8977/You Are Not Him

You Are Not Him
Date of Scene:	07 December 2021
Location:	R and D Labs: Triskelion
Synopsis:	Peggy stops in the lab to check on Fitz, who has been barely seen since they all returned from the Framework months ago. They have a hard, honest conversation.
Cast of Characters:	Leopold Fitz, Peggy Carter

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Leopold Fitz has posed:
Being the heart of SHIELD, the Triskelion tends to be abuzz with activity at all hours of the day. At least to some extent. Still, unless there is some ongoing crisis demanding attention or some high priority project being rushed along the 'graveyard' shift tends to be pretty quiet. Oh, now and then there might be someone burning the midnight oil, trying to get ahead with some of their work, or still up, pushing to finish up some experiment before calling it an evening. But for the most part meeting others in the halls or labs, or other facilities of the Triskelion after midnight is pretty fleeting.

But not so much in the R&D Labs.

Despite the late hour -- or maybe because of it -- the labs are not abandonned. Oh, to those passing outside along the corridor it might look like it. The lights are all dimmed and in power-saving mode, leaving only a faint glow to illuminate the chamber at all. Except in the back corner of the room. There, the flickering of computer monitors show just a hint of activity, the sign that someone is indeed present, working away long after others have called it a night. Of course, a keen observer would probably have already noted that it has been the case for weeks, even months. Every night, a solitary presence working away when they are least likely to be disturbed. Least likely to actually have to interact with anyone else.

Peggy Carter has posed:
While Peggy isn't a therapist, or even always that good with people, she's also not one to miss when something is wrong with one of her people. She knew it wouldn't be easy. She tried to give him space. The Framework hurt a lot of things for so many of them and only months later is life starting to feel almost normal again. Except barely anyone has seen Leopold Fitz, not outside of the labs. Not at company parties. Not really socializing in the cafe. He's almost a ghost in the labs. It's been too long to simply be a ghost. Peggy finally makes a decision to seek *him* out.

It's late. Peggy is long done with her work and even some extra reports. However, when she receives the confirmation from the computers that Fitz is still in the labs, she makes her decision to finally seek him out. Still in her suit from the day, the click of her high heels calls her out before she speaks any word. She doesn't bother knocking. It's technically still a public part of shield.

"...Dr. Fitz?" She calls quietly though the sedate, mostly empty labs, the quiet clip of her British voice mostly familiar. And gently worried.

Leopold Fitz has posed:
In all fairness Fitz has never exactly been what one would call a 'people person'. He has always preferred long hours in the lab to the work-related social activities that come up from time time. But he was getting better all in all and he never has basically locked himself away quite like this either. Piled atop some of the experiences of those who escaped the Framework it certainly does suggest that the local Scottish genius might not be coping quite as well as one might hope.

It might not be entirely reassuring to find the young man at his desk, the chair kicked back towards the wall, spun around to face the opposite way from him as he sort of... squats in front of the monitor, tapping away at the keyboard. Weird, but not really disturbing. But he is also muttering to himsef, almost as if holding a discourse with himself. Which, depending one's view might not be a cause for concern either. Most people talk to themselves in truth. Maybe the question is just how many sides of that discussion is he carrying on at the moment.

He does give a start when she calls out, clearly not aware that he was no longer alone. That lanky frame snaps upright, out of the crouch and he whirls, putting himself between her and the screen behind him. "What> Yes. Who?" he says, blinking a little owlishly before recognition seems to wash over him. "Oh, yes, Director," he say, bobbing his head. "What can I do for you. It's rather late, isn't it?" he adds, gaze flickering towards the nearby windows that look out over the Trikelion grounds -- the polarized windows keeping anyone from returning the favor from outside -- almost as if to confirm that is indeed nighttime. Which it is. At least he knows the time roughly. Maybe it's best not to ask him if he knows what day it is specifically.

