"You learned to run from what you feel, and that's why you have nightmares. To deny is to invite madness. To accept is to control."― Megan Chance

Part VIII{Finale}

"...so we operated to repair the internal bleeding, and now he's in recovery." Mack finishes.

Yo-Yo stares at Mack in silence for a moment. That was quite a lot to take in.

"Wow." Was the first thing she manages to say. "His father was like that in real life?"

Mack nods heavily.

"Damn. And all of this happened just in the past few days?"

"Yeah. I did not expect all that to go down."

"Actually... I'm not that surprised. Well, I am about thing with his dad, but I'm not surprised he did all that."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Mack urges, taken aback.

"You really haven't realized how you all have been treating him? How depressed he's been— for months? For secret agents, you guys aren't very good at reading people."

Mack is surprised at Yo-Yo's admission. He didn't realize how much she had noticed from Fitz. He figured she was just as busy as the rest of them― too busy to notice. Perhaps it's because she was the only one who could look past what he had done.

"Why didn't you say anything?"

"When was I supposed to? Before or after you locked him up in that cell? He barely had a bed to sleep on! Por el amor de Dios."

She was right— Mack realizes as he now travels down to the med bay. At that time, no one would've even listened to her even if she had tried talking to them. Her last words made him reflect on the conditions she had mentioned. Again she was right. He had time to see what it was like when they had lock him in there before leaving on the trip to the Hydra base.

Fitz only had a thin bedding on top of concrete, barely long enough for his body. The cot only possessed a small pillow and a thin threadbare blanket the first week before Jemma had noticed how cold it was and found some spares he could use, although it's most likely he wasn't sleeping anyways. For a while it was completely empty― save for the metal interrogation-like table― before he had gotten some books. The corners of the room coated with dirt and spider webs, and the thick scent of must and mold permeated the air to a degree that made it hard to breathe after a while, having not been properly taken care of since the Lighthouse was quite an old facility.

The cruel undertones are hard to ignore, well... not that hard apparently. One thing did happen that Mack doesn't like to think about. Something he could've prevented.

Mack had been keeping a close eye on Fitz' camera feed at all times. Deep down he knew nothing would probably happen again, but he was too paranoid. Mack was still recovering from his bullet wound and he was exhausted, both of which only fueled his anger towards Fitz. For the most part he was right, nothing really happened besides Fitz sitting on his bed, staring at the wall. It was his first night being there and he had been still almost the entire time. Key word: Had.

He lifted his head from where it was back against the wall and his eyes darted around the room. He seemed to get increasingly more jittery as the minutes ticked by. He brought his knees to his chest and ran his hands through his hair compulsively. The prisoner's chest was heaving in air, his head leaning back on the wall again, seemingly from some sort of distress. He reaches out with his hand slamming it desperately on of the walls that sandwich his mattress, as if trying to push it away. His face was stricken with terror as he seemed to feel the walls were closing in.

It was then that Mack realized Fitz was claustrophobic. Ever since he almost drowned he's had an aversion to small spaces. It must have been enhanced by being cramped up in his prison cell at the military facility, that room only associated with trauma and bad memories.

Mack almost thought about going down there and helping him, but another part of him tells him it could be a trick. He felt so much betrayal after Fitz snapped, he doesn't want to take any more chances. So he just watched.

Watched as Fitz once again struggled to breathe, feeling like he was drowning all over again. The air sucked out of the room and the walls crashing down on him. He just rocks back and forth, clawing at his hair, the bed, his chest, waiting for the terror to pass. This is what he would do when it would happen before in prison. A war raged on in Mack's head of what he should do as he just stared at the shattering human on the screen in front of him.

Nothing's changed.

He hurt people.

He deserves this.

Mack wishes he had realized earlier that Fitz didn't.

A scream is the first sound Mack hears from Fitz since his terrified ramblings on the gurney before his surgery, and it breaks him from his thoughts.

Everyone was sleeping, save for the few agents here and there on night duties. Mack wanted to finally check on Fitz after the lengthy conversation he had with Yo-Yo. By the time he was finished, he realized it was just at the point of being too late and too early at the same time, but he still thought he would at least check if Fitz was awake.

He traverses the eerily quiet corridor almost about to remark to himself how creepy the silence is, before an even more alarming noise breaks through silence like a lance. A desperate cry in the distance, coming from Fitz' room. Mack freezes in his tracks for a moment to make sure he's not hearing things

Another strangled shout.

He takes off towards the noise, ready for action, but stops at the doorway. All the lights in his room are off, making it almost pitch black, except for the florescent lights from the hallway now illuminating it partially. For a moment he wonders why all the are off in the first place. Through the meager lighting he squints to see Fitz writhing in bed.

His head tosses back and forth and his good hand grips the blanket in a white-knuckled fist. His feet squirm a little, trapped and tangled under the layers of fabric. His expression is pained, and his entire body is drenched in sweat. Mack quickly runs over to his bedside. He's not going to ignore Fitz' problems this time, or any time after.

