oh, fitz. (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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meadowlarklogs2019-03-03 11:10 am
retravel) wrote in meadowlarklogs2019-03-03 11:10 amEntry tags:
retravel) wrote in meadowlarklogs2019-03-03 11:10 am
grayson.
Absentmindedly, Fitz lifts a chunk of metal (probably fell off a rafter long before they got here) and throws it out ahead. Within seconds, a portal appears in front of it, swallowing the debris — and then spitting it out at the exit point behind and perpendicular them. It’s like stone-skipping to him, after all the practice. ]
I dunno. [ in answer to a question on the nature of his power, presumably. ] I just sort of think it, visualise it, and it happens. [ shrugging. ] First time was while I was chucking something in the bin.
[ They’ve been at this for an hour, and Fitz only has one more to spare before he’s on repairs duty for a hoverbike race (through the red light district, of all places). Been spending more evenings with the Hi-Jacks in recent days ‘cause they appreciate his hard work, thanks (unlike his new supervisor, whinging forthcoming), but he still sees Dick more than most. Doesn’t help that he’s fresh off Daisy disappearing and re-appearing, of course, only to now have left several messages for Connor, still unanswered. The same feeling has hit low in his gut, sinking like a misplaced step. Just over 48 hours, and they knew what had happened to Daisy.
This reality is unstable. ]
Been studying spacetime for years, I suppose. [ he ducks his head for a moment, gaze fixed on the ground as his mouth curves downward. ] And it seems like, uh, [ waving a hand. ] anomalies in time and space are always what’s keeping me and Jemma apart. [ he bends to pick up another bit of debris, throwing and catching it in hand. ] Far-flung planets, dimensions, alternate universes, bloody time travel — me being able to traverse those distances could be a defence, triggered by whatever we were exposed to on the journey here. [ he looks over to Dick and lifts his shoulders. ] Hard to say.
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[If what they're assuming is that the abilities are based on something to do with them- a defence, or a craving to be able to accomplish something they don't have the means to do on their own- or something in their history, that they learned, were taught, lived by- then Dick's ability isn't anything he can feel applies. If he'd had a defensive ability born of the way he lived- in defence of others, in protecting himself so that he could continue to protect others- catching them, as their safety net- it would have appeared by now. When he'd stepped in for his brothers back in August, or when he'd gone up against the UNA.
Dick had no abilities prior to arriving here either, from which to draw from or twist into something slightly different. His mouth sets, and he glances away. Unlike normal, he's wearing darker colours to match Fitz as well, preferring to blend in with the space rather than his normal array of eye burning bright colours and LED light tracings. He's leaning against a smooth bit of metal, one foot resting on it, and his arms crossed. It's less a defensive gesture so much as it is designed to keep himself deliberately still.
And- maybe, perhaps, his hearts not fully in it. Connor isn't the only one who seemingly went missing, without any prior contact or warning in the form of something they knew they were supposed to fight against. His teeth catch his lip as he stares hard at the chunk of metal that Fitz had thrown, and then skipped throw a portal even farther away]
Hard to say is right. I can't visualize something I don't know is there. Nothing-
[His natural abilities aren't affected either, as far as he can tell. He's not more empathetic, not more starved for contact or attention any more than he already is as a social creature by nature- not more charming, swaying people with a well placed word, other than his own natural charm and friendliness. Nothing is enhanced] I haven't noticed anything different. Nothing combat oriented changed anything for me. Whatever it is- it's not a literal defence mechanism.
I don't think it'll make a difference, but- show me again? Slower, if you can.
no subject
We'll figure it out.
[ Soft but firm, in the face of Dick's frustration. Won't be a literal defence mechanism like Carter or the others with similarly combative abilities, but it could be figurative like Fitz's own or more linked to other aspects of his personality, like Bobbi's manipulative abilities or Strange's neural-programming.
A little nod, then, as he lifts another stone. Tests the weight with a catch and release in hand. When he feels Dick's eyes on him, waiting, he throws it forward, skipping it through one portal, and out another, then yet another opens, releases, opens, releases — ping-ponging the stone all around the cavernous space. The network of rapid gateways requires greater concentration than anything up to that point: Fitz's brow creases, his shoulders coiled tight, and his eyes shift (sharp, precise movements) as he charts the path. Finally, he misses the stone, and it drops with a thud, echoing across the space.
