" Fitz!" The muffled voice was calling him. He would have recognized this voice anywhere; more familiar than even his own. It was trying to lead him out of the darkness. He opened his mouth to reply but he couldn't breathe. The black mass of water weighed him down, the undercurrent grabbing his feet in an icy grip. He looked around in panic; dizzy from lack of oxygen. Gold sparks swam before his eyes - it was the light, the surface. He kicked hard trying to propel himself towards it - he had to get back to her. He extended his arms, stretched his fingers - the light was within reach almost. Then an invisible force pulled him back into the depth. He tried to shake off its grip, but his lungs were being pierced by a thousand needles. The sharp pain was the last thing he felt before darkness engulfed him.
"Fitz, wake up!" Doctor Fitz, he thought with irritation, but his lips were too frozen to move. The light penetrated his fluttering eyelids, blinding him. He felt soft hair brushing against his face like a caress, the familiar fruity scent transporting him back in time to memories that tasted dark and bittersweet like the finest chocolate. He tried to focus and say her name but his voice chords did not seem to function. Where was he?
Finally, his eyes started to clear up and he looked around. He was in a bare, metal room, like an airplane, lying in something, … what was it? A coffin? And how did he get there? The memories flapped around his head like bats disturbed in a dark cave - scary and menacing. He died - didn't he? "Fitz…" the voice called again. He turned towards it, but the smile froze on his lips when instead of the woman he loved, he was staring into the eyes of his father's killer. Jemma Simmons, that was her name. He felt the anger bubbling inside him, as he struggled to sit up. They must have captured him. Except she was smiling at him, lovingly. That was strange.
His mind raced in panic as he tried to keep his features neutral. Remember your training, he said to himself. Do not give away anything . He had to figure out what was going on. A memory came flashing then - her face soft and pleading, telling him she loved him, that they were together in another world. He must have made it back to this other world, somehow.
She stepped closer with tears on her face and lifted her arms to embrace him, but he put his hands out instinctively, pushing her away. When he saw the hurt and shock in her eyes, he realized that he made a mistake. He was too weak and vulnerable, he needed time to understand what was going on and a plan to figure something out.
"I'm sorry, I need a minute." He smiled apologetically, his voice was barely louder than a whisper. Still it felt like those words cut his throat like razor blades.
Jemma's face softened and she smiled at him "Of course. Here, try to warm up, Fitz." She wrapped a blanket around him. The warmth felt good; he hadn't realized how much he was shivering. "You are still in shock. Let's get you in a shower," she said and hurried off.
He stayed alone in the chamber and studied the details of it. The box he was lying in seemed to be a cryo-freeze chamber. Why would he be in a cryo-freeze chamber? Did they lock him into one because he was sick? Dangerous? He tried to get on his feet and they felt like wet spaghetti noodles. Holding onto the sparse furniture he stumbled to the window that revealed darkness and rocks flying by. Space. He was in space. The panic was back, there was no way out.
-0-
Cold, it was so cold. As if his blood turned into ice slush. Everything was white like an endless field of snow. White walls, white linen, a clock on the wall that seemed strangely stuck. He was frozen in time suspended between consciousness and oblivion. He smelled something, it was sharp and clinical, like disinfectant. "You need to wake up, Fitz. Please, wake up. You can fight it, I know it." The voice was familiar, something like a precious memory. He felt a warm touch on his ice cold hands and suddenly it wasn't so cold anymore. The voice was right, he could fight this.
-0-
A hand touched his shoulder and he jumped slightly. "Sorry, I didn't want to startle you. You shouldn't be up, Fitz, you are too weak. Come let me help you, the shower is ready." Jemma Simmons snaked her arm around his waist and led him towards the shower. Her nearness was disorienteering. She smelled like Ophelia, but the way her body felt against his was different, yet intensely familiar. It must be muscle memory, he decided. She led him into the shower and took his blanket, then stared at him awkwardly. "Do you need help with…?"
The Doctor shook his head. "No, I think I've got this." She nodded and left him in the shower alone. He sighed in relief. He really need some quiet to think, to collect his thoughts. They were in space, with Jemma Simmons, who thought he was her Fitz from the "other world". The world that Ophelia and Radcliffe talked about. The place where HYDRA lost and SHIELD, who enslaved and hurt Ophelia, won.
