Work Text:
2018
The day the world ends is one of the hardest days of Fitz’s life.
He saw it coming, he’d believed that time couldn’t be changed. And there had been warning signs. But God, he had hoped it would’ve been different. Any of it. Any small sign that everything they’d done - everything he’d done - hadn’t been for nothing.
But instead, he’s sitting in the conference room of the Zephyr, dust and blood coating his body, with his wife’s hands in his. (Which may be the only good part of the world ending. He knows it"s selfish. He knows he’s a bad person for the thought to have even crossed his mind. But if the world had to end, at least his world got to stay.)
There were only four of them left. May, Elena, Jemma, and him.
The last time he saw Daisy she was stepping down as director, passing the title down to Mack. Fitz wished they could’ve had a better last moment together. He knew there was a minuscule chance she would ever forgive him, and he truly didn’t believe he ever deserved forgiveness. But Daisy had been like a sister to him. He hates that the last moments they ever spent together were tense and filled with anger. He hates that he’s going to live with the fact that he hurt someone he cares… Cared about so much all for nothing.
The last time he saw Coulson - or the last time he saw Coulson alive - was just a few moments later. Coulson had come in to rally the troops one last time, pick everyone up before they all went to change the unchangeable. The next time Fitz saw him, he was helping Jemma with Coulson’s body in the makeshift morgue-slash-hospital that had been made up in the Zephyr. Jemma had pushed her face into the crook of his shoulder, not being able to look at the dark outline of the body bag sitting against the side of the room. He held her close, and they cried. They cried for their father figure. They cried for their team. They cried for SHIELD, for the symbol. They cried for the world.
The last time he saw Mack was just before he ran onto the Confederacy ship. The two of them, along with May, had been running through buildings, trying to save anyone and everyone they could. Fitz had only stepped away for a moment, just to help two men find the stairs. When he had returned to the rubble-filled room, Mack was gone. May was holding Polly tight to her. Initially, he was relieved that the small girl was safe. Until May told him that Mack had gone onto the ship to find Polly. Fitz felt like someone had pulled the ground out from under him. Neither Mack nor Polly made it back. That’s what they had learned from Robin, 73 years from now. But he barely had time to think before the ground started to shake. He locked eyes with May, and they both knew what was happening. Mack was gone. One of his best friends was gone. Mack had kept him together, treated him like he was an actual human being when the rest of the team treated him like he was broken. But the times when they had lifted each other up, had carefree times playing games or drinking together were gone. Fitz had killed that friendship, too. And now Mack was gone. They couldn’t stop it. They couldn’t save the world. They couldn’t even save their friends.
“What are we going to do?” Jemma’s soft voice pulled him back to reality. She was trembling. He wanted to hold her even closer, tell her everything was going to be okay. But he’d always been terrible at lying to her.
May let out a long sigh. She was in charge. It’s what Coulson would’ve wanted. And Mack. And Daisy. “Honestly? I don’t know,” she said in her calming voice. Daisy was onto something when she said that she could envision May as a mom, all those days ago and all those years into the future. Her voice was wavering only slightly. She had tear stains on her cheeks. Fitz wasn’t sure if he’d ever seen her cry, or show any emotion this much before. “I don’t know what we can do. But I know that we still have to try. We still have to help these people.”
She was right. They couldn’t just give up. The last thing Mack had told them - his first order as director, and his last - was that they had to save people. They might not be able to save them from the end of the world. But they could still keep them safe. They could still try.
Everyone in the room knew how the rest of their lives would play out. They were destined to be held up in the Lighthouse for the rest of their days. May would raise Robin, being the best mom possible to the strange girl. She would help people, keeping humanity in one piece the same way she kept the team together for the past five years.
Elena would still be a fighter. She had always been one to push against the system. Why would it be any different now? She would push against the Kree, and it would cost her everything. The Kree would constantly revive, kill, and revive her for decades on end. But she would have a chance to warn the team. To warn herself. Maybe, just maybe, it would work this time.
And Fitz-Simmons. They would get to embark on their next adventure. Building a family together. Even if it was in the worst conditions Fitz ever dared to imagine for them. And he had imagined. For years. Dreams of small children, a perfect mix of the goodness in both of their hearts (her heart? He wasn’t sure if there was any goodness left in his, as much as Jemma tried to reassure him) and the genius of their brains. But those dreams never took place in an underground bunker under a cracked earth. They took place in a small, sunlight cottage in Scotland. The home Jemma has seen as a girl on that distant family holiday. The dreams didn’t have their children living a life surrounded by death. Despite that, they knew that they would do whatever possible for their daughter. They would hold her tight, teaching her everything they know. They would risk everything just to make her smile. They would give her hope.
