Another fic that was written months ago, so it was when Hive was still referred to as It and we didn't know what powers Hive yet possessed, that's why its so different to canon. This was just a stupid idea I had so I wrote it, as I do with most of my fic ideas. Marvel owns all, and title is from Isle of Flightless Birds by twenty one pilots. Hope you enjoy!
It seemed for every Inhuman that they managed to recruit, another two were murdered. Level of stress were getting increasingly high in S.H.I.E.L.D. and they had no leads as to where the culprit was. But they knew who it was.
Fitz was sitting in the lab, staring at a computer screen when he felt a hand on his shoulder. He looked up and found Daisy standing there, her eyes puffy and red. "May I?" she asked, gesturing to the seat next to him. Fitz nodded, lifting his tablet of it.
"I'm sorry," he said, trying to fight back the tears himself.
Daisy shook her head. "It's not your fault," she said.
But Fitz didn't believe her. It was his fault. If it hadn't been for him, none of this would be happening. "We need to stop this now."
Daisy nodded. Fitz was right. They had to stop this now. They had to stop this now, not only to prevent the deaths but to save someone. That was if it wasn't too late.
Footsteps echoed in the lab, Daisy spun in the chair to see who it was. Lincoln. But as soon as he had entered the lab and saw that she was sitting with Fitz, he turned and walked straight back out of the lab. Unfortunately, that had been a regular occurrence between those two agents. Wherever Fitz was, Lincoln didn't want to be. Whether or no Fitz noticed that time or not, Dias wasn't sure. But she didn't bring it up.
"Anything new for stopping…" Daisy stared, feeling ill even thinking about how to finish that sentence. Fitz shrugged and it was at that moment that Daisy saw just how much of an impact that the past few weeks had had on him; he had neglected shaving again, yes in the past few months he had kept his stubble, but hadn't neglected it as much as this; he had lost weight, he wasn't eating; and he had bags under his eyes. "How much sleep have you had?" she asked. As awful as this situations was, Fitz still needed to care for himself.
He gave a shrug, now more focused on the article that he was reading. It was about a murder of a brother and sister, both in their early twenties, and both killed by a heart attack. "They're getting suspicious," he said, turning to his friend. "They used to be able to put it down to an increase in unhealthy life styles, and then they said the fish oils were responsible for it. But there were millions upon millions of bottles sold…Now two die at the same time… Coulson isn't going to be happy."
Daisy had no words. They had all pieced this together, bit by bit, as reluctantly as they had wanted but now… but now… they had to face the facts.
Her train of thoughts were interrupted by the ringing of Fitz's phone. Both of their gazes shot to it. The number was one that she didn't recognise, but there was fear in Fitz's eyes. He must recognise it. "Is it…" she began cautiously, scared to over step the line that they had all been carefully walking upon for the past few weeks.
He nodded, slowly, and there was uncertainty in his face. "Should I?" A nod from Daisy prompted him to reach for the phones, but she threw a nervous glance over her shoulder. Looking for Lincoln, but he was nowhere to be seen. Still, it was better to be safe than to be sorry. "But keep it to yourself."
Fitz swiped the phone, bringing it to his ear. "Jemma," he breathed down the phone. "Please," he began, begging with her, but her voice cut him off. Her voice was so unlike the one that he had known for all those years, the voice that he had grown to love. The voice that had once been so full of love, of enthusiasm, of excitement now sounded evil, taunting him, teasing him.
"Fitzy," her voice came from the other end. "I told you, she's dead and she has been for all these weeks now. I've told you that."
"Why are you doing this Jemma?"
"Me?" she asked, sounding offended that he would ask such a question. "Doing what?"
"Killing…" he stuttered, trying oh so hard to find the words that were slipping from his grasp. He hated when that happened. He had worked so hard to get it under control. There had only been a number of times that he had stuttered; when he found that Jemma had been taken by the Monolith, when Ward had taken her, and… and the other week. "Killing the Inhumans," he finally said, leaning forward, elbows on the table, and pinched his nose with his free hand.
"Oh that," Jemma said, sounding dismissive as though it were nothing. "That is what happens in the world. Death." There was something more sinister in her voice now, something that terrified him.
"Where are you?" he tried, going for a different approach.
"What are you doing?" her voice was sharp, laced with venom. But it wasn't directed at him. It was directed at someone else, someone close to her. "This wasn't what I wanted. What I ordered!"
He heard begging, pleading, screaming on the other end. Then silence. "I would like to say Tahiti, I've heard it's a magical place," she tried to joke, but was met with silence from Fitz. "Somewhere away from wherever Coulson is. Whatever he says, he doesn't understand this, all this that's happening. I have a mission, Fitz. Just like you do at S.H.I.E.L.D. Except that mine serves a greater purpose. Mine helps the world, makes it a better place."
Fitz gave a laugh. How did killing innocent Inhumans make the world a better place? "But you were friends with them? Joey? Lincoln? Daisy? You were friends, Jemma. You were friends."
"Maybe once we were friends but not anymore Fitz."
Fitz gave a groan of frustration before turning to look at Daisy, her eyes were wide, wondering what they could possibly be talking about.
"I'll tell you everything," Jemma said, and Fitz sat up straight. This had what he wanted to know why Jemma was acting like this. He knew why she was acting like this but he wanted to know why. "But not here."
"Where then?"
"Where we first met." The line went dead after that, and Fitz dropped the phone.
"I have to go," he told Daisy, rising and sending the chair skidding across the lab.
"Where?" she called after him, once she was able to find her voice.
But he was already gone, making his way to his bunk.
He carried a rucksack, filled with the things that he deemed most approipte to carry with him. But on his way out of base, keys to a SUV hidden in his jeans pocket, he felt a hand grab his wrist, preventing him from leaving.
