"Let me ask ye a question." he finally said as he turned to look the agents in the eyes.
"Go ahead."
"Do any of ye call Leo by his full name?"
"What you mean Leopold?" Coulson raised his eyebrows in surprise at the question.
"Aye," nodded the Scot "Have ye ever called him that?"
"No." they both replied wondering where this conversation was going.
"Well that's because only one person calls him that, and this person is not one he gets on well with."
"You mean…"
But Coulson never finished. No, he got cut off by the look of pure fear and shacking that took hold of Fitz due to the impossibly loud shout that echoed through the stone walls, consisting of one word.
"LEOPOLD!"
Simmons was sure that if there had been any lab equipment in Fitz's hands when that terrifying voice boomed through the house, that they'd be a conical flask and petri dish short. And of course with glass on the floor. Having thanked god Fitz's hands had lacked any contents; Jemma regarded the petrified state of her friends. His pupils were dilated, his breathing quick and short. Add that to the tremors that coursed his frame and the look on his face and you had the perfect example of a man that felt as trapped as a caged animal. Fitz turned and strode quickly over to Malcom, his face quite a few shades paler than before.
"I thought ye said he'd be back tomorrow!" his words without any hatred, just pure fear.
"That's what he said. Turns out he changed his plans."
"But I have to look over th' samples because they might be time sensitive…"
"LEOPOLD!" came the shout a second time.
"I think ye better go up and see him lad…" said Malcom, his hand now on the boy's shoulder.
"No," Coulson shook his head "We'll go up and talk with him first."
"That's really not necessary…"
"Fitz, we'll go up and introduce ourselves and that will give you time to finish the samples with Simmons, and to collect yourself. Ok?"
Fitz eventually nodded and watched as his team, minus Simmons, walked up to meet Leofs father.
Waiting in the main hall was a man around six-foot one, dressed in a suit that would rival Coulson's. His hair was a dark chestnut brown that showed no signs of the curls that framed his son's head. In fact nearly nothing except for the angular slightly thin face outline held any resemblance to Fitz. One would have thought that even that spark of mischievousness would have been found in the man's eyes but they only held a void, a bottomless pit. It made Skye shiver.
"Who are these people Malcom?" he asked sharply, his gaze never leaving the team. "And where is my poor excuse for a son who has suddenly decided to return."
"Leo is downstairs in th' lab with his partner inspectin' some…"
"So he's hidin' then." The man grinned maliciously. "You can't hide forever LEOPOLD!" he bellowed, this time aiming the heavily accented sound at the stairs now that he knew where the boy was.
"He isn't hiding Mr Fitz," came Coulson's steady voice, showing no hint of the discomfort the man before him was obviously causing him. "The samples are time sensitive and so he and Simmons have to inspect them now or we risk losing data that may be valuable to the investigation. He asked that you excuse him until the tests are finished."
The man laughed. "Is he now? Well we might as well get to know each other. Come."
They followed him into one of the rooms just off the main hall, which had two leather armchairs in front of the fireplace accompanied by a rather large sofa.
"Make yourselves at home." He gestured to the seats. "Just don't take this one," he said patting one of the armchairs. "I rather dislike people takin' what's mine." His eyes scanned the guests again before heading over to the small table in the corner which held the crystal bottles and glasses.
"I'm guessin' my son didn't give you th' proper Scottish greeting of scotch or whiskey," he said as he poured out the light liquid and added the ice cubes.
"It wasn't the first thing he did but we did try some scotch."
"Was it to your likin'?" He handed glasses round the room, not meeting anyone's eyes yet assuming that they all wanted some before heading over and reclining into the folds of old leather.
"Yes it was thank you very much Mr Fitz."
The glass paused at his lips as he stared at Coulson, his eyes narrowing dangerously.
"What did you just call me?"
Coulson swallowed the lump in his throat before repeating his previous sentence to which the other man threw back his head in a bark-like laugh. When he stopped he looked at the others faces before locking eyes with Coulson again. "Bastard of a son can't even use his own real name."
"What?" said May, her normally stoic expression barely concealing her true worry and confusion at the man's statement. He turned to look at her.
"My surname isn't Fitz. It's Campbell."
"But then why does…" began Skye before stopping herself and looking anxiously at Mr Campbell who looked thoroughly amused.
"You all want to know why he'd go by th' name Fitz?" he stated as if it was the most natural thing in the world. He sighed as he got up and walked over to the window to look out over the field, gleaming in the midday sun. "His real name is Leopold Antony Fitz Campbell. Fitz was his mother's maiden name." he chuckled before taking a swipe of alcohol. "Just another way to spite me. No wonder I couldn't find him on any records. Accordin' to all th' colleges and universities, Leopold Campbell doesn't exist. Meant that I wasn't able to drag him back here to where he belongs."
He turned around to gaze at the people who his son worked with, his colleagues, his… friends. It sent a bitter taste to his mouth which he proceeded to eradicate with more alcohol.
"He was never supposed to leave here you know. He was never meant to meet any of you or go off to do some ridiculously useless course at school and university. No, he was meant to stay here and finally see what his duty was. Instead he keeps on disappointin'."
