Work Text:
The first warning sign she should have picked up on was the clenching, gnawing feeling in the pit of her stomach.
Melinda May had been out of field duty for so long, she just attributed it to indigestion.
There was a time, years ago, when every warning bell in her body would have picked up on that noticeable gut feeling. That feeling meant action. Danger. Act fast, or else. She had once been able to quickly sort through the causes of it, just by scanning her eyes around the room or noticing discrepancies in her surroundings that her subconscious had picked up on before she could register them.
She would have been checking in on her team when that happened, going through names on her phone and knocking on doors, one by one, until everyone was alive and accounted for. And then she would find out what her intuition was telling her.
That was her past life. That was always being on the move, never predicting the next tragedy, never being able to keep her family safe.
That was then.
This is now.
There was no reason for it. Unless one of her Academy students was secretly harboring evil intentions, the feelings were simply natural and meant nothing.
But now, even with a stomach full from lunch and a good book in hand, the discomfort persisted.
I’m going crazy .
The warning bells continued. She shifted in the chair, hoping it really was just a rare bout of indigestion. Even stood up, stretched her arms up toward the ceiling, then down, folding herself in half until her arms hugged her knees. Stretched from side to side, twisted her torso.
It didn’t help.
Which meant it was probably time to panic.
.
.
.
.
The message came before she could pick up her phone to call Mack.
It really wasn’t anything out of the ordinary. Simply an update from Agent Payne, assistant head of the space exploration program, explaining as requested that the Zephyr Three just touched down and that the agents were currently being examined at the SHIELD medical facility in Charleston, South Carolina.
Melinda remembered, with a pang, that this was officially the end of the small team’s last mission. After five years flying missions for the space division and at least that many trips around the galaxy, the Zephyr Three and her crew were finally Earth-bound, permanently.
“I’m ready to leave space travel to the younger kids,” Sousa had joked last year at their annual Framework meetup. “I’m like a hundred and ten – You guys think I deserve to retire yet?”
May had seen the emotion-filled look Daisy sent her husband, probably thinking she was being subtle but failing valiantly as usual.
If anyone deserved a nice life of low-stakes office work and training recruits, it was those two. Daniel and Daisy.
She returned her attention to the phone screen and Payne’s message. Glanced over it one more time.
In getting lost in her memories, she had missed the end of it.
Zephyr 3 just landed, the message read. The crew’s headed to the SCMSC for their workups. All healthy at first glance, just tired and ready to be on solid ground again. Don’t want to worry you.. but your girl is anxious to see you. Might be trip related, maybe not. But she asked for you a few times. Let me know if you want a ride down here.
May paused.
Your girl.
She knew Payne was referring to Daisy. It was widely known in SHIELD that the small team had a special, unique, altogether unbreakable bond that rivaled that of even the tightest-knit family. It was forged in the years of insane trials they’d gone through – Events that would have destroyed any weaker souls. They’d lost the people closest to them. Almost lost themselves hundreds of times over. No one could go through all that and not come out changed.
Coulson had sometimes referred to Daisy as the daughter he never had. And although she rarely said it, May had always felt the same.
Your girl.
The girl she’d trained. Protected. Held up when the universe seemed determined to destroy her.
Daisy had never needed May. But she’d always chosen her.
Chosen her to be the mother figure she’d always dreamed of having.
The next text message followed, with perfect timing. And even before she could see the sender’s name, she knew it was from Daisy.
Hey May. Payne said he’d update you, but I’m thinking he’ll downplay things. Need my S.O. right now. Please tell me you’re free. I’ll tell Payne to send the jet.
No emojis, no exclamation points, perfect punctuation, and she hadn't called May her Supervising Officer in years . Something was very wrong, and the thought sent a hot stone down to the depths of her chest.
It only took her seven minutes to pack a small duffel, all while on the phone with Payne, arranging pickup. He also promised to personally call the Academy for her and arrange for a substitute for a few days. She thanked him profusely for that gesture.
