The rules that Fitz made were simple. Under no circumstances was Deke allowed to leave the Zephyr when once they had landed to track down Coulson. Fitz was fine with him going up to the cockpit to look out the windows at the snow and the mountains, as long as Davis kept an eye on him.
So, naturally, when Davis came running towards Fitz, the engineer knew something was very, very wrong. After only turning around for a second, Davis said that Deke had disappeared, and Fitz knew in the pit of his stomach that he’d left the Zephyr.
Fitz grabbed his coat, taking off at a run out of the loading bay, following the tiny boot prints in the snow. It wasn’t long before he saw him, the little nine-year-old crouched in the snow, hands forming a snowball in curiosity. It was easy to forget that all of this was still new to Deke.
For a moment, Fitz’s panic died down, seeing that his grandson wasn’t hurt, just wandering out to experience everything. He let out a breath, taking a careful step forwards to go and get him and bring him back to the Zephyr.
But Fitz couldn’t see everything else going on, his vision obscured by the tree branches. He watched as Deke turned and threw the snowball and someone, and the little boy stood proud for a moment.
And then there were gunshots filling the air.
Fitz blinked, and Deke was falling. There was red staining the snow under him. And Fitz had never run so fast in his life, sprinting just the short distance to his grandson, catching him in his arms as he started to fall.