He shakes the engineer's shoulders in hopes of stirring him from whatever hellish dream he's stuck in. A choked noise escapes Fitz' throat before his eyes snap open and he scrambles off the bed, tumbling to the floor, legs still tangled in the confines of the blanket. His eyes are wide, blinded by fear.

He leans over to the side and retches up the small amount of food that was residing in his stomach. Under his fear and misery is a sense of defeat that he wasn't even able to keep the small bit of sandwich down.

For some obvious reasons, he still hasn't registered Mack's presence. The mechanic isn't quite sure how to proceed without startling the younger man. He figures no matter what he does, Fitz will probably be taken off guard so he just goes for it.

He clears his throat in an attempt to make it seem more natural, but as he feared, as soon as he makes noise Fitz jumps and presses against the wall unconsciously.

Hard footsteps. Broad shoulders. Large Hands.

His instincts tell him that only pain will come from this combination. He closes his eyes, shaking his head in protest.

"Please— not again…" He brings his arms up to cover his face in defense. The stress at the prospect of being in this position turns his stomach again, sending him leaning over the trash bin once more. With barely anything in his stomach to begin with, he only heaves up stomach acid. The large figure looms over him again. He wants to cower but it finally clicks in his muddled brain that these addends are those of his once best friend. Mack rubs his large hands against Fitz' back comfortingly, harder with muscle than he remembers but still lacking in all other areas. And at this rate he'll never keep anything down.

"Hey Turbo― calm down… It's just me."

'Turbo'… The name is a whisper of something familiar and safe. His face softens with relief but then instantly re-hardens with a mask of indifference.

"Mack… I uh… sorry." He stumbles, swiftly standing and picking up the jumbled blanket, his face flushed with equal parts exertion and embarrassment. He wipes his brow with the back of his hand. "Were you sleeping near here? Did I uh— did I wake you? I didn't mean to wake you— I'm sorry."

"Whoa, whoa, slow down— you didn't wake me up, I was already coming to see you."

"You— what?" He stops, dismayed.

Did he actually think that I wouldn't want to see him?

In his shock Fitz slumps back against the wall, dazed and uncoordinated.

Somethings not completely right here.

His eyes aren't looking at Mack directly. Even in the darkness, someone with average sight should be able to see at this level of lighting. He seems like he can barely hold himself up, even leaning back against the wall. He overall just looks… off.

He's clutching the blanket tightly against his body with a white-knuckled fist.

"Fitz?" Mack tries. Fitz looks up at him— well, more so in his general direction.

"Huh?" He responds loosely. His body is trembling. Unfortunately, Mack now knows from experience that whenever Fitz is shaking, something is very wrong. Mack takes a few steps back and gropes the wall for the light switch. The bright lights above the bed switch on illuminating the room within milliseconds. Fitz scrunches his eyes at the brightness stabbing at his eyes, curling inward.

Mack almost wishes he wouldn't have turned the light on. Fitz' t-shirt and bedding is riddled with red and copper streaks and is soaked down the chest and back with sweat. The bright white of the t-shirt no doubt making it look worse than it is, like, he had a fight with a blender, bad. The thing is, he doesn't look seriously injured and no one spot seems to be bleeding too badly, more like a bunch of light messy paint strokes.

Mack edges closer cautiously wondering if the cause of the blood is because Fitz opened up his stitches. The younger man is pretty out of it but still panicked. He sinks down to the floor as Mack gets closer leaving little marks of red on the wall in his wake. Mack gets close enough to make out a little bit more detail. He moves to grab the hem of Fitz' shirt with the intention of assess just how bad the damage is, but Fitz grabs his wrist firmly and stares at him with an indecipherable mix of emotions. Mack stares back earnestly— his dark chocolate brown to Fitz' deep ocean blue— trying to convey his own emotions and intentions through the connection.

Fitz releases his wrist and submits to his ministrations, arms dropping heavily at his sides. Mack nods in confirmation, silently thanking him for not resisting. Hesitantly, he lifts up the edge of Fitz' shirt, scared that what he finds might be just as bad as, or worse than last time. He's not sure what side of the scale this falls at.

There are several groupings of scratches all over his torso and arms. Upon further inspection, it's not as macabre as his original assumptions, but close. Judging by Fitz blood-caked nails, he was scratching at himself in his sleep. Mack is the tiniest bit relieved that he wasn't harming himself intentionally, but not enough to fully assuage his concern.

"Hey kid… what happened?" He asks the smaller man, adopting a softer tone. "Why'd you scratch yourself up?"

"I…" He stops and swallows, staring at the thin gashes on his arms. "He wouldn't stop…"

"Who?"

"Leopold. The Doctor. Me." He mutters darkly. Mack's face drops with realization. "He was in control, but I knew… I knew this time I wouldn't be able to stop and I… I actually wanted it to happen for a moment. I was so tired of fighting, I thought for a split second that it might be better if I just gave up and had him take control." He says, voice filled with a disgust reserved only for himself. "My dad was there. He wanted it to happen too. If it didn't, he said he would…" He shakes his head. "It ached and burned and my skin was crawling, I— I've never felt anything like it. How could it just be a dream?"