Peggy Carter has posed:
Seeing the way he's not exactly sitting and staring at the computer, her brow furrows in a touch more concern. She's silent for a handful of heartbeats, studying his owlish, blinking eyes and the exhaustion on his features. An uncomfortable, quiet smile remains on her ever-red lips as she steps a few feet closer to him. Dark eyes flicker from him towards the way he looks at the windows. "Yes, rather late. From what I've heard, you've been staying in the labs rather late... Every night. I do hope you're not sleeping here?" Peggy's brow furrows a bit more, that concern only deepening as she watches every twich of his body and movement of his eyes. She's building the mental profile a new, and it's not a good one.

As for herself, the Director looks in fairly good shape. She's put on any weight lost over the ordeal, and then some, soft around the edges and warm to the gaze. She's in one of her usual vintage suits, this one gray winter wool with a plaid pattern to it, and her favorite T-strap heels. She cuts the same figure that is in the founding of SHIELD photos, but in full color and life.

Leopold Fitz has posed:
It seems to occur to him that, at some point, he has kicked his chair and sent it rolling several feet away from his actual work space and he edges over to recalim it, but hands resting on the back of it as he wheels it over in front of his computer once more, almost matter of factly. Nothing unusual to see here or anything of the like, certainly. Though he does stand there, hands gripping the back of that desk chair in front of him, holding it almost like a sheild before him.

"Sleeping here? No, nothing like that. Though I argued that a cot nearby might make me more productive. The facility coordinator seemed to disagree," he mumbles. It is not impossible to imagine him crawling beneath his desk to catch a few hours of rest, though he looks a little too clean and kept for that to be the case, at least at the moment. But it is possible that his personal quarters are the only other place that he is spending his time lately.

A surface glance might see Fitz as just another socially awkward genius. Oh, he's a bit twitchy to be sure, shifting uncomfortably in place though perhaps no more so then anyone else confronted by the head of the organization might be. But he doesn't meet her gaze. He has carefully but clearly picked a spot just off to the side of her and fixed his attention there. Close, but not quite. And it is almost palpable just how much effort it is taking him not to fidget like crazy with her there in front of him. "Was there something I can do for you Director? I know my hours aren't exactly... conventional, but I'm finding myself getting a great deal more done as of late. The quiet helps me think and the facilities are almost always available without me having to fight for time with the other researchers," he offers up. Which might all be true. But it also means that he doesn't have to interact with any of them. Or anyone much of all."

Peggy Carter has posed:
A slow breath escapes her nose as she considers him. Peggy could make small talk and maybe she should, but it's never been her best of talents and she respects him too much to keep beating around the bush. She comes one step closer, almost in his personal space, and rests a soft, neat hand on his desk, fingers splayed. "Fitz... no one has seen you near at all since we got back from the Framework. Jemma. Myself. Even some of the other techs. I know... I know things that happened in their were awful. I know none of us deserved it. But you, probably least of all... deserved that."

She does take one more step forward, her free hand coming up to reach for his upper arm. If he doesn't immediately shy away from her, she lets the weight of her hand come to rest on his shoulder as she seeks for his eyes. "We know it wasn't you. I'm just not certain if YOU know that."

Leopold Fitz has posed:
It is perhaps more telling then anything else to date. Oh, he definitely flinches away. It is entirely reflexive and the grimace that slides across his face is gone even before the half-second it takes him to catch himself and not shy away, holding himself in place. It is not just the lack of contact of course. He has withdrawn from virtually anything that would take him out of the lab, that would force him to deal with others, but particularly those whom he might have encountered in that oh so convincing virtual reality simulation. He was well on his way to becoming a pretty decent field operative, but has not hit the gym or range since coming back. He has not volunteered for a single mission and begged off on the couple he has been requested for, insisting that he could do more coordinating from the labs. His work has legitimately not suffered, but there is no doubt that Fitz has practically become a ghost within the Triskelion itself.

