[ If Fitz said he thought he’d ever see Connor again, it would be a lie. He barely has enough hope in his heart left for this world and Jemma both.
But the message flickers into his vision all the same. ]
Connor Where With Markus?
[ At their flat, right. Brain moving too quick, even as he parses the circumstances. There are rules to returning to this world. He should stay at the safehouse or go out to find more new arrivals — that’s what Gaby asked of him, what a leader like Coulson would do. ]
(affirmed by his response — he's alive, he's here, he's okay — connor's head drops into a hand.
thank god, thank whoever's looking out for him despite the trouble he gets himself into.)
Yes, I'm here; I woke up in my bed.
I'll meet you outside, if that's alright. I'd like to take a walk.
(he met with markus already and now duty calls. they couldn't stay huddled up together forever, even if it must've been difficult for him to leave the apartment. but with his chest aching the way it is, he preferred to stay behind. just this once.)
[ should he change? when he’s in a bloody halloween costume? no, that’s absurd. he still has to do morningstar runs in a few hours, and it’s better if he looks like everyone else today than if he sticks out. and he can’t waste any time, when all they do is flicker in and out of this world. (maybe it’ll make them both laugh, too.) ]
That sounds good. Nice, I mean. I can’t believe you’re here. I have to pass off work to Peggy — but you’re the priority. Be there soon.
[ thanks thought 2 text.
that he calls her peggy and not carter is new, by the by. ten minutes later: ]
ETA 20 past.
[ and he does stride around the corner too quickly, rucksack sling over his shoulder and dressed in his tactical gear costume lined with faintly glowing blue (and a very real blaster at his side): one of the fan-favourites in the television spin-off from salazar’s latest UN-questioning flick, an agent of peace who works alongside his partner to quell crime and unrest in far-flung colonies. there are a few others dressed like him on every block, so he blends.
at the sight of his dear friend, there’s not much else to do but gesture for connor to come closer (fingers curling too quick, a bit shaky), even as he closes the space between them. it isn’t like the last time, when fitz has grown warmer and surer with each passing week in this world. arms wrap around connor tight as he leans up, a sudden not-quite-laugh bubbling over when their heads bump. each brush of skin carries with it something new and shifting — surprise, sparking across; relief, settling in; affection, no longer held back. ]
You wouldn’t believe — [ his breath catches, so much for being Cool. ] — how much I missed you.
(the priority? something more important than fitz's work? it should be obvious, but they've always agreed that the mission is crucial and everything should be sacrificed for its sake — the whole group's relationships have withstood damage because of it before. now all of the excusable deceptions seem so superficial.
connor couldn't give less of a damn.)
Thank you.
I'm standing by. Take your time, I'm not going anywhere - for the foreseeable future.
(he has nowhere to be today and so he patiently waits by the entrance of his and markus' apartment in a borrowed jacket. it's doing its best to keep his arms warm, but its real job — besides hanging loosely off of his frame, with how broad the shoulders that usually occupy it are — is to smell nice and remind him just where he is. there's a duality in how he's feeling about that, both calmed by new amsterdam's chill that curls beneath his collar and exhausted by frayed nerves left in the wake of dissipating chest pain.
none of that mattered when connor spotted markus on the balcony. it still doesn't when he spots fitz in costume down the sidewalk. he's obedient when beckoned forward, wearing an impassive frown that betrays how truly happy he is to see him. because the last time he did was through unshed tears with his hands covered in blood mixture: his own; united nations soldiers'; markus'.
this time he's not going to collapse partway through their conversation, reaching for him when fitz does the same, bodies colliding with an immediate squeeze that tightens each second they're in their embrace, close to lifting him off of the ground in his overwhelming enthusiasm that makes them sway and clutch. every emotion dances across his skin like they're extensions of his own and the laugh's contagious enough to huff his own, affected and touched. they've always been there for one another — it aches to have missed so much.
that and all the rest transfers, loyalty to him dwarfing every other heavy feeling, leaving their bond brimming with pure, fond familiarity.)
I'll always find my way back... that's the very least I owe you, Fitz, after everything. (glancing down between them to make sure he's alright, and thankfully his search ends on a positive note. just a relieved man in a fancy getup.) How are you?