Mack feels sorry for the man. He can't even have solace in his dreams.

Goosebumps travel across Fitz' arms and the hairs stand on end. He stares at his red tipped fingers. The impulse for them to be clean becomes immeasurable. He has really come to hate the color red. He tries to mask his panic with indifference and calmly wipe his fingers on his shirt but the blood is partially dried and caked under the nails, making it near impossible to clean without water. He scrubs his fingertips harder on the boxer fabric covering the tops of his thighs attempting to rid himself of the evidence his nightmare produced.

Mack was going to comment about the dream, but figured it would be best to steer away from the subject since he can see that Fitz is already falling into a panic. He grabs Fitz' wrists firmly— being careful of the one still encased in the brace— and attempts to calm the younger man.

"Hey hey, you're okay." Fitz' eyes are watery but even in his weakened state he refuses to cry again. "Why don't we get you cleaned up?" Mack asks with a gentle voice once only reserved for when Hope was hurt or sick. Fitz looks hesitant at first. "We're just gonna go wash up. You good with that?" Fitz looks down, contemplating something internally, but then he nods shakily. "Great. Do you think you can stand up?" Another nod. "Alright, up we go—"

He puts Fitz' arm across his shoulders and stands, slowly hoisting up the engineer with him. Once Fitz stabilizes himself substantially enough, Mack releases and lightly touches his arm to guide him into the bathroom. Fitz will always be like a brother to him, but right now he needs to be cared for by the touch of a parent. He urges Fitz to sit on the edge of the bathtub. One good thing about the facilities here being older is that the infirmary bathrooms have actual bathtubs instead of roll-in showers.

Fitz keeps rubbing one hand with the other despite the brace. Something he's done since his original brain injury Mack notes. As Mack heats up some water in the sink, he notices how hesitant and nervous Fitz seems. It dawns on him that he most likely has never experienced care from another male figure that hasn't tried to harm him or tell him that being cared for is weakness.

That's pretty screwed up.

Fitz must have picked up on his anger, misunderstanding it for being directed at him because he starts to apologize. "Sorry." He hangs his head, wrapping his arms around himself and tucking his hands under his arms as if he was cold, but it seems to be more of a defense mechanism.

"Don't apologize. I'm not mad at you." He corrects. Fitz just looks down and Mack can't tell if the kid even believes him or not.

He's still shaking. Mack goes back over to where Fitz is stationed and lightly puts a hand on his shoulder, to which he flinches. Mack isn't surprised. He once again guides Fitz over to the sink so he can wash his hands. Fitz looks down at his left hand with confusion and Mack realizes he can't wash with the brace on. He mentally face-palms for not thinking about that sooner.

He comes over slowly as to not startle Fitz and undoes the Velcro straps on the brace for him. He winces a little as Mack slides it off. Mack can't help but stare at the dark bruise staining his hand. He had already dealt with re-gaining mobility in his hands before, forcing him to do it again was just cruel. Fitz sends his shaky hands over to the faucet letting the slightly warm water sluice down his fingers and knuckles. He barely moves his left hand— for good reason— but still quickly scrubs to get the dark crust out from under his nails, refusing to look at himself in the mirror.

Mack hands him a towel afterwards.

"Alright, off with the shirt." Fitz looks at him accusingly for second. "Don't look at me like that. I need to see how bad the scratches are, plus, do you really want Simmons to see you all smeared up like that?" He looks up at the mention of Jemma. Mack doesn't get why the kid is so hesitant to take off his shirt. It's not like he hasn't seen it before when he helped patch him up before.

"Okay." He responds quietly and sits back on the bathtub, glancing down at his shirt. It did look pretty bad. He knew he shouldn't have worn white. If he was wearing a darker shirt, Mack probably wouldn't have noticed as quickly. Now Mack is stuck helping him clean up this ridiculous mess like he's a helpless child. Mack is probably repulsed by him.

There's a bunch of little dots and streaks of blood that have either soaked through from underneath, or been smudged from his hands or arms. He truly does look horrible. He can only imagine the look on Jemma's face if she saw him this way. His ribs are still killing him but he doesn't want to have to ask Mack for help. He tucks in his elbow and tries to pull off the sleeve with the opposite hand, but his ribs protest the movement of stretching his arm over his body. He pushes through anyways and grasps the hem of the sleeve sliding it down his arm, past his injured hand until it releases with a jerk, making him gasp.

He's proud of the small accomplishment. From there he's able to pull off the collar and the other sleeve with relative ease, save for a small wince.

"I could've helped with that, you know." Mack states, cringing a little at the pain Fitz had put himself through.

"You shouldn't have to." He replies bitterly.

Mack tries to ignore the comment and kneels down to assess the damage. He's not surprised Fitz feels this way with the things Mack said to him before. The kid looks like an extra from a slasher film. It looks a hell of a lot worse because of the smearing. There are about a couple dozen scratches dispersed across his stomach and ribs and multiple groupings up and down his arms. Thankfully some of them didn't break skin and were just pink raised lines, but the ones that did were badly smudged all over. Mack snatches another washcloth from a cabinet in the other room to clean Fitz' cuts with since he probably won't feel comfortable enough to take an actual bath right here.

