A/N: Apologies for the delay - Downton Abbey ended, school happened, blah blah blah.
The last scene in this chapter is the one that the entire fic is based around, so I'm really excited to have reached that point. Things are going to get a bit intense from here, but I don't say more than that.
Enjoy!
They didn't have any idea where they were going; they didn't bring any supplies besides what was left in their saddle bags; they didn't even know if the figure the guards had described was Jemma or not. All Fitz and Grant had to go on was a rough, finger-pointed approximation of where Jemma may have been taken, but Fitz was nothing less than determined.
His heart was pounding in his ears as they galloped off into the night, his mind empty of everything by Jemma. Jemma, missing. Jemma, kidnapped. Jemma, trapped, tortured, killed. The words repeated through his mind with every hoof beat on the ground. Maveth had Jemma. Maveth had Jemma. Maveth had Jemma.
Fitz was ready at that moment to trade himself for Jemma, to live imprisoned for the rest of his life, if only to spare her from whatever the sorcerer had planned. He missed her hand, soft in his. He missed her smile and her reassurances that everything would be okay. He missed her calm analysis of any problem, finding solutions in ways that Fitz never could have found alone. Without her by his side, Fitz felt lost, but he knew he would find her. He wouldn't rest until he did. After all, it hadn't been long since she disappeared, even if they were riding quickly, and, with any luck, he and Grant would come upon her and her captor somewhere along the road.
But they didn't have luck. Hours passed, the sun began to rise, and Fitz and Grant were thoroughly lost.
"Fitz, we need to stop, rest, and try to get our bearings," Grant said as the sky began to brighten, his voice only slightly hesitant.
Fitz glared at him. "I'm not stopping until we find Jemma."
"We have no idea where we are, let alone if Jemma even went this way," Grant replied without skipping a beat. "Please, we have to stop, just for a little. I want to look over my maps, and I want you to sleep."
"Sleep?" Fitz replied incredulously. "The woman I'm in love with has been stolen off somewhere, and you want me to sleep?"
Grant rolled his eyes and stopped his horse, staring at Fitz expectantly to do the same.
Fitz seethed for a moment, but he relented. "Ten minutes you can have; that's all."
Grant nodded and the pair dismounted as Grant pulled out his map. Fitz sat up against a tree, intending to keep his eyes on Grant until he let them move out again, but before Fitz knew it, his eyelids were drooping and then they were closed and then he was blinking awake to the sight of Bobbi standing over him with a glare rivaling the one he had thrown at Grant.
"Don't you ever do that again, Fitz," Bobbi said harshly, reaching out a hand to pull him to his feet. "I know you love Jemma, and I know you'll do anything to find her, but you can still stop to think for half a moment. You left without provisions or a plan or any sense at all! I'm just glad you let Grant go with you. And I'm glad he followed my orders and made you get some sleep."
"Your orders?" Fitz asked, slightly groggy as he tried to figure out how long he'd been asleep. It was definitely brighter than it had been when he shut his eyes.
"You think I'd let you hunt down Jemma without anyone at all to look after you?" Bobbi rolled her eyes. "I wanted to go myself, since you were so adamant, but I had to figure things out with May and Daisy."
"Where's May?" Fitz asked, looking around and seeing only Grant, sleeping on the ground nearby, and a small fire.
"She went to find the King," Bobbi replied, "and Daisy stayed to lead the soldiers."
Fitz raised his eyebrows at the second statement.
Bobbi shrugged. "Their king's off on a wild goose chase with a prince, and Daisy's perfectly capable."
Fitz nodded, but his face soon hardened. "How long have you been here? Grant said we'd only stop for 10 minutes."
Bobbi offered him a smile that was understanding but almost patronizing. "About three hours, I'd imagine. Grant said you fell asleep as soon as you sat down."
"But Jemma-"
"Is in a much better position to be rescued now," Bobbi interrupted. "I know where we are, which you and Grant did not know, and I know the most likely place Jemma was taken. And we'll soon have reinforcements from your father if we need them. This is why I wanted you to stop and think for a moment before you ran away."
Fitz understood Bobbi's point, but any way he thought about it, he would have done the exact same thing all over again. Jemma was the only thing that mattered.
Bobbi woke Grant, and they ate breakfast as quickly as possibly, Fitz refusing to sit down and eyeing the horses very pointedly to hurry his companions along.
When they finally left, Bobbi led the way, explaining that they were not far from the ruins of the old fortress that Maveth had been using as a base.
"More than likely that's where he's taken Jemma," Bobbi said reassuringly. "We'll find her and get her home."
Fitz took a deep breath and nodded, steeling himself for whatever lay ahead.