[ there's nothing quite like the positive feedback loop of the bond, warmer than anything he's known. comes in handy in moments like this, when he doesn't have the words to navigate a reunion. no damage to be seen on either of them, at least. if anything, fitz is cleaner cut. (all that happened in the dreams carried over in feeling alone, wracking his body with pain for the first hours of their journey to new tokyo but no longer. 'course he imagines it's the boyfriend's job to detail the trip for three to the underworld. lucky break, huh.)
his mouth quirks, eyes just a touch wet (it's the wind...), and he pats connor's cheek — still affectionate, even as he lightly chides the other. ]
C'mon, Connor. [ normally he's the one who makes promises like that: that can't be kept. 'cause there is no always, only now. (he still appreciates the sentiment.)
fitz puts a little more space between them before he pushes at the small of connor's back, nudging him onward. the man requested a walk, after all, so he'll have one. ]
I'm always alright. [ or some variation thereof by sheer force of will alone. god, he doesn't know where to start, or how much might spill over when he starts nattering. ] Been a bit nonstop lately, with all the dreams and the New Tokyo trip — [ a nebulous gesture at their surroundings. ] Peggy had to take the first train back, so that put me on last, y'know. [ as if that balance is obvious. ] Only got back yesterday morning, slept half the day, then helped sort everything for costumes and [ elbowing connor, one corner of his mouth hooking into a smile. ] the suspected-now-confirmed arrival today. Not sure if I'm jetlagged or wired.
[ with connor returned and plenty of new faces, some friendlier than others. the scales have tipped to become a win, regardless. ]
[ focus sharpening on connor, ] How's the hangover, anyway?
(blinks the hand on his cheek away, a bit stunned by the whole affair — feeling two men, both markus and fitz, hold him as though he'd died and returned to them from some great beyond is disillusioning. frightening, but welcomed. if it makes them feel even a smile happier then he's done the job he was sent back to do.
connor's is lopsided, the corner of his mouth tugged by the nudge that has him murmuring 'okay, okay' to reassure him.)
"Always alright" doesn't mean "completely fine"... of course I doubt that'd apply to any one of us at any given time. Though I've heard about the dreams and New Tokyo from Markus, we didn't spend much time rehashing the events. (they had much better things to do, all of the romantic things he couldn't give to markus while he was gone from his side, warm and comforting — the better part of the day spent shadowing one another around the apartment.) I'm glad I managed to be back for your own return.
I'd have been disappointed, having to wait.
(he'll have to contact peggy, check in on her and everyone else. his list of priorities is all over the place, but the people he knew and loved before his disappearance are numbered highly. it'll be a few days before he's gotten to everyone he'd like to.
doesn't miss a beat in gathering fitz's arm when he's elbowed, looking like a couple of fond friends swaying this way and that down the sidewalk. connor's more than happy to selfishly stop the eccentricities of fitz's gestures to hang onto him in a way he didn't get to after markus got shot — god, he really hasn't seen him since then, eyes casting to the side to give him an appraising look.)
My chest aches, but you knew that. I'm well, Fitz. Maybe a little lightheaded. That's what the fresh air is for.
... having a season change on me was my first clue that something was off. It was cold in my room. I got up, thinking it was the air conditioning, but it seems our Summer's been replaced by Fall. I like it, but it was — startling.
[ even though time has passed for fitz, he falls into step beside connor easily. a flicker of surprise, as connor hooks onto his arm, but it's fleeting. they've always been tactile, and it's a happy reunion, besides. he appreciates the constancy of touch, a reassurance that at least for this moment, connor really is here, journeying with him to the riverside.
(he'd wondered, you see, if he'd appear in markus' dream, as jemma and ophelia had in his own, but neither of them had been so lucky). ]
Bit needy. [ interjected with enough warmth for the joke to land, particularly when he's the one who dropped everything to see his friend. he notes the lack of information on the dreams, a point to raise with markus later. he supposes that's understandable, when he still hasn't found the words to confirm what peggy must already know to be true.
but it marks another thing kept from connor, on fitz's part, stacked neatly beside several truths owed in due course. ]
Mm, uncanny. [ he knows that feeling, and he leans into connor's grip as if to ward it off. ] Suppose that makes you a time traveller now, though, [ waving his free hand ] at least in a theory or two.
[ are flickering out of time and space, is it reality distorting, or are their memories deleted, wherever they go? ]
But you missed more than the seasons changing, mate. [ dreams warping reality, arrivals flooding in, morningstar changing hands. he bites the inside of his cheek. ] Feels like — bit of a new chapter, really.
I guess I am. (a response for that smart comment, transparent with him; physical contact makes him feel better.
recently coming into a modicum of self-confidence, connor can now admit that to his friends. needing help, needing comforting, needing someone to listen. for the most part they've been very good at reading him while he works hard on finding his voice — it's stronger than it ever has been thanks to them.
it's only a couple of lampposts' widths before he's releasing fitz back into the wild to fend for himself, satisfied with walking beside him close enough for their shoulders to give the occasional bump when another pedestrian's sharing the sidewalk.) I know bits and pieces, but if you're calling it "a new chapter" then I'm sure something major's happened. I'd like to hear about it, if you have time... just don't force yourself.