As he walks back into the bathroom, something makes him stop in his tracks for a moment. Fitz is adjusting his position and his back is fully visible to Mack for the first time.

Across sections of his back are crisscrossed patterns of barely visible scars. They're faint, but in the lighting of the bathroom the marks are more noticeable. Fitz turns suddenly and sees him staring. He knows exactly what had caught Mack's attention. Fitz turns back to his original position, back facing away from him. Mack knows what type of scars those are, and he also knows Fitz will most likely refuse to talk about it. Simmons might have some answers.

At the moment he just seems to be staring at his trembling hands, deep in thought. To pull Fitz out from the depths of his mind, Mack decides to pipe in something that was on his mind.

"So why were all of the lights off? Even I have to have a little light to see where I'm going in the middle of the night." Fitz looks up, a little surprised by the question.

"At the military facility I was held in, the uh... the lights would shut off every night at eight. They did give me a lamp after a while though so I could work— I didn't really do too much sleeping then, but before that I would a little bit. I just thought it might help." He admits before adding, "It didn't."

Mack can't figure out which is worse, being plunged into darkness at the drop of a hat, or given a source light only to work through the night. They each can screw someone up in their own way.

"This was my last clean shirt." Fitz mutters to change the subject, the balled up t-shirt still in his lap. Unfortunately, everyone has a limited amount of clothes since their previous base— and all of their belongings— were blown up, and then closed off for investigation. It also doesn't help that the small amount of clothes Fitz had seems to have been bloodied one by one over the past week. Fitz adjusts his position again so he's straddling the wall of the tub sideways, his back resting against the adjacent wall.

"It's alright. I'm sure we can find something in this place. It shouldn't be to hard to find something that will fit." Mack says, knowing full well that there can't be much that would be too small on his slim frame. Mack starts dabbing gently at the longer cuts with the wash cloth. Fitz barely reacts, having dealt with much worse in the past.

"I'm sorry you have to do this." Fitz says dejectedly. "And I'm sorry he— I programmed the LMD that shot you. And about locking you in my cell... I really didn't know what they were doing. I'm sorry I went along with it, but I couldn't let Jemma and Elena go alone."

Mack notices how he called Yo-Yo 'Elena'. As if he's distancing himself, or doesn't feel worthy enough to use her nickname. Mack knows that he's partly to blame for making Fitz feel as if he needs to apologize for these things, and it makes him feel horrible.

"Hey, I get it." Mack states. "And I've already forgiven you. I know not all of it was your fault." Fitz rolls his eyes slightly and Mack unconsciously presses harder making Fitz flinch a little at the sudden sharp pain. "Sorry." Mack murmurs, angry with himself for slipping up like that and causing Fitz even more pain. Fitz nods in reply. "Listen... I've wanted to apologize for how I've been treating you. I haven't been very fair."

Mack can tell by Fitz' face that he still feels undeserving of the apology. Something new happens though. His face turns to resignation and he sighs.

"Thank you."

He's shocked that Fitz didn't shut it down right away. He seems to be trying really hard to get better which gives Mack a small sense little relief. He can also tell Fitz is dying to turn it around and somehow apologize again.

A few winces and washcloths later, Mack is finished cleaning off the blood from the younger man. Now he just has to find some clothes.

"Uh... stay here. I'm gonna go find you a new shirt." Mack announces. He notices Fitz is still shivering in the cold atmosphere of the concrete surroundings. "And some pants."

There wasn't really any clothes left in storage and pretty much everyone was sleeping so Mack just settled on letting Fitz use one of his own t-shirts until they can have someone buy more later. He grabbed one from his go-bag that had shrunk in the wash recently. It's not that he couldn't wear it anymore, it was just a little less comfortable than the rest and he figures the smaller he can use the better.

Mack was almost worried Fitz would be gone when he got back, but sure enough he's still sitting on the edge of the tub, eyes closed and head tilted back, exposing the angry bruises on around his neck. The poor kid is exhausted. Mack skirts closer and lightly touches Fitz' shoulder, loathing having to wake him up. He jolts awake but thankfully doesn't freak out too much at Mack's presence this time.

"Hey, I got you some clothes." He denotes. Fitz nods and brings his left leg over the edge of the tub to join his right. Mack holds out a hand for Fitz to use as support, which he takes, and Mack pulls him up to his feet. He shimmies into the sweatpants that Mack got for him by himself, but this time Fitz allows Mack to help him put the shirt on, not having the energy to protest.

Mack has to hold back a snort at how huge the shirt is on Fitz. He's basically swimming in it, and it makes him look significantly younger than he really is. Fitz turns and glares at him like a teenager and Mack tries and fails to hide his amusement.

"What?" Fitz questions with a growing irritation.

"Nothing. It's just... You do not look like you're almost thirty right now." Mack chuckles.

