIELD Academy of Science and Technology, October 2005.

Although it rained on all but three of the days they spent there Simmons loved Scotland, she enjoyed the feel of the cold British air on her face after so many months in US heat. The green fields and furrows reminded her of Devon and the Isle of Wight (where she lived before London) except somehow Scotland was… wilder… She met Fitz’s mum who was a truly charming lady that probably smothered Fitz a little too much, though not so much as to make him entirely dependent, though she did find out his mother still chose his clothes for him. Fitz’s mother was a jolly lady; her hair was a patchwork of different browns and greys and her hazel eyes resonated warmth, just like Fitz’s. She seemed most at ease when doing things for other people, so much so it was hard to imagine her doing anything else. That being said; Fitz’s mother was clearly so desperate to see her little Leo with a girlfriend that she kept dropping often embarrassing hints to them both, telling them not-so-subtly they should become a couple. Somehow though, her efforts simply came across as endearing rather than anything else. She really was a lovely woman and Simmons felt remarkably privileged to be welcomed into Fitz’s home, the home she had heard so much about in the last year.

All of it was such an incredible change, she would never get enough of the smell of the morning dew or the haze as it rolled back under the soft warmth of the morning sun. It felt incredible to be free from the daily pressure of SHIELD. They chatted, rewatched old Doctor Who episodes, went exploring in the sometimes very wet mountain paths and had a picnic on the shore of Lake Lochmond. On one of the days, when Fitz was in the shower, she was speaking to his mother about Fitz’s childhood. His mother explained that he’d always wanted to be a Field Agent, not because he wanted to kill but because he wanted to save. She also said he fancied himself a bit of a James Bond – something Jemma made a mental note to tease him about at a later date. If she had been unsure about her decision to share a lab with Fitz before she came to Scotland, she wasn’t afterwards. Their time together revealed that they just seemed to connect on every level, which was probably a good thing as nothing else was connected in Fitz’s village. She swiftly found out that he hadn’t been joking about the awful internet, even checking her emails had been an utter nightmare.

They didn’t spend all of the time on vacation in Scotland, they both popped down to London for a few days to surprise visit Jemma’s somewhat wealthier family and, although he was too polite to say anything, it was very clear that Fitz viewed the rather large London house that Simmons lived in with awe. He eventually confessed that he became quite self-conscious of the comparatively small rural cottage in which he lived. Simmons’ parents weren’t round very much so they spent a lot of time sightseeing – they’d both done everything before but having spent so long away from Britain it felt nice to walk around somewhere familiar to both of them. They started at Greenwich University and then passed through a series of markets – they stopped for canoli there – then down and along the Southbank, passed the skate park and rows of living statues all the way up to the London Eye and then to the Houses of Parliament. They caught a river taxi back up the Thames, something neither of them had done before, and as the day drew to a close they chatted until the early hours of the morning. They lit the fireplace in her father’s library and toasted marshmallows indoors – something Simmons knew her father would vehemently oppose but it was a notion which Fitz seemed to find so amusing that they couldn’t not do it. Whether a stroke of genius or insanity, they enjoyed them nonetheless.

But alas, all too soon, their vacation was at an end and they had to fly back to America. After two weeks in Great Britain they were a little relieved when the familiar warmth of the US enveloped them as they stepped onto the tarmac, embracing them like they were long lost friends. That relief turned to frustration in short order as they desperately tried to unzip their jackets and regretted the choice to wear long sleeve shirts – it had been so cold when they left from Scotland in the early hours of the morning, wearing jumpers had seemed like a good idea at the time. They didn’t say a great deal to each other as they collected their luggage and checked through border control, they were both exhausted from the long flight and thoroughly jetlagged, and by the time they got on the bus to take them to the train station to get back the SHIELD Academy, Jemma had fallen asleep on Fitz’s shoulder. He idly put a hand on her shoulder to steady her as the bus trundled along, twisting this way and that, turning and snaking its way to their destination.

