Fitz was surprised his plan worked, to be honest.
There were unforeseen twists and turns, but the team was safely back in 2018.
Hunter was waiting for them, blasting a rock song Fitz didn’t recognize in the front seat of a black van that was probably stolen. Fitz couldn’t complain though; it was large enough to accommodate the team, and a getaway ride was a getaway ride.
The team went in the back, Fitz closing them in once they were settled. Fitz went in the passenger's seat next to Hunter, who started driving as soon as Fitz buckled in.
Hunter said, “I’m glad this all worked.”
Fitz glanced behind him, and saw Enoch sitting near the partition in order to hear them.
Fitz said, “it’s not over yet.”
Enoch chimed in, “he’s right.”
The team finally noticed the quiet conversation between Fitz, Hunter, and Enoch. They were observing; Fitz could tell by the sudden change in the air.
Fitz tried not to think about what Jemma must feel right now.
Undeterred, Fitz asked Hunter, “is the girl safe?”
“Yes,” Hunter answered, “with her mother.”
“Are we going to her?” Enoch asked.
“Of course,” Hunter replied. “It’s top priority.”
Fitz sighed. “I hope it all comes together.”
Hunter added, “I hope it’s over now.”
Silence fell for a moment, Fitz focusing on the suburbs that Hunter drove past.
“Don’t tell me they’re in one of these houses,” Fitz said.
“They’re not,” Hunter said, switching the radio station to seventies rock.
Fitz started tapping his fingers on his thigh, drowning out everything but the steady hum of the van’s engine and the music.
The team had been silent since they’ve returned. Fitz figured they were in shock. He probably would be too.
He would focus on them once everything was over with.
He would think about all the horrible things he’s done when it was all over with.
He would get back to blaming himself and reflecting on how messed up he could be in no time.
Deep down, he knew he was too good for Jemma. He wouldn’t let that stop him from loving her, though. He’d loved her selfishly for years already.
Hunter was now out of the suburbs, Fitz realized. They were on an empty road surrounded by forest. After another few minutes of silence, Hunter pulled over next to an underground shed. It was the kind only described in apocalyptic books, built like a bomb shelter, giant metal doors padlocking the shed.
Hunter and Fitz got out first, Hunter holding bolt cutters. They approached the shed doors, Hunter breaking the padlock. Fitz absentmindedly registered the back doors of the van open, Enoch leading the team outside.
“Quite an interesting hideout you picked,” Fitz murmured to Hunter, who snorted at his comment.
“Hush, Fitzy. I didn’t have much advanced notice,” Hunter said.
They threw open the shed doors, the metal clanking loudly.
“It’s me,” Hunter yelled, his voice echoing down the stairs and into the underground area.
Hunter and Fitz went down the stairs, Enoch and the team following a few paces behind them.
When they reached the bottom of the landing, they saw Robin and her mother curled up together. Robin’s backpack was overloaded with drawings, but the girl herself was in her mother’s arms.
Fitz realized he’s rarely seen her without paper in front of her and markers in her hands.
Robin was alert once she saw Fitz and Hunter. Her mother gave a silent greeting to both agents. To Fitz’s surprise, Robin stood up and pulled on his pant leg.
Fitz knelt to Robin’s level, offering a smile. Last time they saw each other, she could barely make eye contact with anyone. He seemed to be an exception for the prophet girl.
She looked at him, directly in the eyes, and said, “that was quite a story.”
It took Fitz a moment to realize that she saw what happened — what might still happen — in the future.
Fitz looked at Robin’s backpack pointedly. “May I see them?”
Robin’s mother got the drawings out of the girl’s backpack from her position on the floor. Fitz took them from her hands and sat crisscrossed on the dirty concrete, Robin sitting across from him.
Robin waited as Fitz looked through the drawings one by one. He was searching for gaps, checking the details of the prophecy in the girl’s visuals, viewing the images that he was not privy to in the whole span of events.
When Robin started to grow fidgety, Fitz paused to give her a blank piece of paper and tell her kindly, “I would love it if you made me an origami crane.” Robin pursed her lips and complied.
Fitz took an extra moment to appreciate Robin’s drawing of him and Jemma kissing seconds before he accepted Jemma’s marriage proposal.