(that's new, too.
time away begets understanding, events that once infuriated him seem far less important thanks to his segregation. it seems inconsequential to give much of a damn whether he's been lied to or not. it was petty to start with and it's petty now, refusing to give it anymore quarter. connor's done second-guessing his friends. if they wish to keep certain things from him, they've got every right to do so.
he's just happy to see them again. happy they're alive. happy they're happy.)
Fitz, I want to apologize for my behaviour before. If it's a new chapter, I want to be a part of it and not linger in the past while everyone else moves forward. I belong with you, with Markus, with all of my friends and the people who've supported me. So I'm sorry. (looking over, brow creasing. he even slows, jaw rolling to free the words up as his hands clasp behind his back to hide their fidgeting. can't solve that, they've always been prone to overthinking.
eye contact isn't held long, glancing away to pay some attention to where they're heading. down the sidewalk, wherever.)
I tried to manipulate you into telling me things you weren't ready to. I did it to you, Bobbi to some extent— that wasn't me. I'm not sure who that was. I might've been falling back into old ways, ones I thought I deviated from.
[ the water that cleaves the city in two can be glimpsed on the horizon, sparkling in the lingering sunlight of the evening, but fitz pays the view no mind, hands twisting in his pockets. his gaze fixes on connor at his side (often a wonder to observe, with his slight shifts in expression and distinct mannerisms). manipulate him — had that been what that was, when they spoke after hei and jake were imprisoned, or when he'd nearly missed their drinks? the lesser part of himself runs the tapes, rewinding connor's actions until a voice reminds him to stop. eyes wide and disarmed, hurt threatening to wrinkle his features.
don't do that. connor wasn't ever going to use him, not like the others, it was just human to want answers. and human, too, to withhold them. the times where he was pressured are few in number, particularly given fitz's own missteps, and pale in comparison to the constellation of bright moments together. what does he have to apologise for, really? it's fitz's turn to reach out grasping the crook of connor's arm. ]
You do belong here.
[ a quick counter. with markus, with him, with them. and maybe fitz does, too, with jemma 74 years in his world's future, he has time. and if he doesn't use it to make himself the man she deserves and help this world before he finds her, how can he ever look her in the eye?
he stops their walk with a tug, and his hand slides down to catch connor's wrist, the slip of his fingers transferring a mix of emotions: guilt and relief, blanketed in appreciation. there's the cool press of metal, too, a coin held onto since the other disappeared — proof that connor was only remembered fondly, while he was gone. he can't speak to what connor regrets 'cause he knows you see the danger in yourself that even those closest to you miss. ]
You're my best friend. [ resolve, firm on his side of the bond. ] All the rest is noise. [ he seeks out connor's gaze, even if it isn't returned. ] And there's so much I should've told you, that you noticed 'cause you're so bloody clever. [ the breath of air that escapes his throat is nearly a laugh, disbelieving. ]
I wanted to tell you — I want to tell you. [ gesturing between them ] I should be the one apologising — I am apologising. Sorry.
(held by the elbow, there's nowhere to turn to that isn't fitz. they're trapped in a pocket of their own making, a little distant from the world around them that doesn't seem to exist in the moments after he's held by the wrist and introduced to flat, cold object at the centre of his palm.
lifting it to take a look only forces his head down into an immediate bow, chin nearly brushing the chest of markus' jacket, emotions transferred almost a carbon copy of fitz's. they feel different in their unique way, of course, there's never one alike and no one experiences individual senses similarly — there's remorse over second-guessing him, gratitude when faced with forgiveness and a return apology he wasn't expecting or asking for, his selfless love for a friend who's never abandoned him. it's a lot for someone who, just a few weeks ago it seems, decided to let go of control and live his life as a sensate being.
it's a lot for fitz, who's never been eager to give up how he's faring to just anyone. "best friend", a title he's earned somehow, connor as shocked as ever hearing it put so plainly. because of it his next words are croaked,) I should've spent less time questioning you and more time being a best friend.
(this must seem juvenile to anyone passing them on the street. heartfelt apologies in front of shopfronts and cafés and government buildings and food stalls, a whiny response no one in new amsterdam or among the displaced could possibly understand. connor thumbs the coin in his hand, cradled against his fingers before turning it over to stare down at its opposite face.)
Sorry, (reaching up a moment later to wipe away the dampness that's gathered around his eyes, doing a poor job of it, but he can count the times he's cried on one hand. he's luckier than most; the majority of them have been joyful.) It's alright, Fitz. Of course I forgive you, when there's nothing to forgive. Life has a way of expediting relationships through pain and suffering, but we'd only just met and I felt entitled to know it all immediately. It wasn't organic. It wasn't human.