Coulson would later thank god that Mr Campbell had not heard the rather heated but quiet swear words directed at him by Skye and for the millionth time he regarded the fact that May lacking the ability to shoot lasers out her eyes was a blessing. If that hadn't been the case, he was sure that Mr Campbell would now be a melted mess of something that vaguely resembled a human being. Instead Coulson counted mentally to twenty.
"How long will you be stayin' Mr Coulson?"
His head snapped up. "That depends on the results of the samples as well as what it is we find. We hope we're not intruding and pressing our stay if it is unwelcome."
"No, no," Campbell shook his head. "Your stay will mean I will spend some quality time with my son. Much needed quality time. And who knows," he smirked "when you leave you might leave one short."
His words sent involuntary shivers down everyone's back.
Then they heard the knocking of a door.
"Come in."
After a hesitant pause, the door opened to reveal the two scientists who quickly yet cautiously step inside.
Campbell purposely avoided looking at his son in favour of gazing at the girl next to him. "And who are you?"
"I'm Jemma Simmons, Fitz's lab partner."
"Hmm, British eh?" Campbell's face remained stoic. "Still don't know how to choose company do you Leopold? Fraternisin' with a Brit, Americans and two Asians. You obviously haven't retained any of the lessons I taught you."
Gazing into Fitz's eyes, Coulson could see his anger and he feared that whatever snarky comment Fitz retaliated with, it wouldn't do them any good. In fact it could push Campbell to kicking them out the house. So he and May (who had been on the same trail of thought) both jumped up and proceeded to ask questions about the specimens to which the two scientists both answers their need for more evidence.
But before anyone could say anything else, Campbell said "Please could you all leave. I would like to talk alone with my son."
Knowing no amount of protests would get Fitz to escape his father's wishes they quietly left, all giving small smiles and comforting touches of encouragement before they closed the door, leaving father and son inside alone.
Although he knew that the room's temperature had not dropped, Fitz couldn't help the shiver that raced down his spine after the last of his team left. It was just him and his father, and boy did that scare Leo.
His father stalked over to the middle of the room before pointing at the space just before his feet and as if talking to a dog said "Come here, now."
And like the dog that he became in front of his father, he walked forward, closer to the man's scrutiny. With one sharp movement Campbell grabbed the boy's chin and yanked it up so that Leo had no choice but to stare into the coloured voids that were his father's eyes.
"You haven't changed. What a disappointment." He made tutting noises on his tongue. "But then again that's th' only thing about you that stays constant. You feel th' need to go against Heraclitus don't you? Just like you feel th' need to defy me. No matter what you don't change." He released Fitz's chin before walking back over towards the alcohol. Fitz remained stoic knowing better than to rub the soreness away in the presence of his father.
"So what is it that you actually contribute to your 'team'?"
Fitz gulped. "I work with Simmons as th' science section of th' team. I'm engineerin' and she's biochemistry." Even the familiarity of that phrase did nothing to alleviate the ever deepening pit in the bottom of his stomach. "We work on th' scientific aspect of th' operations. I also design their tools includin' some weapons."
"And what ridiculous weapon did you create Leopold?" his voice drenched in sarcasm as he refilled his glass.
"Well… I made a gun that uses an endotoxin to knock people unconscious. It means that ye don't have to worry about killin' th' person, but it does incapacitate them for a while."
His father's face remained stoic. "This Simmons, is she your girlfriend?"
Leofs cheeks flushed before stammering that that wasn't the case. His father nodded in approval. "Good. I won't have my son fraternisin' with inadequate people." He downed his glass, his eyes looking into the fireplace. "Talkin' of inadequate people, I've invited some people over to dinner. I expect you to remember your place and to inform your 'team' of theirs." Fitz could hear the 'Or else' hanging in the air.
"Yes father."
Campbell's eyes fixed on his son before walking quickly up to him and grabbing the front of Fitz shirt. "What shite are you wearin'?" he asked, his voice an icy calm as he took in Fitz's attire that consisted of a chequered shirt, tie, his usual cardigan, black trousers and his brown trekking boots from the earlier outing.
"Um…"
"I don't care what bloody excuses you have. You will not wear this or anythin' resemblin' it in my presence, especially tonight at dinner." he spat before shoving Fitz to the floor. "And I expect you to wear your formal clothes, that is if you can still remember how to put them on. Wouldn't be bloody surprised since you've spent too much time in bloody America."
Fitz picked himself up off the floor and attempted to straighten out his tie. He turned to leave before his father commanded him to stop. And by commanded it was more like threatened him to not take another step.
"You always defy me don't you? You can't even use your own bloody name."
A malevolent grin spread across the man's face as he saw his son's eyes widen in understanding and terror. "Oh yes, I found out what you did. Did you think I wouldn't notice that they don't call you Campbell? How dare you use your mother's name instead of mine you piece of shite!"
Suddenly his father hurled the whiskey glass at his face. It shattered at the impact with his hands which he'd thrown up in attempt to cover his face. He achieved his goal but only to have the glasses fragments rip his skin.
"GET OUT!" his father screamed. "Get out of my sight!"
And so Fitz ran out of the dreaded room before sprinting up to his room, completely oblivious to the fact that his team had been watching the whole scene using Sleepy and Grumpy.
Hope you liked this chapter. I am so sorry that i was unable to post on Saturday but I hope it was worth the wait!