"I uh... I am thirty." Fitz states quietly. Mack thinks of it as a joke for a second but then he realizes Fitz was only twenty-nine at the diner. He forgot how much time had actually passed while they were in the future.

Fitz spent his thirtieth birthday in prison and nobody noticed. Good Lord, the bad just keeps on piling up.

"Oh, I'm sorry."

"It's okay... It wasn't all bad. Lieutenant Evans was nice to me sometimes. She snuck me some food on my birthday since it wasn't..." He stops himself from continuing, but Mack isn't having it. His voice drops low.

"It wasn't what?" His tone makes Fitz stiffen, and he's ashamed that an involuntary shiver of fear crawls up his spine.

"Um... it wasn't... meal day." He elaborates, staring down as he fiddles with his hands nervously.

Mack closes his eyes, tightly clenching his jaw to simmer down the anger boiling beneath the surface. If he bursts it will only scare Fitz.

What happened to treating people like actual human beings? He thought government facilities had policies and guidelines to follow, like three square meals a day, or an allotted amount of time outside. Although, with General Hale being the head honcho there he's not as surprised. He shakes his head and releases a slow breath.

"Listen... what they did isn't okay. You may think it was perfectly fine or it was what you deserved but it's not. No one deserves that. And yeah, you may have made some mistakes but we all have and you don't persecute any of us. To be honest... a small part of me is actually grateful that you made the Framework." Fitz looks aghast, silent questions dying on his lips. "I mean don't get me wrong, living under Hydra's oppression was no picnic, but I wouldn't trade the time I spent with Hope for the world." He admits, voice wavering towards the end. "So don't let everything bad that's happened make you forget all the good you've done."

Fitz clears his throat to try and dislodge the growing lump of emotion. He nods sullenly, knowing that Mack won't budge no matter how hard he protests. None of them ever do.

Maybe they're right...? Maybe he didn't deserve a few of the things that have happened?

"Thanks, Mack."

He did it again. Mack is filled with a huge sense of accomplishment at the progress he's making.

"Anytime Turbo." The fondness he feels for his best friend emanates from his words. He can't stop himself from pulling the kid in for a tight hug, which Fitz returns in kind. He feels more like his brother than his actual sibling does. Some might say that hugging another guy this tightly isn't very masculine, but screw stereotypes. What do they know?

Fitz' grip starts to loosen and Mack does the same only to find that Fitz' whole body has gone slack. Mack swears for second after he realizes it and tries to catch him before he hits the floor. He seems to only be asleep which is a relief.

I guess he really was exhausted.

Mack picks him up for the final time this week and carefully lays him back in the bed. He pulls the blanket up to the younger man's shoulders, making sure to leave his feet uncovered. He thinks for a moment on how to proceed when Fitz wakes up. He's starting to forgive himself but Mack doesn't want to mess it up by saying or doing something wrong. Many of things could set Fitz on a self deprecating track. Any mention of the Framework, Coulson, Hydra, sometimes Daisy, Ruby, the fear dimension etc. AKA a lot. He needs something that will cheer Fitz up a bit.

Well, they missed his birthday, they could do a little something... but that has a chance of making him feel worse. Mack figures it's worth a shot. There's something he want's to track down.

Time to send Deke to the surface again.

oOo

Mack returns a few hours later even more exhausted, and sits back in the chair, looking over at Fitz. He always seems so tense, even in sleep. Eyebrows drawn down, jaw tight. Mack hopes that his presence alone will be enough to keep the nightmares at bay, but something tells him that won't be the case. He holds Fitz' hand and waits a while for any inclination of a nightmare before starting to doze off himself. Fitz' fingers twitch in Mack's larger hand, instantly signalling Mack to wake up. It was obvious he was having a bad dream.

Mack squeezes his hand and softly reassures him a few times that everything's okay. That seems to calm him in his sleep a little bit. Mack leans back relieved and assumes his previous position before falling asleep once again.

That's how Jemma and Daisy find them them that afternoon (to which Daisy snaps a few pictures with her phone). Jemma is a little surprised that Mack is there, but glad since it seems like they finally talked.

"Wakey wakey, Sleeping beauty" Daisy intones, softly touching Fitz' shoulder with her right hand, her left cradling a box of Sugar Bombs cereal. His eyes shoot open and his head pops up quickly but falls back on the pillow after seeing who it was waking him. She turns to Mack who has just awakened as well. "You too, Prince Charming." She grins. "I need you guys to help with my mom." She says casually and starts crunching another handful of cereal. "Unless you wanted to eat first?"

"Nah, I'm good." Fitz replies.

Jemma sighs inwardly, not sure if his lack of interest in food is because of the same issues as before, or the mention of Jiaying's corpse. Mack notices her worn expression and stands up.

"You two go ahead we'll catch up." Mack states to Fitz and Daisy. Daisy looks only a little confused, and Fitz looks a little apprehensive but they leave without question, Fitz leaning a little on Daisy to support his ribs. Mack briefly hears Daisy ask Fitz what he's wearing before their voices disappear down the hall.

Simmons turns to him with a slightly worried look on her face. What does he want to talk to her about? After everything that's happened recently she can't stop her mind from wandering to the worst possible scenarios.