The train journey was slightly more lively; Simmons perked up when they had to get off the bus – which was a good thing as Fitz couldn’t carry her and their luggage. They spent the vast majority of their time on board planning what they would do when they got back to the new lab. They also tucked into some of Fitz’s mum’s legendary homemade shortbread biscuits, which they had with a drink that the train company insisted was tea. The two of them dreaded to think how many stereotypes they were conforming to as they begrudgingly finished the subpar warm and depressingly tasteless liquid from the Styrofoam cups the tea was served in. Neither of them said anything but they both knew what the other was thinking; tea ought to be made in a pot and served in a mug. Simmons’ father had always told her that “Making tea in a mug is a tell-tale mark of an uncouth nature.” He almost certainly would have stormed off to the instructor’s cabin, knocked loudly on the door and let loose a barrage of insults and profanities at what he would undoubtedly have referred to as “Pig swill.”

The thought made her smile, it had been nice to see her family, warts and all, and to share them with Fitz the way he had shared his home with her made them feel closer and more in sync than they had ever before. As she watched Fitz excitedly talk about some of the new features their lab would have she felt completely and utterly at ease, thrilled at the future the two of them would have together, as partners.

60 hours after the BUS explosion

Fitz. It was the first word she thought, her hands instinctively touched her stomach. Her wet hair clung to her face as she blearily opened her eyes, coughing on the thick, black smoke that had filled the room. Everything sounded far away, as though underwater, but she could just about make out the sounds of muffled gunfire against the high-pitched tones of the hospital fire alarm. Fitz. She panickedly thought again as she took in her surroundings, the hospital was under attack and she was unarmed, alone and had left her phone in her handbag in the ward where Fitz was anaesthetised. Her heart pounded hard against her chest - she’d only left to take a shower. Mack had forced her to, said he’d look after Fitz and that she should get some rest. Three days without sleep meant she finally conceded defeat and was given one of the rooms the student nurses stay in during the week. She felt physically sick, both from the smoke inhalation and from the fact that Fitz was also somewhere in the hospital, utterly helpless to defend himself.

Despite her fatigue from barely sleeping for the last three days and the lack of oxygen she found herself clawing at the floor, gasping for whatever air she could find and retching as she tried to remember the way towards the door. Pulling herself shakily to her feet, cutting one of her palms on broken glass as she did so, Simmons spluttered her way into the corridor and was immediately hit by a wall of warmth – one half of the corridor was entirely in flames, the bright orange lights dancing dangerously nearby. Heading the other way she made for where the smoke was thinnest, turning the corner and finding a window with the glass blown throw letting in enough air for her to catch her breath in and plan her next move. Breathing was becoming harder with each passing moment, even after she got to the ledge of the window and at the back of her mind she wondered if this was what Fitz experienced when he was drowning – the terror of drawing breathless breaths. She had to push that to one side, the thought made her gut twist and coil in knots. Simmons had to get to Fitz, she knew that, but she couldn’t help him if she suffocated on the way there by charging ahead recklessly. It was only as she leant against the edge of the window ledge that she noticed the shards of glass stuck in her hand.

She didn’t have time to patch herself up, she had to move and find Fitz. With each passing moment the smoke was getting denser and the gunfire that had originally felt so distant now sounded alarmingly nearby. Her eyes watered as she desperately searched for someone or something that could help her, eventually spotting a CO2 fire extinguisher bolted to the wall. Wrenching it free she snapped the nozzle forward and went to double back towards Fitz’s ward – the extinguisher could give her the time she needed to get to him. Fitz’s ward was beyond the swiftly approaching swirling darkness at the other end of the corridor, further into the building. Her heart tremored as she saw the orange glows of what she assumed must be raging flames in the direction she had to head, but her thoughts on how best to get through were cut short when a series of flashlights lit up the smoke. Any hope that these were firefighters, though, was immediately scuppered when the men opened fire, their muzzleflashes shining through the thick gloom. She barely had time to react before she felt a burning hot pain running through her left arm and hit the ground. The bullet passed straight through her, getting itself lodged in the wall behind.