"I can't let you." Lincoln. Ever since the disaster that was the mission the past number of weeks ago, he had become extremely angry with Fitz. There was some logic behind his reasoning. But it was mostly just anger powers beyond his control, and Fitz was the only person that he could take it out on. Fitz managed to pull his wrist free but soon found himself pinned against the wall by the Inhuman. "She's dead," he whispered heavily to Fitz, fearing the attention of anyone that could possibly pass down this way. "She'd dead and possessed by It. You have to get that in your head."
Fitz just pushed his way out. He wasn't having any of what Lincoln was saying. She may be possessed by It. But he refused to believe her dead. He had saved her from the brink of death before, he could do it again. Swiping his ID, he stormed out, leaving Lincoln staring after him.
The area that used to be the Academy had changed so much since they had last been there. It hadn't survived the fall of S.H.I.E.L.D. HYDRA had just let it turn to rubble, weeds and some basic plants were growing out of it.
"You came," her voice rang through the air.
"You sound surprised," he replied, turning around to face her. Purple bruises still circled her neck, and there was something sinister, dead in her eyes. She raised her eyebrow. "I was expecting Coulson to keep you back on the base."
He gave a shrug of the shoulder, before swinging around the bag and opening it. "I brought some stuff, photographs and all… help you remember…"
Jemma stood there, unsure of what to do. He passed her one, the one from Peru. Something human, something recognisable flashed in her eyes before she let it flutter to the ground. "What part of dead do you not understand?"
Fitz swallowed at this. "I just…"
"You just want answers," she said, and once he nodded, she decided to continue. "Death was supposed to be powerful, and still is I suppose. But once the Kree realised just how bad their creations where, they created the Monolith, they were supposed to kill the Inhumans. Send them to their Death."
"Maveth," Fitz breathed, interrupting her and she nodded.
"Maveth," Jemma nodded. "Death was there. But no body was able to contain Death, Death just rotted it, destroyed it. But there was legend, one that spoke of a girl, born in the future. One who could contain It. A girl who was precious. A precious stone…" she trailed off, allowing Fitz to fill in the blanks. "Did you ever wonder why she was chosen?"
A sudden explosion threw both of them of their feet, and when the smoke cleared Fitz realised that he had been caught. Coulson, May and Hunter stood in front of him, protecting him from her. Was there any need? If she wanted to hurt him, she could have easily have did it by now.
Bobbi was behind her… Along with… Along with…
"Daisy," her voice rang out. She turned to face Coulson, a wicked grin making its way across her face. "Was this really a smart idea…?" And before anyone could stop her, her hand was around Daisy's throat, choking her. The Inhuman's feet were no longer on the ground, and no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't use her powers to get out of the situation.
"Let her go." May's voice rang out, and Jemma simply looked at her. As if in reply, she squeezed tighter and Daisy gave a cry of pain, and with every passing moment she gave up the fight.
A single gunshot echoed across the vast area, and in shock, Jemma let go of Daisy, who fell to the ground. Bobbi ran to her, and started to pull her away to safety. Jemma looked down at her shoulder where the bullet had entered. The wound wasn't bleeding but there was something that resembled pain blossoming there.
She cocked her head and eyebrow raised, her focus purely on Fitz. There was something about her gaze, the demonic characteristic of it that reminded him of something from the horror films such as those he used to watch. "Fitz," she whispered, something in her voice, inside of her breaking. He allowed the gun to bounce down onto the grass. He hadn't wanted to do it, but he wasn't going to let Daisy die. Maybe part of what Lincoln had said was right. Yes, she was possessed but maybe he could save her, free her from whatever hell that this was.
There was another explosion, and when the smoke cleared, Jemma was alone.
Once they got back to base, Fitz had not so much a debrief with Coulson as a telling of. He had endangered the team, himself, had almost killed Daisy and defied orders. Fitz had tried to argue back, saying that he hadn't asked the team to go after him and that he had never told Fitz not to go after her.
"I thought it was clear," Coulson had said. "She's powerful. She's dangerous and you went after her alone." Fitz tried to counter the argument but Coulson was not having any of it. "You may once have loved her, and you might still do, but this is not the Jemma Simmons that you know. That you have known. This is something new entirely Fitz…" but everything after that was lost to him.
He returned to his bunk earlier that he normally would that night. May and Coulson were with Mack, discussing what they would deem the next appropriate move. Bobbi was with Lincoln still helping Daisy who was still in the medical bay. A knock on his door had surprised him. Hunter. With a bottle of beer in each hand.
"Thought you could use one mate," he said, passing it to Fitz, who gratefully accepted it with a nod of thanks.
"You're not mad," Fitz asked after his first sip. The thing tasted vile and bitter in his mouth.
Hunter shrugged. "What you did was reckless and stupid, but you didn't ask for them to come. And you want to help. Love makes you do stupid things."
Fitz had no reply to this, so he and Hunter just sat in silence, enjoying what may well be the ending of the hell that would eventually lead to the inevitable shit storm.
Glasgow always seemed like such a nice place, at least that's what the memories of the vessel had thought. And everyone knows the best way to hurt someone was not to hurt them, but to hurt someone they love. And there were only two people that Leopold Fitz loved and cared for and one of them was currently dead, her body being used as a vessel...
But the second...It shook its head.
So, taking a breath, and getting into the mind set of Jemma Simmons, It made Its way up the path of the small cottage, just outside the hustle and bustle of the city and knocked on the door.
So this was an idea that I had way back in Feb and I have only just gotten around to posting it here. I may write more, maybe, depending on the response. But thanks so much for checking out and I hope you enjoyed this.