A/N: Hello, you beautiful person! Thank you for checking out my story. Hope you like it! If you do, don't forget to follow, favorite, and most importantly, review! This story is very loosely inspired by Hawkeye #2 and will feature/mention a few comic book characters. (If you haven't read Matt Fraction's Hawkeye, you should! It is amazing!)

Picks up roughly three weeks post-Maveth...

Prologue

Coulson pulled up an image on the screen of the lab computer. A large group of people in outlandish, dark blue and silver attire smiled back at them. "They call themselves Cirque Du Nuit. Roughly translates to, 'Night Circus,' I think."

"Okay...so, what's the problem?" Fitz asked, lifting his eyebrows.

"This." With a thud, the director dropped a tablet, displaying a graph, into Fitz's lap. "Recently, we picked up massive gravitational pulls coming from different places at different times. These guys are the only thing that the locations have in common. And lately, they had a sudden change in fortune. Strange that a circus which was on the brink of bankruptcy as of 6 months ago managed to book the Hotel Metropol theater, don't you think?"

Fitz nodded, his tongue poking out of the corner of his thin lips.

After crossing his arms, the director gave a dry head-jerk. "Any guesses when this all started?"

Looking up from the screen, Fitz rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "After they did a show in England, I reckon."

"Bingo. Got any ideas of what's causing them?"

"They must've swiped the monolith pieces from the castle ruins-"

He made a buzzer noise. "Nope, try again. Not pieces..."

"Are you saying-"

"Those damn rocks survived the explosion? Yeah. That's what I'm saying."

"The circus...are they Hydra?" Scrolling down, Fitz's eyes scanned the photos of caravans and elaborate sets.

"Doubt it."

"Think Hydra knows about them yet?"

"It's a safe bet they don't, but I'm not taking any chances. I need you and Simmons on this yesterday."

"Yeah, of course, sir. We can run some scans of the area-"

"Not what I had in mind. Like I said, their next show is at Hotel Metropol in New York, so start packing." Turning, the director made his way to the door of the lab.

Fitz jumped up and sprinted after him. "Wait! Sir, you mean we're going undercover?"

"That's exactly what I mean."

"But, I don't think I'm qualified for-"

"Fitz, you've done more research on the monolith than anyone else. And Simmons is the only person alive who's spent more than a few hours on the other side. I need you two handling this up close." The director stopped and looked sternly at him. "We can't afford to lose more innocent lives to that thing because some circus punks decided it would make a nice attraction. I want you to locate it and bring it to me."

"Then what?"

"...and then I'm going to destroy the hell out of it."

Nodding nervously, Fitz continued to walk beside Coulson. "So, Jemma-"

"You two working together won't be a problem, will it?"

He shook his head, ringing his hands stressfully. "No, sir."

"Good. Simmons said the same thing. She's already been briefed. Get packing."

"302...303...Room 304. This is it." Jemma's voice called down the hall. "Do hurry up, Fitz."

"Coming...m'coming." He muttered, looking over the towering stack of luggage he was hauling. They had both brought two suitcases in addition to their backpacks; one for cloths and necessities and the other for equipment. When he finally caught up to her, he handed over the room card.

"Sorry for snapping." She sighed, swiping the key and pushing open the door. "I'm just-"

"Nervous. I know. It's okay." Following her into the room, he gingerly dropped the bags onto the foyer floor. Then, he stuffed his hands in his pockets and trailed Jemma into the main space.

The suit was nice. One of the nicest he'd ever stayed in, as a matter of fact. All of the decor was muted blues and grays, with silver accents, giving it a cold, unwelcoming, superior vibe. A queen sized bed, laden with teal and gray pillows, sat at the center of the room opposite a large television. Beside the bed was a remote for controlling the softness and height of the mattress. Branching off from the bedroom was the large bathroom, containing a full sized tub and vanity.