2022
Elena was the first to go. They had all silently assumed that was how it would happen.
The Lighthouse had been falling apart over the past four years. The water systems had slowly deteriorated, and although the team would never let this information out to anyone outside of their small group, they had started to run low on oxygen.
Everything changed when the Kree came along. No one on the team wanted to make a deal with the Kree, but they knew it was the only way. The Kree had the technology they needed. They could keep humanity alive, even if it was by keeping a boot on their throats.
So, reluctantly, they agreed.
Well, May, Fitz, and Jemma agreed. Elena wasn’t exactly pleased with the idea.
The last time Fitz ever saw her was among chaos. The Kree kicked humans out of many of the levels, pushing them closer and closer together until they were packed like sardines. Fitz and Jemma had been helping a family find a room on floor 15 when they saw her. She had a Kree battle-axe slung over her shoulder.
“Elena!” Jemma had yelled out, getting her attention. Elena looked like she was on a mission. Fitz already knew that anything they said would not change her mind. He’d been in her place before. He knew what it was like to lose the person you love most in the world and to feel you had nothing left to do but fight. Fight against anyone who disagreed, anyone who impeded on any mission you sent yourself on to push away the grief and sorrow in your heart. But at least when he was in that position, he could bring Jemma back. Elena wasn’t so lucky. Mack wasn’t coming back. Elena couldn’t dive through a monolith or freeze herself for 74 years. All she could do was hope that her fighting might change some other timeline. One none of them would ever get to see.
“Elena, what are you doing?” He asked cautiously, holding out his hand as if he could hold her back.
“I’m doing what I have to do,” she replied simply. “I can’t live like this. Not under them.” She spat out the last word, and he immediately understood. They had all seen what would happen under the Kree over the next 70 years. But he also knew they needed water, food, and air to fight back, to save people.
A silence fell over the three. Fitz looked over to Jemma, it was clear to him that she was trying to do the math in her head. Trying to find any way to convince her to stay with them. To not risk her life to fight against the Kree (end her life, the little voice in the back of his head said, she’s not going to survive this. This is the last time you see her. She’s going to die over and over and it’s not going to change anything. She’s still going to heed a warning that we won’t listen to. We’re still going to make all the wrong choices. The world’s always going to end.)
Jemma let out a heavy sigh, and Fitz could tell she didn’t have any ideas as to how to talk Elena down. Jemma had become increasingly pessimistic in the last four years. Now, she just pulled Elena close, being careful to avoid the Kree spear she was still carrying. Fitz could hear her whisper something in her ear, but he couldn’t quite make out the words. When Jemma pulled away, there were tears in her eyes.
Elena gave a small smile to Fitz and walked away, with just as much determination as she had when they had approached her.
“Elena, wait,” he blurted. She turned around, looking slightly agitated.
“I’m sorry,” his voice thick with emotion, “I’m sorry we didn’t do better when we had the chance.”
Her look turned much softer. “I’ll do better this time. When I get my chance.”
And then she was gone, around the corner.
Jemma let out a shaky breath, and Fitz put his arm around her shoulders and leaned them against the cool metal wall of the hallway. She leaned against his chest, her hand over his heartbeat. The gesture had become a bit of a coping mechanism for her over the past few years. When she was tired, or stressed, or seconds away from a panic attack, she would put her hand over his heart. To remind her he was real, he was alive, and she hadn’t lost him.
“Do you still think we can’t change time?” It was a conversation they rarely brought up anymore. Even when they were working on the time machine. It seemed too pointless to discuss an alternate reality they would never get to experience.
He sighed and pressed a light kiss to the crown of her head. “I don’t know, Jemma. Scientifically, I’m still pretty sure it’s impossible. Rationally, every move we make seems to point to the fact that we can’t change it. But I guess your optimistic nature really did rub off on me because I can’t help but hope.” He felt her smile against his chest when he said it.
“You’re going to be such a magnificent father.” She said it so quietly he almost thought he hallucinated it. But then again, his hallucinations didn’t tend to be that kind to him.
They’d known for just a few weeks that she was pregnant. Even as things were falling apart around them, the news had brought so much joy to their lives. He couldn’t remember the last time he saw May and Elena smile that much. He couldn’t remember the last time he had been so happy.