Finally she locked the door behind her, stepped out onto her front porch, let out a deep breath, and set her jaw.
On my way, she texted Daisy. Hang in there. I got you.
.
.
.
.
Normally she would have enjoyed a trip to Charleston. The new SHIELD Stovall Space Center was an intriguing experience, filled to the brim with cutting edge technology and some of the greatest minds in the world. She was certain that if Fitz had stayed in SHIELD, he would have been begged and prodded and coaxed by the President of the United States himself to join the space division, and would probably have his very own shiny office on the top floor, with all the nation’s resources at his fingertips.
The place was overwhelming to say the least, a bit smaller than the Triskelion but similar in atmosphere and layout. Agents scurried with their tablets and clipboards from one meeting to another, and most of that hubbub came from the direction of the hangar, she was sure.
Melinda knew this place well enough to know where she was headed.
She showed her badge at the desk, got hit with one of those awe-inspired oh, you’re THE Agent May looks she’d become accustomed to by now, and obediently walked through the metal detector. One more swipe of her key card and she was on the fastest shuttle to the SHIELD Center for Medical Sciences, Charleston.
.
.
.
.
The SCMS felt vaguely like a hospital, but with some distinct differences. Its main purpose was research and instruction, which was evident. Built into an older repurposed colonial-style schoolhouse with plenty of renovations and additions, it boasted four levels and a gorgeous brick exterior. Each level had a distinct purpose. The first floor was the actual clinic-slash-hospital, where field agents had comfortable private rooms in which to heal from any number of injuries and ailments. A handful of nurses and doctors attended the clinic when it was busy. May knew of at least one operating room and a couple imaging rooms. The upper three floors were mostly a mystery to her.
But May wasn’t here for the sightseeing.
The agent manning the front desk seemed to recognize her the moment May walked through the door, and he gave a reserved smile.
“Agent May. Here to see the Zephyr team?” he asked. May glanced down at his name tag: Agent Ewin. He held himself stiff and straight and starched, matching the gray scrubs he wore. Professional.
She nodded and followed Ewin down the maze of hallways. They turned left twice and right once, before stopping at one of the larger recovery rooms. She could vaguely hear Kora’s voice inside, followed by one she couldn’t quite place.
Ewin reached down to open the door, but before he touched the handle, a voice called from down the hallway.
“Agent May!”
She fought back a sigh of annoyance. She just wanted to be with her team, finally – was that too much to ask?
Agent Payne rushed down the hallway and Ewin excused himself, disappearing back the way he’d come.
“Payne,” she greeted, shaking his hand. “Good to see you again.” She wanted to see her team, but this man was a good friend, at least as far as fellow agents and colleagues could be considered friends.
“Likewise. How was the trip down?” he asked. Like most male agents in SHIELD, he sported a short haircut and a buttoned-up demeanor. She appreciated his straightforwardness and intelligence, especially considering much of the safety of her pseudo-family rested on his shoulders. He always had an answer to her questions, almost never beat around the bush, and usually had a cup of coffee in hand. Today was no exception, and as he took a sip, May offered him a hint of a smile.
“Faster than usual,” she answered honestly. “Have quinjets been breaking the sound barrier for a while now?”
Payne snorted at her lighthearted joke. “I wish.”
Now it was her turn to ask for honesty. “So . . . How are they? Really.”
He sighed. “As good as I expected. Tired. Quieter than after the last couple missions. I think it’s the retirement blues. You don’t just quit such a huge assignment and not have some withdrawals.”
“Daisy seemed pretty shaken up. I know her, and this isn’t normal.”
The coffee cup switched hands and he rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah. Sorry to keep you in the dark. It was too much to explain over the phone. And you probably shouldn’t hear it from me, anyway.”
With impeccable timing as usual, the door burst open and before May could totally register what was happening, a familiar figure all but launched herself at May and held on so tight, she thought her lungs would collapse. She let the duffel bag fall to the floor, and rearranged her arms so that one was above Daisy’s shoulders, her hand grasping the back of the girl’s head, cradling it automatically and stroking her long hair.