She had expected to feel panic, to be powerless in fear and terror like a rabbit caught in headlights, but she didn’t. Instead, she instinctively pulled herself around the corner and held the fire extinguisher close to her chest. She held her breath, refusing to let herself cough and give away where she was. She could scarcely hear anything over the sound of her heart pounding in her damaged ears but could tell by the growing strength of the flashlight beams from the corridor that at least one of her attackers was heading her way. Realising she couldn’t hold her breath for long she lie down against the laminated floor, getting herself as low as possible so as to be able to breathe the more oxygenated air. She pointed the nozzle of the fire extinguisher towards the light of her adversary, knowing she’d only get one chance at this. She was pinning her hopes that the soldier would expect her to run and would round the corner aiming high. It would give her a chance at least and, after what felt like an absolute eternity, the soldier’s boot stepped out from around the corner and straight in front of her.

She immediately squeezed the trigger of the fire extinguisher tightly and closed her eyes as the nozzle jetted out ice cold compressed carbon dioxide over the soldier’s feet. The man jumped back in a mixture of surprise and pain, dropping against the opposite wall and, as he slid down to the floor, opening himself up to a blast from the fire extinguisher to his torso and then face. She knew she only had seconds and sprung forward towards the downed HYDRA agent, the presence of HYDRA confirmed by the emblems stitched onto his helmet and jacket sleeve. The agent reeled around in pain from the icy blast and as she unclipped his sidearm from his shoulder holster the residual cool air from spraying the fire extinguisher was a welcome relief against her flushed cheeks in the steadily increasing heat of the fire. Fingers firmly clasped around the metal she closed her eyes and squeezed the trigger, firing one shot square into the man’s chest. She knew she didn’t have to kill him, but on some level it felt like avenging what they did to Fitz and to Skye. Besides, if she didn’t she would have had to have left him unconscious in the burning building; it was a death sentence either way. She pulled off his gas mask and somewhat awkwardly attached it around her own face – it was trickier than she expected with the use of only one hand and, as she finally slotted it on, she felt a slight pang for Fitz. When she heard the tell-tale hiss of the oxygen circulating within the mask she joyfully breathed the fresh air it provided her, before rising to her feet, and heading into the smoke. She kept her gun forward, just in case the other members of the HYDRA team were nearby.

With each step down the corridor that just an hour earlier had been so clear her heart pounded furiously against her ribcage, her entire body shook with the exertion of moving through the heat though her one usable hand somehow kept the gun steady. The building creaked around her under strain from the fire as the great steel frame within the walls began to bend and then slowly buckle. The walls seemed to tilt as the weight of the floors above distorted the shape and strength of the structure. Nonetheless, step by step she traced her way back towards Fitz’s room, eventually rounding several corners and coming out to an area of the hospital less filled with smoke. Her feet padded softly against the ash covered corridor floor as she advanced on the open door she knew to be Fitz’s room. Sickness rose in her throat as she gradually closed the distance between her and the ward, unsure if she wanted to know what was inside. A lifetime passed in the time it took her to reach the empty door frame and peer inside.

“Fitz!” She screamed, not caring who heard her as she saw the empty bed, dark stains of blood glinting on the covers. She hurried to the ensuite, hoping to find him there but neither him nor Mack were anywhere to be found. “Fitz!” She screamed again, voice scratching at the back of her throat. Her knees gave way and she found herself kneeling on the floor, her good arm gripping the bloodied bedsheets in despair. She looked in disgust as the blood on her hands from her arm wound mixed with the crimson on the sheets – the whole area had been locked down by soldiers, how had they got to him? After a few moments, she heard a deep voice from behind her – she instantly whirled round and pointed her gun at the doorframe.