The back wall of the room was completely glass, with a door in the center, leading to the balcony. And a small desk with a cozy lamp and outlet called to him from the far left corner. In another branch of the suit, a sitting area, there was a black couch, which they'd been informed was a fold-out, and two comfortable easy-chairs sandwiching a metallic coffee table. There was even a small kitchen, separated from the sitting area by a breakfast bar.

"Do you suppose we should go grocery shopping?" Jemma's voice carried from the tiny kitchenette, prompting Fitz to join her.

"That depends on how long we're staying. Circus'll most likely leave town next week and depending on how this goes, we may follow 'em." Biting his lip, he opened the mini fridge to find it stocked with alcohol and soda. "Recon this is complementary?"

A smile twisted the corners of Jemma's mouth. "Yes, I assume so. I wouldn't be too excited, though. We won't be drinking any." She paused and added with a slight pout, "And they don't have tea."

"I saw a machine in the lobby on our way in. I could get you some, if y'want." Realizing how enthusiastic he sounded, he blushed.

"That's alright. I suppose we should call Coulson now. And then I need to start getting ready for the show. Did Daisy tell you that we have to walk a red carpet? Awfully posh for a circus."

"Well, what do you expect? It's in the auditorium of a five star hotel."

"All the same, we ought to look the part, as we're meant to blend in."

Nodding, Fitz made his way back into the bedroom and grabbed his laptop. Then, he fell into the rolling chair by the desk in the corner.

Jemma joined him, pulling up a stool from the kitchen.

After securing the line, Fitz called up the video chat. A pixelated image of Daisy made its way onto the screen.

"Oh, hey guys!" She grinned.

"Er, hi. Is Coulson-" Fitz started.

"Yeah, hang on." Turning away from the camera, she cupped her lips. "Coulson! Fitz is on the line."

After a moment, the directors face appeared, taking Daisy's place. He gave a firm nod and exchanged greetings. "You've both already been briefed, so I assume you've got a general idea of the mission. You go. You observe. You come back to your hotel. We don't need to start anything ugly just yet. For all we know, they could have no idea what it is they've got and turn it over no questions asked."

A dry laugh escaped Fitz's lips.

Coulson lifted his eyebrows. "Trying out a new optimistic thing. But I wouldn't get used to it."

Jemma gave a thin, amused smile. "Of course not, sir."

"Alright, Fitzsimmons. Be safe. You'll talk to Daisy tonight if you need information. Same line. Oh, and Jemma?"

"Yes sir?"

"We located Mr. Daniels' parents. I was going to call them, but Agent Morse thought you would want to handle that yourself."

Fitz saw Jemma stiffen.

Pulling on an emotionless, fake-calm face, she tucked her hair behind her ear. "Th-thank you. I'll...call them tomorrow."

There was a soft, parental look in Coulson's eyes as he smiled gently at her. "Alright. Remember, no real details. Just make something up."

"Of course, sir."

"Okay. Sending the number now."

Surely enough, the contact automatically appeared in Jemma's phone.

"Got it." She nodded, with a sharp inhale.

"Take care, you two." The director signed off as the image faded.

"Er...do you want to-" Fitz started cautiously, turning to face her.

"No thank you." She snapped, rising with a jolt. "I suppose I'll get ready now."

And with that, she disappeared into the bathroom, leaving Fitz alone with the all too familiar pain in his chest.

Fitz had never felt so out of place in his life.

Maybe it was the tuxedo or the cameras flashing. Maybe it was the families who were richer than everyone he knew combined strutting about. Maybe it was the fact that he had Daisy in his ear listing off the names of wealthy people in attendance. (Names which he would inevitably forget)

But most likely it was the fact that Jemma was wearing an alarmingly flattering gown and holding his arm.

"Okay, I just got you closer seats." Daisy's voice cut through his internal dialog. "Comin' at ya in about five minutes, I'd guess. You are welcome."

Fitz didn't reply. He wasn't supposed to. Seeing a man having a one sided conversation would certainly draw attention, which was the last thing they needed. Instead, he pretended to itch his ear; lightly tapping the com to let her know he heard her.

