[ 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.)
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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. ]
no subject
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.
no subject
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.