"I'm sure others are much worse off then me. I wasn't hurt. I was doing the hurting," he says, stiffening just a little at the last, almost biting out those distasteful words before clearing his throat. "I know," he begins before his voice catches and he clears his throat once more. "I know all of that sir. Intellectually. I know it," he says, a little more firmly. But clearly there's still a little work to be done to get from knowing it to believing it.

Peggy Carter has posed:
"Leopold... " Peggy states his name not as a discipline or even a disappointment, but something with the caring ache of a mother behind the tone. More emotion than a commander should probably show, but this has never just been a job for her. She doesn't force her hand there. The moment she sees him flinching away, even as he corrects himself, she lets her fingertips drop. Her palm balls up a moment in on itself, like it needed to find more warmth without the brush of his shoulder that she planned to contact.

"I know you've been begging off of field missions. You've stopped training in the gym or the range. You've barely let a single person see you outside the lab. If you truly let yourself knew that, you wouldn't be hiding away from... From everyone. Everything. I don't even know how to start *helping* you but I know you do need it. I need you to look me in the eye and KNOW... know, the only thing we hold for you is affection and worry. That man in there wasn't you, and we all agree."

Leopold Fitz has posed:
Yeah, there's probably a few issues to work out there. He might try to put on a brave face but SHIELD is filled with operatives with a whole lot more training and a whole lot more apptitude for lying, or at least playing things close to the vest. He even flinches again when she says his name. "Fitz, please. Or Leo. Only my dad called me Leopold. And... the people in the Framework," he adds with a hesitation. The few more powerful then him in SHIELD, that could get away with the familiarity.

Still, the revelation that he hasn't been fooling anyone does make Fitz draw himself up a little straighter at least and he takes in a deep breath, eyes widening a little. Why she would have taken note, the fact that anyone would have taken note shouldn't come as a big surprise. He's working for the supreme intelligence network in the world afterall. Information, no matter how minor is their stock in trade afterall. But there it is. "I appreciate that Director," he begins, almost cutting off there. A simple acknowledgement. A chance to just nod his head and promise to do better. "But I tortured you. I threatened your family. I killed good people and turned others into weapons. And I know it wasn't me, not exactly, but I remember it like it was me. It's like... he feels as if he is still there, like a splinter in my mind, just waiting to burrow up to the surface. I don't know if any simulation could have made me do those kinds of things... if some part of me wasn't already capable of them," he says quietly.

Peggy Carter has posed:
"Fitz. I'm sorry." Other than that gentle correction, the woman doesn't stop him speaking. Peggy knows it's a lot of pain and uncertainy; this might be the first time he's dared to voice those thoughts out loud. To stop herself from touching him again, she forces herself to fold arms across her chest. Not judgmental, just trying to keep control of her heart even as it quietly breaks for the young scientist across from her.

When he finally admits that very last bit, the fear that some part of him is capable of it, a tired, worrid smile pulls at her lips. Peggy shakes her head faintly, "Fitz. You're a part of one of the largest spy and defense organizations in the world. *All* of us are...capable of those things. I've even done things in my own body and skin that I'm not proud of in defense of this job. But that's still not *you*. You aren't a man who wants to do them. You aren't a man who would LET yourself fall to those injustices. And just because someone lit up a few parts of your brain which made you do that dance, doesn't make you the person who made those decisions. Who lived that life. Who had ANY control in what happened." Her arms unfold again, and instinct wins out. She reaches forward, trying to tug him into a firm, warm hug. One that holds no doubt or fear of him. "I know it wasn't you, and you need to let us help you ALSO realize it wasn't you." She mutters against the side of his temple.

Leopold Fitz has posed:
It all makes sense of course, and again he understands all of that intellectually. As a general rule he does not have any great love of biology, of chemistry and the icky sciences that delve into fleshy bits but he's a genius. He understands them. He gets the principles of the Framework, of technology designed to specifically interface with the human mind. He can -- again on a purely intellectual level -- appreciate everything that it was able to accomplish. He can appreciate how it bridged the man/machine barrier and bring consciousness beyond the barrier of flesh. Despite his fears and various well-founded issues he has probably had all sorts of notions of how to repurpose the technology in more useful, less emotionally destructive ways. Who knows, perhaps he will pursue some of them sooner or later.

