The Clairvoyant was silent for a long moment, the only sound issuing from behind her veil being the rasping hiss of her breath. He was laughing. Bold. Irreverent. Questioning her judgement. Not altogether ‘cocky’ but there was a sense of arrogance despite his hopelessness. An agent, through and through. If she’d missed anything from her old life, from her dead self, it was that back and forth she’d entertained time and time again. And nobody did back and forth better than an agent of SHIELD–no one could put a better spin on a hopeless situation, than an Eagle with blood on his lips. A pity she hadn’t had her boys rough Fitz up a little first. But then, he was frail enough as it was, and her Centipedes were nothing if not dutiful… sometimes overzealous.
She waited patiently for him to find his words–now there was a game she was used to; Cal had been just the same way–and after a moment, she tilted her head to one side.
“Missing facts,” the Clairvoyant mused. “No… I don’t think so. You see I’ve put a great deal of thought and time and effort into this. Into your… selection.”
Again, she paused, and this time, her golden eyes flicked to the men on either side of the engineer. She raised a hand and waved them away without a word. The Centipede soldiers immediately dropped Fitz, and turned in unison, marching from the room. The Clairvoyant waited until the heavy boom of the closing door signaled that she and the agent were alone, before she reached up and lowered her hood. She peeled away the black veil that had shadowed the lower half of her face, and flashed Fitz a wry, bitter smile.
“That’s better,” she choked out, and the thin flaps of skin at the unhealed gash in her throat fluttered slightly with her breathing. “I see no point in pretense, not between old friends. It pains me a great deal more to speak than the last time we saw one another, so I’ll do my best to be frank. You’re a genius. You’re an engineer. And I have ways to coax you into doing what I want. If I have to, I’ll manipulate or force you. I’ve heard about the damage you’ve sustained since Ward’s ill-fated swimming lesson, but I’ve heard about your improvements as well. I think you can help me… and I think you will. So then, Fitz: what exactly am I missing?”
Everything became marginally easier without the awfully
firm grips of the soldiers, or so he would have thought it
to have been so. Balance was lost in the moment & his
form tipped, just the slightest, forwards, palms stretched
flat to meet the smooth floor- he didn’t want to think about
what may or may not have happened in this warehouse
in the recent or distant past- but he hadn’t quite made it
far enough & Fitz’s form straightened once more. He
certainly lacked the training of a field agent ( everyone
knew that ) & it was felt in the way pain began to spike
in his bones pressed to the floor & how hands running
with small tremors pressed sturdy fingers against skin.
While fingers moved & pressed to counteract the off-pink
imprints of fingers dug deep blue eyes maintained a steady
connection. He had been right. From that knowledge elation
& horror had blossomed & lungs instinctively recoiled. He
had known she was different, truly looked different, voice
& hood alone was indicative of such a fact. Despite having
preconceived notions of her altered form nothing could have
stopped the slackness of Fitz’s jaw, slightly parted lips &
wide eyes following his soft gasp.
Her words caused distraction enough, in the form of eyes
drawn to the movement of loose skin, so much that the
nature of Raina’s words- the topic of their conversation- had
almost been lost to him entirely. Sudden realization forced
lips to meet & his own throat to swallow with the nerves
the engineer had almost forgotten- buried beneath laughter
& horror ( perhaps disgust )- so that he might answer.
His train of thought had been ushered aside- another fault
of Ward’s- & it was only after a long moment of stumbling
over disconnected syllables that he recalled them.
❝ Well...then you should know.. about my uh ❞ on cue
hands separated from from flesh developing a bruise &
twisted awkwardly before him to aid words- to explain-
❝ They don’t work so well any more. ❞ A moment too
late it occurred that such explanation may have rendered
him useless & therefore dead.
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