When Fitz got to the last drawing in the stack, it was of a rollercoaster. He looked at Robin, finishing up her origami crane, and held up the drawing. “A metaphor?” He asked, Robin smiling in answer.
Everything seemed to be accounted for.
Fitz gave the drawings back to Robin’s mother, the girl offering him the origami crane.
The origami crane was magnificent, really.
Fitz took it and said, “this is wonderful. Thank you.” He stood up, Robin doing the same with a permanent smile on her face.
Her work was done. She must feel relieved. Robin returned to her mother’s side.
Fitz stood next to Hunter, Enoch and the team scarily quiet near the stair landing. Jemma’s face, though, was kind. She was thinking about him, and him with the girl. Fitz clamped down on that heady feeling as Enoch boldly moved to join Fitz and Hunter.
Fitz told them, “the prophecy has been fulfilled.”
Hunter let out a sigh. “At least that’s out of the way.”
“We still have more to deal with,” Enoch reminded them.
“Oh right,” Hunter said angrily, “those military twits.”
“We’ve already broken back in there once. They’ll know we’re coming. It’s too risky,” Fitz said.
“They put you in prison, Fitz!” Hunter said exasperatedly. “They threw you in a hole so deep and dark that it took me six months to find you!”
The team all made strangled noises at this admission. Fitz ignored them and huffed. “You’re being overdramatic.”
“They’re still going down for that! Whether you like it or not, they’re going down,” Hunter said in what sounded like a promise.
“Not yet,” Fitz chided. “But soon.”
————
Fitz dreamt of the Framework.
He’s only dreamt about that forsaken program constantly for months. Why would travelling through time and space change that?
Fitz dreamt that he was the ruthless and cold dictator from the Framework. He dreamt that he was executing and torturing hundreds of people, by gun, by knife, by hand. He dreamt that he felt nothing but satisfaction when he killed innocents.
And the worst part was that Fitz knew that the person he was in the Framework was an extension of his true self. The program exploited the darkest part of Fitz’s soul, the part that Fitz didn’t even know existed.
Ever since leaving the Framework, Fitz felt like there was a feral beast living inside of him.
Fitz woke from his nightmare, careful not to alert Jemma beside him.
The only one awake was Hunter.
Hunter saw Fitz’s wild eyes, and said, “you’re okay, it’s okay.” Fitz got up and sat a safe distance away from Hunter. “Nightmare?” Hunter asked.
“Yeah,” Fitz breathed.
“Was it about the...darkness you mentioned?”
Darkness. He was filled with darkness.
He sheltered a beast that loved the darkness.
Fitz asked, “how do you deal with knowing that...” he swallowed, “that you have this darkness, this beast inside you, that could hurt people, and make you feel like you have no control over your own body?”
Hunter sighed deeply. “We all have that, Fitz. Yours is just...stronger than most, especially after what you’ve been through.”
Fitz felt a dam break inside of him. He let the words flow unburdened. “I know you told me that darkness is a weapon, that it can be wielded, that it can be controlled for when I need it, but doing that feels so...wrong. It feels awful. Those are the times when I feel out of control.” A pause. “I guess I wasn’t made for this.” Fitz paused. “Or maybe I was.” The realization hit Fitz like a punch to the gut. “I was.” The events of Fitz’s nightmare rolled through his mind like images on a film reel.
“Calm down, Fitzy,” Hunter said. “Maybe there’s a reason why you feel that way, but you’re a good man. The Framework, from what you’ve told me, was full of fabrications.”
That’s when Fitz discovered something about himself. “I know what it is.”
“What?”
“I get why I’ve been like this! I get it now!”
“Mind clueing me in?” Hunter asked.
Fitz obliged. “The darkness inside me, whatever you call it...it would only come to the surface when I was trying to protect myself, or Jemma.” Fitz looked at Jemma, sleeping peacefully, everything that’s been bothering Fitz falling into place. “The reason I was a monster in the Framework was because I didn’t have Jemma, and because I wasn’t raised by my mother. Two extraordinary women,” Fitz concluded, “are the only thing separating me from the bad guys.”
————
A few days later, Robin and her mother were tucked away in a safehouse, Hunter was in the wind again, and the team was laying low at an old headquarters. Things had settled down again at last.
They still had to take down that military prison, but they all deserved a break first.
And for the first time in years, with Jemma at his side, Fitz finally felt at peace.