"There must be some reason why Ward did it," Fitz said. He was sitting with Simmons, their feet inside of a pool. The other members of their team waiting around. They were all just waiting…

"Maybe they brainwashed him," Fitz added.

"Don't know. Some people are just evil," Simmons responded.

"Well, I'd rather not believe that."

"It's true. I just assumed we'd be better at spotting it."

"Tell me that you're not Hydra," Fitz said.

"What?"

"I know that it's ridiculous. But I just need to hear you say it."

"I'm not Hydra."

"Good. Because I'm not either."

"Of course, not."

"Because… if you ever did. I don't know what I would do," Fitz said. Jemma placed a hand on his leg. Even then, he knew that he loved her…


Fitz jumped with a start. Face flushed. Sweat beading around his forehead. Now Radcliffe's ideas were infiltrating his dreams. Lovely. Real lovely. The sooner this girl was taken care of, the better. He sat up in bed and kicked off the sheets, accidentally waking Ophelia in the process.

"Is everything alright, Leopold?" she asked.

"Yes, I'm sorry. Please go back to bed."

She rolled back over, and Fitz slipped into a pair of moccasins before making his way to their balcony. In the chilly night, he was glad for his long sleeve pajama tops and bottoms. The Triskelion nearly shined in the distance. He wondered how long it would be before Hydra would finally bring peace to the world. Is that what they were doing now? Bringing peace. He certainly didn't feel peaceful on the inside.

He wanted to smack himself. How could he think these things? Of course, Hydra was doing justice for the people of the world. Protecting them against the greatest danger: themselves. And Radcliffe had been right about one thing. Fitz was one of the good guys—Radcliffe and Fitz just weren't on the same team.

Not that Radcliffe seemed like a man who was on anyone's side, really. At the drop of a hat, he'd been begging Fitz for mercy, taking back everything he'd tried to pass for truth just hours before.

Another weakling.

His eyes were still focused on the Triskelion. They latched onto the emblem, the skull, at the very top of the building. And for a split second, the emblem morphed into a bird with dark wings. Fitz shook his head. The emblem changed back to normalcy. He took a deep breath.

"This is happening too frequently," he said to himself.

"What is it?"

Fitz welcomed her soothing voice. Even if he had wanted to be alone.

"I keep getting these… strange visions." Fitz turned around as she grabbed his hands. "Do you… do you think someone from the other world is somehow trying to mess with my mind? That somehow they've gotten that control?"

"Whatever is happening to you, just remember that I love you. Don't let their fake memories take you away from me. Fight this, Leopold. Fight for us."

"It's just that… something is beginning to feel off." It was true. Fitz couldn't place it. But he was beginning to get some very strange feelings. This had to be because of what the outsiders were doing to him. But he felt… well, he couldn't explain it. Displaced? Had he always felt this way? He tried to remember.

"My love… every minute that you feel this way, you are letting them win. This is our life. Our wonderful home. And I would put up a fight if they ever tried to take you from me."

Fitz squeezed her hand. "Perhaps you're right."

He wrapped an arm around her and pulled her in closely.

"Come back to bed with me," Ophelia said, her eyes pleading. Fitz nodded and allowed her to pull him back toward their bed.


Fitz stared at her through the window of the interrogation room. It was best this way. She wouldn't be able to see him, and he could try to gauge her answers to their questioning.

May stood next to him. And they both just waited…

Something so strikingly familiar about the waiting. Fitz tried to clear his minding, reminding himself that his dream last night was fake. He'd never seen Jemma Simmons before Ophelia had showed him the briefing the other day.

Fitz watched Jemma now. She was sitting alone, looking down at the table. Her hands in her lap. When the door to her room opened, her head shot up. And then, a look of what seemed to be terror crossed her face.

Had she been that easy to break?

"Will?" Jemma said, her voice squeaking.

Fitz studied the Hydra agent. He was a relatively tall man with dark brown hair. One of the better agents that they had. Fitz narrowed his eyes. Jemma knew him?

Well, if this had been the case, Will did not seem to recognize Jemma. Or he was masking his recognition. Will walked across the room and stopped at the other side, slamming his hands against the table.

"Do you want to tell us how you got here?" Will asked. "Our records indicate that you're dead."

"And my records indicate that a leech infected your mind and took over your body. So where does that leave us?"

Fitz raised an eyebrow and glanced over at May. She returned the exchange before facing forward once more, looking as solid as a statue.

"You would be better off volunteering the information with me. Trust me. I'm a lot more generous than the doctor."

"Fitz isn't the man you think he is." Jemma looked defiant. Unafraid. Fitz crossed his arms. "And you aren't real."

Jemma jumped up and threw a punch toward Will who caught her hand. And slammed her back down into her seat.

"How about that. This girl has a death wish, doesn't she?" Fitz asked himself more than May. "No matter. I don't care if she doesn't answer to Will. She'll certainly answer to me."

With that, Fitz waited. He'd break her. Even if Will couldn't.