“May . . .” Daisy breathed, and Melinda thought she’d never heard her voice sound so defeated and broken and desperate for comfort. “I missed you.”
Out of the corner of her eye, she watched Payne’s expression change into one of sympathy and understanding, and the man quietly turned and disappeared around the corner, leaving the women alone to share their moment.
Almost without thinking, May turned her attention inward, pulling the emotions she felt from Daisy and stirring them around in her mind like she’d been able to do ever since visiting that horrible other dimension.
Daisy was completely broken inside.
There couldn’t possibly be words in any language to describe the depth and intensity and severity of emotion this poor girl was feeling, and for a horrible moment, May remembered. Saw, in agonizing detail, every second of her life when she’d felt the same. Losing first Andrew, then Coulson. Watching friends die over and over again. Bleeding out in front of her. All the horrors they’d faced, all the battles they fought and lost. All compiling into one awful, heart-shattering minute of agony.
Daisy knew she could feel it all.
And still, May didn’t know what to say. If there were even any words at all that could reach this far.
So she simply stood, letting Daisy nearly collapse – no, melt – into her, knowing she felt all too much like a panicked child who just needed a mother’s love.
.
.
.
.
Ewin found them a spare empty lounge, small and snug, complete with a soft couch, a box of tissues, and an electric kettle which May immediately went to work on, brewing twin cups of steaming herbal tea.
Daisy sat cross-legged sideways on the couch, her back against the arm rest. May took stock of the woman’s slightly-haggard appearance. She had dyed her hair again, this time just one long streak of deep blue snaking down across her shoulder. Her eyes were distinctly red-rimmed, her soft, comfortable clothes rumpled, and deep bruises lined the edges of the bandages that covered her forearms. The few strands of gray at her temples didn’t escape May’s notice either.
“You’ve been using your powers recklessly again,” May observed.
Daisy pressed her lips together and relaxed further into the couch as May delivered her tea and settled in at the other end.
“Takes less effort to hurt myself lately,” she explained. “Even with Jemma’s modifications.”
“Well,” Melinda suggested, “then retiring from the program is a good thing.”
“Yeah.” She didn’t sound convinced.
“Daisy. It’s for the best.”
“I know.”
May leaned forward and placed a hand on the woman’s knee. Squeezed gently. Her emotions came through sharp and clear – She wanted to talk about it. Wanted to tell May everything.
She just needed a push.
“It’s not retirement that’s bothering you,” May said quietly. “I’m here, Daisy. What is it? . . . Tell me.”
At that, it was like a dam broke.
With no warning, suddenly sobs began wracking Daisy’s body, heaving and uncontrollably shaking. Her face contorted, her eyes screwed shut, her shoulders bent forward, weakening in agony as if held down by an immeasurable weight.
Quickly, May took the mug of tea from her shaking hands and placed it onto the table, her own next to it. And by pure instinct, she moved closer to Daisy and gathered her into her arms until the girl was curled up with her head in May’s lap, and she cradled her like she would her own child, again stroking her hair and running her hands along Daisy’s back. Simply being that presence that she so clearly needed.
She tried to put the pieces together.
Whatever happened that could elicit this type of emotion, Daisy had had to stay strong through it. For her team. Her own family. She led these missions. She couldn’t break like this on the Zephyr. Even around her own husband, up there she had to keep it in, saving emotions for when she returned Earthside again. She couldn’t lose focus. Anything could go wrong in a split second, and she had to learn to compartmentalize or people could really die.
She takes after you. May could almost hear Coulson’s voice and that cheeky yet utterly honest smile of his.
How drastically things had changed from that moment they found the stubborn, lonely, brash, cynical Skye in her van in the alley that day. Sometimes it was hard to believe that was where it all started.
Over a decade later, and that once closed-off young girl who hid behind at least five masks at all times was now clinging to May for comfort against all the horrors of the world, with no pretense of propriety or any sort of barrier remaining. It was just May and Daisy, mother and daughter in all but blood, sharing in years of indescribable pain, both wishing the other never had to feel any of it in the first place.