Probably later.

Clearly Director Carter's words do help some, enough that the dark haired genius manages to not even flinch when she enfolds him in that hug. Maybe he's just too surprised. She is the Director of SHIELD afterall. It's not the sort of thing one associates with the position afterall. The idea of Fury doing the same might be a more terrifying image then the Doctor still poking about in his brain. "It's a fair point. I know you're right of course sir, I just... I guess I'm still making myself believe it," he says with a quiet sigh before giving a slow shake of his head. "Thank you. I'll try to get better about... engaging," he allows.

It's just hard to forget waking up in that pod, in that massive sphere beneath Manhatten. Hard to forget the feeling that he was still trapped in his own body, peering through eyes while not being in control. A trick of the mind? Certainly. But it's hard to forget that sense that -- in that moment -- a very different mind was glorying in it's escape from a dying artificial world.

Peggy Carter has posed:
The older woman lets the hug linger for a bit longer longer than a traditional one would last even between friends, much less work colleagues. It's enough for the mind to start letting off some of those good chemicals, at least, and a few seconds longer than that. Peggy finishes it with a slight squeeze to his shoulders and then pulls back just enough to look him in the eyes, her fingertips resting on the tops of his arms instead of keeping him in that embrace.

"One, when we are having conversations like this, you may call me Peggy. Sir... well, I'm not commanding a battle field right now, I promise you. And two, it's... a start. Please try to get better. Talk to some of the others. You... you're even welcome at Daniel and I's house, if you'd like. He makes an excellent dinner and it'd be a lovely change from what happened."

Peggy straightens some, letting her hands finally fall, a little more professionalism in her expression than was there a moment ago. But still caring, beneath the slightly more somber look. "I... I know that nowadays people take much stock in mental care, therapists, and the like. I... I understand the science behind them, but I've never ordered someone to attend such counseling before and I don't want to have to give that order now. But you deserve better than this. You deserve your life back. That... program in the Framework? He was a bloody god damn bastard. Don't give him any more of your life. He doesn't deserve it."

Leopold Fitz has posed:
There are, of course many reasons why Fitz choose to enter SHIELD academy. He certainly had no shortage of options. His full potential might not have yet been realized back then but it's safe to assume that he had his pick of schools and programs. But a deep, abiding admiration for Peggy Carter and the history of SHIELD certainly factored into it in some small way.

So yeah, he's probably not going to be using her first name any time in the immediate future. It's more of a question of how long before he can go without referring to her as sir again. Small steps.

"I appreciate you not ordering me, sir," Fitz admits. He may have grown up in more contemporary times, he might not find any stigma in the need of people needing to reach out for emotional help. But he is something of an introvert. It's hard for him to open up with his friends sometimes, nevermind a complete stranger. The idea does not appeal to him a lot even if, again intellectually, he understands the purpose and potentially the value. "I'll try to address it a little better," he promises.

And if not? Well, SHIELD has access to some of the best counselors in the business right?

Peggy Carter has posed:
"And the invitation for dinner stands. Don't make me send Daniel in here after you. He's far more warm than I am and inevitably will make you smile. He also has awful jokes. Just a warning." Peggy reaches out, giving his forearm one last squeeze before letting him go and straightening in a way that says she's preparing to leave.

"I appreciate you... listening to me, other than the sir thing." She smirks. "I know it still won't be easy. But I am glad you are going to try. Now...it is late. Get some rest when you can." With that, she turns on the ball of her shoe and, unless he stops her somehow, steps out of the lab with the same echoing click of her heels which introduced her when she first entered. She is still British, she can't dwell OVERLY long on emotion, it would be unseemly!