Fitz had woken early, his sleep disrupted by the return of his nightmares. He'd thought that by now they would have gone, but it seems that they'd been there for as long as he could remember and so they'd stay indefinitely. They had diminished significantly ever since he'd met Simmons and then even more with the team, but that didn't stop them entirely.
He sighed as he slung his legs over the edge of the bed, his hairs standing on edge with the temperature drop. But there was no point trying to go back to sleep. He already knew what was going to happen. He'd spend hours staring at the ceiling in hope of finding some sort of answer to something. Anything. But he knew it wouldn't come.
He dressed in a plain navy shirt, leaving his ties within the confines of his bag, and wore black woollen trousers. He could tell it was going to be a cold day. After all the frost was hard on the glass of his bedroom window.
Walking into the kitchen, it was even colder since it was too early for Alison to be up and about heating the rooms with the smell of freshly baked bread. But that didn't bother Fitz in the slightest. He wasn't sure he could eat anything other than a glass of milk and he wasn't ready to face another human being. Not when he knew that it was only a matter of time…
Not allowing himself to remain on that thought, he made his way to the lab, fully intending on filling his mind up with wires and other fiddly things.
After about two hours, so at five in the morning, the peace was shattered.
His father was already immaculately dressed, standing coldly in the lab's doorway.
"My study now."
Knowing better than to try and avoid the coming confrontation, Fitz carefully tidied his tools and with leaden limbs left the security of the lab.
The study was warm, the fire strong and blazing in its place. At least he wouldn't have to freeze while being lectured. That had happened many times before. His father stood beside a wooden chair that Fitz recognised all too well. It was not like the rest of the furniture in the room, or even in the house for that matter. No, this chair was different, and it made Fitz's stomach drop and his ribs press down so hard on his heart that he feared it might explode.
"Sit."
Fitz quickly moved and obeyed the order, attempting to not think about what was to come. The silence wrapped itself around the room, allowing the throb of his blood echo in his ears with sickening clarity.
Although he was ready for it, the slap that made his face snap to the right caught him off guard. The skin on his cheek at once became red and pulsed with blood, his breathing thrown off guard into frantic pants. Then there came another from the other side, the back of his knuckles making a different sound in the silence.
"What did I ever do to deserve a son like you? What is wrong with you Leopold? Answer me!"
"What?" Fitz managed to stutter out, his knuckles going white from gripping his knees.
"Is it because you're a poof?" Campbell's eyes looked deadly in the firelight's glow.
"No."
Slap. "Liar! Why else would you reject every girl that has ever set foot in this house?"
"Maybe be…because I don't w…want to get married." That earned him a punch that made his head ring.
"I don't care if you don't want to marry. I didn't want to raise you but I fulfilled my duty. And you will bloody well do the same."
"But…"
"But what? You only like men, is that it Leopold?"
"No but…"
"Then you'll do as I say and marry Myrna. I am tiered of lettin' it slide because Malcom said you were too young. Huh. I shouldn't have listened to that fool. Well it doesn't matter if you're a poof or not, you're getting' married as soon as possible to McFarlan's daughter. He wanted to discuss some aspects of this with you privately."
Fitz's eyes widened in terror as he gripped the chairs arms with trembling hands. "No! I don't want to. Please don't leave me alone with h.."
This time the punch threw Fitz off his chair and onto the carpeted floor. Before he could manage to see where his father was, the leather boots collided with the middle of his abdomen.
The air rushed out of him and he gasped even though no air was entering his bruised lungs. He tried to curl up but that seem to only fuel his father's anger even more.
"Get up you piece of shite!" Campbell said menacingly after he felt he'd dealt a satisfying number of blows, not having even bothered to attempt to direct them away from his son's face. "And your team better not try anythin' funny or else. Don't test me Leopold. Now get out of my sight before you entice me to do worse."
And with that Fitz somehow managed to haul himself off the now bloodstained carpet and out the door. He got to the pantry before he collapsed, a cold steak pressed against his swelling face. He tried not the cry since it hurt his abdominal too much but he didn't care. No one would look for him here, not even his father. He was safe for now.
Coulson and May were the first to head down to breakfast, both dressed in thick woollen jumpers to keep out the cold morning air that filled the house. Luckily the kitchen was heated, fresh bread coming out of the oven to their great happiness. They'd barely sat down when Skye, Simmons and Ward had entered the warmth of the kitchen to join them for breakfast. Eating on the loaves and fresh milk, they all felt rather content. Simmons of course had her hands wrapped around a steaming mug of tea which Alison had offered the English girl with a smile. The others held cups of coffee, except for May who had politely declined the offer.
It was passed nine ofclock by the time Simmons offered to pop into the lab and see if Fitz was there, and when she returned, her brow was contorted in a frown.
"I take it he's not there." said Coulson as soon as the scientist had re-entered the room.
"No. Which is strange since Fitz is usually up and about by now."
"Good mornin' to ye all." came Malcom's cheerful voice as he entered the kitchen. "Did ye all sleep well?"
"Yes, very much thank you." replied Coulson with a smile. "Malcom, you wouldn't happen to know where Fitz is by any chance."
The Scot froze for a second before looking around the table to verify the boy's absence. "He's not in th' lab?"
"No, I just went to check." Simmons replied.
Malcom nodded before heading over to the pantry. He quickly lifted the hatch and entered the darkened room before flicking the switch on the left wall. There was no one there. But that didn't seem to put Malcom off. Instead he headed over to the large freezer that stood to one side. He lifted it open, allowing faint wisps of cold smoke to escape. Reaching inside he pulled out a steak. But this one was different from the others.
"It's thawed." said May as she inspected the red slab of meat in front of her. "Someone took it out?"
"Malcom?" asked Coulson as he stepped tentatively closer to the other man.
"That bloody bastard." Malcom's voice sounded harsh and bitter. "That son of a bitch!"
"Malcom what's wrong?" asked Simmons from just outside the pantry's door.
"That man just can't keep his bloody hands off th' lad can he? That lad has been back fur three days, and he's already hit him."
And with those chilling words they looked at the floor which Malcom had pointed at throughout his rant. The floor held small droplets of blood, certainly not from the steak. Coulson suddenly felt the intense heat of anger flare up in the pit of his stomach, making him curl his fists. Taking a calming breath he broke through the silence.
"But where's Fitz?"
"He'll be outside if he's fallin' back into his habits." Malcom began moving out of the pantry towards one of the kitchen's windows. As he pulled aside the curtains and looked out into the morning dew-filled fields, he saw the familiar shape atop the old swing handing from the oak just in front.
"He's there all right."
Coulson gazed at the young scientist slouching in the seat of the swing, his shoulders held in a position that shouted pain and defeat.
"Why's he wearing a deerstalker?" asked Simmons as she looked at her friend.
"He's always loved that hat. It's a source of comfort fur him I guess… But it's also a way to hide his face usin' th' long flaps ye see. I'm guessin' his dah did a right number on his face."
"Malcom?" Coulson's eyes shifted to the other man. "Could you please tell us what really happened in Fitz past? Please."
Malcom sighed and looked at the team. This was Leofs family, he trusted them with his life every day. "All right. Ye deserve to know. But some things aren't fur me to tell, and ye'll have to accept that alright?"
He waited until they had all nodded before sitting down at the wooden table.
"I might as well tell ye the full story so ye'll all have to bear with me as I give ye th' background story."