Eventually, her sobs became slow, panicked, shaky, tired, weak breaths, and May had a hard time telling when Daisy actually drifted off to sleep.
Whatever the case, she was perfectly content to simply hold the girl for what felt like hours, brush her hair away from her red, blotchy, tear-stained face, and feel as her emotions changed from utter hopelessness to something more resembling relief and exhaustion.
.
.
.
.
The door opened slowly with a creak, but Daisy didn’t stir.
May looked up from where she’d been staring blankly at the streak of blue in the girl’s hair, and the sight that greeted her was a welcome one.
Daniel Sousa offered her a tired smile, shut the door quietly behind him, and moved carefully toward the couch, leaning his crutches against the wall so he could crouch down to the floor in front of where his wife slept soundly on Melinda’s lap.
“May,” he greeted in a whisper. “Thanks for coming.”
“Of course,” she said, barely above a breath.
“She’s been pretty shaken up.” Sousa ran his fingers lightly from Daisy’s shoulder down her arm and let his hand cover hers for a moment.
“Sousa,” May asked. “What happened?”
He met her gaze with confused eyes. “She didn’t say?”
May shook her head.
Daniel sighed deeply. “I was afraid of that.”
He reached for the nearest pillow, handed it to May, and beckoned her up off the couch.
Carefully and slowly, May extracted herself from Daisy’s weight, placing the pillow under the girl’s head as she stood.
It was such a peaceful sight: Daisy’s eyes shut, her mouth half-open, her breathing even and relaxed.
Sousa held the door for her as they stepped into the hallway, and May stole a glance back through the little window in the door to make sure Daisy stayed asleep. She didn’t want to go far.
As he adjusted himself on his crutches, May gave a pointed glance at his leg . . . or rather, lack thereof. “Do you need to sit down?”
Sousa let out a quick, amused breath. “Not a chance. I’ve been sitting since we landed. Doc wanted me to give the prosthetic a break for a while – Let my body decompress and all that nonsense.”
May nodded.
“So . . .” he began slowly, his eyes also drifting toward the door’s window.
“Don’t you dare beat around the bush, Agent Sousa,” May ordered. “I can handle whatever it is.” Payne hadn’t wanted to tell her, Daisy physically couldn’t have, and she was starting to seriously worry. Not much could shake her, but after feeling the depth of Daisy’s emotions, she was more than anxious to hear the whole story.
“Alright,” he agreed. “I . . . I died.”
May blinked. “Again?”
He shook his head. “Not like last time. It wasn’t a fake, it was . . .” He took a breath. “I was gone for less than a minute. They got me back right away, broke a couple ribs in the process, and here I am. Still standing.”
That couldn’t be all it was.
Daisy herself had survived more than that and come out the other side, smiling and nearly unbothered.
Sousa must have heard her silent question, because he dipped his head and stared at the floor, then back up into May’s eyes, his face full of sorrow.
“Listen, no matter what she says, I don’t blame her at all. But the truth is . . . She says I died on her watch. Acting on an order she gave.”
Oh.
.
.
.
.
Time had a funny way of standing perfectly still and letting May sort through decades of thoughts.
Sousa hadn’t told her much more, but she understood enough. She’d sent him away with the doctor who needed him for some extra imaging and tests and assured him that she would be right by Daisy’s side when she woke.
So for now, she sipped her second mug of tea and let years float through her mind, along with all the pain they brought.
She was good at compartmentalizing. It certainly helped her during her younger field agent days, then during those years following the fall of SHIELD, when her whole world shattered more times than she could count.
But now was no time for that. She dug back into the reserve of memories and emotions that she’d filed away. Sometimes they spontaneously broke through to the surface, but she was more comfortable with that now. She’d fought so hard for so long to keep everything buried and secret, that finally learning to feel again changed her in ways she couldn’t describe.
Coulson would have been proud of her, she thought.