“Simmons!” Mack’s powerful voice echoed from outside the corridor, sounding distorted and far away through her damaged ear drums.

“I’m here!” She called out, though her own voice didn’t sound like it belonged to her through the gas mask.

“Stay there – I’m coming!” He shouted, the words coming from somewhere within the denser section of smoke further up the corridor.

His great frame burst into the room, coughing with several large dark gashes revealing wounds across his face, arms, chest, and one of his legs. “FITZ?!” Simmons half yelled, half asked.

Mack stooped to check her, eyes drawn to the blood seeping from her arm. He shook his head. “I couldn’t stop them Jemma believe me I tried, they got him…”

She didn’t hear any of the other words he said, Fitz was gone. Fitz was gone.

SHIELD Academy of Science and Technology, 2013

The argument had been taking place on and off for several weeks now.

“We could get the funding if we joined SHIELD.” Jemma told him, the air of exasperation in her voice readily apparent.

“We have joined SHIELD, in case you didn’t notice we joined SHIELD nine years ago.” Fitz shot back, his Scottish lilt kicking in, as it always did, when he was irritated.

“The real SHIELD Fitz! We could save people’s lives, make a difference.” She retorted, rolling her eyes when he turned to walk away.

“And we don’t do that here?” Fitz snapped, walking across their lab to the DWARF prototype he had started working on and picking up a screwdriver to continue the project.

“We’re wasted in here Fitz! You haven’t even asked me what Fury’s representative wanted yet.” She said, her voiced raised in frustration.

“You took the meeting in private.” Fitz spoke in a low growl.

“You were invited too Fitz, you chose not to go – you could have come along if you weren’t being so bloody stubborn!” She hated the sound of her voice when she was angry, it always got higher.

“Yeah, well…” he started but stopped, clearly not wanting to continue talking. She was surprised he looked so hurt by the argument, normally he was as vocal as her but today his heart didn’t seem like it was in it.

“I thought you wanted to be a field agent.” Jemma said bluntly, changing tact. Fitz put down the screwdriver, and, when he said nothing, Jemma added, “Well don’t you?”

“I do.” He answered quietly, his gaze was firmly fixed on the DWARF he was building but his eyes were glassy and unfocussed. He refused to look at her.

“Then what’s wrong?” She said, softer this time. Something about his mannerism had changed, he looked desperate for something to interrupt the conversation – for someone to come in with a stack of paperwork and pull them apart, but this was their lab and barely anyone but themselves ever used it. “What’s wrong Leo?” She asked, tilting her head lower to try and make eye contact. He leaned on the desk for support.

He lifted his shining eyes to hers. They brimmed with care as he opened his mouth to say something but couldn’t, mouthing lost words to the air. His pupils scanned her face from left to right as though he was reading her; as though he could see through her and past her and inside her all at once. Nine years was a long time to hope that they would be more than just friends, it was too long, but every once and again she felt the hope and fear and love and cold sense of rejection surge towards the surface. She wanted to close the distance between them, press her lips against him and run her hands through his unruly brown hair. She wanted him to be hers, because she was his. She almost stepped forward but the moment was lost, Fitz broke into a strained smile, and joked, “Jemma I have only been in one fight my entire life and you remember how that turned out.” His eyes didn’t lose any of their intensity, and she could see his hand trembling against the worktop.

“We can’t hide away in this lab forever Leo, I want to see the world…” with you she added in her mind.

He snapped back into life, seemingly offended, “Hide away? Hide away! We’re not hiding from anything, that’s not what this is about. You want to go gallivanting with a band of gruff bearded men with itchy trigger fingers and IQ in the double digits then be my guest!” He waved his hand towards the door in an overly dramatic gesture, “And this is a very nice lab thank you – we may not get another like this one.”

