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“Leopold Fitz.”
Fitz’s head spun around at the sound of his name. Enoch’s intonation didn’t indicate whether he was making a statement or asking a question.
“Enoch,” Fitz exhaled sharply, furrowing his brow and pressing his right fist into his left palm. “Do you need me for anything?”
The Chronicom took a step forward towards where Fitz was sitting on the front steps. His hands were interlaced behind his back. He ticked his head to one side, raising his eyebrows—a mannerism Fitz had become accustomed to. “I do not,” Enoch said matter-of-factly. “Though it is surprising to find you here—what appears to be deeply in thought.”
Fitz sighed. “You could say that.”
“As your best friend, I am always here to offer you my ear.”
Fitz looked straight ahead at the lake, rubbing his hands together and chewing on his lower lip. “Jemma’s pregnant,” he finally admitted.
“In my experience as an anthropologist of your species, this news is generally—though not always—considered to be joyous.”
Fitz turned his head to briefly look at his friend, before pressing his lips into a thin line and returning his gaze to the horizon. “Generally—but not always.”
“Are you unhappy that you and Jemma Simmons will have a child together?”
“What?” Fitz exclaimed, scrambling to get up to face Enoch. “No. No, I am. I am happy. I mean, we wanted to have a family. It’s just—” He paused, lifting his shoulders to his ears and fanning out his arms. “Now? Here? Chronicom hunters are trying to find us. We’re trying to figure out time travel and other tech that’s years beyond what we should be capable of. How—how—?” He ran his fingers across his face and through his hair, before dropping them helplessly by his side. “Our child deserves something better than that.”
Enoch looked at him in silence for a moment, before his eyebrows once again lifted, and his head ever-so-slightly ticked to one side. “I will admit that your circumstances are rather challenging.”
Fitz scoffed, placing his hands on his hips. “You’re a master of the understatement.”
Enoch took a step forward. “Still, I have no doubt that you and Jemma Simmons will master this new challenge as you have mastered so many challenges before—together.”
Fitz’s upper teeth glided across his lower lip. “We are a pretty good team.”
“You are a master of the understatement as well.”
Fitz chuckled.
“And may I add that you two will not be alone.” Enoch continued, walking closer, his hands still interlaced behind his back. “In my time on Earth, I have had ample opportunity to interact with children of varying ages and backgrounds. I consider myself quite capable in aiding you and Jemma Simmons in raising your baby.”
Fitz eyed his friend up and down, one corner of his mouth twitching into a little half-smile. “You’ll make a great uncle,” he said quietly.
“I consider that a great compliment, bestie.”
For a moment, Fitz’s mind felt more at ease, until a new wave of worries washed over him. “What about our plan?” he shrugged, “I mean we always said once the time drive and the implants were ready, you and Jemma would take the Zephyr and rescue the others, while I monitor everything from here. If we have a— When we have a child, how are we supposed to—? How could we ask Jemma to—?” He pressed his fingertips into his chest. “And how would I—? Alone? With a child?”
Enoch released his hands, his arms now hanging loosely by his sides. “This will—without a doubt—be one of the hardest decisions you will ever make,” he stated in his usually monotone voice. “Yet, I assure you, we will modify the plan we had laid out to account for this new variable. Maybe we will be able to bring in assistance for you. Lance Hunter? Agent Piper?”
“But Jemma—and the baby—how can we—?” Fitz stammered, unable to express his thoughts.
“The implant would allow Jemma to be away from both of you without remembering the loss she has encountered,” Enoch replied. He paused, before continuing, “Though difficult, it is my belief that she will agree to proceed with our plan—to save humanity—which includes your future child.”
Fitz blinked away tears, his throat closing off with emotions.
“Moreover,” Enoch continued, his eyes wide and fixed on Fitz, “though you have made tremendous progress, it is my estimation that you are still years away from completing the time drive and memory implants. By then, the child would be older and may understand what’s at stake.”
Fitz let his friend’s words sink in. There was truth to them, and yet that didn’t make the thought of what they would need to do hurt any less. “Do you think we will do it?” he asked, his heart pounding in his chest. “Master time travel, defeat the Chronicoms, save the world, and then—be together, away from here, as a family, with a dog and a monkey and—?”
“Though the odds may be ever-so-slightly not in your favor, you have beaten the odds before. I have no reason to doubt that you will do so again,” Enoch replied without hesitation.
Fitz stared at everything and nothing for a moment, his eyes glazing over as his mind tried to recap all they had talked about, everything that had happened. “I’m going to be a father,” he finally mumbled, before looking up, focussing his gaze on Enoch. “Do you think I can do that?”
“You are—without a doubt—one of the most kindhearted people I have ever met, Leopold Fitz.” Enoch bobbed his head. “I am quite certain that you will be a more than adequate father figure.”
An amused puff of air escaped Fitz’s nostrils over the Chronicom’s—as usual—strange choice of words. He reached forward, squeezing Enoch’s shoulder. “Thank you, buddy.”
“You are quite welcome.” Enoch lifted his chin ever so slightly. “Shall we go back inside? I believe this occasion calls for a celebration.”
Fitz’s lips pulled into a hopeful smile. “Yeah, yeah, it does.”