Previously on The Door:

After Fitz tries to prepare for a first date with Jemma, he discovers that she was swallowed by the Kree artifact she was studying, and is no where to be found. Desperate to get her back, he is stopped from opening the case to the Kree Rock by Mac, Skye and Hunter until they can learn more about it.

Simmons, for her part, is terribly confused about where she is. It's dark and painful, and she is constantly bombarded by flashbacks of moments with Fitz that brought her to her current predicament.

Coulson stops in front of the door to the rock room before he opens it. He takes a deep breath, preparing himself for the scene he knows is on the other side. The same scene he's faced for the last few days. Unclipping the caution rope that's been fastened in front of the door as a warning to others, he turns the handle and walks in.

The stone is still in the center of the otherwise bare room, sitting innocently in its case. Mac is discussing something with one of the other scientists that made clearance into the room, flipping through papers. Fitz is alone, circling the case with a scanner, muttering quietly to himself. He's the first to notice Coulson enter the room. He looks up and makes eye contact, but doesn't stop what he's doing.

"Sir," Mac walks over to the director. "You're a bit early for the report today, but I'm afraid there's still not much new to tell you." He shuffles through the papers. "The rock's remained stable. Aside from one or two energy fluctuations within the first eight hours, this thing hasn't done much of anything." He tucks the papers under his arm. "It's difficult to get any readings that make much sense, but we're still trying to see whether or not there are any signs of… well," he clears his throat, "biological material within the rock." He looks over to Fitz. "We're hoping to get more information when it liquefies next, but we can't figure out what triggers that state. This thing's remained as solid as... well-"

"-Good," Coulson nods. "That's what I wanted to talk to you about. We may have a lead from our contacts."

Fitz carefully moves out from behind the stone holding the scanner. "Sir?"

"There's nothing definite, but thanks to Lady Sif and some of Skye's inhuman friends, we've pieced together what can best be described as a myth. Nothing solid or scientific, just a theory."

"What is it?" Fitz moves forward, putting the scanner down and giving Coulson his full attention.

"There are rumors of an ancient magical stone that swallows those who it chooses. Sometimes they disappear. Sometimes they come back with fantastic stories… Those that return say that it took them where they could help. Where they were needed."
Fitz stares at the stone and crosses his arms, considering.

Mac waits a beat and then shakes his head. "That's it? Sounds more like a fairy-tale than a theory."

"I'm afraid that's as much as we have for now," Coulson sighs. "Whatever this is, we do know that it's very, very old, and it-"

"So it's a door?" Fitz interrupts.

Coulson and Mac exchange a look. "That's one way of looking at it. Potentially."

"A door that takes people where they are needed," Fitz looks the stone up and down, formulating his thoughts. "Like through time? Space?"

"Your guess is as good as ours. If the rumors are accurate and this is some form of ancient transportation device," Coulson warns, "I'm afraid we have no real way of knowing where it might have taken Simmons. Or what it did to her in the process."

Coulson watches the engineer closely, but Fitz continues to look at the stone, maybe for a moment too long, then he turns and nods. "Right. You're right. There are many unknown variables."

Mac shifts his weight and waits for a bigger reaction. When none comes, he waves his hand in the air as if to snap his friend out of a daze. "Hey Fitz are you okay? You're taking this lack of information pretty well…"

"Hm? No. Well like you said it's more of a fairy-tale. It's not like we have any scientific evidence to back up the theory. No useful data. We don't have much of anything really. It just sits there, locked in its case."

"Fitz. I'm sorry. I know-" Coulson starts, but Fitz' eyes flash up. Coulson starts again. "I want you to know that this is a priority for the whole team too. We're all doing everything we can to help."

"Yeah, I know," Fitz shrugs.

"You also know that the new jet is a priority?"

"Sir-"

"Look, I understand. Simmons was - is - more than just a priority for you. So I've given you time to do what you have to. But," Coulson knows this needs to be said by someone, "at a certain point, if things carry on without any progress, I want you to be prepared to face some hard truths."

Fitz looks up hard. "With all due respect sir," he sets his jaw, "there's only one truth that I care about at the moment."

Coulson nods, recognizing the stubbornness taking hold. "Of course. But remember we're a team. With May away, Bobbi still healing and - well, this," he nods to the rock. "My point is we have limited resources, and you are one of the best resources we have. There's only so much time I can give you for this."

Fitz turns red in the face and his lips form a thin line. There's a lot he wants to say to that.

