Wanted (A Percy Jackson/Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. crossover)

Research

Agent Leo Fitz slammed his head into his hands before resting them on the table. He turned grudgingly so that he had a clear view of the red blinking PROGRAM FAILURE!  notice splayed across the several monitors surrounding one of his many work stations. His unshaven face, a common sight these days, scratched the part of his arm exposed by his plaid shirt. "Jemma, where are you..." he whispered. It wasn't fair. After everything they had been through, it was just their luck that one of them would be kidnapped, or teleported, or whatever had happened. Couldn't they just get lucky once? Was that really too much to ask for?

Simmons had always- mostly- been there for him; she was the one that brought him out of his shell at the Academy, the one that had challenged him to become the great engineer he was- or, at least, used to be. His talents had mostly returned to him after the accident. Tears sprung to his eyes as he remembered the day he told Jemma she wasn't just a best friend to him: she was the only one he saw himself with, she was his counterpart, his life. They had just scheduled their first date when she was stolen from him.

"Stop it," he told himself, sitting up abruptly. He didn't have time to feel sorry for himself; Jemma needed him, and he wasn't doing any good crying about it. Fitz hastily wiped a tear from his now dull green eyes and quickly began typing a new code for the scanner he was attempting to create, to hopefully find just where Jemma could be. He knew she had had her cellphone on her... she knew to turn on the beacon if something ever happened. Why he hadn't found it yet simply had to be minor malfunction. He'd find her. He had to.

Fitz had been so focused on his work that he failed to notice Daisy's entrance. "Agh!" he yelled, whipping around when she placed a hand on his shoulder. His outburst startled her equally, causing her to drop the manilla folder she had been holding; pictures and articles went flying. She shot him an annoyed glance before kneeling down to clean up the mess.

"Sorry," he said defeated in his signature Scottish accent. He peeled himself away from the multiple monitors to help her pick up the papers. His head pounded from the hours staring at the glaring screens, but his curiosity about the files distracted him enough to forget about the pain.

"What's this?" he asked her, momentarily forgetting his other mission. He glanced over the white sheet, which appeared to be a profile on a young boy- a young delinquent boy by the looks of it. This kid had a worse record than Daisy did when they picked her up those many days ago as Skye- and that was saying something.

Daisy stood. As he did the same, she brushed off her dark brown leather jacket before responding. "He's a person of interest- I think Coulson's bored. The intel is old and he wants us to do some digging."

Fitz's interest had peaked, but he still hadn't forgotten what was on the top of his priorities. He turned his head to glance back at his workspace before facing Daisy once more. He opened his mouth to decline the invitation when she cut him off. "It's an order. Come on, let's start with facial recognition. Maybe we can find a more recent school photo, driver's license, or something. The kid has to be around seventeen by now, unless he's into cryogenics or something."

Fitz rubbed his face slowly, knowing an argument against Daisy would surely result in his loss. Reluctantly he agreed and plopped back into his chair before pulling up a new tab on a monitor, closing the GPS tracker. Daisy pulled a chair up next to him. She reached over and pulled his laptop towards her, following his example. Before they began, Daisy made sure to relay everything that Coulson had told her to Fitz about the situation and details on Perseus Jackson.

Several minutes later, the two had found much more than they bargained for, and the information was still coming. The conversation of the next few hours consisted of more and more unanswered questions. By the time they were done, a stack of warm pictures and articles sat next to the printer.