#c:fitz

It was always a sad day when Andrew finally admitted the time had come to replace another one of his plants. He always threw the plant and dirt out onto his admittedly quite chaotic looking backyard, and reused the pot so as to keep the soul of who the plant would continue to be. This one was named Crayon. There was no explanation for that one besides drugs. The man looked on begrudgingly at his plant cemetery, seriously considering doing more research before getting his next plant.  He then let out little huff, knowing full well there’d be a new plant in that pot by the end of the day, and turned to go put on some pants.  Andrew then went about his day getting an iced coffee, picking up some more pattern paper, and showing face at the local Garden & Floral shop. For a little while he pursued the small store, amusing himself with the idea of getting a plant he might actually have a chance at keeping alive. Like a cactus. But then he spotted a plant that looked similar enough to the previously deceased Crayon. He hugged his new roll of paper with the same arm which held his coffee, and  tried to maneuver the plant off the table. Struggling more than he would care to admit, it wasn’t until after the person had spoken that Andrew registered it could have possibly been directed at him.  “Yikes sorry, did you say something?”

Molly had been working a slow overnight shift when the seemingly normal body of a twentyish-year-old male had come in. There were no other post-mortems scheduled for the night, so she decided to just dive right in. The report from the police was that he washed up on the banks of the Thames, no ID, no external signs of trauma. It was assumed he was a jumper from one of the bridges. 

She started with the external examination, which was going fine until she saw little slits in his neck. At first she thought they were small knife wounds until she realized that they weren’t new wounds and they looked instead like gills. Which was impossible, but the strangeness didn’t end there. When she start the internal and began the Y incision it got even weirder. His skin was...off. Underneath the external dermis there seemed to be another layer of skin It appeared to be black and was much harder to cut through than the first layer. It was rubbery and elastic and at first she thought she was cutting through a costume, but that didn’t make sense. It was like the costume was inside the body.

@lovelornrocketscientist

“Well, I already had the free trial so why not go full subscription with Fitz. Get that ‘M’ alliteration going. And then, like, Romeo is nice to look at but the whole incest thing just really doesn’t do it for me. Let’s follow his namesake and off him. And then my tall, handsome giant.” Mils hummed in appreciation. “Oh, I’d climb the fuck out of him.”

💭 a thought albert fitz had about georgia allie (#geobert).

“i’m pregnant.”

that was not what fitz had expected allie to say when she pulled him aside to speak privately. he didn’t know what he had expected her to say to him actually, but definitely not that. his mind just went absolutely blank as everything around them went silent, despite being in the middle of the emergency room. he tried to read her face, examining it for any sign that she was just messing with him, or testing him. because that was what they did, wasn’t it? with fitz and allie, it was always a game of trying to prove who cared less when in reality, they both cared. as much as she may try to play off that she didn’t, he knew that she did. so would she really joke about this?

fitz opened his mouth as if to say something when his pager went off. so instead, only a sigh came out of his mouth as he read from the tiny device. “i’m sorry, i have to go scrub in for surgery now,” he tried to explain, but she was already shrugging him off like it was nothing. the timing wasn’t great, but what was he supposed to do? just as he wanted to tell her that they would talk later, she had already turned to leave with patrick, so he too left.

the entire way up to the OR, a million thoughts went through his mind. holy shit, i’m going to be a dad. am i ready to be a dad? what the hell do i know about raising a kid? is this really happening? distracted by his thoughts, he didn’t realize he’d already made it to the OR until the attending called his name. “fitzgerald, i said, why aren’t you scrubbed in yet?” shaking his head, fitz snapped out of it, as he glanced from the sink to the attending behind the surgical mask.