Mac shifts his weight and slaps the engineer on the back, trying to relieve the growing tension. "Hey, why don't we take a break, Fitz? You need a change of scenery. A good meal. I think Hunter has something cooking in the kitchen, why don't you come join us? It's not like this is going anywhere."

"Right. Yeah." Fitz' eyes shift back to the stone again. "You go on ahead, I'm just going to finish up here first."

"Fitz-" Coulson starts.

"I'll be there when I'm done."

Mac shakes his head. "Fine, Turbo," he sighs. "I'll bring something back so you don't starve."

Fitz waves him off and waits for them to turn and go. Coulson looks over his shoulder before leaving. He holds onto the handle of the door to the room, but decides not to close it.

Fitz stares at the rock. When he's sure he's alone, he steps forward and places a hand on the case, spreading his palm wide. He closes his eyes and beats his forehead against the glass once in frustration. It was him that did this. He'd been a clumsy fool. He'd been told not to, but how could he not blame himself? All he wanted was to finally talk with Simmons, and now... Where is she? It's been days. Is it stupid to cling to the hope that she's alright?

He takes a deep breath and opens his eyes. It's now or never. He's alone, and he's running out of options, running out of time. He prepares himself for a rush of molten energy to wash over him, and throws the doors of the case wide open.

Nothing happens.

He steps closer to it, cautiously, like he's waiting for a tiger to pounce. Still nothing.

"Well?" He says to it, "what are you waiting for?"

The stone remains cool and silent.

"Don't tell me you're full," he says, prodding it with a finger. "Simmons is only little. I'm sure you could go for another."

It stares back, unmoved.

"Well what was so special about her, anyways? Did you really 'choose' her? Or was she just the only one around?" He glares at the stone. "Sure, she's got lots going for her, b-but there are tons of people like that in the world," Fitz sighs and shakes his head. "There was lots wrong with her too, you know. She can be unbelievably frustrating. And cold when she needs to be. You might think she cares for people, but she gets scared and-" he stops. "You could have picked anyone else. Why her?"

He fidgets with his hands, rubbing them together nervously, then takes a step inside the enclosure.

"Well go on then, do your eating thing or whatever. I'm not afraid." He puts a hand against the stone. It feels warm for a moment and he holds his breath. The heat escapes just as quickly and it cools again. He blinks. "I said I'm ready!" He curls his hand into a fist and brings it against the stone roughly. "What? What do you want?" He pushes against it with all his weight, and is moved backwards from the force of the stationary rock. "Am I not good enough? What do you want from me? What can I do?" He's hitting the stone now, pounding his fists against it desperately, painfully, knowing that answers aren't coming, but needing to do something, anything to get rid of this feeling. His knuckles are bloody and his breaths are ragged.

"You need to plant your feet to put more weight behind that punch," he hears from the doorway. He stops, breathing deeply. Bobbi is in the doorway. She wheels herself closer, squaring herself and her wheelchair to where Fitz is leaning against the stone, panting. "Shouldn't that be closed?" She asks, raising an eyebrow.

"Bobbi, I was just-"

"I saw on the monitors." She shrugs, "not much else to do these days while my knee heals. Looked like you could use some talking down," Bobbi stares at him. He looks away. "You know that thing could be dangerous. To you, to the rest of the base..."

"Yeah, well you should tell it that!" Fitz says, pointing at the stone. "It's not doing anything dangerous. It's not doing anything at all. Not since - Not since it took Simmons. I don't know how - I... I can't get answers out of it."

Bobbi nods, and smiles softly. "You know I may be an expert at interrogation, but I've never had much luck in torturing the answers out of objects. Especially alien ones."

Fitz closes his eyes and shakes his head. "What do I do?"

"I don't know," she sighs. "But the first thing you should do is get out of that box."

Fitz rubs his eyes in frustration. He slowly steps out from behind the glass and sits on the steps near Bobbi. "Coulson just gave us a theory. I was hoping it would help, but it's ridiculous."

"Ridiculous seems to be the norm these days," Bobbi chuckles darkly. "What did he say?"

"That it's a door. A door that took Simmons somewhere that she could help. Somewhere she was needed."

Bobbi nods, "and you were hoping that it would take you too?"

He sighs deeply. "I know it's not the most brilliant idea, but… yeah. If it took her somewhere, why wouldn't it take me there too?"

"If it only takes people where they're needed, who's to say it wouldn't take you somewhere entirely different?"

He stares ahead. "There's only one place I need to be."