He’d also be proud of his daughter.
Because, really, that’s what Daisy was. No one who knew them well enough could deny it. Neither of them had ever, ever given up on the other, no matter how hard it was to keep going. They’d both risked everything for each other, over and over and over again.
I wish you could see her now.
Pride and love and something resembling a deep ache welled up in May’s chest.
Perhaps an ache for the family she could have had. For the man she loved, who had died peacefully close to a decade ago. She missed him every day.
And she was sure Daisy did too.
Coulson had always been better at offering comfort and empathy. He used to feel everyone’s pain as if it was his own.
Which is why May had always felt that her gift was highly ironic.
She knew Coulson would have laughed and made innumerable jokes about the irony of it all. His LMD certainly had.
And that was where the compartmentalization came in.
While Daisy had been eager to see Coulson’s LMD as her reincarnated father figure, May knew he could never replace her Phil. He had all of the memories, but just as the androids that had replaced the team while they were all in the Framework were never actually human, Coulson’s LMD double was just that – an android. He wasn’t human. All his emotions were just programming. She couldn’t love him – couldn’t allow herself to love him – like she had Phil.
Phil Coulson was dead, and May had made her peace with that.
So, even though a version of him was currently spending time with the Fitzsimmons family in Scotland and easily accessible via cell phone, she knew it wasn’t him. And she missed him. And even though Daisy could have contacted him too, it was May she wanted.
Speaking of which, the girl began to stir.
Her breaths became shorter and shallower, and she closed and opened her fist a few times.
May leaned forward and ran a hand along her forehead. It was burning up.
Daisy’s eyes fluttered open, staring bleary and unfocused at the distant wall. Her lips moved in a silent question as her eyes scanned the room, finally landing on May.
Quietly, uncertainly, she heard Daisy whisper, “Mom?”
The word hit her like a lightning bolt, and suddenly flashes of a memory burned through her mind. An old woman, dying in her arms, a pure and altogether innocent and childish smile on her face, saying that May had raised her, taken in when her mother died, called her a daughter her whole life.
Robin. The only person who had ever called May by that title.
She fought back the lump in her throat and brushed the hair out of Daisy’s face as her eyes closed again.
“I’m here.”
.
.
.
.
By the time Daisy was fully awake and sitting upright, May was on her fourth cup of tea.
“What did he tell you?” Daisy twirled a stray thread from the pillow she held in her lap.
“Just that he almost died following an order. Like we’ve all done hundreds of times.” Or more.
She nodded. “So he didn’t tell you the whole story.”
May sighed. “Daisy, what happened? You called me, so let me help you. I can’t do that if you don’t tell me anything. From the beginning.”
With a shaky breath, Daisy finally acquiesced.
“It was a standard research trip,” she began. “Last stop in that sector. Then we’d set course for home. We were done and ready to go, but Stenberg wanted to check out some of the plants down in this one valley, and the air was breathable, so I gave the all-clear, and I told all the scientists and some agents to go out together. A few of us stayed on the Zephyr.
“We did it hundreds of times. Extra stops like that. It’s standard. But I should listen to Kora more, because she always says nothing is ever standard in space, and I . . . I know that. But you get in this routine and comfortable with things going smoothly, you know?”
May nodded. Daisy was on the right track. Silently encouraged her to keep talking.
“Well,” she continued. Clasped her hands together so tight her knuckles turned white. “Our intel on the planet wasn’t totally . . . complete. It looked uninhabited but I didn’t send the scout drones out first and there was a band of pirates in the area, and they . . . they just attacked so fast. Nothing we could do. They started tearing apart the Zephyr, so I told Kora to take off and hover, and I went out with the pod to get the others . . .” Her breath hitched and May pressed a tissue into her hand.
“Things just happened so fast. I tried to get everyone back, but we got separated.
“Daniel and Stenberg and Kireev got pushed into the woods, and I lost sight of them, so I got everyone else into the pod and told them to go back to the ship . . . then send it back down for us.