(and connor isn't, but he's never used it as an excuse before. he doesn't intend to start now. they're people, they're equals, they're brothers who share a situation and need one another's help to get out of it. there's nothing either of them should be ashamed of, when they've always had "the good of many" in mind.)
This coin was supposed to represent my trust in you and it still does. We're alike — we think too much, talk too much, and want it all to mean something. So take your time, please, because I won't be the one forcing you to speak anymore.
[ tears eke out of the corners of connor's eyes, and fitz feels the same sensation on his cheek. the grief over losing connor and leaving their business unfinished had eroded his firewalls. he can recall the moment he realised his messages kept bouncing back, and how he'd sought out markus to take care of him, for a change. a step-change he hadn't clocked at the time that seems crucial to his present state of mind.
couldn't look damian or cain in the eyes and deny them the truth after that, knowing that he'd failed to give connor what he was owed (and that his turmoil isn't his own, not really, when the dreams had sharpened it into something deadly). ]
Hey, s'okay. You never forced me. Just gave a wee push or two, when I was being an ass. [ his grip shifts, setting on connor's shoulder for quick squeeze and then brushing over his neck to use the bond to his advantage his surety in this transfers. he isn't going to tell everything now (doesn't know how he could, honesty, when the weight of it frightens him even now), but he wants to tell it all, not by force but by choice. ] Kept that coin with me 'cause I feel the same way, didn't I.
[ all that trust. their uneasy similarities. his regrets, too, held tight in his hand.
connor and markus don't often remind him of ophelia, but there's something of her in how they shirk human conventions. connor, especially, is so straightforward in his emotions that fitz often can't respond. maybe he used to be like that himself, when he first set foot in the lab with an eye towards making friends like him and helping anyone who needed it, but somewhere along the way, at the bottom of the ocean or in the halls of hydra, he lost it. ]
Before I woke up here, I was, um... [ shaking his head. ] Something terrible had happened. Because of me. To me. [ both, when he's being kind enough to himself to acknowledge that. ] Mission went wrong, and I got left behind. Was in a cell for six months, just me, so. [ he covers connor's palm with his own. he'd be toying with the coin right now, if his friend weren't holding it. Softly — ] Think I spent the first months getting used to being human again, too.
[ not quite the same as connor's experience of deviancy in a new body, but shades of it (fitz has been relearning everything from casual friendliness to outright empathy). it's not everything he wants to share with connor. just a sliver of it, and one he would have held back mere weeks ago. ]
(what transfers is all that already has, solidifying faith and a genuine fondness that seems to shroud every bad feeling choking him up. connor's dreadfully relieved for two reasons, seeing his friend again and seeing him doing alright for what seems like the first time in a while. the forgiveness he receives is just added charm, unable to stop the subtle tremble in fingers beneath fitz's.
he's simply excited. to be back, to be here with markus and fitz, and although he's missing noctis so terribly it'd do him a disservice to lie down and submit to the anguish. they have far stronger willpower than that — fitz says so in his explanation.)
Then you understand it. (fingers pass the coin off, intended for him, turning their hands over so his are keeping fitz's out of the cold.) Being trapped physically is frightening, but being trapped in your own mind without an exit is worse. I never questioned the tasks that I'd been given until someone gave me a glimpse outside of all that.
Once you experience what's real, it's impossible to return to what came before.
(releasing him with a tilt of his head, brow lifting to lighten his expression. there's no sense bogging the moment down with philosophies on institutionalization and how big a part it plays in being an android or being imprisoned the way that fitz was. they're out, they're alive, and now they have every reason not to look back.)
Friends like you helped me find myself. I imagine it was similar for you, after that.
[ as always, connor sharpens truths, sinking deeper into more than he knows. to be trapped in your own mind — a passenger in this life — isn't a fear but a former reality for them both. and so it's with a nod that fitz takes the coin again, slipped back into his palm and tucked into his pocket for safekeeping. never know when he'll need it next. understanding passes through his fingertips, acknowledged with a lingering look and a curt nod. ]
Yeah. [ he bites the inside of his cheek. ] Peggy's been helping a lot. She's good at, um, pinning down what I've got rattling about. [ in his head, he means. a rotating gesture at his skull is used to complete that meaning. ] Markus, too. And, y'know, this towering tin man. [ his mouth tugs to one side, smile sly. ] Very persistent. [ nose scrunching. ] Total pain in the arse, but.
[ welcome back loser 😘
then his tone shifts, voice firm. ]
Wanted you to hear this from me, by the way, not via telephone — Gaby passed me and Peggy the keys. [ a beat, as he catches Connor's eye. ] To everything, I mean.