"I haven't been to the circus since I was a girl." Tucking her hair out of her face, Jemma looked around the crowded carpet.

"I've never been." Fitz bit his lip, glancing at her again. She really did look stunning. A sleek black fabric wrapped her torso, falling in pleats to her ankles. Her hair had been twisted into a bun, with several loose strands curling at the side of her face. Adorning her lips was a crisp red color and a grey clutch, which matched her pumps, rested in her hand. (Apparently Bobbi had had a say in the outfit)

"It's a shame you won't get to enjoy it." She sighed. Then, in a whisper, she added, "But this is hardly like the show I went to. It was in an old tent at a country carnival, not a posh theater."

"And I bet we don't have to guess what attraction is funding the venue." He muttered, strolling through the large double doors.

The smell of popcorn, alcohol, and barn animals instantly assaulted his nose; an aroma which didn't exactly match the luxurious atmosphere. Dangling from the towering ceiling were massive crystal chandeliers. Detailed paintings spread across the walls, accompanied by gold trimming, which seemed to be genuine.

As he and Jemma made their way down the hall, which was carpeted in deep blue velvet, they were offered champagne in tall, chilled glasses. Though they both accepted the beverage, neither of them actual drank. They needed to stay sober in case something went wrong. Finally, they reached the end of the hall, where the main theater entrance loomed.

"Mr. Firth?" A slightly husky male voice asked in a thick French accent.

Turning, Fitz nodded nervously at the short gentleman who was approaching them. "Er, yeah?"

"I am so glad I was able to speak with you before you took your seats. You and your guest are in luck. We've just had a cancellation. I was told to offer you the newly emptied box seat."

Fitz tried to look surprised. "Oh! That's...that's really...great. Thank you."

"We will enjoy that very much. Thank you, sir." Jemma smiled, nodding graciously.

"You are certainly welcome, madam. I hope you like the show." The plump man handed her the tickets. Then, he turned and disappeared into the crowd.

"Do at least attempt to seem relaxed, Fitz." Jemma scolded, releasing his arm to slip the tickets into her clutch.

"Sorry. Just nervous." Sighing, he gave her an apologetic look. "I haven't been undercover since-" He paused, head suddenly clouding with uncomfortable memories.

"Since when, Fitz?" There was a real concern in her voice that tugged at his heart.

"Er, just a rubbish idea I had while you were MIA. Thought the monolith was the same principle as the, uh, the Pym Particle so I went undercover to do some research."

A sad, distant expression assumed Jemma's face.

"...obviously, the theory was rubbish, but...I guess it was worth a look, anyway." He blushed, staring at the floor.

The pair made their way up the steps to the box seats. Their's was closest to the stage.

"Er, I'm sorry. For bringing up your being MIA, I mean." His shoulders sagged as he sunk into the black velvet chair.

An amused smile made its way onto her face as she sat beside him. "Considering we're here about the monolith, I hardly blame you for bringing it up."

"I know. I just don't like to-"

"Remind me of the unpleasant memories? I know, Fitz. And that's very sweet of you. But we can't just forget that it happened and move on. That wouldn't be healthy."

"Yeah. You're right." Shrugging, he cast her a sideways look. "M'sorry."

"You have nothing to apologize for."

"I know, I know." With a heavy sigh, he leaned back in the chair. The air between them was growing tight.

After a slightly awkward moment, he felt her hand touch his own.

His heart jumped.

"I am...glad that I was assigned this mission with you, Fitz. Maybe it will help things."

"Things?" Trying to mask the hope in his voice, he mumbled. In a sudden act of courage, he turned over his hand to clasp hers.

"You know. Help us get back to normal."

"Normal. Right. What...what's that going to be-"

"Yo, I'm still here." Daisy's voice interrupted. "The show's gonna start in approximately 45 seconds, so the coms are gonna go silent. Take notes, get me names. Okay? Wait, you can't answer that."

