"You saw me when I wasn't there, after your brain injury."
"Yeah, but you were my conscience."
My mind's been through a lot.
Brain injury acting up.
Psychic split.
The words swirl around in his mind as Fitz sits hunched at the end of his bed, his hands wrapped tightly around his head. He can't risk looking up and seeing if Jemma is still outside his self-imposed cell. It's just like when he first escaped the Framework and couldn't meet her eyes, except this time, it's so much worse. This time, he knew he was doing something wrong - the wrong way, at least. He still believed it was the right thing to do. He still does. He did it wrong, but in his desperation, he couldn't wait to find a way to do it right. The attack this morning, with the astronaut coming for Jemma, had shown him the rift needed to be closed as soon as possible.
So he'd been open to the suggestions of his hallucinated evil doppelganger. He'd been thinking Daisy's powers were the solution to the Gravitonium problem, but he'd been trying to figure out a way around it. The Doctor knew there wasn't time to find a different solution, and after the astronaut disappeared, Fitz was scared enough to listen to him. Even when he'd realized there was no doppelganger, and it was all him.
It. Was. All. Him.
"You would point a gun at me?"
"The Doctor would."
His breath quickens, his chest feeling like it's constricting as he hears the shock and betrayal in Jemma's tone, reliving that confrontation for the fifteenth time in two minutes. He doesn't regret removing Daisy's inhibitor, but making the android point a gun at Jemma – that's harder to forgive himself for, because he knows it brought back painful memories. The Doctor had pointed a gun at her, just before they'd left the Framework. Now Fitz had too, with all of his memories intact.
He expects her to be upset with him, and maybe she is somewhat, but if she is he can't see it. All he can see is her concern and love for him. When she said she understood why he did it, and that maybe they would have to start operating in the gray areas… he didn't expect to feel so hollow. He'd thought if he could get her to understand why, it would be alright, but somehow it doesn't change anything. The fact that she understood so quickly actually makes it seem worse. He doesn't deserve her to be so understanding.
Honestly, he still feels like he doesn't deserve her.
Maybe that's the problem.
He starts when he hears the Doctor's voice in his head, and his fingers press a bit more firmly into his scalp. "You're not real," he breathes, the sound barely a whisper. "You're not real."
Real or not, you know I'm right, the voice insists. We were right about Daisy's powers, and you were only willing to see it when I told you exactly what had to be done. After you almost lost your wife because of the fear dimension. So listen now, before you destroy any chance you have at being happy. Get a grip!
"I need to talk to Jemma," Fitz says, looking at the window. She's gone, but he has a feeling she isn't far. "Jemma?" he calls questioningly, standing and walking closer. "Jemma, are you there?"
It's important to take responsibility for your actions, but you can't let the weight of them drag you down. Not when there's nothing too substantial to actually pull you.
"Jemma!"
I've done much worse than you, but you don't see me falling apart, thinking I'm damaged. And you wonder why I think you're so weak.
"Shut up!" Fitz shouts.
You're not some inferior creature because of what you've done. You've shown greater strength because you've gotten the job done.
"Get out of my head!"
"Fitz?"
He looks up to see Jemma anxiously looking at him just outside the window, and the Doctor's voice vanishes. He stares at her, his breath shallow gasps.
She enters a code into the door in quick, precise movements and grabs the handle. Fitz moves to his side of the door, blocking it.
"Let me in," Jemma says.
"It's protocol, Jemma." Fitz says, swallowing back his gasp as his breathing starts to recover. "I'm a threat."
"You are a good man," she insists. "You're not a threat to anyone." Her gaze burns into him until he meets her eyes, and when he does her expression softens, though her resolve remains. "Now let me in."
He steps back and lets her into his cell.
"You were calling for me," she says, a bit gentler. "What's wrong?"
The Doctor's – his – words taunt him as he sees what he's done to Jemma. He knows she was just crying. That's why she took a few extra seconds to appear, roughly raking her hands across her cheeks to remove any trail from the tears. Looking at her this close, he can see the moisture on her eyelashes from where she missed, in her haste to get to him. His hand starts to reach out to wipe them away, but he stops it before it even rises past his waist.
"I'm so sorry," he breathes.
She hesitantly reaches out a hand, and he lets her grasp his upper arm. "Are you alright?"
He chokes out a laugh. "Yeah, just slowly going insane."
"You're not losing your mind," she says, her grip on his arm tightening. "You've experienced so much pain, so much trauma, and never given yourself time to process. I should have noticed something was off, and helped you sooner."
He shakes his head. Now she's blaming herself, and that's the last thing he wants. "No, none of this is your fault."
"I want to help you, Fitz, but you have to let me in to do that. You can't recover on your own. Like it or not, you know I'm right."
Fitz sucks in a staggered breath as his thoughts turn.
You know I'm right.
The Doctor.
You know I'm right.
Jemma.
You know I'm right.
Both, their voices overlapping synchronously.
The Doctor, in his head. Jemma, standing in front of him. Both saying they're right, and, unbelievably, saying the same thing. The right thing, he realizes.
He needs to listen to his doctor: the persona, when warranted (like now) … but, more importantly, the one he married.
He needs to let her in, in a way he hasn't since coming out of the Framework. He needs to accept that every bad thing he's done since hasn't made him a bad person.
He still has value. He still deserves happiness.
The Doctor sees it. Jemma sees it.
Now Fitz is starting to see it again too.
He feels himself start to smile at Jemma. Just a little tug at the corner of his mouth, but the closest he's come to smiling in hours. "You're right," he says. "I can't do it alone."
Her relief lightens his chest, and he hesitantly wraps his arms around her, holding her close.
I do deserve this, he thinks, allowing her familiar scent and warmth to comfort him.
I do.