“I went after them, but it was–” Her voice caught sharply and she choked on a sudden, violent sob. “I was only delayed a few minutes. They were helpless, May, and – He was just laying there, and . . .”
“Daisy.” She had to interrupt. The woman was spiraling again and May knew how destructive that was. “Daisy, listen. There was nothing you could have–”
“Stop,” Daisy cried. “Everyone keeps saying that, but you’re wrong. I did everything wrong. I called the shots, May. I made like fifteen mistakes in one op. Do you know how many research ops we pulled off without a hitch in five years? Hundreds. But this one time, I got sloppy because it was our last one and I failed. The last time I should have been protecting everyone, I let it slide for–” her lower lip trembled, “for convenience. And Daniel died.”
“Daisy–” May tried again, but she only received the same reaction as before.
“You know why I asked for you?” she asked, borderline furious, suddenly with a fire behind her eyes that May hadn’t seen in some time. “Because I knew that out of all these people who tried to tell me it wasn’t my fault, and that the team should have caught my mistakes, at least you would call me on my bullshit and tell me how it really is. That I screwed up, that I got my husband beaten to death, that I should be kicked out of SHIELD, and that he will never be able to look me in the eyes again.”
“Is that what you want to hear?”
The question seemed to slap Daisy back to reality, even just for a moment.
Her eyes snapped up to meet May’s with alarming speed.
Her jaw clenched, fighting back a barrage of tears.
“Is it?” May asked again. “This isn’t rhetorical, Agent Johnson.”
Still caught in the throes of her own self-damaging narrative, Daisy pressed her lips tightly together and nodded.
“Alright, fine,” May said firmly. “You messed up. You cut corners, probably more than you’re telling me. You didn’t adequately equip your team with the weapons and protection they needed in unknown territory, you spread yourself out too thin, and you made some dumb decisions.”
She paused. Watched Daisy’s eyes burn even brighter with the same fire she felt in her own chest.
“Do you feel better now?”
Daisy shook her head. “I deserve it though.”
“Deserve what?” May demanded. “Getting chewed out by your old S.O. from a lifetime ago? Hearing the same shit from me that’s been in your head ever since you left that planet? You don’t need me to tell you all that. If you’re using my presence here to punish yourself, then you haven’t learned a damn thing I taught you.”
“No, I–”
Melinda stopped her in her tracks. “No, listen. I know you, and I know there’s more to the story that you don’t have to tell me now. But the fact that I looked Sousa in the eyes two hours ago and watched him only worry about you . . . The fact that Payne isn’t currently calling families and arranging funerals – That tells me everything I need to know.
“I get it. Leading is hard, Daisy. Sometimes you mess up, and when you do, more people get hurt than just yourself. Talk to any one of us. We’ve all been in that position before. Made hard calls and done horrible things that we still regret. Things that could have gotten each other killed, or worse. And we may never move past them. Why do you think Fitz is in retirement right now?”
It was an unfair card to play, but Daisy needed to hear it.
“The Framework wasn’t his fault,” she countered, but May was ready for that answer.
She fixed Daisy with the type of stare only a trained professional could deliver. “Not entirely, but a lot of it was. You know it, he knows it . . . He made mistakes. Small ones that added up. He went behind our backs, playing around with technology that he knew could lead to that type of drastic event, and he was blinded by his trust in Radcliffe so that he didn’t see the warning signs before it happened. He invented the thing, Daisy.
“But even with all that, none of us blame him now, do we? Because if you talked to any of us, you would find mistakes we’ve made and domino effects that could have easily led to someone’s death. But the risk was always worth it if it meant keeping each other safe.”
May was getting through to her. Her shoulders were relaxing, she slowly sipped her tea, and her eyes drifted to the floor, just listening.
“Coulson did a lot of that,” Daisy murmured. “Keeping us safe by risking our lives.”
May nodded. “Exactly. Pretty shitty paradox, isn’t it?”