“It is a very nice lab Fitz, and you’re right – if we left I don’t know what we’d get, but I don’t want to work with gruff bearded men with itchy trigger fingers, I want to work with you.” she stepped forward to him, “and if you really want to stay then I’ll stay. We’re partners Leo, always and in everything.” She said the word partners as though it were poison to her.

The truth was she had always hoped they’d become something more, gradually convincing herself that as the years passed on and both of them went through relationships with other people that he simply wasn’t interested, that she should move on. Oft times she even managed to convince herself that she didn’t see him that way, weeks and months would go by content she didn’t feel anything for him beyond friendship and then he’d say something or look at her a certain way and it would all rush flooding back.

“It could be an incredible opportunity Fitz, an elite airborne unit, Level 5 Clearance, supervised by Agent Coulson himself.” She said, in an attempt to win him over with the intrigue. Strictly speaking she had promised Director Fury’s representative she wouldn’t disclose Coulson’s survival to anybody, but since Fitz was supposed to be in the meeting with her she felt like it was alright.

“Agent Coulson is dead.” Fitz said, a look of confusion across his face as to how Jemma could have forgotten, she had squeezed his hand on the day of remembrance for those who had been killed by Loki’s assault. They themselves had very nearly been posted on the Helicarrier. “He died in New York.”

“He didn’t Fitz, they covered it up. That’s what the meeting was about – if you’d have turned up you would have–” She began but he cut across her.

“You know damn well why I couldn’t show up to it.” Fitz protested, indignantly, that definitive Scottish lilt in his tone.

“Professor Vaughn would have rescheduled if you’d have only asked him to, you didn’t want to go.” She said utterly frustrated at how stubborn Fitz was being – he wasn’t normally like this, something was different.

“Of course I would’ve gone.” He half-heartedly retorted, waiting for her to argue back.

“No, you wouldn’t have.”

“I would! I just needed more time.” He shot back, catching his second wind.

“More time to do what?” Simmons made a wide gesture with her arms.

“To think!” He looked around him wildly before continuing with a surprising amount of spite, “One of us has to!”

“Don’t be so childish Fitz.” She retorted, wondering why he was acting so tetchily.

“Why are you so damned desperate to leave?” Fitz asked almost angrily, rounding on her, eyes fired defiantly.

“I’m not! What are you afraid of? Why are you so desperate to stay?” She snapped back, he could be so infuriating.

“I’m not!” Fitz half shouted back at her.

“Then why can’t we even talk about this without arguing?” Jemma asked exasperated.

“What is there to talk about? You’ve already made up your mind.” His words burned.

“Made up my mind? Leo!” She felt her own anger rising, “We’re talking about this now precisely because I haven’t made up my mind.” He laughed derisively at her, disbelievingly.

“You don’t want to stay here.” He told her coldly, but his voice betrayed the hope that she would disagree with him.

“Not forever Fitz… Do you?” She asked him, sincerely.

A silence filled the room. She had lied; she had made up her mind and after a few painstaking moments she turned to leave, finally conceding what she already knew was the case – she wouldn’t leave without him. She headed towards the door, running a hand through her hair and sighing – she hated fighting with Fitz, even though she knew it was only normal when one spends as much time together as they do and that he’d come around sooner or later but it still felt awful. It was only when she reached the door that she heard him speak, his voice softer and more quiet this time.

“I’m not scared,” he burst out as she walked away, “if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“No.” She answered equally softly, even though she didn’t believe him. “I know you’re not Leo.” She tried to be reassuring anyway but he cut across her.

“I mean, I am scared…” He repeated, before adding “but not for me, Jemma.” That same intensity behind his eyes returned, they brimmed with concern and unspoken words.

“Leo.” She said, unsure of what else to say.

“I can’t lose you Jemma, and out there in the field – I can’t protect you either, we’re safer and better off in here.”