It was nearly midday when they finally came out of they valley they had been riding through up into a copse at the base of a hill. Rising from the top was clearly the fortress Bobbi had described. It must have been centuries old, falling apart, the entirety of a turret smashed on the ground leaving a hole on the edge of the rampart. Fitz was momentarily worried that someone had seen them coming from so high up, but there didn't appear to be anyone keeping a look out.
"We'll leave the horses and sneak up through that grove to try to find a way in," Bobbi said quietly.
Fitz and Grant nodded their understanding, and the trio tied up their horses and crept quietly through the underbrush. A thin line of trees ran almost the entire way up to the fortress, giving them enough cover to make it nearly to outer wall.
Grant looked around once they reached the rampart and then motioned for Fitz and Bobbi to follow him through a gap in the façade where it seemed the fortress had been hit by one catapult too many.
Through the wall was a courtyard littered with rubble, easy cover for the three of them as they crept closer to the central fortress.
Hearty laughter from within the walls stopped them.
Grant put a finger to her lips and motioned for Bobbi and Fitz to follow his lead, leaning up against the side of the citadel next to a heavy wooden door set in the rock that didn't sit right on its hinges, voices drifting easily through the gaps above and below the wood.
"She's a very pretty thing," a male voice said above the laughter. He sounded older, maybe in his 50s or 60s, but there was an edge to his words that made Fitz uneasy.
"You should be nicer to her, Malick," another voice replied, younger, less disconcerting. "She's smart as well as pretty."
"Didn't seem so smart when I snatched her last night," the first voice, Malick, replied to new waves of laughter.
Fitz's hands balled themselves into fists. This was the man who had taken Jemma.
"She hasn't begged or wept or any of those typical maiden things, though," the younger voice replied thoughtfully. "She's been very defiant."
"Feisty," Malick replied, in the same tone that a glutton would use to comment on a particularly delicious looking piece of meat.
Fitz had the momentary urge to throttle Malick for whatever he might be thinking.
He felt a hand on his shoulder and looked up to find Bobbi staring at him, her eyes wide.
Fitz realized that he had been shaking, his anger at the men inside so great. He took a deep breath and nodded to Bobbi, letting her know that he was okay.
"Don't get any ideas, Malick," the younger voice chastised.
Fitz was momentarily relieved until the younger man continued.
"The Master said that the girl's engaged, or as good as, and he's really after her fiancé. Once the fiancé's out of the way, she'll be free to find someone else."
A third voice entered the conversation. "And you think that'll be you, Will?" the man chortled. "Got yourself a crush?"
"She likes me already," Will replied almost arrogantly, "which is far more than can be said of any of you. And I have a plan."
Fitz turned to let his forehead rest on the rock wall. He needed to save Jemma from these horrible men.
"Oh, of course, I'm sure the Master would gladly do anything for you," Malick commented, his voice dripping with sarcasm.
"He brought me here, didn't he?" Will replied. "I'd say I'm one of his more valuable assets."
"Not the most valuable," Malick clarified.
"Of course not," Will said quickly. "We all know who that is."
There was a murmur of assent through the group, which seemed to consist of, Fitz would have guessed, at least 10 or 15 men. He would have bet anything that many of them were the figures he and Jemma had seen emerge from the monolith in the forest only weeks before.
"Well I must go check on Miss Simmons," Will said, his cheerful voice setting Fitz's teeth on edge.
"Has the Master seen her yet?" one of the men asked.
"Not yet," Will replied. "But soon."
There were footsteps and the sound of a door, apparently Will leaving.
"Who cares if lover-boy's got a crush," Malick said, his words twisted, slimy, "she's got too pretty a face to pass up."
Fitz made a move to run through the door with every intention of attacking Malick, but Grant held him back and pulled him away, Bobbi following, her face a mask of worry.
"Why did you stop me?" Fitz exploded, as soon as they were safely away from the wall, out of earshot. "Did you hear them? They're disgusting and horrible, even that guy Will acts as though he's entitled to her just because he's not as awful as the others. And Malick…" Fitz stopped, breathing heavily, too angry to continue.
"Fitz, it's not worth it," Grant said evenly, crouching slightly so he could look Fitz firmly in the eyes. "If you ran in there, you'd get killed in a second. There were at least 10 of them, probably more. You running in there to kill Malick with only a dagger won't help anything."
"We have to save her," Fitz said, feeling tears rising into his eyes. "We have to get her back."
"We will, Fitz," Bobbi said, laying a hand reassuringly on his forearm.
Grant nodded his agreement. "I think I have a plan. There aren't many of them in there, if there were more, we'd have seen some guards by now. So I'd assume that that door," he pointed at a smaller, less obvious door in a different section of the wall from where they had been listening, "should be deserted, or almost, at least. If we slip in, I can find Jemma while Bobbi keeps watch. I think we should be more than a match for any of them."