“I . . .” Daisy swallowed hard. “I can learn to forgive myself for a lot. But if anything had . . . If Daniel had really–”
“I know,” May said. It was all she really could say now. Even without her gift of empathy, she felt the millions of what ifs and unknowns swirling through Daisy’s mind. The alternate ending to the story she’d certainly replayed a thousand times, each time convincing herself that she wouldn’t have survived that version of events.
Daisy caught May’s gaze. “How do you do it?”
May paused for a moment, taking her turn to consider. So Daisy continued.
“I lost myself after Lincoln died. And like – a hundred times after that. . . . You’ve been through so much worse. And you’ve held it together. One close call with Sousa, and I want to crawl into a hole.”
“I did lose myself,” May said quietly.
“The Cavalry . . .” Daisy remembered.
“Yeah. It was the end of the world back then, and it–” She took a breath. “You know it doesn’t get easier. I carry those things around with me every day – all of them.”
“I know.”
May reached out and rested a hand on Daisy’s shoulder. “I know you do. It’s the same for all of us, Daisy. Our annual meetings I look around and all I see are people who went through hell together. I see them carrying the weight of it all, wearing the scars. No one really heals from any of it. You’re carrying around grief from years of losing people you loved, and you probably always will.
“Now you love Sousa more than anything, and so the moment he got hurt because of a decision you made, all that grief came back at once, like you were experiencing it all for the first time.
“That will always happen. Usually when you’re not expecting it. One second you’ll be fine, and the next you’re right back in that moment. You grow around it – learn how to feel it without letting it consume you. It takes time, trust me.
“But then the next time you have to make a tough decision to the best of your abilities and everything still goes south, if you’re confident that the decision was separate from your personal feelings, you’ll know that whatever happens after that was out of your control. It might trigger those feelings, but then it will be because you love your husband and you’re worried about him, not because you felt responsible for his safety.
“Daisy, listen. You’re a strong, capable agent. And a damn good leader. Your team respects you. I respect you. You got everyone home safe in the end, and that’s what matters.”
Daisy looked up through her tears and raised a sleeve to wipe her face. “God, May. Have - have you been practicing that speech? That’s the most I’ve heard you talk, like ever.”
She allowed a smile and handed the girl a tissue. “It’s the new job. Making me soft.”
They shared a wry, amused glance. Daisy let out a shaky breath and blew her nose. “I always knew you had it in you.”
May rolled her eyes. “Sure you did.”
.
.
.
.
It had been much, much too long since they’d caught up.
Often during her lectures, May found herself watching the side doors, hoping someone from the team would slide through and wait in the shadows with arms crossed until she dismissed the class. And more often than not, she found herself hoping it would be Daisy.
She missed this headstrong, stubborn, caring, thoughtful, brash, lovely woman who was currently sitting across the coffee table from her, half-empty mug of tea in her hand, regaling her with tales from the last year traveling the galaxy.
She missed the spark of hope Daisy brought everywhere she went, and the new perspectives and insights she gave, often far beyond her years.
And even though none of the reasons they had been thrown together as a team were ever exactly ideal . . . May missed that too. Being a team. Knowing there were a few people she could always count on. She didn’t miss the trials, but she missed the way they forged each member of that team into the agents, parents, people, and loved ones they were now. Life or death situations had the tendency to do that.
But she was glad it was all over. And even though she only saw them separately these days, she still relished the time they had.
“And Daniel goes – ‘I bet you’ve never even seen a Rathatten on Orval!’”
May chuckled at the punchline as Daisy laughed at her own memory of the joke.
Right on cue, a knock sounded at the door and Sousa poked his head in. “Was that the Rathatten story?”
Daisy nodded and patted the cushion next to her, beckoning him in. May offered him a smile and a cup of tea as he made himself comfortable on the couch, looking much the part with a loose pair of lounge pants, T-shirt, and robe. The twenty-first century must finally have been rubbing off on him.
Sousa smirked at the memory and sighed deeply. “A classic,” he said and slung an arm around Daisy, who immediately melted into his side.