And then she understood. He only wanted to stay because he didn’t want her to get hurt. It was always his dream to be a Field Agent, she suddenly found herself wondering if all these years he’d given up on it, to be with her, to protect her. It occurred to her for the first time that he presumably had also received assignment options to go into the field, with a skillset like his how could he not? She couldn’t know if he’d turned down things to hold up their partnership – he hadn’t said anything, but then, he wouldn’t.

“You don’t have to protect me Fitz, we can protect each other.” She said.

“Can we?” He asked her, evidently disbelievingly. “I mean, really? We’re scientists Jem, not soldiers. We don’t belong out there.”

“We wouldn’t be alone, we’d have your team of bearded men with itchy trigger fingers,” she said, relieved when Fitz broke into a slight smile. “And besides, we’ll have each other the whole time.”

After a long pause he tilted his head slightly and asked lowly, “where would we go?”

“Does it matter?” She shot back at him sincerely.

“No.” He answered honestly. Jemma and him had done weapons training before, she’d seen his scores and he hadn’t even been too bad it – though not nearly as good as he thought he should be. He really did want to be an agent, but how could he do his job if he had to continually think about her?

“We don’t have to rush into anything Fitz, not until you’re ready.” She closed the gap between them and put her hand on his shoulder.

“What was the offer?”

The Playground, 72 hours after the BUS explosion

Jemma’s arm throbbed and lungs burned in her chest as she sat in the medical bay with the now conscious Skye. Mack was in the next room in an induced coma, breathing through a ventilator. He had taken in a lot more smoke than Simmons had, unable to find himself a gas mask. Coulson, May, Trip, Hunter and Morse were all holding a meeting in Coulson’s office – if it wasn’t for the gradually increasing sense of drowsiness induced by the painkillers Coulson had insisted she take, she would have been in the meeting with them. She had half a mind to just stand up and join them anyway, but someone had to watch over Skye and Mack – and she didn’t trust the strength in her legs.

“I’m sorry Jemma.” Skye said; her voice weak and lacking her usual fire.

“Don’t be.” Simmons said; only half paying attention. She couldn’t stop thinking about how much blood was on the sheets of the hospital bed – the doctors had told them under no circumstances was Fitz to be moved… She shuddered.

“They won’t kill him.” Skye croaked, attempting to reassure her.

“He killed thirty four of them.” Simmons said coldly. The meaning was not lost on Skye. Simply killing him would be a mercy.

“He’s got valuable information.” Skye offered, shifting uncomfortably in the hospital bed, trying to give Simmons some hope.

“And how do you think they’re going to get him to talk?” Simmons said, gritting her teeth. Skye was silent for a moment; they both knew what awaited Fitz if he’d even survived the abduction. Too much blood.

“I… He saved my life, back there…” Skye said; her hand ghosting over the burns from where he’d seared her wound shut. “If he hadn’t burnt it shut–” She started, but Jemma cut across her.

“I know.” She said sharper than she meant to. Her eyes were unfocussed and hot tears dripped down her cheeks.

“I’m so sorry Jemma, I tried to protect him – I did – but I couldn’t…” Skye told her, regret and pain and fear in her voice.

“It wasn’t your fault Skye,” Simmons interrupted, it was mine.

This was Simmon’s fault; somehow she just knew it. She knew that Jemma Simmons was responsible for the kidnapping and probable death of the only person she had ever truly cared about, of her Leo Fitz. After all, she had encouraged him to join SHIELD, she had put him in this situation – he’d even warned her against it. If they hadn’t left the lab then she wouldn’t have got infected, jumped off the plane, caused his hypoxia and the entire chain of events that led to him building his suit, being kidnapped and now lying somewhere either dead or soon to be tortured to that point. The memory of his lips on hers, his hands around her, him inside of her, only added more guilt and grief.

“It’s not yours either,” Skye grumbled, she hospital bed, she was paler than Simmons had ever seen her.

