[ He nods, swallowing his pride (not over Markus' advice, but over accepting that he's not the man he thought he was; he's just like Ward). ]
Maybe.
[ it's hard for him to reconcile his newfound duality as scales, but he doesn't know what it could be, otherwise. remnants of programming, embedded in his brain when he was forced from the system; post-traumatic stress disorder; prodromal schizophrenia; exacerbation of previous brain trauma following hypoxia. he ran the scenarios.
if the voice persists, perhaps it can become more of a dialogue and less of a fight for the wheel. he tried letting go, riding shotgun, while the other fitz steered the mission, and he nearly paid for it with cain or carter's lives. markus is right that needs to compromise, instead of flickering in and out. of that much, he's certain.
he leans forward, features open and unguarded, as they only are with a select few here. ]
But what if I don't know when the scales are tipped too far one way or the other?
[What else is there to rely on, when one’s in danger of losing perspective? When the scale might tip too far in one direction, and the world is already so tilted on its axis that it’s hard to know? Markus, at least, can see one solution, and can only hope he isn’t being presumptuous in his reply.]
Then you have the people around you to tell you when that happens. Your friends, the ones you keep close.
[A final squeeze, and that hand on Fitz’s shoulder drops down, his own gaze unwavering.]
[ And what if they're too close to see the danger?
No, Fitz has to let that offer of aid, guidance, checks be enough for the moment. If nothing else, Bobbi's made a promise to cut him off, if he steps out of line (to end it, if he leaps). That's all they can do. ]
Yeah, um, yeah — I do. You're right.
[ only time will tell if that's enough. He forces himself to relax, slipping lower in his chair and tipping his head to better regard Markus, the slight quirk of his mouth, at once appreciative and apologetic. ]
Sorry I keep doing this to you. [ coming to Markus to untie the knots he twists himself into, when left by his lonesome. He keeps talking, softer, with a quick look down at his still wringing hands — ] If you're not too tired, we could play one of the implant games. Just — keep each other company.
[ before Fitz goes back to work, and Markus continues to sleep off his injuries. ]
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no subject
Maybe.
[ it's hard for him to reconcile his newfound duality as scales, but he doesn't know what it could be, otherwise. remnants of programming, embedded in his brain when he was forced from the system; post-traumatic stress disorder; prodromal schizophrenia; exacerbation of previous brain trauma following hypoxia. he ran the scenarios.
if the voice persists, perhaps it can become more of a dialogue and less of a fight for the wheel. he tried letting go, riding shotgun, while the other fitz steered the mission, and he nearly paid for it with cain or carter's lives. markus is right that needs to compromise, instead of flickering in and out. of that much, he's certain.
he leans forward, features open and unguarded, as they only are with a select few here. ]
But what if I don't know when the scales are tipped too far one way or the other?
no subject
Then you have the people around you to tell you when that happens. Your friends, the ones you keep close.
[A final squeeze, and that hand on Fitz’s shoulder drops down, his own gaze unwavering.]
Don’t you?
no subject
No, Fitz has to let that offer of aid, guidance, checks be enough for the moment. If nothing else, Bobbi's made a promise to cut him off, if he steps out of line (to end it, if he leaps). That's all they can do. ]
Yeah, um, yeah — I do. You're right.
[ only time will tell if that's enough. He forces himself to relax, slipping lower in his chair and tipping his head to better regard Markus, the slight quirk of his mouth, at once appreciative and apologetic. ]
Sorry I keep doing this to you. [ coming to Markus to untie the knots he twists himself into, when left by his lonesome. He keeps talking, softer, with a quick look down at his still wringing hands — ] If you're not too tired, we could play one of the implant games. Just — keep each other company.
[ before Fitz goes back to work, and Markus continues to sleep off his injuries. ]