"Daisy?" Jemma asked Fitz, a smirk breaking her calm expression.

He nodded and reluctantly pulled his hand away to double tap the earpiece.

"Alright, talk to you guys later. Er, anyway, bye." There was a small beep and the com turned off.

Then, the lights in the auditorium dimmed and a booming announcement rang out.

"Mesdames and Messieurs it is with great pride that I present to you Le Cirque Du Nuit!"

After a roaring round of applause, the curtain opened and a lean, rod-like man in a long cape and top hat strolled forward. "Welcome! Merci, merci beaucoup." He bowed several times, the light catching dramatically on his sparkling costume. "I am Maynard Tiboldt, world renowned swordsman and ringmaster. Today, you are in for the most disturbing, fanciful, and entertaining performances of your lifetime. We have spectacles and specimens twisted enough to tear apart the childlike imagination. We have distorted creatures and talented artists. We have music and dance, acrobats and tightrope walkers. We have an open bar in the lobby!"

A chuckle rustled around the vast room, laden with several laddish whoops.

"All that to say, this circus has taken blood, sweat, time, and money to reach it's fullest..."

The man kept talking, pausing every few words to twist his stereotypically waxed mustache and posing in true showman style. After jotting down the ringmaster's name, Fitz began to tune out the spiel and turned his attention to the scanning the audience for any suspicious characters. As the auditorium seated nearly 12,000, this kept him quite occupied through the trapeze act and contortionists. As well as during the knife throwers and horse tandem acrobats. Then, the stage lights dimmed making it rather difficult to see around the room.

"Ladies and gentleman, Mesdames and Messieurs, it is now time for the pièce de résistance." The ringmaster announced, appearing in yet another luxurious costume.

Fitz felt Jemma tense beside him. They were both thinking the same thing; the monolith was coming.

"...I present to you all, The human angel!"

Or not. Fitz's shoulders sagged.

A muscular young man suddenly stepped downstage and began to shakily rise towards the ceiling; his bare chest gleamed with sweat and look look of struggle assumed his face.

Fitz had to admit, the effects were good. There were no wires visible and the feathered wings were disturbingly convincing. They moved like a wounded bird, flittering frantically each time the boy faltered. After almost ten minutes, he finally landed, bowed and exited the stage, trailed by overzealous applause.

Applause which Fitz found himself joining in with. (Not for the actor, but for whoever designed the robotic wings.)

"Thank you for joining us this evening! If you wish to see our next show, hop a train in two weeks! We will be debuting our newest attraction, the only real mermaid left on land or sea! Come and view it in all her twisted, unsettling glory! Goodnight!"

The house lights went up.

The pair looked at each other.

"What in heavens name are they using it for, if not an attraction?" Jemma breathed, accepting Fitz's help rising from her chair. After linking her arm through his, they made their way out of the box.

"No idea." Fitz muttered as they descended the steps. "There's still a chance it is an attraction, they just didn't show it tonight."

"Show what tonight, Messiuer?" A voice behind them interrupted. It was the stout gentleman who had delivered them their tickets.

Without missing a beat, Jemma turned and smiled. "Mr. Firth was slightly disappointed by the lack of clowns."

"Ah, yes. Apologies. We do not have that act anymore." With a suspicious smile, he folder his arms.

Fitz held back a snort. Jemma knew he hated clowns. With a forced smile, he nodded. "Er, that's...too bad. I still really enjoyed the show, though."

The short man give a small bow. "I am glad to hear it, Messiuer."

"You know, I would so enjoy seeing that mermaid the gentleman mentioned. Wouldn't you, Ansel?" Jemma asked.

It took Fitz a moment to realize she was addressing him. "Oh! Er, yeah. Yeah, when's the show, then?"

The Frenchman's grin grew. "Next month, Mr...Firth, was it?"

Fitz nodded.

"Well, Mr. Firth, if you would be so inclined I can add your name to the waiting list. And your guest, of course."