“Isn’t it?” Simmons asked pleadingly, “I asked him to join the team, if I hadn’t–”

“HYDRA moved against the Academy, he’d have been no safer there.” Skye told her flatly, a flicker of her usual flame rekindled in her eyes, “Besides, Fitz wanted to be an agent. It wasn’t your fault.”

“How was he… in the end?” Jemma asked, fear through her voice. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to know the answer. Skye grimaced in discomfort as she remembered.

“He thought you’d gone down in the BUS, wanted to go and look for you but wouldn’t leave me behind – even when I told him to.” Skye began and Simmons cracked a slight smile – that did sound like Fitz. “I couldn’t move and his brace was busted so he took some of that serum of his, he was preparing for the HYDRA soldiers as he burnt my wound closed but I don’t remember anything after that… except waking up here of course.”

Simmons didn’t say anything for a while, just nodding and accepting the information – trying not to imagine how scared he must have been in his final moments. When Skye realised Simmons wasn’t going to talk she continued, “He was brave… and loyal.” Skye said with a hint of disappointment, remembering that the young scientist had not kissed her back.

Simmons found herself thinking of Fitz’s house in Scotland, she had never revisited it with him. Why did we never go back, we always said we would go back… why didn’t we go back? She thought to herself and before she knew what was happening she had walked towards the door. Her feet led and she followed, not stopping to speak to Koenig as she passed him in the corridor. She unthinkingly made her way down the many corridors of the Playground, not daring to look inside the lab as she walked by it to avoid seeing how empty it would feel without Fitz. When she finally reached where she was going she pushed open the door of Coulson’s office and looked at the assembled team of men and women there, wishing Fitz was there too and that they were just prepping for a normal mission.

“Where is he?” She asked more aggressively than she intended, the desperation adding power to her voice.

Coulson looked up at her with eyes deep with sorrow, he shook his head slightly with a sigh and nervously admitted, “We… We don’t know yet.”

Tears burned her cheeks as she left the room, her hand instinctively resting on her stomach. Leo… Where are you?

Location Unknown, 72 hours after the BUS explosion

Leo awoke from the darkness in a panic, hands instinctively reaching into the air scrabbling towards Jemma. There was nothing there. He was lying on the ground in a dimly lit room. The cold air bit against him as his eyes weakly adjusted to their surroundings, struggling to focus. Judging by the emptiness he judged that a cell wasn’t the primary function of the room, it had been repurposed for his incarceration – though what it was before he wasn’t sure. Nothing good, he found himself thinking. The only source of light came from one miserably weak bulkhead in the corner of the room that could barely pierce a few feet into the darkness, though Fitz was grateful as it hid the true horror of his prison. He groaned and rolled onto his back, pain searing through his body. The floor beneath him was damp and as he looked up he noted that the rusted metal beams were bowed slightly – they were either underground or under something very heavy like a skyscraper, the design of the rivets suggested the structure was post-WWII – though not by much.

He attempted to stand but couldn’t even pull himself into a sitting position before his body protested with a series of violent spasms. Agony rushed through him as he moved the swollen and bruised muscles, Fitz half yelled in pain before conceding that he would need more time before he could stand. Instead he turned his head once more to his surroundings, taking in where he was. There was a door on one side with a closed porthole. Three of the walls were indistinct; merely a series of pieces of plate metal riveted together but across one was a large grimy two way mirror. A shudder ran through him as he considered the idea he was being watched and he looked away, somehow it made him feel better to. Or, at least, it would have done had he not noticed that here and there on the concrete below him were disturbing reddish brown stains and smears. His heart beat fast against his chest.

He closed his eyes tight, wishing it were a dream. Hoping that Jemma would return from him to hold his hand and tell him it would be fine, wishing that he’d hear her voice. But the voice that cracked over the old radio system was not hers… it was not hers at all.

“Good evening Leo Fitz, I trust you slept well,” the voice spoke with only the slightest hint of a German inflection, “Are you ready to comply?”