FitzSimmons-Chapter 2
Hello! Please review and let me know what I can improve on and what you'd like to read in later chapters. I'll take any suggestions and prompts you have. :-) Stay strong FitzSimmons shippers, next episode they actually speak to each other! FYI-This takes place after FitzSimmons' time at the Shield academy, but before they officially joined the team.
Today was the day Fitz had been dreading for weeks. Today the infamous field assessments. Simmons assured him they'd do fine, everyone else had, so what makes them different. A lot of things, he thought, made them different, but he didn't bring it up to Jemma, she'd just bat down his arguments with a roll of her eyes. So silent he stayed, his appetite wasting away with every hour that passed closer to the dismaying tests. If it were something from Sci Ops, sure, they'd pass with flying colors (probably break a few records while they were at it), but this was not Sci Ops. This was operations. No science involved. Fitz doubted that most of the Operations graduates could even count to ten, all they cared about was muscle, muscle, muscle, and oh, yes, the ever important muscle. This is not where FitzSimmons belonged. But regardless, this is where they'd ended up, on Saturday afternoon, agents prepping the assessment warehouse where the examination would take place. Simmons seemed anxious to get it done, but excited about the prospect of going into the field, and babbled the whole ride over about the "exceptional opportunities" they would encounter once they left their beautiful, pristine laboratory back at the sandbox. The thought brought on further butterflies in Leo's stomach. His immaculate lab was no longer his. Some new agents from the Hub had been brought in to replace them.
"You know Fitz, if we pass the assessment, the odds of sci ops graduates completing the exam will go up by two percent!" Simmons beamed excitedly towards him while rubbing her hands together in anticipation. "I think we'll pass, don't you? I've heard it just requires cardio vascular endurance and muscular strength, which I'll admit we don't have, but it cant be too hard to achieve, just set your mind to it, Fitz, you'll do wonderfully."
Fitz groaned.
"Do we have to do this, Jemma? The lab was fine, wasn't it? Safe, clean, very predictable. What if we get strangled by Russians, or stranded in the middle of the ocean, or what if-"
"This is going to be a great experience, trust me. We'll get to see the world, not just the four white walls of the lab. Doesn't that sound nice? We might even see some wild monkeys."
Fitz's eyebrows lifted slightly at the thought of seeing his favorite animal up close in their natural habitat.
"Agent Coulson thought we were the best qualified for his new team, and we should be honored. Not many other people can say that they were personally selected out of hundreds of shield scientists for an elite lineup."
"I know that Jemma, but I don't like leaving the sandbox. It was nice there. Who knows what-or who-we'll have to work with in this new place."
"I know, you hate change, but I promise, this will come out good in the end, you'll see." She reassured patting his knee and grinning free of worry. She turned back to the window and talked happily about their upcoming jobs. Soon, they'd arrived at their destination, five minutes early.
"Both of you should find the assessments difficult, at best, but I think you can both pull it off. You're smart, smartest we've had come through here, and I'm sure you can manage through less than a mile of "field work", if you can call it that. Over the years they've slacked on the sci ops exam, I think you guys get skinnier every year, do you ever eat?" A large muscular man with a white beard and matching mustache greeted them at the entrance of the warehouse. Agent Sloan was his name, level seven, worked for shield for fifteen years. His eyes had rolled in annoyance when Fitzsimmons had said they were level five.
"I swear, they advance faster every year!" He'd mumbled under his breath. Apparently, he wasn't found of every year since….whenever he'd joined shield.
"Now, you two will go separately, ladies first, and will meet back up when both of you are through. It shouldn't take more than twenty minutes, at the most, so don't worry about time. You get in, do what you have to, and that's that. Welcome to the field. Any questions?"
Yes! Fitz wanted to shout, but he knew no matter how many questions he asked he would never be prepared for the horror that was about to occur. And boy was he right.
Simmons, like the chap had instructed, went first. Fitz sat in a very boring grey cubicle while it was her turn, counting ceiling tiles and trying to imagine what life would be like outside of the lab. He'd almost forgotten…. Simmons was probably right about them needing some adventure, but he was stubborn, and also afraid, so he stuck to his opinion like glue. Leo drummed his fingers on the coffee table that flanked the couch, wishing away every minute between him and the end of the day. What was taking so long? Agent Sloan had promised it would only take twenty minutes each, and Fitz had been sitting so long his whole left leg was falling asleep. He tapped it energetically to relieve himself of the odd tingling, but ended up looking more like an overly enthusiastic bull. Another thirty minutes passed before he heard any sign of human life outside his small prison. The door burst open quickly, revealing a sweaty agent Sloan, who looked as if he were about to pass out. He lifted his finger and pointed at fitz, chest heaving tiredly.