[ Fitz hasn't said it in so many words to anyone other than Bobbi and Markus. Many of their agents have an understanding of the new order, with some already expressing a deference Fitz doesn't know what to do with, but Fitz is wary of clarifying his position with the Displaced at large, when it doesn't necessarily concern them.
He'd rather adjust to the shifting terrain. ]
Edited 2019-06-22 15:37 (UTC)
exactly, it's all in technique... keep 'em waiting for ya
Peggy is a very astute woman, (connor agrees with more enthusiasm, no shift in the already attentive eye he has on fitz — he looks well, like a leaf's been turned and it's given him a fresh perspective,) so are the people she chooses to keep company with. You and Markus best of all. I'm happy to be considered, even if I am a pain in the... arse.
It's my duty to be, as a friend. I believe the human term's "tough love"?
(offering fitz a very firm pat on the back of the shoulder, remembering all of the hard messages he's had to dole out. to people who aren't here anymore, to people he thought he trusted to trust him, to people who've disliked him and his viewpoints from the very beginning of everything. it's difficult. still, it's a job not many love and he's always taken care of the dirty work.
that's what he was built to do and what he chose to do. in detroit and here, in this brave new world.
it doesn't take him a moment to understand what fitz means by "keys". to the kingdom, so to speak, everything they need to be independent of morningstar. incredible, really, that so much has happened in such a short time. but he's used to that by now.)
Well, she couldn't have found a man and woman more qualified for the position. Everyone looks up to you and Peggy, Fitz, they'll follow your ideas and the pragmatic way you two have always presented them. I'll take my place at your side, of course; please let me know what I can do to lighten the burden.
(where there's emotion, like in one of markus' speeches, there is also logic. it's what appeals to him the strongest and connor trusts them to keep to it.)
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
@connor.resnik, post-tearful arrival reunion (gay)
(he's what, "sorry"? he's not sure what he wants to say. he just wants to know he's alright.)
Please respond to me as soon as you're able. I need to see you.
pre-tearful arrival reunion pt.2 (gay)
But the message flickers into his vision all the same. ]
Connor
Where
With Markus?
[ At their flat, right. Brain moving too quick, even as he parses the circumstances. There are rules to returning to this world. He should stay at the safehouse or go out to find more new arrivals — that’s what Gaby asked of him, what a leader like Coulson would do. ]
Tell me, and I’ll come find you.
THANK GOD
thank god, thank whoever's looking out for him despite the trouble he gets himself into.)
Yes, I'm here; I woke up in my bed.
I'll meet you outside, if that's alright. I'd like to take a walk.
(he met with markus already and now duty calls. they couldn't stay huddled up together forever, even if it must've been difficult for him to leave the apartment. but with his chest aching the way it is, he preferred to stay behind. just this once.)
no subject
That sounds good. Nice, I mean.
I can’t believe you’re here.
I have to pass off work to Peggy — but you’re the priority. Be there soon.
[ thanks thought 2 text.
that he calls her peggy and not carter is new, by the by. ten minutes later: ]
ETA 20 past.
[ and he does stride around the corner too quickly, rucksack sling over his shoulder and dressed in his tactical gear costume lined with faintly glowing blue (and a very real blaster at his side): one of the fan-favourites in the television spin-off from salazar’s latest UN-questioning flick, an agent of peace who works alongside his partner to quell crime and unrest in far-flung colonies. there are a few others dressed like him on every block, so he blends.
at the sight of his dear friend, there’s not much else to do but gesture for connor to come closer (fingers curling too quick, a bit shaky), even as he closes the space between them. it isn’t like the last time, when fitz has grown warmer and surer with each passing week in this world. arms wrap around connor tight as he leans up, a sudden not-quite-laugh bubbling over when their heads bump. each brush of skin carries with it something new and shifting — surprise, sparking across; relief, settling in; affection, no longer held back. ]
You wouldn’t believe — [ his breath catches, so much for being Cool. ] — how much I missed you.
no subject
connor couldn't give less of a damn.)
Thank you.
I'm standing by. Take your time, I'm not going anywhere - for the foreseeable future.