Just like that, Fitz relaxes.
He slots his gaze back on Dick, watchful for tells of discouragement. ]
Maybe it would help to — feel it, y'know. [ gesturing between them. ] The way I feel, when it's happening. [ using the bond, he means. ] Daisy's always telling people to meditate — that it's in their heads.
[ And what could provide more of an insight than their empathetic connection? ]
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[He lets it hang. Both because as isolated as they are, it's not something he enjoys alluding to in public, where there's a chance someone could over hear them, even if they aren't getting close enough to see what they're doing. And because- though the all lose people, has before, and will again, likely- but he's not before now, lost someone that he has no chance of ever seeing again, once he leaves this place.
He should have spent more time with Bruce, needled him for information on his world. Not just checked in and hid- licking his wounds and corralling his brothers, the safer options, instead. The minimal contact didn't soften the blow any. Not the way he'd tried to convince himself that it might.
But despite the tease and the smile looking more and more like he's going through the motions- harder to keep up the facade with Fitz, when they circle each other so endlessly- he is confident. Fitz is a scientist by nature. Finding the answer through repeated trial and error, slogging through those failures without seeing them as such- it's suited to him. Even if it isn't always, to Dick.
But when Fitz agrees, he forces himself to pay further attention. Straighten up where he's standing, and put all that training and field experience to use. He clocks the way that Fitz throws the stone forward, how he tenses and tracks the movement of the stone with his eyes, the strain in his shoulders from forcing the evenly spaced portals, rapid opening and closing before the stone can fall. The way the portals look as they ripple into being, as he relaxes once he's finished his demonstration.
It says a lot, for how active a participant Fitz must be to utilize the ability, nothing so easy as flicking a finger and watching it occur. Of course, that doesn't help him now- not with any specific thing to direct it towards. When he can feel Fitz' gaze turn to him, Dick considers, briefly, saying something to assure him that it's alright- that he may feel discouraged now- but he's went for months without knowing, with only trying every so often.
He's lived without powers, fought without them. He's taken down others with abilities human or from an alternate planet alike- without ever needing more than what he had, and the tools available. If he never finds out- it won't hinder his ability to help those in need. He'll adapt to the constraints of the new world, but he won't need what the implant can give him. He won't be frustrated forever. It's only- information is currency, and every tool in their arsenal can help them all. Even if he chooses to forgo it whenever possible- knowing what they've given him- it could help.
Dick is used to being in tune with his body in a way most people aren't, an athlete since he could take his first steps- he knows his limits and instinctually where where to move- can drop off a roof in free fall without looking, and never miss his landings. The idea of having something there, unknowable, grates under his skin in a way he can't explain, can't justify. But he'll move past it. It's not the worst thing he's lived through.
But before he can- Fitz asks him to feel it. To reach out and connect with the bond, open it and experience power on a completely different level. It isn't- it's not as if they haven't connected before, different times and reasons than the initial NDA disclosure agreement they'd had when they met. If he's honest- Fitz is the one that Dick has opened the connection with the most, trusted to leave it lingering. Intentional or otherwise. It feeds a connection that already exists, but the question still surprises him. Mouth dropping open slightly, in a sharp inhale of air, the slight widening of his eyes.
It sounds so-
And then he aborts the thought, smiles, soft. Pushes off from the metal he was leaning against and bridges the distance between them] If you really think it'd help. And- hard to ignore Daisy's advice. She's made an excellent mentor, for those who know what they can do.
Okay. Let's- it can't hurt. [At least, it hasn't yet. A moment later, Dick reaches out, takes a moment to consider the best way to establish a solid, thorough connection and skims his fingers across the back of Fitz' hand, when he doesn't startle- his touch solidifies, moving to wrap up his hand and lace their fingers together. A precaution against letting go, if he's startled but what may come across from the activation of his abilities]
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[ Discovering their powers for the first time. The techniques he's applying now are cribbed from her guidebook, after all. Although Fitz purposefully stays away from her endeavours, Daisy is the foremost expert on unlocking and training powers. She's the best, absolutely, but Fitz's own work on powered individuals was decidedly less savoury, and every time he learns someone's ability, he catalogs it, as if part of a horrific, inevitable subroutine: Level of danger, potential, and whether or not Ophelia would have wanted it for herself.