"What about me?" Fitz said quickly, his eyes narrowed skeptically.
Grant shook his head. "We can't risk having you in there. For one thing, Jemma's only here as a trap for you, and, for another, you almost just burst in there, destroying any chance we have of saving her. You're too emotionally volatile to come in with us, Fitz. I'm sorry."
Fitz stared at Grant. "But it's Jemma. You can't tell me to wait outside while you save her. I don't care about myself, I just need her back!"
Bobbi sighed. "Grant's right, Fitz. This would just be playing right into Maveth's hands. You should get away from here, head back to the grove in front of the fortress. There's a chance that your father could be arriving soon with reinforcements, and someone needs to tell him the situation. It will be much easier for everyone if Grant and I can save Jemma without involving the entire cavalry."
Fitz shook his head. "I can't Bobbi. I can't abandon her."
"You're not abandoning her. Don't you trust me?" Bobbi said softly, resting a hand on Fitz's shoulder.
"I mean, of course I trust you, but-"
"Then go," Bobbi interrupted. "Now. Grant and I will find her."
Fitz knew, deep down, that Grant and Bobbi were right. What good would it do to Jemma if Fitz marched in and then was captured himself? Bobbi and Grant had both proven themselves more capable than he was, and Maveth had already taken advantage of Fitz's stupidity once. He couldn't jeopardize Jemma's chance at being saved. Fitz finally nodded begrudgingly and turned to go back the way they had come, not bothering to say anything more to Bobbi or Grant.
As Fitz climbed back through the hole in the outer wall, he glanced back just in time to see his friends disappear through the door. All he could do was hope that Jemma would be okay.
Fitz quickly crept back through the trees, his eyes and ears open for any sign of more of Maveth's men or of his father's army.
He finally made it back to the grove of trees where they their horses were tied, situated facing east, perfectly below the fortress so he could see in all directions and notice any sign of trouble.
And then he waited. And waited. And waited.
And then a lot of things happened all at once.
Men ran out from the side of the fortress, Grant fighting them back away from the wall, Bobbi nowhere in sight.
Horns sounded from what sounded like both sides of the grove where Fitz was hiding, and suddenly there were two armies, one from the south led by the Queen, Lady Weaver, and Daisy and one from the north led by the King, Sir John, Mack, and the rest of the women of the Cavalry.
Fitz stood, about to run over to his father, when movement on the hill past Grant stopped him.
Jemma.
She was okay.
Without a thought, Fitz left the cover of the grove and sprinted toward the woman running down the hill. "JEMMA!"
She stumbled at his words, but even at a distance he could see her smile as she raced toward him. "FITZ!"
And for all he knew his parents and friends could have been shouting at him, but Fitz didn't hear a word. His eyes were locked on Jemma's and hers were locked on his.
They finally met in this middle of the field, and Fitz picked Jemma up and twirled her around, holding her close in his arms, both of them laughing, just so grateful to be alive and back together.
And then, automatically, easily, thoughtlessly, they leaned toward each other and their lips met.
Fitz spent only a short moment savoring the perfection of finally kissing Jemma Simmons before he finally became cognizant the screams all around him.
Oh no.
Fitz and Jemma pulled back from each other instantly, the horror he knew must be in his eyes reflected in Jemma's.
She shook her head, not believing.
"LEO, NO!"
Fitz turned at his mother's voice, carrying across the field.
She had gotten off her horse, Daisy beside her.
As Fitz made eye contact with his mother, she collapsed to the ground, Daisy holding fast to her. Both women were shaking. There was nothing to be done.
He turned to the other side of the battlefield where Sir John, Mack, and Lance all looked stunned. The King seemed confused, but as Fitz watched, the realization dawned on him, and he dismounted and made a step towards him.
"MY SON!"
But Fitz turned back to Jemma, knowing that she was the most important thing in his entire life.
Behind her, Grant and the masked men had stopped fighting, and a shadow rose up behind them, but Fitz paid it no attention. If these were the last few moments of his life before the world forgot him, he needed to spend them with Jemma.
Fitz grabbed her hands as the wind began to pick up around them. "I'm so sorry, Jemma. I should have-"
"No, no, I'm sorry," Jemma interrupted, shaking her head rapidly, tears in her eyes. "I-"
She stopped as Fitz began to rise off the ground, her hands the only things tethering him to the earth.
And Fitz finally had to let go. "I love you, Jemma," he said, his voice breaking. "I love you so much."
Wind swirled around him, sand and stone and dirt forming a vortex that picked him up into the air.
And as Fitz stared down through the swirling wind he saw her lips form the words, "I love you, Fitz."
And then everything went black.