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Daisy had stumbled back to the field where the Bus was parked at exactly 1:34 AM. Not that Simmons had been watching the clock. That’s a complete lie. She had absolutely been watching the clock. In fact, she had been sitting at the open aft ramp with a gun, cup of tea, and a flashlight since 9PM. And Daisy still wasn’t back.
Her tea long gone cold, Simmons looked into the darkness, begging for Daisy to walk proudly out of the forest, ready to tell them the location of the bomb they were tracking proudly. But the only thing she heard was footsteps from behind her.
“Simmons,” Fitz said softly. “It’s past one… come inside.”
“No.” Her voice was firm. “I’m waiting here as long as it takes.”
“She might not-”
“There!” Simmons jumped up and pointed at a moving spot in the darkness. “There- that’s her!”
Fitz shined a flashlight out hopefully, but a deer looked at them, frozen. Simmons sighed and sat back down with a huff.
“Dammit,” she whispered. “I really thought that was her.”
“Come on, Simmons. She’ll come. But you need sleep.”
“Just another hour,” Simmons said, as if she was a child begging for sleep, but more sternly. “At two, I’ll come in.”
Fitz knew her well enough to know that nothing he could say would change her mind.
“I’ll get you some more tea,” he said, patting her shoulder.
When Daisy did finally stumble out of the woods, Simmons was halfway through humming the entire soundtrack to Moana. She heard the rustling, and saw a moving figure. Simmons snapped on a flashlight and illuminated Daisy, jumped into a fighting pose, hair a mess and jacket in shreds.
“Oh my god,” Simmons whispered, dropping her gun and running down the ramp.
“Simmons!” Daisy hoarsly cried, limping into the field to meet her at the bottom of the ramp.
Simmons threw her arms around Daisy, pulling her down into a hug. Daisy exhaled and relaxed, placing her arms around her and giving a gentle squeeze.
“Ow,” she mumbled, and Simmons stepped back.
“Oh, goodness, come on, are you okay? What happened? Are you hurt?” Simmons said, guiding her inside and closing the ramp behind them.
“Too many questions,” she mumbled, following Simmons into the lab. She hopped up on the table willingly, looking at the medical supplies already laid out. “You anticipated me being in a bad state.” It wasn’t a question.
“I… yeah, I was worried,” Simmons responded, pulling her hair up into a ponytail. “Take your jacket off.”
Daisy did, wincing. Her shirt was bloody, and Simmons exhaled.
“I’m gonna cut off your shirt, okay?” she asked, picking up a pair of scissors.
“Maybe later, I’m tired,” Daisy joked, then nodded.
Simmons offered her a smile as she cut away the fabric, leaving her in her bra. Simmons gasped, and Daisy sagged. Her skin was bright red with criss-crossing cuts. Some of them were deep and were caked in blood, others where barely bigger than papercuts. Her neck was red and rough, as were her wrists.
“Oh, my god, Daisy ,” Simmons exhaled.
“That bad, huh,” she said, with little humour in her voice.
“I’m gonna give you some painkillers,” she said, grabbing up one of the many syringes she had laid out.
“Which one?” she asked.
“Conscious, but you’ll get loopy,” Simmons grinned, taking her arm gently. Her wrist was bright red.
“Well, good thing that I already confessed that I love you,” Daisy said, actually smiling.
Simmons smiled back, leaning in and giving her a soft kiss on the lips. Daisy closed her eyes and kissed her back - then yelped.
“Hey!” she said. “You trickster!”
Simmons laughed, taking the syringe out of her arm. “Hey, it worked.”
“Can’t argue with that,” she mumbled. “‘Fore I get too loopy, how do you want me to lie down?”
“On your stomach, arms out to each side,” Simmons instructed, taking out a pillow for her.
Daisy did as she asked. Simmons set up her arms so her wrists weren’t touching the table. She went to a cupboard and pulled out a huge jar of green salve.
“Ooh, the massage blood juice,” Daisy murmured happily.
“High already, are you?” Simmons asked, sitting down by the table and smiling. Daisy’s eyes were mostly closed and she was smiling softly. Simmons took out a glob of the salve and rubbed it between her palms. She gently took Daisy’s hand and spread it over her wrists.
“Ow,” Daisy muttered, but it didn’t seem to really hurt her. More of a dull ache. “Gem… why am I not wearing a shirt?”
Simmons stifled a laugh.
“Ohh, I see,” she responded, as if she had a profound realisation. Then her brow furrowed in confusion. “Then why are you wearing a shirt?”
“Just relax and let me give you a massage,” Simmons said, rubbing the salve into her skin.
“M’kay,” Daisy sighed happily. “I got my Simmons, and my Simmons is giving me a massage, this is pretty good.”