"We would be delighted!" Jemma beamed, squeezing Fitz's arm.

"Excellent! Well, I must be off. We are packing up this entire venue tomorrow, I'm afraid. Our party must be on the rails the day after, and the train will not wait." He started to bow.

"Oh, um, what train are you taking?"

"We travel in our own personal train. However, if you are interested, we do rent out a few cars. And, I assure you, they are as high quality as our performance."

"Oh, that would be quite fun, wouldn't it? Traveling with a circus!" Jemma giggled.

Fitz couldn't remember the last time he heard her giggle.

"Ah, indeed, it is a one of a kind experience. Now, if you'll excuse me, I really must go. But, if you wish to rent a car, simply contact our management." He gave a short bow. "Hopefully see you on board?"

"See you on board."

"Okay, I need you to find everything you can about a man named, eh..." Accepting the cup of tea Jemma offered him, Fitz's words trailed off as he smiled at her.

"Hellooo? Didn't get that last part." Daisy's voice rang in his ear.

"Yeah, sorry, um...Maynard Tiboldt."

"Okay...gimme a sec."

The earpiece went silent and Fitz crossed his arms, reclining on the desk chair with his feet on the bed. After a moment, he glanced at Jemma. "Thanks. For the tea, I mean."

"You're quite welcome." She smiled, looking up from the stack of newspapers she was sorting through. "Daisy find anything yet?"

"She's looking-"

"She's done." Daisy's voice cut through his thoughts.

"Her now, I assume?" Jemma grinned, watching Fitz wince and rub his ear.

Nodding, he turned back to his laptop. "Speak of the devil."

He heard her snort. "I would go with, 'Wow! You're awesome. That was so fast.' Or something like that."

"What did you find?"

"Not much. Apparently he's been married three times, and all three woman filed for divorce less than a year after. His longest marriage was eleven months. Also, his parents were immigrants from France, but he's half German. And apparently in 2009 he was awarded 'best knife thrower' at the AEAC's which stands for, 'The Awards for Expertise in the Arts of Circus', because I guess that's a thing."

Fitz sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Is that it?"

"...he once owned a poodle named Sabrina. Sorry, but this guy is squeaky clean-" There was a pause.

"Find something else?"

"...yeah, I think so. Hang on."

With a sigh, he went back to typing the mission log.

"Okay, yeah." Daisy spoke up again. "This isn't huge, but he is tied to a traveling circus that Clint Barton once was a part of. As in, Hawkeye. Avenger."

"Any context?"

"He's a lot older than Barton, so it sounds like they didn't really run in the same circles. Only overlapped for about...four-no, six months. But this circus, it was a traveling deal. So, they would go from town to town, pick pockets and graffiti stuff. Closed down in the early nineties."

"Okay...good...alright." His words plodded as he typed.

"...oh, one more thing. It sounds like the guy in charge was obsessed with oddities and the supernatural. That was, like, their main thing."

Fitz nodded, recalling 'the human angel' from earlier. "Great...thanks."

"Yeah, no problem. How's Simmons?"

"Er, here, you can talk to her if you want." He started to hand the earpiece to Jemma, but quickly returned it to it's place, "Sorry, what was the name of that circus, then?"

"Oh, duh. Er...Carson's Carnival of Traveling Wonders."

"Okay, thanks." He jotted the title down sloppily and pulled the piece from his ear. "Here, take this." He tossed it to Jemma.

Tucking her hair out of her face, she strolled onto the balcony. "Hello, Daisy. Yes, I'm fine. Are you and..." The door closed behind her.

Rubbing his chin, Fitz sunk deeper into his chair and bit his tongue. He couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to the circus than just the monolith.

With a sigh, he picked up the phone and dialed the number of the Cirque De Nuit manager. "Er, yes. This is, um, Ansel Firth. M'calling about getting a car for me and my...friend. Oh, yeah. That sounds perfect..."

A/N: Please review! Have a fabulous day, love!