#fitz&mack

Twenty-one days ago: Jemma’s swallowed by that fucking rock…taken from him—possibly forever—just when things between them had begun to mend and mold into something greater…something better.  

He and Jemma and Daisy…Daisy and Him and Jemma…Jemma and Daisy and Him. All together. Forever and Always.

Two days ago: Skye—Daisy Johnson, codename: Quake—left the team…and him…behind on Coulson’s orders… traveling the world… recruiting other forsaken inhumans with her partner, Lincoln Campbell. Her name now Daisy Johnson…her codename: Quake…the legend…the myth…the fucking martyr.

“There was never an us! There can’t be…not now…not ever…” Skye—it’s Daisy now. Daisy fucking Johnson—had said to him before she’d gone. Her voice hard and eyes dead…the spark gone. Her suitcase packed and zipped…their t-shirt forgotten between them. “I can’t be me and be with you, Fitz…I just don’t have it in me…”

Twenty-three days and nights later: Fitz decides to get rip-roaring drunk and hang around the monolith like a fucking loser. Waiting…Watching... a half-empty bottle of Jameson dangling from his grip…his breathing saw-edged…his heart blackening…unchecked rage and sorrow boiling close to the surface… finally ready to be set free. The urge to scream at the top of his lungs overflowing…threatening to consume him.

And—Fitz’s become too jaded…been left too raw…to continue holding it back. So Leopold Fitz lets loose…and screams and screams…until his throat burns from the inside out and his voice breaks apart from the heavy weight bogging him down into the depths of his own despair…suffocating…tearing him wide open and bleeding on the floor….until there’re no sounds to express his heartbreak…

He yells until there’s nothing left and the exhaustion and alcohol take over and he passes out…and that’s how Mack finds him the next morning, a smashed whiskey bottle and bloody knuckles with all his anguish exposed.