"YOU-," He gasped for air. "YOU-YOUR UP!" His arm collapsed at his side and he stumbled into the wall, leaning into the doorframe for support.
"Is everything alright sir?" Fitz asked standing weakly, his leg still aching from sitting for so long.
The agent, shook his head giving a sarcastic laugh.
"Oh yes," he mimicked in an awful Scottish accent. "Quite alright!" He spun around so his back faced fitz and his finger lifted up pointing out the door. "You. Out. Now."
This ought to be fun, Fitz thought.
"Ok, remember what I told you, do your best, don't get blown to smithereens, and…well, I guess we'll figure that part out when we're done." He mumbled the last part to himself, rubbing the bridge of his nose sighing deeply. "Well don't stand around waiting," he declared quickly. "Get your butt out there!" He pushed Fitz into a large, grey warehouse filled with various mats, artificial arbor and shrubbery. He stepped in to the room warily, when suddenly, in a split second gun fire erupted around him.
"Bloody…." He swore under his breath angrily as the first bullet whizzed past his head, barely dodging out of the way in time. He glanced around at his surroundings, trying to find cover as he raced through the tangle of tree braches and various other synthetic plant life, projectiles still buzzing around his ears. He was going to die, in a field assessment of all places! Drowning would be better than this, he thought irritation plainly written across his sweat ridden face. He continued to run/trip through the warehouse when he finally found a log, completely, one hundred percent bullet free. He awkwardly jumped over a few fallen branches and plunged face first into the trunk.
"Ok, ok, don't get blown to bits, don't get blown to bits, I can do it, easy." He uttered to himself panic stricken. They had never taught about combat situations in sci ops. How the heck was he supposed to get out of this?
"Hey, I found one over here!" An unfamiliar voice jolted Fitz out of his daze. Yes! Someone had come to rescue him. This whole thing must be an accident, there must be a malfunction with the guns, it made perfect sense now. Fitz stood up hastily; ready to be free of this hellish place.
"It's me! Over here, I'm ok, I can fix the guns, just get me out of here!" He yelled loudly, hopping over the log and racing toward the men in black jump suits. The men glanced at each other uneasily, and Fitz could see them talking to each other through a comm. system.
"Um, yeah, let's get out of here, one of us is gonna be blown to pieces." He laughed and slapped one of the guards on the shoulder, jokingly. The guards, as if on some sudden command, all reached over and grabbed Fitz, lifting him up into the air and shoved a black bag over his head.
"Hey, hey wait, ow, I can walk through here by myself thanks. Guys!" He squirmed around like a child trying to get out of an angry parents grasp. "Oh, I get it. Security reasons, can't have me snoopin around. That's good, I'll just wait in here then."
And he certainly did wait. It was another five minutes before he felt himself lowered into a chair and the bag was taken off. Fitz looked up to a small dark room, similar to the one he sat in while Simmons went through the assessment. Simmons! How had she done? Had she made it through before the guns began going off? He didn't have time to ask any of the men on guard because as quick as them came in to set him down, they were gone.
Fitz rested in the chair for fifteen long and boring minutes before the door opened to reveal a new face. This man was bulky, bulkier than agent Sloan, and his black hair and matching beard grew long, as if he were a savage caveman. His thick eyebrows appeared to cover his eyes, giving the man a mysterious identity.
"That, my friend," the man said in a thick Russian accent. "Was very, very easy. For us. I can assure you, however, that your time here will not be so enjoyable. Who do you work for? Who are you?" The man asked, staying hidden in the shadows by the door.
"Same as you, mate. Shield. Leo Fitz, level five shield agent. Why am I here, I thought I was fixing the guns?" Fitz complained, straining his tied hands to itch a spot on his cheek.
"I Do not work for Shield."
"Oh? Ok, so, what FBI? CIA?"
"I work for a man you will never see, nor hear, because you will be dead before he gets here in the morning."
Fitz's stomach dropped. Maybe he'd been wrong the whole time! Maybe, while he'd been in the assessment program, the KGC had taken over the shield facility and killed everyone inside. Jemma! She was still in there.
"Where's Simmons, is she ok?" He asked tensely, fearing the worst.
"I don't care about your petty friends, they're all dead, and you'll be too, soon."
No, Fitz refused to believe it.
"Is this some sort of eagle code, is this a drill?"
"Is that what you people call it? So American…no, this is no drill." He chuckled softy. "But by the end of the night, you'll be wishing it was."