Bobbi waits a moment before answering. "Wherever Simmons is, if she's still alive - Hear me out," she says, holding a hand up to the glare he shoots her. "There are a lot of unknowns. You need to be prepared."

"Don't you tell me I need to be prepared too!" He stands and paces, speaking louder, "I've been prepared since we were tossed into the ocean to die, and I can't just sit back and accept that there is no way out of this. After everything we've been through, she's alive. She has to be alive. There's always a way, I just - I just need to figure it out!"

"Fitz," Bobbi puts a hand on his arm, and he flinches away. "I only mean that you need to be prepared for what meets you on the other side of that door." He continues to glare, but she looks back with encouragement. "What if there are hostiles? What if she's in danger? If you go through there and you can't get her back…"

"What are you suggesting?"

"I'm just saying, that even if that rock were a human it wouldn't have talked from the beating you gave it." She looks him squarely in the face. "You need training."

Just as she was learning to adapt to her film-reel of torture, it began to shift. As she started to anticipate the small moments of hope peppered throughout the memories of glances she had missed at the time, suddenly they were gone. Erased from the flashbacks. Alternate stories emerged of what would have, could have, even should have happened if things had been different. And then the flashbacks became mean.

She stays to help him heal... but their relationship is only ever broken. She becomes increasingly detached when her attempts to help him don't work and drive him to bitterness and frustration. They try to pretend everything is fine, and work politely next to each other, but their relationship is permanently damaged. They don't speak anymore.

Or, they avoid being trapped in the medical pod, but both end up captured by Hydra together and are forced to work on projects that are dangerous, that they are violently against. She tries to swallow her pride in order to survive, but Fitz gets them in trouble frequently. When not even torture seems to stop his acts of rebellion, he's taken to a private room. When he returns, her best friend is lost. He's merely an empty, compliant, humorless shell.

Or, they don't find a way out of the ocean this time and the two lean their foreheads against each other, smiling as the oxygen leaves the pod. He whispers something softly to her before the end, but she doesn't quite hear it as they drift away together.

Or, he never taps her on the shoulder with something clever to say, and their friendship never grows. They remain bitter rivals and they watch each others' careers and romances from the sidelines. Neither ever truly fitting in anywhere or pushing to become better. He takes a job at the Sandbox. She remains as a professor at the academy. Neither survives the siege from Hydra.

Or, she never leaves England. Never gets that letter from the Academy. She meets a good and honest man at the hospital where she works. There's an easy routine, and he doesn't ask much of her, content with just being together after a long day. They grow old together, but it's only ever just them and their work. Nothing more. They don't want more. She tells herself they don't need more.

Or, worse still, the one she fears the most begins to play more frequently.

They still meet, and they do become close, but she never signs them up for the field. They stay in the lab side by side until things slowly shift, almost without them noticing. No big moments, but added together their closeness grows until their hands linger that much longer and their brief kisses of greeting and congratulations begin to mean more. Though neither of them are sure what to make of it at first, they decide to go for dinner. Within a year they have a small wedding back home and decide to stay to be near family. Soon after that there are toddlers running around their home. She hides her laughter as he tries to set up a play-castle with the most frustration she has ever seen him harbor towards a project. Their life is happy, quiet, comfortable. Nothing dramatic or passionate, it just… fits.

She's not entirely sure why this sends chills down her spine. Is it because she knows it's the life she could have had, and would have wanted? Or is it because it's just too... simple. Too easy. Has she become so addicted to her life of adrenaline and danger, that the thought of quietly settling down to domestic life makes her feel claustrophobic and trapped? Does she crave adventure more than her own happiness? More than the safety and joy of her best friend? Or is it because this version of their life misses something between them? There's a deep, terrifying, all-consuming something that's been developing ever since they first stepped aboard that plane, and the thought of not knowing how much they might truly mean to each other, of how far either of them would go for the other if given the chance... It's her fault. She pushed him. She brought them here. It was because of her that he refused the oxygen beneath the ocean. He would have been safer without her. He would have been happier without her.

Her eyes are too blurry with tears to realize the flashes have stopped. It's not until the dark figure stumbles in front of her that she's finally brought out of her own head. It's a man stumbling in the darkness. He falls to his knees and braces himself on the ground. He sees her and looks back with fear and anger in his eyes.

"How are you here?" He gasps, fighting for consciousness.

"I-I don't know," she pleads. "I don't know what's going on! I don't know where here is!"

He stares at her face and tries desperately to mouth something, though it's nearly impossible for him. "Neg - Negative…" he manages quietly. He collapses.