Simmons let Daisy blabber happily about random things (mostly a type of monkey she had learned about recently) as she massaged her wrists, then her neck. After about fifteen minutes, Daisy fell asleep. In truth, the medicine Simmons had given her had a slow acting sedative, so she wouldn’t wake up for another several hours.
“Oh, what did they do to you, my sweet darling,” Simmons said, washing her hands and looking at Daisy’s back. “What did they do…”
She sighed, knowing that it would be a while before she got an answer. Simmons dried her hands and grabbed a cloth. She poured some alcohol on it, then began to slowly clean the many wounds. Daisy didn’t stir. It was almost calming, in a terrible way, Simmons thought as she methodically wiped then dried then rearranged the flakes of skin. After her back was cleaned, Simmons pulled on gloves and a needle and thread and began stitching the wounds that looked like they needed it. Then, she spread more of the salve over her entire back.
“Simmons?” a voice said.
Simmons looked up to see Coulson, bleary-eyed and in pyjamas, standing outside the lab. She waved him over.
“What time did she get here?” he asked, taking the seat beside Daisy’s head.
“1:34,” Simmons murmured, rubbing the salve into her back. “She’s been out for a while.”
“You should have gotten me,” he said, rubbing his eyes. But there was no venom to his words.
“I’m sorry, sir,” she said, meaning it. She looked at him, as he was looking at her. The love he felt for Daisy was very different from the love she felt for her, but it was love either way. “I know how much you care about her.”
“No, it’s okay. I’m glad you started treating her immediately.” Suddenly, something clicked in his head. “Oh, my gosh, she’s not wearing a shirt, I should- uh… should I-?”
“Sir, it’s fine. I promise you it’s fine,” Simmons laughed.
She stepped back from the table and washed her hands again. Coulson looked up at her, then back at Daisy.
“Is there anything I can do to help?” he offered. “I mean, I don’t know a whole lot about this, but still…”
Simmons paused for a moment.
“Actually, could you watch her for a few minutes? I should go get some of her clothes for her to change into later,” she asked.
He nodded. Simmons patted his shoulder then went up the stairs.
“Oh, Daisy,” Coulson whispered a moment later. “Your wrists and neck are red. Your back looks, frankly, terrible. Your jacket is in shreds. What on earth did they do to you?”
“Rope burn,” Simmons said, reappearing, holding a bundle of clothes. “Sorry. Um, standard rope burn on her wrists and neck. And her back looks like they used a horse whip.”
Coulson nodded.
“Um, sir, could you… could you step outside while I get her changed? I think she’d just… I think she’d prefer if I did it,” she said hesitantly.
“Of course, I understand,” he said immediately. “I’ll… I’ll wait outside.”
She nodded as he stood up and left. She closed the doors behind him and darkened them. Carefully, she eased the sports bra off her and replaced it with one she knew Daisy found most comfortable. She eased on an oversized t-shirt, gently guiding her floppy arms through the sleeves. Getting her cargo pants off was tricky, but Simmons managed. Replacing them with sweatpants was significantly easier. There were a few scratches on her legs, but none of them seemed too bad. Her knees were red and speckled, as if she had been forced to kneel on gravel. Simmons made a note to check on them later. Once Daisy was dressed in the soft garments, Simmons opened the doors and Coulson came back in.
“Should we move her to her room?” he asked.
“I think so, can you get her? I would but… uh, I don’t think I’m strong enough,” she asked.
Coulson smiled and picked her up gently, wincing for her. He walked her up the stairs as Simmons followed, taking a small bag with them. She opened the door for them into the small and cozy room Daisy had made. Simmons pulled back the comforter of the bed and Coulson put her in it. Simmons tucked her in and sat next to her, placing Daisy’s head on her lap. She pulled out a hairbrush and slowly began to detangle her hair.
“Can I… can I stay here?” Coulson asked.
Simmons nodded, and he wheeled over the seat that was at her desk. He sat down and took Daisy’s hand. They stayed like that for a long time. Simmons worked her way through Daisy’s thick hair, making a small pile of leaves and blood clots on the bedside table. Once her hair was back to its smooth self, she braided it and tied it off with a hair tie. It felt good, almost normal. Coulson just sat there, holding Daisy’s hand, thinking.
“She’ll be asleep for a while longer,” Simmons eventually said. “I think I’m going to get some shuteye, you should do the same.”
Coulson nodded and stood up. “Wake me if you need anything, okay?”
“I will,” she said.
Coulson patted Simmons’ shoulder and looked like he was about to say something but decided against it. He made to close the door behind him when Simmons spoke.
“You’re a good dad, Coulson,” she said.
He looked back and smiled. “Thanks,” he said, then closed the door behind him.
Simmons climbed under the covers and wrapped her arms around Daisy. She would be okay. They both would be okay. They always were, through every universe.