The nights Fitz wakes up in a cold sweat are twisted in dreams of the work he did alongside her.
Even now, teasing out Dick's power isn't as simple as helping a friend. How does Fitz know he won't use any one of his friends or their abilities to serve his ends? You don't. But Dick trusts him, at least with this, even if the look on his face is — stunned? It's often Dick reaching out to touch him first, he supposes, with Fitz more unused to the contact after his time in solitary.
Doesn't matter, in the end, 'cause he says yes, and Fitz beams, pleased to be trying experimenting with something new. As Dick makes his way over, he finds another rock, testing its weight one-handed again. When Dick slides beside him, he doesn't shift his focus, no need, even when there's a brush of skin, bringing the bond online with the skitter of unfamiliar emotions. He's expecting a hand at his wrist, then, or a light touch against his arm (uncharacteristically short-sleeves being a necessity in this weather and all). Only they're suddenly holding hands, with surprise rising and flowing from Fitz as Dick settles slightly behind him. Just a brief glance downward, to check they're very much holding hands. Oh. Nothing strange, really, except — Connor had been the one to reach out like this, typically. Had told Fitz that he was the first one to show him what it meant, to hold someone's hand as a means of signify care.
He thinks about it now, with a flutter of some confused, bittersweet emotion slipping through the net of his control. ]
Okay. Good. [ a squeeze of their linked hands, so Dick doesn't think he's done anything wrong. Fitz casts his gaze out ahead again, fingers brushing over the rock. ] First time it happened, it was instinctive, like the ability was an extension of what I wanted, even when the wanting was, well, just laziness. So, I want to get from here [ tipping the rock in front of them and then to the side. ] to there. [ the sharpness of his focus cuts through their connection, bolstered by determination. His hand flexes slightly, still grasping Dick's own. Eyes locked on the route, he runs his tongue over the back of his teeth. ]
And just bloody-well go for it. [ said with a thrill through the bond and wind-up of his swing, tossing outward and upward. Only this time, something feels different, almost like an electric current runs rivulets through to his fingertips. Far less precise than his previous fare, the portal opening stretches from a foot or so above them down to the dirt and debris, digging into the ground and swallowing a chunk of the earth along with the rock. Even faster than before, the exit-portal ejects much farther to the right than he intended, so much so that the debris sprays against the metal wall of the warehouse with a deafening clatter — and a smattering even ricochets back.
Being an agent of SHIELD and the former, feared head of HYDRA, Fitz makes a startled noise and jumps, skittering into Dick despite their still-linked hands. ]
no subject
It's care without pushing, extending the courtesy Fitz has always given to him. To speak only when he wants- to keep a measure of privacy. It's something Dick has sunk into more than once- not having to be alone, while being given space to process at his own pace. It's something he cares more about imparting to Fitz- that he isn't, that sharing isn't a perquisite to ensure that he doesn't have to be.
He switches his focus, once Fitz starts to speak, when he feels a sharp thread of focus shifting across the bond, redirecting what he's feeling and honing it towards his actions] I'm with you on that so far.
[That it's to be treated as an instinctual part of him, the same as breathing, as knowing where to shift his footing to maintain balance. That it's to want- it makes sense on the scope of a defence mechanism as well. Most people instinctively want to live- to help those they love, to not feel pain. Nothing Dick has wanted, has felt, has created any change. He ruthlessly stamps down that frustrated, little feeling bubbling that suggests it's not going to be that simple, and turns his attention to picking out Fitz' feelings from his own, and watching the trajectory as it occurs.
Initially- it's nothing he hadn't expected to feel. The determination, the tension in the hand that Dick is holding, fingertips pressing firm into the back of his hand, muscles straining in his shoulders, in his jaw. The soft thrill of tossing the stone outward, and watching something part of you take shape, created out of nothing but your own will- and then it all turns slightly sideways.