"What happened?" She instantly asks when the others are out of earshot.

"He had some pretty bad nightmares last night. I was coming to check on him and I heard him screaming." He says quietly. Jemma's posture sags with disappointment.

"I should've been here. He convinced me to sleep in our room last night. I shouldn't have given in so easily."

"Hey, it's not your fault. He was in a pretty dark place, and I don't think he would've wanted you to see him that way." Mack consoles. "There is something else though..."

She looks up, the worry making a reappearance.

"He scratched himself up in his sleep pretty good. It's like he was fighting with himself or something, but don't bring it up. I don't think he really wanted you to know but I figured you should. I think it would be best if we got him out of the infirmary. The new space might be making things worse."

She nods loosely. He's hurting himself in his sleep now. This needs to stop soon or else some day it might escalate again. Mack is right though, he should be back in their room with her where she can keep an eye on him and they can be a bit more comfortable.

"You're right. I'll bring him back to our room tonight. Thanks for letting me know."

"It's no problem." Mack replies sincerely. "Also, I had a question... I helped him get cleaned up after he scratched himself and I saw some scars on his back..."

Jemma knows where he's going with this. She had wondered the same thing once before. Still does to a degree.

"I don't know everything because he hasn't gone into detail with me, but he's had them ever since I met him. Based off the shape of them I would guess that they were from a belt... or something similar at least." He can tell it pains her to talk about it so he refrains from asking anything else.

It disgusts him that a parent could do something so brutal to their own child. Mack had amazing parents so he has a soft spot in his heart for anyone that had it rough as a kid.

"Thank you. You don't have to explain any further. I understand it's hard to talk about."

She nods again with watery eyes and turns around, heading for the lab to meet up with the others.

oOo

Later that night, Jemma takes Mack's advice and moves Fitz back to their room. After standing for so long working on Jiaying's skeleton Fitz is noticeably exhausted. She can tell he's trying really hard to hide it, but he looks about ready to drop any moment. They head back to their quarters which unfortunately has a single bed like the rest of them. Fitz refuses to take the bed, and collapses tiredly into the red armchair in the corner of the room, saying the chair is better for his ribs. That seems like complete rubbish to her but she knows there's no chance he'll give in at this point.

He's still wearing Mack's t-shirt since they weren't around many people throughout the day. She knows he would've felt embarrassed wearing it in front of the other agents, even though it wasn't that bad since he tucked it into his sweatpants.

She gets into some comfier clothes herself, turning to see that Fitz is already out cold, stretched out on the chair like a starfish. His legs are out straight, arms hanging limp over the sides, and his head is tilted to the side resting on the back of the chair. She pads over to him and smiles before kissing his head and covering him up with an extra blanket.

Finally satisfied that he's okay for the time being, she slides into bed and snuggles under the covers and listens to the sound of his even breathing as she drifts off into a sound sleep.

oOo

Burning.

Bubbling.

Suffocating.

His flesh is on fire. The darkness is searing through his veins. He chokes on it grasping for purchase on anything stable. He can feel it taking him over, sending him under the surface to drown in the inevitable sense of despair that he tries to hard to overcome.

The darkness takes form. A reflection on the surface of the ink. He can feel it underneath his fingertips. It's himself. It's his other self. The throat of the monster is in his hands.

Use your training Leopold. Use what I taught you.

He squeezes, digging his fingers into the neck of his reflection. Kill what you hate. Destroy it. It's hurts but he feels relief as it intensifies. The monster is struggling, dozens of slimy black hands claw at his arms with their sharp talons, desperately trying to stop him from ending it.

The reflection changes.

He is the monster. Choking out whatever else is left. He wants to stop but—

Do it.

End it Leopold.

A growling voice breathes in his ear. His back is burning. A desperate yell rips out of his throat and he squeezes harder.

Yes Father.

I'm sorry.

Buzzing increases in his ears, blood rushing to replace the ink.

Fitz.

No.

Fitz.

Stop.

"FITZ!"

He blinks. He's back in his room, hands around Jemma's throat.

oOo

Jemma was awoken by the sound of a whimper. She instantly sits up and looks the clock. 4:17 AM. Being only half awake, she's confused at first before realizing the situation. She jumps up and goes over to the chair where Fitz is sleeping. His blanket has long since fallen to the floor and he's curled up in the chair, eyes scrunched shut. He's covered in sweat. He groans through his teeth in anguish.

She berates herself for not paying closer attention to him throughout the night. She grabs his shoulders to get his attention shaking them slightly.

"No, stop... Just leave me alone..." He pleads just above a whisper.

"Fitz, wake up. It's just a dream."

His breath hitches and he stills for a second making Jemma think that he's awake now.

She was wrong. His arms launch forward and his hands seize her neck, not tightly enough to cut off her air but enough to be concerning. His face screams something wrong. He eyes are still closed but he looks pained and scared. Her shock is replaced worry that she won't be able to wake him up before he does something horrible. Her hands are rested on his around her throat and she silently begs for him not to do this.

