[ Hope does slip in — through the same cracks in his guilt and condemnation that Markus has pried wider, simply by listening, clarifying, questioning where no one else has before, acknowledging where Fitz misstepped and where he ought to be kinder, at least to himself. Not a blanket forgiveness, the kind he can't accept, but something more nuanced. ]
Thank you. [ faint again, still walking through the skypark on autopilot, as if the world around them has blurred, nothing but greens and light filtering this strange and intimate moment. Fitz does that sometimes. A focused single-mindedness that obscures all but the task or person in his sightline: Markus, offering him something he can't reject, no matter how much the self-punishment might satisfy the destructive impulses rolling around in his head. ]
It's only you who I've — well, Jemma, obviously, and Daisy was there — but you're the only one I've told the lot of it. [ Ah. Hastily, he adds: ] As I remember it. [ Memory takes a lot of poetic license, he thinks. Can't recall who said that. Fitz only knows he can't be trusted any longer, not with memory and not with this (despite this is the essential truth of what happened; it's hard for him to know that). ] You listening, everything you've said, what you're saying, you — it means a lot to me.
[ Fitz exhales, working two fingers under the collar of his shirt and brushing over the bandages there. ]
You are a good example, you know. Not just of AI's. Of all the examples. [ a tug at his collar, slight frustration over the effort of this. Trying to find the right words. Markus deserves the closest ones he can find, whatever he can string together to convey what he means. ] Of people. [ a beat. ] Only you don't have to be. Not all the time. I mean, that's a lot to ask of someone who's more than a — than an idea. [ His pace quickens, as if he's overstepped in saying that. ] You probably know that. Just. If you don't. [ an aborted shrug. ] I liked hearing about where you worked, what you get up to, before we were caught up in this again. [ He frees his hand from his collar, sweeping it across the nearby fixtures (a floral sculpture, a cluster of benches and trees, shading other wanderers). ] As a friend. As your friend. [ dropping his hands at his side. ] That's all.
[ Reiterated with greater confidence than before. Maybe if he can offer Markus a small reassurance (attention, companionship, honesty), he can allow this friendship, regardless of whether he deserves it or not. ]
no subject
Thank you. [ faint again, still walking through the skypark on autopilot, as if the world around them has blurred, nothing but greens and light filtering this strange and intimate moment. Fitz does that sometimes. A focused single-mindedness that obscures all but the task or person in his sightline: Markus, offering him something he can't reject, no matter how much the self-punishment might satisfy the destructive impulses rolling around in his head. ]
It's only you who I've — well, Jemma, obviously, and Daisy was there — but you're the only one I've told the lot of it. [ Ah. Hastily, he adds: ] As I remember it. [ Memory takes a lot of poetic license, he thinks. Can't recall who said that. Fitz only knows he can't be trusted any longer, not with memory and not with this (despite this is the essential truth of what happened; it's hard for him to know that). ] You listening, everything you've said, what you're saying, you — it means a lot to me.
[ Fitz exhales, working two fingers under the collar of his shirt and brushing over the bandages there. ]
You are a good example, you know. Not just of AI's. Of all the examples. [ a tug at his collar, slight frustration over the effort of this. Trying to find the right words. Markus deserves the closest ones he can find, whatever he can string together to convey what he means. ] Of people. [ a beat. ] Only you don't have to be. Not all the time. I mean, that's a lot to ask of someone who's more than a — than an idea. [ His pace quickens, as if he's overstepped in saying that. ] You probably know that. Just. If you don't. [ an aborted shrug. ] I liked hearing about where you worked, what you get up to, before we were caught up in this again. [ He frees his hand from his collar, sweeping it across the nearby fixtures (a floral sculpture, a cluster of benches and trees, shading other wanderers). ] As a friend. As your friend. [ dropping his hands at his side. ] That's all.
[ Reiterated with greater confidence than before. Maybe if he can offer Markus a small reassurance (attention, companionship, honesty), he can allow this friendship, regardless of whether he deserves it or not. ]