Leo Fitz (splinteredeye) wrote in soulboundic, @ 2020-01-23 08:48:00 |
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Maybe Jemma's optimism was rubbing off on him. It didn't fit within the mathematical possibilities. They shouldn't be able to change the future because they hadn't changed it. Deke had taken off shortly before the battle began (which was just in character of him to manage to be elsewhere when the world was ending, and probably just as well, anyway), but he'd said goodbye, rather than just disappeared. Fitz hadn't quite worked out his feelings about his grandson. Deke had been an annoyance at best (although he had risked his life to send them home…) and an outright danger at worst (selling Daisy to Kasius had made a lasting first impression), but despite frequent frustration, Fitz did not hate him. He just had trouble liking him. If Deke was the product of Jemma and him (or half of them), then… Jemma seemed to find it easy, but Fitz half suspected that was her trying to lift the weight of inevitability from her husband's fragile mind. That was too bitter even in his thoughts. It left a dangerous opening (Fragile. Too weak to face what needs to be done, just like with Coulson, just like with Daisy). Jemma was caring and hopeful and forgiving. It was no wonder that she took to being a grandmother. She'd be just as wonderful a mother, whereas Fitz was (his mother's son: pliable, soft, indecisive) the man who had come out of the Framework and then slipped effortlessly into the ruthless Marauder. It was what his friends had needed, and he had helped to save them, had done what was necessary, but Alistair Fitz was no exemplar of fatherhood. With that family history, Deke… well, Deke just figured. The future was a weight, and not just the obvious world-destroying extinction level event part of the future. No wonder poor Robin barely spoke to anyone with all of that playing through her head. She'd been seeing all this for over a year, and she'd be seeing it up until her death in 2091. The least they could do was see that she had her mother to help her through it. Maybe, just maybe, they could even break the loop. He sent Polly ahead with Mack to help her out, and took note of the signs of straining metal and broken glass. The dwarves would have been able to do a thorough examination, but they couldn't have shot the Remorath. Their sensors would be better than eyes, however, especially here. The dust and debris was as thick as fog, and it only grew thicker. Fitz pulled the collar of his shirt over his nose and mouth. They should have made it out of the ship by now, but he could still barely see in front of his face. He was lucky he hadn't slipped or tripped on the rubble. The floor was strangely even considering the ship had crashed landed on top of a building, and as thick and clouded as the air was, there did not seem to be any of the particulates that made demolition a hazard. In fact… he lowered the cloth from his face and breathed surprisingly easily. It was more like a fine mist than a dust cloud. He continued through the fog for much, much longer than should have been possible until he began to hear voices. Outlines of buildings and silhouettes of figures began to take shape. Finally, the mist started to clear, and Fitz could see the people coming towards him. He gaped. "What the h-ll?" |