But not everything in his life was suddenly sunshine and rainbows, and not just because sunshine and rainbows technically didn’t exist anymore. He couldn’t help but feel guilty and scared. He felt guilty about bringing a child into this world. How could he give his child a good life in this foul bunker? He wanted his daughter to get to run through fields, to learn how to swim, to go to a real school, to go on vacations, to get spoiled by his grandparents and his team. And he was so scared thanks to Robin’s vision of Jemma’s... But there wasn’t time to think about those kinds of things. Not now.
“Yeah, says the person who’s going to be the best mum in the whole universe.” He said, just as softly as her. “Our daughter will be the luckiest person on any planet.”
2032
He doesn’t like to think about the last time he saw Jemma, but it comes back to haunt him every time he closes his eyes.
There was so much blood. It got on his hands, stained his clothes. By the time he had got there, it was too late. Too late to stop the bleeding.
It had been a normal day. The two of them had been woken up by an impatient Alya, who wanted nothing more than to learn. It was no surprise to anyone that she was smart. She took after her mother, devouring any remaining crumb of information about the long-gone ecosystems of Earth. But Fitz was still able to get in engineering lessons at any chance he got. At just nine years old, she was capable of fixing almost anything in the Lighthouse. Fitz couldn’t be prouder. He was pretty sure he’d be proud of her no matter what she did, in any timeline. She could spend her entire life doing nothing at all and Fitz would still feel like his chest was about to burst with how much love he had for her.
Fitz had agreed to start his day with his daughter while Jemma went to the market, looking for enough food to get them through the next day or two.
He ruffled his daughter’s short copper hair as he sat down, lugging an old engineering textbook onto the table. Fitz had found it just before the world ended, and he kept it hidden in a container he stuck in a small wall cavity. The Kree had forbidden virtually all texts from the old Earth, and the punishment for going against the Kree was death (if you got lucky), but Fitz would do anything to make Alya smile - even if it was just for a second.
“Okay, Monkey,” he let out an over-dramatic sigh, which always made Alya giggle, “today we’re going to cover-”
Just as he started a loud alarm started blaring, and the lights on their metrics flickered. A renewal. The Kree introduced renewals a few years back, a way to keep the human population in check.
Fitz felt his stomach drop. One of the few things he had pieced together about Robin’s vision was that Jemma died during a renewal, caught in the crossfire. It had been over a decade since he had heard her vision for the first time, and every day it scared him more. The idea of losing his better half, the person he had been around every possible minute of every possible day since he was 16 frightened him more than words can explain. The idea of raising Alya by himself was enough to keep him up at night. He never truly felt that he was a good father, that he could support her and keep her safe. It had been around 35 years since he had last seen his father (in this reality, anyway) and yet his words still rattled in his mind. That he wasn’t enough, that he was letting people down.
He shot up from his chair, quickly grabbing Alya. She was getting bigger, but she was still a small girl for her age and Fitz could still easily lift her (plus he still did pushups - double digits!).
“Alya, I need you to stay here, okay? Stay here until Mum, Aunt May, or I come to get you.” He quickly said as he put her down on the bed he shared with Jemma.
“Okay, Dad,” Alya said, her voice filled with innocence only a child could have in a timeline like this. “Be careful!”
Fitz felt like his heart was about to explode. The fact that he helped create and raise such a sweet girl was still a bit mind-boggling to him.
“Of course, Monkey.” He kissed her lightly on the forehead, not wanting to worry her. Well, not wanting to worry her more than she likely already was. Renewals weren’t exactly peaceful occasions, and he could already hear the yelling and scrambling through the thick walls of the Lighthouse.
He ran out the door, locking it tightly behind him. He took off running to the market, going against the constant stream of bodies running away from the violence.
He yelled her name, two, three, four times before he saw her. She was huddled behind a table, almost pinned against the wall. A few citizens were fighting in the principal part of the market, struggling over a gun that the Kree had thrown into the room. A few people were surrounding her. They all looked young, the oldest no older than their early twenties.
He was relieved, initially. Until he saw her hand.
Her hand was pressed to her side, bright red blood pouring onto it. One of the teens had their hands pressed over Jemma’s, trying their best to keep the blood where it belonged.
Before he knew what was happening, he was running across the room, across the line of fire. He ducked behind the table, pressing a hand to the side of her face to alert her he was there. He didn’t feel real, as if his body was on autopilot.
