Trigger Warning: Depression, allusion to a failed suicide attempt (non-graphic)
A/N: So obviously we've skipped a little time from the last chapter to this one.
I'll try to update more frequently, but no promises. School is busy.
"We gather here today to honor the life of Leopold Fitz." The priest had known Leo since he was a boy. He had baptized him into his mother's church, counselled them through the tough years with Leo's father, and then watched as the boy fled from the country, barely looking back. Now he stood at the front of the chapel, prepared to give a final blessing over the tired body of Leopold Fitz.
"His life was too short. No mother should have to bury her son." She sat on the front row, her face frozen into a mask of grief. "But nobody can deny the impact he had. You may have heard of his exploits as an engineer, but that wasn't the most remarkable thing about Leo. He was an optimist, always believing the best of situations and people. He was always willing to forgive, always willing to try again. He was a remarkable man, and it was a privilege to help shepherd him throughout his childhood. We will not easily forget the impact he made on our lives." Mrs. Fitz and her few friends nodded. They were the only congregants in the chapel.
A voice interrupted the service from the back of the chapel. "If nobody is going to forget, why aren't his friends here? The people he died for?" The priest froze. Leopold's father strode to the front of the church. "He was never anything special. Nobody's going to remember him. He wasn't extraordinary, he was just a nerdy kid who didn't know what was good for him. It's his own fault he died the way he did. He cared too much about people who never gave a crap about him. He thought he meant something to them, but they didn't even bother to show up to his funeral. And do you want to know why? Because Leo Fitz was never anything special. You can sit here and pretend to mourn, or you can speak the truth and talk about him for who he really was- a moron."
Nobody spoke up in his defense. Nobody said a word.
"If he really meant so much to these SHIELD people, where are they? Where are they?" He began to laugh. "I'll tell you where they are. They're out celebrating. They're rejoicing because the burden is finally off their shoulders. They don't have to pretend that they care for him anymore. Come on, Mother, I know you don't really care. What did Leo ever do for you besides run off to the States before he was old enough to drink? And you, you neighbors. Why are you here? You never spoke to him besides trivial interactions. What kind of impact does a teenage recluse make on you? None, that's what. None. That boy thought he was extraordinary, but do you want to know the truth? He was nothing more than a gullible lunatic. And Jemma knew that."
Gullible lunatic.
Gullible lunatic.
Jemma knew that.
"Fitz?" That was Coulson's voice waking him out of his dream. "Fitz, Dr. Garner's here. He'd like to talk to you."
Fitz looked up blankly. "What for?"
Dr. Garner didn't seem to understand his hostility. "Hello, Agent Fitz. It's good to see you." Why was he lying? "How have you been feeling lately?"
"Look at my chart." Fitz noticed that Coulson had left the room. Celebrating already? He wasn't dead yet.
"You know that that's not what I mean, Fitz." Dr. Garner smiled jovially. Did Fitz know what he meant? Did Dr. Garner think this was a joke? He didn't want to talk.
"Oh yeah?" That should tip him off.
"Daisy said that you've been having trouble sleeping. Are you taking your medications?"
No. Of course he wasn't. Sleeping meant nightmares. Nightmares where nobody cared. Nightmares were hard to reason with. There wasn't logic with nightmares, only frightening images of a disturbing but not irrational reality. His pills were in the pocket of his robe. They flushed easily down the toilet. "Yeah."
"We're only trying to help you, Fitz." Dr. Garner seemed annoyed now. Maybe he would leave. He didn't want to talk today. Maybe some other day, but not today. Not after a nightmare. There was no logic for his nightmares. There was no psychology to help with the nightmares. The nightmares were his problem to deal with. And he wasn't going to deal with them today.
"We?" Fitz asked, "So where's Jemma then?"
Dr. Garner knew what that meant. Of course he did. Dr. Garner had personally kept an eye on Fitz for the first few days after he had done It, and he knew why Fitz had done It. Dr. Garner would have to stop joking around now. "Have you talked to Jemma yet?"
"No. Haven't even seen her since the first day and that was only for a moment." A tearstained face appearing over the side of the bed. An apology. A goodbye. None of it had been clear through the haze of the aftermath of It. "Besides, what's to talk about?"
"You can't ignore your problem, Fitz. Talking to Jemma might resolve some things for you, and give you some peace. Some closure."
He didn't want to talk about It. "I'm peaceful. I'm better."
Dr. Garner stood up. He was leaving. "We'll talk more when you're feeling better."
"Why? I don't have anything to say." Fitz muttered as Dr. Garner stepped out of the room.
Daisy was standing outside, behind the glass. He could see Dr. Garner talking to her. She was shaking her head. Her hand rose to her face. Were those tears?
Guilt rose inside of him. How many people was he hurting now? They cared. The nightmares were lying. He knew that he shouldn't have done It. He knew that he had hurt them. Had he really wanted to? He couldn't remember exactly. It was still fuzzy, trying to piece together the memories from that night. Jemma had come into his room, wrapping herself into a SHIELD issue robe. Hiding in it. He had been exhausted from physical therapy, but elated at the idea of seeing her. She had sat down next to him and told him about the alien planet, about what had happened there. About Will, the man she had fallen in love with. She had been tearful, timid. She had begged him not to take it too hard. He had pretended to understand, told her that it was okay. She left. He fell apart. That was when it got fuzzy. He remembered every detail of what she had said, every word of it. The thoughts he had had while she told him. Daisy had come in at some point, and asked if he was okay. He had said yes, he just needed to be alone. She left. Then came the slow change from anger to despair. Everything intensified, the lights, the noise. But mostly the pain. The pain was the worst. He had fought through it before because it was worth it. For Jemma, it was worth it. She was a reason to keep fighting every day. And then she wasn't, and it didn't feel worth it anymore. His dinner had been on the bedside table, utensils untouched. There was more pain. There was darkness. There was light. Questions. More pain. Fuzz. Stitches. Bandages.
There were still bandages on his wrists. He was almost never alone. At the very least, somebody would check on him every half hour.
He wasn't going to try again. He regretted it the morning after, when he woke up with bandages on his wrists, an IV in his elbow and restraints keeping him from moving around. There had been lots of light in the first days. They would dim them for him to sleep, but he had no control over them.
Dr. Garner had been in there a lot. Daisy had stood at the doorway but she wouldn't come in. There had been lots of tears from her.
It had been a week, he thought, and yet she was still crying. Dr. Garner had said he should talk about it, but he didn't want to go back to it. It had been a mistake. He knew that he had reasons to live beyond Jemma, if only to prove Ward wrong. He hadn't been thinking then, and he wanted to say he was sorry, he just didn't know how. It was easier to avoid the topic altogether.
It was easier to avoid everything right now. Avoid the nightmares, avoid talking about it. Avoid facing himself.