He thought he remembered this Fitz being a SHIELD agent and he saw Ophelia go up in flames, but he couldn't be sure if it was a nightmare or a window between existence and the void where he got a glimpse into this other dimension..
Still, his only choice was to blend in, until he figured out more. Maybe it was his chance to take revenge on the ones who destroyed the world he had worked so hard, sacrificed so much for. Maybe he could figure out a way to get Ophelia back. And maybe, if he was lucky, he could find his father here.
He looked in the mirror and his face seemed both familiar and unfamiliar with the messy curls and the unkempt beard. The Fitz of this world seemed to have a different idea about neatness. He sighed; for now it was probably safer to keep this look. He grabbed the razor blade, but resisted the urge to re-create the sharp edges he liked. The clean clothes that she prepared for him - a pair of faded jeans, a gray T-shirt and the big frumpy cardigan - all looked beyond ridiculous. The Fitz of this world also did not seem to have much fashion sense. When he was dressed and looked into the mirror, it felt like he was in someone else's body. Then it occurred to him that literally that was the case. He somehow took over the Fitz of this world. It made sense, he was strong, if only one of them could survive it made sense for it to be him.
He emerged from the bathroom to find Jemma waiting for him with some tea. Her smile did not reach her eyes as she handed over a steaming mug, their fingers brushing ever so slightly. He took a sip; well at least Fitz liked his tea the proper way; sweet and without milk.
"So are you going to tell me everything?" he asked, figuring that the question was vague enough to fit most scenarios. He listened intently trying to store all the information in his brain. There was a future where the world was destroyed. Well, this bit was familiar. They were taken there through a monolith, but Fitz was left behind. He travelled in the cryo-freeze chamber to save them, they all came back. They saved the world, but he died. Jemma teared up at this part, as she told him that Fitz was a hero, going into a collapsing building to save an inhuman child and her mother, and instead of leaving he went back to save Mack. That Fitz sounded like an utter fool to him. Jemma was sobbing now, looking at him expectantly, and he realized he was supposed to do something. He put his hand hesitantly on her shoulder and she collapsed against his chest, her hot tears soaking his T-Shirt. He froze, and sat motionless until her crying subsided.
She lifted her gaze. "Sorry." When he did not reply, she finished quickly the story. They came to rescue him, because she realized there must be a version of him still travelling to the future.
His head was spinning; it sounded like the plot of a confusing science fiction story. "But that's impossible. I can't be in two places at once. What about the laws of physics? What about the second law of thermodynamics?" he asked.
Her smile lit up at that, and was both sad and happy, teary and radiant. That smile tugged at his heart in a strange way. "It gets even weirder, Fitz. But maybe we'll take it slowly. It's a lot to process. It's time to meet the others."
"I don't know if I'm ready for that…" he said quietly.
"Don't be silly, after everything, they all just want to say hello, to know that you are OK." she replied. "We'll make it quick if you are tired."
"Yeah, OK." He tried to focus - as long as he did not slip up, he was going to be ok. Fitz had a valid reason to be a bit "out of it".
The latch opened and Fitz found himself staring at a group of unfamiliar faces all smiling at him enthusiastically. A giant stepped closer and embraced him. "Ah, so good to see you, Turbo. "Turbo?" What a ridiculous nickname it was.
"It's good to be back," he muttered. The giant slapped his shoulders and he stepped inside the ship. It was both familiar and different. The Zephyr in space - how was it possible? The artificial gravity i itself would be an insurmountable problem. Was it possible that the frumpy, weak Fitz of this world cracked a problem quite so impressive?
"We made some modifications, come, I'll show you…" The big man grinned at him. "You'll want to…"
"Not now, Mack." Jemma jumped in quickly. The Doctor made a quick mental note - Mack - the giant's name was Mack. "I think he's still a bit disoriented." Jemma's intervention was a blessing. Meeting all these people was overwhelming - he needed more information to be able to blend in until the end of the journey.
Behind Mack stood a girl with metallic arms. He was fairly certain she was an inhuman he experimented on - he never forgot them; their fear, their pain were all etched into the Doctor's mind.
Before he turned to follow Jemma Simmons, he froze. The woman standing a bit apart from the rest of them, looking at him with hard eyes was a face he would recognize anywhere. Skye Johnson. The inhuman who broke Ophelia's back. Hatred boiled inside him and his fists clenched. Her eyes narrowed with fear and a chill travelled down the Doctor's spine. She knows, he thought.