“Tests went well?” May asked after a beat.
He nodded. “My ribs still need time, and the doc says I’m not as young as I used to be, but I feel great. No cap.”
Immediately Daisy groaned and buried her face in her hands. “He and Kora have been learning modern slang,” she explained to May with a strained and long-suffering voice, adding air quotes around the last two words.
“That’s what the cool kids are saying these days,” he defended himself. “I’m just trying to get with the times.”
May nodded. “Bet.” She held out a closed fist, which Sousa immediately bumped with his own.
“On god,” he added.
Daisy’s jaw went absolutely slack as her eyes bugged out. “Oh. My. God. What is happening?”
May fought to maintain a neutral expression. “You do know all the kids I teach are Gen Z, right?” She wasn’t sure how much longer she could hold in the laughter, and she made a point not to look directly at Sousa, who was grinning from ear to ear and doing a terrible job of hiding it.
With alarming speed and dexterity, Daisy pulled out her phone, her fingers flying across the screen. “I have to tell Mack–”
Sousa side-eyed his wife approvingly, winked mischievously at May, then said, confidently and without a second thought, “Pop off, queen.”
May couldn’t remember the last time she’d truly laughed that hard.
.
.
.
.
The doctors wanted the team to stay just one night for safety’s sake, so Ewin made arrangements for May on the fourth floor, in a spare room with two cots and its own bathroom. There was a nice, wide window on one of the walls that looked out across the bay. Everything was such a deep, striking shade of green and the setting sun sent a powerful orange glow across the water. She had never been all that impressed with Charleston as a whole, but this was gorgeous.
She simply stood for a few minutes, soaking in the scenery, before sinking onto the cot furthest from the door.
As it often did, her left hand drifted to the ring on her right index finger, spinning it in circles, feeling the intricate grooves and bumps.
“Just a piece of history I picked up a while back,” Coulson had explained. They’d been lying together on a blanket on the sand, heads propped up by the rise of the hill behind them, just watching the sunset together. Peaceful. “I know you won’t need it, but . . . Something to remember me by.”
He was right: she didn’t need it. She had years upon years of memories to pull from. From being in the Academy together in their twenties, to running ops together, to being each other’s rock and constant when the world fell apart.
She would never need any object to remember Phil Coulson, because he was a part of her. Her life, her story. He had left his mark on her soul.
And even so, this ring was a gift. Because every time she felt it, she could feel his hand against hers, slipping it gently onto her finger.
Slowly and almost on autopilot, she washed up and slipped under the rough military style sheets, breathing deeply and purposefully.
In, out.
In, out.
In, out . . .
She had opened herself up to Daisy today more than she had to anyone in a long time. She sorted through years of pain and trauma and loss, letting the feelings wash across her like the choppy ocean tide then recede back into place. Seeing his face as clearly as the day he died.
I miss you, she told the darkness.
Spun the ring once. Twice.
.
.
.
.
May’s eyes snapped open.
The door creaked, and the floorboards protested.
She strained her eyes against the darkness and reached for her flashlight. The clock read 01:42.
“May,” a voice whispered.
Sighing, she relaxed back into the cot.
“Daisy. What’s wrong?”
She could feel the girl’s hesitation from across the room.
“Nothing,” Daisy murmured. Motioned to the extra cot. “Could I . . .?”
With a nod, May rolled to her side and propped herself up on an elbow. Like a child who just had a nightmare, Daisy rushed to shove the two beds together, before collapsing into it and facing May.
“Sorry,” she said. “Didn’t want you to be alone up here.”
It was a lame excuse, but May granted her the benefit of the doubt. “Thanks.”
Daisy buried herself under the covers, hesitated for a moment, then rested her hand over May’s. “Thanks for . . . coming when I called. I owe you one.
"And listen – I don’t really know what it’s like to have a mom, but . . . I always felt like you could’ve been mine.”
May fought against the lump in her throat.
She took a breath.
Squeezed Daisy’s hand.
“Me too.”
.
.
.
.