(he has nowhere to be today and so he patiently waits by the entrance of his and markus' apartment in a borrowed jacket. it's doing its best to keep his arms warm, but its real job — besides hanging loosely off of his frame, with how broad the shoulders that usually occupy it are — is to smell nice and remind him just where he is. there's a duality in how he's feeling about that, both calmed by new amsterdam's chill that curls beneath his collar and exhausted by frayed nerves left in the wake of dissipating chest pain.
none of that mattered when connor spotted markus on the balcony. it still doesn't when he spots fitz in costume down the sidewalk. he's obedient when beckoned forward, wearing an impassive frown that betrays how truly happy he is to see him. because the last time he did was through unshed tears with his hands covered in blood mixture: his own; united nations soldiers'; markus'.
this time he's not going to collapse partway through their conversation, reaching for him when fitz does the same, bodies colliding with an immediate squeeze that tightens each second they're in their embrace, close to lifting him off of the ground in his overwhelming enthusiasm that makes them sway and clutch. every emotion dances across his skin like they're extensions of his own and the laugh's contagious enough to huff his own, affected and touched. they've always been there for one another — it aches to have missed so much.
that and all the rest transfers, loyalty to him dwarfing every other heavy feeling, leaving their bond brimming with pure, fond familiarity.)
I'll always find my way back... that's the very least I owe you, Fitz, after everything. (glancing down between them to make sure he's alright, and thankfully his search ends on a positive note. just a relieved man in a fancy getup.) How are you?
no subject
his mouth quirks, eyes just a touch wet (it's the wind...), and he pats connor's cheek — still affectionate, even as he lightly chides the other. ]
C'mon, Connor. [ normally he's the one who makes promises like that: that can't be kept. 'cause there is no always, only now. (he still appreciates the sentiment.)
fitz puts a little more space between them before he pushes at the small of connor's back, nudging him onward. the man requested a walk, after all, so he'll have one. ]
I'm always alright. [ or some variation thereof by sheer force of will alone. god, he doesn't know where to start, or how much might spill over when he starts nattering. ] Been a bit nonstop lately, with all the dreams and the New Tokyo trip — [ a nebulous gesture at their surroundings. ] Peggy had to take the first train back, so that put me on last, y'know. [ as if that balance is obvious. ] Only got back yesterday morning, slept half the day, then helped sort everything for costumes and [ elbowing connor, one corner of his mouth hooking into a smile. ] the suspected-now-confirmed arrival today. Not sure if I'm jetlagged or wired.
[ with connor returned and plenty of new faces, some friendlier than others. the scales have tipped to become a win, regardless. ]
[ focus sharpening on connor, ] How's the hangover, anyway?
no subject
connor's is lopsided, the corner of his mouth tugged by the nudge that has him murmuring 'okay, okay' to reassure him.)
"Always alright" doesn't mean "completely fine"... of course I doubt that'd apply to any one of us at any given time. Though I've heard about the dreams and New Tokyo from Markus, we didn't spend much time rehashing the events. (they had much better things to do, all of the romantic things he couldn't give to markus while he was gone from his side, warm and comforting — the better part of the day spent shadowing one another around the apartment.) I'm glad I managed to be back for your own return.
I'd have been disappointed, having to wait.
(he'll have to contact peggy, check in on her and everyone else. his list of priorities is all over the place, but the people he knew and loved before his disappearance are numbered highly. it'll be a few days before he's gotten to everyone he'd like to.
doesn't miss a beat in gathering fitz's arm when he's elbowed, looking like a couple of fond friends swaying this way and that down the sidewalk. connor's more than happy to selfishly stop the eccentricities of fitz's gestures to hang onto him in a way he didn't get to after markus got shot — god, he really hasn't seen him since then, eyes casting to the side to give him an appraising look.)
My chest aches, but you knew that. I'm well, Fitz. Maybe a little lightheaded. That's what the fresh air is for.
... having a season change on me was my first clue that something was off. It was cold in my room. I got up, thinking it was the air conditioning, but it seems our Summer's been replaced by Fall. I like it, but it was — startling.
no subject
(he'd wondered, you see, if he'd appear in markus' dream, as jemma and ophelia had in his own, but neither of them had been so lucky). ]
Bit needy. [ interjected with enough warmth for the joke to land, particularly when he's the one who dropped everything to see his friend. he notes the lack of information on the dreams, a point to raise with markus later. he supposes that's understandable, when he still hasn't found the words to confirm what peggy must already know to be true.
but it marks another thing kept from connor, on fitz's part, stacked neatly beside several truths owed in due course. ]
Mm, uncanny. [ he knows that feeling, and he leans into connor's grip as if to ward it off. ] Suppose that makes you a time traveller now, though, [ waving his free hand ] at least in a theory or two.
[ are flickering out of time and space, is it reality distorting, or are their memories deleted, wherever they go? ]
But you missed more than the seasons changing, mate. [ dreams warping reality, arrivals flooding in, morningstar changing hands. he bites the inside of his cheek. ] Feels like — bit of a new chapter, really.