Becomes so much more, that he's glad he'd taken his hand. Would have dropped it at the size of the portal, and the quick ejection- causing debris to scatter. Would have placed more space between him and the exit point, and waited for the dust to settle. As it is, he squeezes tightly and jerks at the surprising sound, at Fitz' own startled surprised coming through loud and clear- verbally and across the bond, and the body crashing into his own.
Without thinking, his other hand comes up to Fitz' side, steadying him, feet slightly sliding further apart, in an effort to maintain their balance. His eyes have widened slightly, and a startled laugh huffs out against the shell of Fitz' ear]
Well- you bloody well did something, didn't you? If- [He sounds slightly breathless, slight awe colouring the corners of the words] If you were trying to show off, I was already impressed.
[The extra power behind that didn't give him any info that a smaller showing wouldn't have, babe]
no subject
When Dick breaks the silence of the aftermath with a laugh, hot on his ear, another startle zips across their connection. And for once, Fitz has enough awareness to be flustered, colour rising in his cheeks — because of his jumpiness and Dick's teasing, at the very least. ]
I didn't — [ mean to, but his brain skips ahead, moving faster than his mouth. In his haste to whirl on Dick, he bumps into him again and ends up only turning to the side, without bothering to extricate himself. Good thing he isn't terribly bony. ] Sorry, wasn't — [ my intention, but that thought's already gone, too. Without putting distance between them, he twists his hand free, only to bring it to Dick's chest, knocking there, like Fitz needs his attention. Focus. His voice ticks up, not quite nervous, no — excited. ] That's never — [ happened before. He rapidly gestures between himself and the place where his exit portal manifested. ]
Never gone through solid matter, except, well.
[ Intentionally cutting himself off there, at the thought of slicing through the UNA soldier, arterial sprawl across his front and all over Ishani Patil's kitchen; no wonder she doesn't like him very much. He, ah, hasn't mentioned that to Dick yet. ]
It must've changed again. [ It being his power. Fitz tips his chin, looking up to Dick as one corner of his mouth hooks into a smile, utterly delighted. A rolling motion this time. ] Evolved.
[ Terrifying and fantastic in all the best ways, that is. God, who even knows if his body can handle that. Not as if he has the physiology needed to withstand quantum energy and wormhole travel long-term, but it's too wondrous to concern himself with immediately. ]
no subject
The amusement that had lingered on the edges of his expression only deepens, when Fitz starts speaking- stops abruptly, and then starts again. When he whirls on him faster than Dick can keep up with, and gets a slightly misplaced elbow into his ribs for the trouble- nothing more noteworthy than having had enough pressure to have felt it. The excitement starts to come through the bond, chasing away the lingering surprise- before Fitz is extracting his hand to knock on Dick's chest.
He squeezes his side gently, in answer. A reassurance to his attention, even if he doesn't try to interrupt, doesn't try to verbally put the pieces together. Let's Fitz find his own way to the sentences he wants to say, the point he wishes to get across. It's enough to put them together, through context of the person that Fitz is- and the situation they've found themselves in. Not having meant to, is quite obvious. If Fitz had truly meant to make such a big bang- he'd not have been so startled by the results, and the placement of the rock would have been a little more calculated- left a bigger impression with less of a chance to be hit by stray pieces as the rock broke apart.
That it's never happened before- that's both a cause for concern and excitement all at once. It definitely broadens the capabilities Fitz has to use it- and with his power and situations like they dealt with in the UNA attack- it can only be a much bigger help. On the other- as far as he can tell, Fitz carries no capacity to carry a power like this genetically, not even latent. To be forced to do so, and then watch that power expand beyond his own control-
He schools his concern in the face of Fitz' excitement, in how clearly happy he is to have another mystery solve- and a much better one than some of the others. It's been awhile- since he's seen a smile so genuine on his features. His expression softens, a moment later- disarmed, as he usually is, when it comes to this]
So that's never happened before, but it isn't the first time it's evolved over all. How many times has it changed on you? And did anything set it off?
[A soft beat, a little loath to even suggest it] And do you think you could repeat it?