"Fitz—" She says carefully, knowing he's dangerously on the edge. Tears forming in his shut eyes and a ragged shout escaping his throat, he squeezes tighter, bringing them both to their knees.

"FITZ!" She yells again, pulling and scratching at his hands in her now desperation, re-opening the scabs on his arms.

His eyes snap open. She watches as his agonized expression turns to shock, and then revulsion. He lets go immediately and crumbles into a kneeling position. She rubs her throat. He quickly slides away from her to the wall and curls into himself, shaking.

"No no no nonononono..." He mutters over and over again. He fists his hair in his hands tightly. "Not again— please not again, I'm sorry Jemma I'm— I'm sorry..." He shoves a hand against his ribs to inflict pain on himself, which deeply worries her. "I shouldn't have been here." He says in a horrified whisper.

"Fitz it's alright—"

"No— I did it again and I can't stop myself..."

This was a huge step back in his progress. Jemma feels tears form in disappointment that this occurred. Why does this always happen to them?

"Listen..." She scoots closer to him and tries to touch him but he put his arm out to stop her.

"No! Don't come near me!" He shouts. "I don't want to hurt you again..." He starts muttering incoherently to himself.

"Hey!" She yells to get his attention. "You're going to listen to me right now, okay?"

He looks at her with such sorrow it takes her breath away.

"This is not your fault. I know better than to wake someone in a night terror because they could become violent. We both know this!" She tries to reach him using logic. "Was it me that you were seeing?"

He shakes his head, wiping a stray tear with his trembling hands.

"Then you didn't do this on purpose. Fighting to accept the other side of you is causing a war within yourself, and that war is manifesting physically so that you end up hurting yourself or others! You need to accept that he's a part of you and move on." She moves closer, ignoring his protests. "Please... you can't keep doing this to yourself. I love you too much to watch you destroy yourself like this." He turns his head away for a second, desperately trying to shut down his emotions. "Just let it out. Tell me what your feeling and let whatever your feeling go so you can move on."

Fitz looks into her eyes and all the rest of his walls come crumbling down.

"I'm terrified that this is who I am now..." He admits. "Everything inside of me feels... different. I can see the way people look at me with pity or apprehension because they think I'll snap at any moment. Every time I do something, this voice is telling me that everything I do means nothing, that everyone would be better without me... that I'm weak. It never stops." She cups his stubbled cheek with her hand. "I need help."

That breaks her. She sniffs and wraps her arms around his shoulders.

"I know. And we'll be here for you this time." He tightly wraps his arms around her in return, tucking his head in her shoulder. They relish the feeling of comfort in each others embrace. She knows she softened the blow of the situation quite a bit, glad that he admitted needing help. This is some sort of progress, albeit not the best form. She feels an immense swell in her heart at finally being able to be in the arms of the man she loves once again.

They stay wrapped up together on the floor for quite a while, Jemma now asleep tucked against his chest with his chin resting atop her head. He couldn't bring himself to go back to sleep after everything that happened. He looks at the clock. 5:43. Everyone will be getting up soon. He kisses the top of her head and strokes his hand up and down her arm to rouse her from sleep. She sucks in a deep breath as she wakes.

"Jemma... We should get up, it's almost six." He whispers.

"Mmhmm." Jemma hums in reply and stretches before getting up. She gets dressed in her day clothes while Fitz washes his blood off of his arms from his re-opened scratches. He looks down at his own attire and sighs. He misses his button up shirts. A knock startles him from his thoughts. He glances at Jemma to make sure she's done dressing and opens up the door. Mack stands on the other side, holding a folded shirt and a small brown paper package. Fitz steps back to let him inside.

"Hey, I sent Deke into town to pick up a few things and I had him get you some clothes." He holds out the shirt. Fitz' face lights up a little.

"Yes!" He exclaims with delight, to the surprise of the other two. Fitz sees their shock and sheepishly dials it back. "Uh, thank you."

Mack and Simmons are both smiling. It was nice to see him have some happiness for the first time in a while.

"Also, I was able to track this down for you, since we missed your birthday." He holds out the package. Fitz seems shocked but mostly curious. He takes the package and looks at Jemma who urges him to open it, equally curious. Its about the size of small paperback book. He unwraps the brown paper from from the contents to reveal something he thought he'd never see again.

It was a picture frame with the image of the entire team from back at the Playground. It was one of the only pictures they had of everyone and Fitz thought he would never get it back. The group was sitting in various places around the couch in the living area, Fitz sitting between Mack and Hunter, Fitz and Hunter's arms hanging on each other's shoulders, each holding a beer. Bobbi was sitting to the left of Hunter on the arm of the couch, also holding a beer. Daisy was sitting sideways in an armchair, and Jemma was popping out from behind the couch with her arms wrapped loosely around Fitz' neck, their face right next to each other. May and Coulson were sitting comfortably next to each other on the other loveseat. Everyone had bright smiles on their faces and were having a good time. It was one of Fitz' favorite memories with the team.

"How did you find this?" He asks incredulously. Mack smiles.