“Fitz,” she breathed out. From close up he could truly see the damage that had been done to her. She was pale, and her forehead was covered in a layer of sweat. There was a small line of blood coming from her mouth. Blood covered her shirt, he could barely tell where the actual wound was.
It almost reminded him of what had happened to Daisy, decades ago, when she was still known as Skye. When they had lifted her into a hyperbaric chamber, filled her with alien drugs until the color faded back into her cheeks. Daisy had survived that. That meant Jemma could survive this. Right?
(Wrong, there’s no more GH-325. There’s no more SHIELD technology. There’s a handful of doctors left. There"s barely any hope left at all.)
“Jemma, please save your energy,” he finally forced out of his throat.
“I was saving my energy,” she had a smile on her face, leaning her head into Fitz’s touch. “For this, for you.”
“No. No, I’m not letting you do this. We’re gonna get out of this, okay? You’re gonna get out of this,” Fitz said forcefully, trying to overcome the waver in his voice and the shaking of his hand as he looked into her eyes. He couldn’t look anywhere else. He couldn’t look at the blood pouring onto his hand, even as he put as much pressure as he could onto her would. He couldn’t look at the way the surrounding teens were tearing up, backing away from them to give them one last, final moment together. He couldn’t look at the grimy space station around them.
“It’s too late to stop it,” she echoed Robin’s prophecy. “We saw this coming, Fitz.” Her voice was getting weaker. It shook in the same way it did when she faced the unimaginable.
“No, Jemma.” He let out a shaky breath, “I don’t… I don’t know how to do this without you.”
He wasn’t quite sure what he meant by this. Work? Leading the remnants of humanity? Raising their daughter? Keeping himself sane? Waking up every day? Living? All of the above? He was starting to think it was the last option.
“You can. I know you can.” It felt strange to him, she was the one bleeding out and yet she was still comforting him. She was still holding him together as she was falling apart. “You have to.”
She gave him a weak smile, tears falling down her cheeks. They mixed with the blood around her mouth, and Fitz raised a shaking hand to wipe the mixture away. Fitz nodded, a gesture so small he wasn’t sure that she even noticed until she let out an unsteady breath. He wasn’t sure if he believed her yet. But he didn’t want to disappoint her, and he’s always been terrible at denying her anything.
“Take care of Alya for me, yeah? And yourself. I love you both so much. I hope you know that. I really, really love you.” Jemma said. Her voice was becoming softer as she spoke, and Fitz wasn’t sure she was focusing on his face anymore, even as she looked directly at him.
“What else am I going to do?” He smiled at her, the same way he did in that restaurant all those years ago. With nothing but love and adoration on his face.
She nodded, a weak and simple motion, as she closed her eyes.
And that was it.
His best friend, his partner in every sense of the word, his wife, the mother of his child, the love of his life. His favorite person in the universe. The smartest, kindest, bravest person he’s ever known.
Was gone. She wasn’t coming back.
And all he could do was cry. His vision, still completely taken up by her, blurred and darkened as he pulled her body towards his, holding her like if he tried hard enough he could fuse her with him, so he wouldn’t have to go through this alone.
Around him, he heard footsteps, the clamour of every other person in this wretched bunker as they cleaned up the remnants of the renewal. Distantly, he heard May’s voice. He felt her place her hand on his shoulder, trying to pull him back to reality. Instead, he just cried harder, his tears falling onto the top of Jemma’s head.
He gasped for air as he cried, and it almost felt like he was back at the bottom of the ocean. Once again, he was drowning. But this time, Jemma couldn’t pull him up from the bottom.
This time, he had to pull himself up to the surface himself. Even as he was being pinned to the ocean floor, he had to bring himself up the 90 feet back to oxygen. He had to. For-
Oh, god.
Alya.
The rest of the day was a blur. He wasn’t entirely sure what happened to Jemma’s body. He knew May had gently pried him away from the body, getting some citizens to help with her body. He knew she had pulled him into a hug. Her embrace felt foreign and strange, but he still clung to her as he cried like she was his lifeline. He knew May found Alya in their bunk, keeping her safe and away from the commotion. He knew Alya had realized something was wrong the second she had seen him, with a blood-stained shirt and tears down his face. He knew Alya had cried more than she had in her entire life when he told her. He knew she hadn’t let go of him for the rest of the day, the two holding each other until they eventually let the enormity of their grief pull them under that evening.
He knew when he woke up that Jemma wasn’t there next to him.
2038
The last time he saw May was almost ironic.