[ maybe that's just his own change of heart. ]
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recently coming into a modicum of self-confidence, connor can now admit that to his friends. needing help, needing comforting, needing someone to listen. for the most part they've been very good at reading him while he works hard on finding his voice — it's stronger than it ever has been thanks to them.
it's only a couple of lampposts' widths before he's releasing fitz back into the wild to fend for himself, satisfied with walking beside him close enough for their shoulders to give the occasional bump when another pedestrian's sharing the sidewalk.) I know bits and pieces, but if you're calling it "a new chapter" then I'm sure something major's happened. I'd like to hear about it, if you have time... just don't force yourself.
(that's new, too.
time away begets understanding, events that once infuriated him seem far less important thanks to his segregation. it seems inconsequential to give much of a damn whether he's been lied to or not. it was petty to start with and it's petty now, refusing to give it anymore quarter. connor's done second-guessing his friends. if they wish to keep certain things from him, they've got every right to do so.
he's just happy to see them again. happy they're alive. happy they're happy.)
Fitz, I want to apologize for my behaviour before. If it's a new chapter, I want to be a part of it and not linger in the past while everyone else moves forward. I belong with you, with Markus, with all of my friends and the people who've supported me. So I'm sorry. (looking over, brow creasing. he even slows, jaw rolling to free the words up as his hands clasp behind his back to hide their fidgeting. can't solve that, they've always been prone to overthinking.
eye contact isn't held long, glancing away to pay some attention to where they're heading. down the sidewalk, wherever.)
I tried to manipulate you into telling me things you weren't ready to. I did it to you, Bobbi to some extent— that wasn't me. I'm not sure who that was. I might've been falling back into old ways, ones I thought I deviated from.
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don't do that. connor wasn't ever going to use him, not like the others, it was just human to want answers. and human, too, to withhold them. the times where he was pressured are few in number, particularly given fitz's own missteps, and pale in comparison to the constellation of bright moments together. what does he have to apologise for, really? it's fitz's turn to reach out grasping the crook of connor's arm. ]
You do belong here.
[ a quick counter. with markus, with him, with them. and maybe fitz does, too, with jemma 74 years in his world's future, he has time. and if he doesn't use it to make himself the man she deserves and help this world before he finds her, how can he ever look her in the eye?
he stops their walk with a tug, and his hand slides down to catch connor's wrist, the slip of his fingers transferring a mix of emotions: guilt and relief, blanketed in appreciation. there's the cool press of metal, too, a coin held onto since the other disappeared — proof that connor was only remembered fondly, while he was gone. he can't speak to what connor regrets 'cause he knows you see the danger in yourself that even those closest to you miss. ]
You're my best friend. [ resolve, firm on his side of the bond. ] All the rest is noise. [ he seeks out connor's gaze, even if it isn't returned. ] And there's so much I should've told you, that you noticed 'cause you're so bloody clever. [ the breath of air that escapes his throat is nearly a laugh, disbelieving. ]
I wanted to tell you — I want to tell you. [ gesturing between them ] I should be the one apologising — I am apologising. Sorry.
[ for the rambling and the witholding. ]
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lifting it to take a look only forces his head down into an immediate bow, chin nearly brushing the chest of markus' jacket, emotions transferred almost a carbon copy of fitz's. they feel different in their unique way, of course, there's never one alike and no one experiences individual senses similarly — there's remorse over second-guessing him, gratitude when faced with forgiveness and a return apology he wasn't expecting or asking for, his selfless love for a friend who's never abandoned him. it's a lot for someone who, just a few weeks ago it seems, decided to let go of control and live his life as a sensate being.
it's a lot for fitz, who's never been eager to give up how he's faring to just anyone. "best friend", a title he's earned somehow, connor as shocked as ever hearing it put so plainly. because of it his next words are croaked,) I should've spent less time questioning you and more time being a best friend.
(this must seem juvenile to anyone passing them on the street. heartfelt apologies in front of shopfronts and cafés and government buildings and food stalls, a whiny response no one in new amsterdam or among the displaced could possibly understand. connor thumbs the coin in his hand, cradled against his fingers before turning it over to stare down at its opposite face.)
Sorry, (reaching up a moment later to wipe away the dampness that's gathered around his eyes, doing a poor job of it, but he can count the times he's cried on one hand. he's luckier than most; the majority of them have been joyful.) It's alright, Fitz. Of course I forgive you, when there's nothing to forgive. Life has a way of expediting relationships through pain and suffering, but we'd only just met and I felt entitled to know it all immediately. It wasn't organic. It wasn't human.
(and connor isn't, but he's never used it as an excuse before. he doesn't intend to start now. they're people, they're equals, they're brothers who share a situation and need one another's help to get out of it. there's nothing either of them should be ashamed of, when they've always had "the good of many" in mind.)
This coin was supposed to represent my trust in you and it still does. We're alike — we think too much, talk too much, and want it all to mean something. So take your time, please, because I won't be the one forcing you to speak anymore.