"Well, I sent Deke out and had him contact Hunter— he says hi by the way— and he was able to pull some strings get a hold of this. All he said was some guy he knows named— Coots? was able to sneak in as one of the military guys that were clearing the Playground." Fitz smiles knowingly at the mention of Hunter and Coots. "I figured you could use some cheering up."

"Thank you, Mack. This is the best." He steps forward and gives Mack a quick hug.

"You're welcome, Turbo. Oh, and Daisy wanted to talk to you. She was in the kitchen last I checked."

"Oh, okay thanks." Fitz replies. He's too impatient to wait to change his shirt so he just leaves with it, most likely changing in a bathroom on the way to the kitchen.

Simmons turns to Mack with a smile.

"Thank you for doing that. I think it really did help."

"It's no problem. I knew he needed something to remind him of everyone that loves him." Mack states. "How did he do last night?"

"He... he had a pretty bad nightmare. I tried to wake him and he attacked me thinking I was his father or the Doctor, I'm not sure." Mack's eyes widen with concern. "I'm fine. I think he hurt himself more than me. But I talked with him afterwards and I think I really got through to him this time. He's really going to try to do better from now on." Mack sighs with relief.

"Thank God. I'm going to do my best to help as well."

"Thank you. He's going to need all the help he can get."

oOo

They both join the others in the kitchen and Jemma is surprised to see Fitz eating a bowl of cereal quite eagerly. Usually he pushes his food around and pretends to be eating when he's really just drowning in his own thoughts. Now, it seems Daisy and him are immersed in some random Sci-Fi movie she pulled up on her tablet. Jemma realizes that might be the key of getting him to eat more: distract his mind so he doesn't think of everything that usually ruins his appetite and he'll unconsciously eat his food in the process.

Unlike Daisy's Sugar Bombs (which gives Simmons a cavity just looking at them), it seems like he's eating a more plain cereal. Most likely to be more gentle on his stomach. Jemma gets herself a granola bar, which are surprisingly still good even though expired, and sits down with them as Mack pulls out a bag of beef jerky from the cupboards. She watches the two sitting next to her and smiles. It's nice to have the bus kids back together again.

All of the sudden, loud alarms blare causing them to jump and lights start to flash. They all straighten, ready for danger. Coulson's voice comes over the intercom explaining that the Lighthouse is going into lock-down mode.

"—which is good because there is currently a sizable alien spaceship overhead. Oh and, due to a... technical malfunction, the Lighthouse thinks we're under nuclear attack so we may be trapped inside for fifteen years...ish. I'm sure there's a way around that, so in the meantime there's no reason to panic. The Lighthouse survives the earth being cracked apart so: one flying saucer— probably no big deal." The intercom clicks off and they all look at each other.

Well... crap.

Here we go again.

oOo

Epilogue

He's gone.

Fitz is gone and so is Coulson.

He died a hero: Saving Mack and Polly from their once destined deaths. After all he's been through he deserved better. Deserves better.

Everyone isn't sure how to process everything, but the one thing they do know is that they can fix it. They can find the original Fitz frozen in Enoch's Chronicom vessel orbiting somewhere in space and they can fix it. They get a second chance to be better. So they're going to do everything in their power to stop him from breaking this time.

They are going to find him and save him from himself.

Screw the consequences.

"A fighter never gives up. His scars are his ornaments. He may never be whole, yet he's bigger than all his battles and beautiful, even in his brokenness."― Mona Soorma

So we've finally come to the end. I'm a little sad it's over. I hope you guys enjoyed taking this journey with me and are satisfied with the ending. I love all of you wonderful people and I hope to write more Fitz-centric AOS fics in the future since they seem to be rarer than his happiness lol. I'm super pumped for the premier tomorrow night, but I'm also scared for all of the pain that this season will inevitably be filled with. I'm still recovering from Endgame (x—x)

—Comment Replies—

minecraftgraces:

Same dude. Same.

Foot Tapper:

I'm glad you liked it! I love those rare scenes between them, like after he found that scroll for the monolith, when they were trapped between dimensions with Robbie and Fitz was freaking out about Jemma, and of course when they were in the elevator before the wedding. I hope you enjoyed this last chapter!

Module02:

I hope you're all caught up now and enjoyed the finale!

Maximus97:

Thank you for another great review! I really wanted to take his recovery slower. I hate when things are fixed super quickly because it's never that simple in real life. I always love those father/son scenes between Coulson and Fitz, especially since Fitz' father was so horrible, and Radcliffe kind of betrayed him, Coulson was the closest thing Fitz had to a real father. Anyways, hope you enjoyed this final chapter to the story. Also, sorry I won't be able to reply to any further reviews since I can't PM you, but just know that it will make my day nonetheless. I'll miss your amazing reviews!

Piluhappy:

You're right! Coulson was a very important piece to Fitz' recovery and I think that was a little bit what they missed out on in the show. I really wanted to take it slow as well because its unrealistic for things to be fixed so quickly in other instances. Also I finally put in more Fitzsimmons bonding like you had wanted. I hope you liked it!