She had been a fighter for as long as he had known her. He’d known plenty of superheroes and powered people throughout his life, but even some of them didn’t hold a candle to May’s strength.
For her to go in such a peaceful way felt strange to him.
She was laying in the med-bay, an IV in her arm, a heart monitor lightly beeping next to her. The color was drained from her face, and there was a light sheen of sweat over her forehead.
Fitz stood against the back of the room, trying to give May a moment alone with her daughter.
It had been truly heartwarming to watch May raise the girl, now a grown woman. May took so easily to motherhood, showing the warm side of her he so rarely got clear glimpses of when the earth was whole.
Fitz tore his eyes away from the pair, looking over to Alya, who was sitting in a small, uncomfortable chair against the adjacent wall. It was clear that they both knew what was happening. May’s condition, a contagious virus that occasionally surged in the dirty Lighthouse, was getting worse by the minute. It was survivable for most, Alya had caught it a couple of years ago and recovered completely within a few weeks.
But May was 70.
Most in the Lighthouse didn’t even dream of reaching old age, with the daily violence that surrounded every aspect of their lives. Add serious vitamin deficiencies and a regular lack of food, every day that they got to live was seen as a gift.
Alya was clearly having a hard time processing what was going on. He could see her fiddling with her mother"s wedding ring, one of the few physical remnants of Jemma left in the world. The hard fluorescents of the med-bay made it shine in a way the darkness of the Lighthouse rarely permitted. It wasn’t like Alya was a stranger to mourning. Fitz knew that the two of them had been mourning every day for the past six years. But he always saw May as the rock of the small team. Robin was unstable, hard to reach, and often distant from everyone except May. Alya was brighter, caring and social for those around her. But she still had her bad days, the days where she resembled Fitz more than he cared for. The days where she retreated into herself, tinkering with small objects or focusing on a small project without talking to anyone for the whole day. Fitz had taken a step back from life since Jemma had passed. Except with Alya. He was always there to get her back out of her shell, to make her smile, or just to hold her through her bad days. He had made a promise to Jemma, and he wasn’t intent on breaking it.
May, on the other hand, seemed to never have bad days. Sure, she was quiet, but that long predated the Lighthouse. But she always made sure Robin was taking care of herself and her mental state, always double-checking that Alya was feeling like herself and listening to her off-the-wall ideas, always making sure Fitz knew he needed to keep fighting and making sure he resembled the Fitz she knew before the Framework. She was always there for the team to lean on.
It almost felt selfish. They all had taken so much from her, years of support and love. But they still couldn’t help her get back on her feet in the end.
Fitz knew he and Alya had to leave. It was getting late, and even if Alya insisted that she’s sixteen now and there’s no need for her to have a bedtime, Fitz didn’t want her to be in the room when the inevitable happened. He wanted to preserve her innocence for as long as humanly possible.
He slowly walked over to his daughter and put his hand on her back, softly explaining that they should head back to their shared bunk.
Alya nodded, wiping the mostly dried tears from her cheeks. Robin stepped away from May’s bedside, allowing Alya to take her place: sitting right next to May’s hip, halfway on her cot.
Fitz bowed his head, looking away to give them some semblance of privacy in the small, almost crowded room.
When Alya finished talking (saying goodbye, the ever-present voice in his head corrected) to May, Fitz slowly stepped up to her bedside, giving her a weak smile.
There was so much more he wanted to say. He wanted to ask for years of advice, on how she stayed so stable, on how she never lost hope, on how to keep Alya safe. He wanted to express decades of gratitude, for saving his life a hundred times over, for always keeping the team (in any of its forms) together. But in the end, all he was able to get out was…
“Thank you, Agent May. For everything.”
He said it softly, and he was barely able to look her in the eye when he did. But it made her smile, a soft, genuine smile that made him feel safe and loved in less than a second.
“Of course, Agent Fitz.”
Fitz nodded, a curt, almost professional nod that felt almost out of place. But he wasn’t sure what else to do. He was torn between staying there as long as he could, memorizing everything possible about the last remnants of his team, and tearing himself away, wanting to preserve the memory of her from decades ago, when she was just the mysterious pilot they all looked up to. He gave her one last tear-filled smile, squeezed her hand lightly, and turned away.
He immediately gravitated towards Alya, who was holding herself together in front of the door. He wrapped his arms around her, pressing a kiss onto her forehead as she sunk into him. Carefully, he maneuvered them out of the room, looking back only once to see May slowly closing her eyes, her heart monitor’s beeping slowing to a violent hum.