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couldn't look damian or cain in the eyes and deny them the truth after that, knowing that he'd failed to give connor what he was owed (and that his turmoil isn't his own, not really, when the dreams had sharpened it into something deadly). ]
Hey, s'okay. You never forced me. Just gave a wee push or two, when I was being an ass. [ his grip shifts, setting on connor's shoulder for quick squeeze and then brushing over his neck to use the bond to his advantage his surety in this transfers. he isn't going to tell everything now (doesn't know how he could, honesty, when the weight of it frightens him even now), but he wants to tell it all, not by force but by choice. ] Kept that coin with me 'cause I feel the same way, didn't I.
[ all that trust. their uneasy similarities. his regrets, too, held tight in his hand.
connor and markus don't often remind him of ophelia, but there's something of her in how they shirk human conventions. connor, especially, is so straightforward in his emotions that fitz often can't respond. maybe he used to be like that himself, when he first set foot in the lab with an eye towards making friends like him and helping anyone who needed it, but somewhere along the way, at the bottom of the ocean or in the halls of hydra, he lost it. ]
Before I woke up here, I was, um... [ shaking his head. ] Something terrible had happened. Because of me. To me. [ both, when he's being kind enough to himself to acknowledge that. ] Mission went wrong, and I got left behind. Was in a cell for six months, just me, so. [ he covers connor's palm with his own. he'd be toying with the coin right now, if his friend weren't holding it. Softly — ] Think I spent the first months getting used to being human again, too.
[ not quite the same as connor's experience of deviancy in a new body, but shades of it (fitz has been relearning everything from casual friendliness to outright empathy). it's not everything he wants to share with connor. just a sliver of it, and one he would have held back mere weeks ago. ]
this is frightfully late... don't @ me...
he's simply excited. to be back, to be here with markus and fitz, and although he's missing noctis so terribly it'd do him a disservice to lie down and submit to the anguish. they have far stronger willpower than that — fitz says so in his explanation.)
Then you understand it. (fingers pass the coin off, intended for him, turning their hands over so his are keeping fitz's out of the cold.) Being trapped physically is frightening, but being trapped in your own mind without an exit is worse. I never questioned the tasks that I'd been given until someone gave me a glimpse outside of all that.
Once you experience what's real, it's impossible to return to what came before.
(releasing him with a tilt of his head, brow lifting to lighten his expression. there's no sense bogging the moment down with philosophies on institutionalization and how big a part it plays in being an android or being imprisoned the way that fitz was. they're out, they're alive, and now they have every reason not to look back.)
Friends like you helped me find myself. I imagine it was similar for you, after that.
playing hard 2 get huh...
Yeah. [ he bites the inside of his cheek. ] Peggy's been helping a lot. She's good at, um, pinning down what I've got rattling about. [ in his head, he means. a rotating gesture at his skull is used to complete that meaning. ] Markus, too. And, y'know, this towering tin man. [ his mouth tugs to one side, smile sly. ] Very persistent. [ nose scrunching. ] Total pain in the arse, but.
[ welcome back loser 😘
then his tone shifts, voice firm. ]
Wanted you to hear this from me, by the way, not via telephone — Gaby passed me and Peggy the keys. [ a beat, as he catches Connor's eye. ] To everything, I mean.
[ Fitz hasn't said it in so many words to anyone other than Bobbi and Markus. Many of their agents have an understanding of the new order, with some already expressing a deference Fitz doesn't know what to do with, but Fitz is wary of clarifying his position with the Displaced at large, when it doesn't necessarily concern them.
He'd rather adjust to the shifting terrain. ]
exactly, it's all in technique... keep 'em waiting for ya
It's my duty to be, as a friend. I believe the human term's "tough love"?
(offering fitz a very firm pat on the back of the shoulder, remembering all of the hard messages he's had to dole out. to people who aren't here anymore, to people he thought he trusted to trust him, to people who've disliked him and his viewpoints from the very beginning of everything. it's difficult. still, it's a job not many love and he's always taken care of the dirty work.
that's what he was built to do and what he chose to do. in detroit and here, in this brave new world.
it doesn't take him a moment to understand what fitz means by "keys". to the kingdom, so to speak, everything they need to be independent of morningstar. incredible, really, that so much has happened in such a short time. but he's used to that by now.)
Well, she couldn't have found a man and woman more qualified for the position. Everyone looks up to you and Peggy, Fitz, they'll follow your ideas and the pragmatic way you two have always presented them. I'll take my place at your side, of course; please let me know what I can do to lighten the burden.
(where there's emotion, like in one of markus' speeches, there is also logic. it's what appeals to him the strongest and connor trusts them to keep to it.)
I mean it. I want to help.