[ The details of it don't matter to Fitz, not now, when magic is just science yet to be explained and understood (multitool pocketed, coin weighty in his coat, the potential of losing Markus heavy on his weakened frame). When Markus jolts, he leans back instinctively, trained to expect a hand at his throat or knee to the gut — but it's just his friend, awake. Whatever Riku did helped break through the haze of undeath; and that's enough. ]
Hey, hey, s'okay. [ his hand has remained tight on the wrist of Markus' exposed arm throughout the process, unwilling to let him slip through his shaky fingers. As soon as his friend speaks, he leans forward again, unafraid. His mouth quirks, an attempted reassurance. ] Markus, Markus, we're here to help you.
[ Closing the panelling of Markus' arm with his free hand, he keeps their taction constant, blue glow illuminating the ashy space between them, even in this other world, as the synthetic skin reforms over white casing. The waves of calm he'd intended to pass through their link are overridden by relief, surging in tandem with the electric spark. If fresh pain and confusion threaten to drown Markus, Fitz won't let it. They share what comes.
And for this moment alone, there's a clarity to his touch: A keen determination that cuts through volatile waters. ]
Carter and Cain are waiting for us. [ said with absolute conviction, never a doubt in his mind that the others will triumph. ] Take a breath, okay. [ Fitz brings up his hand, fingers gliding over Markus' cheek and settle low on his jaw, like Jemma and Mack always do for him — like he did for Markus in the quiet of his flat before all this nonsense. Touch has power, especially here. ] Recalibrate. We've got you.
[ At least for a minute before this reality, too, must go.
And then they can get home, not just to the underworld but to New Amsterdam proper — a place where Sora and Riku can reunite, where he himself can return to Peggy as promised, and they can know their team is safe (insomuch as they can ever be, at their unstable corner of the multiverse). ]
no subject
Hey, hey, s'okay. [ his hand has remained tight on the wrist of Markus' exposed arm throughout the process, unwilling to let him slip through his shaky fingers. As soon as his friend speaks, he leans forward again, unafraid. His mouth quirks, an attempted reassurance. ] Markus, Markus, we're here to help you.
[ Closing the panelling of Markus' arm with his free hand, he keeps their taction constant, blue glow illuminating the ashy space between them, even in this other world, as the synthetic skin reforms over white casing. The waves of calm he'd intended to pass through their link are overridden by relief, surging in tandem with the electric spark. If fresh pain and confusion threaten to drown Markus, Fitz won't let it. They share what comes.
And for this moment alone, there's a clarity to his touch: A keen determination that cuts through volatile waters. ]
Carter and Cain are waiting for us. [ said with absolute conviction, never a doubt in his mind that the others will triumph. ] Take a breath, okay. [ Fitz brings up his hand, fingers gliding over Markus' cheek and settle low on his jaw, like Jemma and Mack always do for him — like he did for Markus in the quiet of his flat before all this nonsense. Touch has power, especially here. ] Recalibrate. We've got you.
[ At least for a minute before this reality, too, must go.
And then they can get home, not just to the underworld but to New Amsterdam proper — a place where Sora and Riku can reunite, where he himself can return to Peggy as promised, and they can know their team is safe (insomuch as they can ever be, at their unstable corner of the multiverse). ]