Site 63: A FitzSimmons Fanfiction

Ch. 3: Clairvoyant Lackey almost sounds too nice.

BLR: I would like to restate that this story is set before episode 17 and I actually wrote this part before that too. So the Clairvoyant doesn't sound quite like he's supposed to. Please ignore that. ^^

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Twenty minutes had passed. It seemed even longer to Fitz and Simmons. They were nervous and scared but trying not to think about it. Simmons suggested they play Chess to pass the time. Of course, without a board or pieces the game was entirely in their heads which meant they had to keep track of their own pieces positions and each other's. The game died out before long — not because it was too hard for them but because trying to play a game to lighten your spirits while being held prisoner by a deranged psychic only made the situation seem more hopeless.

Fitz fiddled with a thread on his shirt sleeve. Simmons drummed her fingers together absently. The silence was oppressive to both of them but neither knew what to do about it. 

Then the angry lackey opened the door with slightly less rage than before. He held his gun restlessly at his side, as if just waiting for the chance to take a shot.

Fitz and Simmons quickly got to their feet, standing shoulder to shoulder. The lackey whom FitzSimmons had taken to calling C.L. — for Clairvoyant Lackey — didn't make threats this time. He pointed at Fitz and said "You. Come with me." Fitz glanced at Simmons and walked forward.

"Wait," Simmons protested. "What do you want with him?"

C.L. grabbed Fitz's shoulder and pushed him toward the door. "We're gonna have a little talk." He turned the full force of his glare on Simmons. "You shut up and sit tight."

Fitz tried to give Simmons a reassuring look before the door slammed between them. She was left in the empty room with  a panicked feeling rising in her chest. She hugged herself and swallowed her tears.

"Hurry Coulson," she whispered. "Please."

                                                             . . . .

Fitz hoped the Clairvoyant's men didn't blind fold him because they were underestimating his deduction skills. He expected to see something helpful but the way from the room to his destination was short. The electricity seemed to be off in most of the building and barely working in the rest of it, which told Fitz that this wasn't the Clairvoyant's headquarters that they'd happened to stumble across.

The miniscule journey ended at a mostly empty room with some computer monitors and a lone chair. C.L. handcuffed Fitz to the chair and then stood across from him. Fitz thought the man was about to ask him some questions and the anxiety built inside him until a computerized voice suddenly started up from one of the monitors.

"Agent Fitz," the voice greeted in an eerie monotone. "It's nice to meet you, although I wish this could have happened under more pleasant circumstances."

"You're the Clairvoyant" Fitz stated calmly. He watched the letters form on screen one second before the voice spoke, slightly out of synch.

"I apologize for putting  you in this frightening situation —"

"-Oh, I'm not frightened," Fitz cut in. "Not of you anyway. Someone who makes other people do all their dirty work isn't very scary. You're probably just an oversized balding guy playing computer games throughout the day."

C.L. swung his fist into the side of Fitz's head. "Answer without the attitude," he warned. "Fitz's ears were ringing.

"As I was saying," the Clairvoyant continued in the computerized voice, "I have some questions for you Agent Fitz. I expect you to answer them honestly."

He shook his head slowly, trying to dispel the spots that had blotted out his sight. "I'm not going to tell you anything."

"I expected that response but your resistance is pointless. My agent will make sure you cooperate."

Fitz suddenly wished Thor or Captain America would break through the wall and heroically fix everything, but the Avengers weren't going to show up. The team would though. He needed them to hurry.

"First, tell me everything you witnessed while at the Guest House."

                                                                . . . .

Simmons hadn't sat down once while waiting for Fitz. She'd been capable only of pacing the room, her hands clutched together. There was nothing to do but think and wait and pray.

After one long half hour, the door opened and C.L. threw Fitz in.

"Fitz!" Jemma cried and grabbed him before he could fall over. There were more bruises on his face, turning purple, and a gash on his forehead.

"Fitz I'm right here, can you hear me?"

"I'm fine Jemma. It looks a lot more than it is."

"What happened!?"

"The Clairvoyant was questioning me," he stuttered, his eyes wild and confused. "He kept asking me about the Guest House and about what you told me about GH325. Then he would suddenly as a whole new train of questions. He asked me about Ward and May and Skye. It was all to trick me up."

Suddenly C.L., who was still standing there, started talking. "Enough of this."

He started towards them and Simmons rushed to stand between him and Fitz.

"I won't let you take Fitz again," she warned darkly, feeling defenseless but still knowing that she would claw this man's eyes out if she had to.

C.L. smiled. "I'm not taking him anywhere." In a flash, he grabbed hold of her wrist and snapped on a handcuff. Simmons reacted with the little training she had and thrust her hand out, smashing his nose in with her palm. The man cried out but quickly overpowered her and got her other hand into the cuffs.

"No!" Fitz shouted and charged him. He tackled C.L., knocking him to the ground. Fitz swung his fist but C.L. caught it with one hand and threw Fitz off of him. He kicked Fitz in the stomach and sent him flying into the wall.

"Fitz!" Jemma screamed and tried to maneuver away from C.L. but he was too quick. He grabbed onto her and practically dragged her from the room as Fitz got up and ran. The dloor slammed shut and he crashed into it.

"Jemma!!" he screamed and punched the door.

He knew they would take her and question her. He'd tried to stall them so that Coulson could show up before this happened. And now... what if they hurt her too?

He punched the door.