"Simmons is at the hub isn't she? Or the Triskelion? That's where she is, she's in DC at the triskelion. Or the sandbox? Did she go back to the sandbox?"
"Agent Fitz, I could care less about "the sandbox", I need intel. Information. What do you know about Fury?"
"He's the head of Shield, obviously, everyone knows that."
"Yes, but where is his office?"
"I'm assuming at the triskelion, seeing as that's Shield's main base and all."
"And where-" He stopped abruptly, nodded twice, and turned around to leave. Fitz was alone, again. Where was he? He didn't know. Was Simmons even still alive? He couldn't bear to think about that now. So he sat, silent, heart beating faster than it may have ever before. He was going to die. A horrible, painful death. They were going to torture the life out of him. He hung his head tiredly, wishing it all to be over.
The lights flashed on, Fitz snapped his head up, realizing he'd dozed off.
"Untie him." It was agent Sloan! Alive, he looked fine, unhappy, angry, but completely healthy. Five agents rushed forward to untie his bounds, and he stood immediately after.
"Come with me." He turned around and marched out of the room, Fitz coming after, squinting in the bright lights. They entered a room, a white projector sheet covering the back wall and Simmons sitting in the far left corner.
"Jemma! Oh thank God, I thought they'd killed you." He rushed over to her, immediately seeing her leg propped up and an ice pack on her knee. "What happened? What did they do?"
Simmons grimaced.
"There is no 'they' Fitz."
He cocked his head.
"The Russians, Jemma, what did they do?"
She shook her head.
"There aren't any Russians, Fitz. That was the assessment. We were supposed to get the other side of the bunker uninjured and un-captured." She pressed her fingers to the side of her forehead. "Which, from what I'm gathering, we both failed to do."
Ah, now this, this made sense.
A small "Oh," Was all he could manage.
"OH? OH! That's all you've got to say for yourselves? I saw you two and thought, 'Wow, they look noodle-like and frail. I doubt they'll do too well in the assessment'. But no one, NO ONE, has ever failed as miserably as you two! I can't believe you didn't even work out before you came!" He hollered at them red faced before sinking, exhausted, into a chair. He grumbled some more picking up a white remote and clicking on the overhead. A small chart with their scores came up, it was not good.
"Simmons, as you can see, you did better than Fitz scoring a four out of one hundred for actually managing to run away from the enemy. Until you tripped over air." He snorted. Of everything that had happened, this was almost amusing to him. Almost.
"That's what happened to me knee." Jemma whispered in Fitz's ear as Sloan changed to Fitz's details.
"Fitz, you got a one out of one hundred, for actually moving in the arena, for that I congratulate you. I considered giving you nothing, since you gave away base locations, Fury's locations, your name, other agent's names, and a slew of other things skilled interrogationers are bound to pick up on. Thankfully for you, one of my co-workers was amused by your performance and insisted I give you one point for entertainment."
FitzSimmons couldn't, for the first time, think of anything to say.
"I called your new boss, and he seemed adamant that he wanted you on his team anyway, despite my warnings. So, you're still on the team."
Simmons breathed a sigh of relief, laughing nervously.
"I was worried, for a minute. Does this mean we won't be allowed to leave a lab at the new base?"
"It's up to your boss. But, I doubt he'll be keeping you locked up in a plane for the remainder of the year."
"A plane, sir?" Simmons inquired, wondering why a lab would be located on a plane. How uncomfortable.
"I'm surprised you haven't heard. Your boss, agent Coulson, he doesn't work on ground. You and the rest of your team will be living off a private plane. The luxury these new kids get…" He murmured unhappily, pushing the chair back and standing up.
"Off you go, you two, I don't want to see you anymore, my brain hurts."
"Yes sir," They replied in unison, following his actions and standing up.
A few minutes later, and when they were back on the road, both Jemma and Fitz were buckled up and heading to the hotel to grab their belongings and head to their new "base".
Simmons glanced over at Fitz and laughed.
"You know, of course we'd be the first to fail the assessment."
Fitz shook his head stubbornly.
"You said it would be easy," He whined.
"Well I clearly didn't know what I was saying." She patted his knee, excitement flooding her face again. "Oh, this is so exciting! A plane, we'll see how that goes. I wonder what the lab will be like. Do you think they'll have everything the one at the sandbox did?"
"No, of course not! Where would they fit all that on a plane?"
And that is how the rest of the trip went, the two blatantly unaware that back at the warehouses location, the agents there were watching and re-watching the two's field assessment, with popcorn and cokes being passed around.
That's it. Please review? Please...:-)
