Chapter Text
Daisy parks her van three miles from where she needs to be, at the nearest gas station. She spends the last of her money on three energy drinks and a pack of gum and ignores the look the cashier gives her. She’s been worse, and it isn’t worth starting a conversation with a stranger just for him to end up calling the cops on her.
She finishes one of the drinks in the parking lot as quickly as possible, and waltzes to the overflowing bin by the front door. In the dark, she barely makes out the slushy stains coating the rim, dripping down the sides.
As she throws the can, her aim is off. The last drops of the energy drink splash out, and the can bounces off the bin and rolls a few feet away.
“Damn it,” Daisy mutters under her breath. She lunges for it, and as she bends, she’s hit with a mass of nausea that seems to have other plans for her night. Daisy manages to balance the can on an ant-infested bag of Cheetos in the bin before vomiting on the cement ground right next to it.
It feels good, but it feels terrible.
“You a crackhead or some shit?” asks a man a few yards away. The cigarette between his lips is nothing but a nub at this point, and the buttons on his flannel threaten to pop. Daisy doesn’t look at him, and she doesn’t dignify his question with a response. He didn’t sound like he really wanted one anyway.
On the way back to her van, her nausea fades to the back of her mind. She takes a seat at the wheel with the door still open and rinses her mouth out with a swig of the second energy drink. She spits it onto the dirt, shoves a couple sticks of gum in between her teeth, and shuts herself in for the night.
The curtains covering the windows do nothing to keep out the cold, and her jacket is still soaked in wet blood. This morning, she had taken it off to give it a chance to dry. It would be ruined but at least still keep her warm. No such luck fourteen hours later.
Her phone rings, and she freezes, her hand on the keys in the ignition. She starts the van to start the heat, and her phone is still ringing. The heat kicks on, and the call goes to voicemail.
The caller doesn’t leave a voicemail. The phone starts ringing a second time.
Daisy’s eyes look to the curtains in her windows as if she’ll be able to see something there. But her phone keeps ringing, a number she doesn’t know and doesn’t have the energy to research.
So she clicks ‘Answer’ and puts it on speaker.
“SHIELD is crashing your mission on Fremont Avenue. Stay back if you don’t want Coulson to drag you to base.”
Daisy huddles into herself in the driver’s seat, her knees to her chest, her face pressed as close as possible to the vents. She knows who’s calling, because even though it’s been ages, she could never forget that voice.
“You shouldn’t have called.”
Daisy almost chokes on her gum when she hears a knock on the van. She doesn’t need to push the curtain aside to know who will be on the other side. And yet fear wins more than anything else these days. She peeps through the one off to the side, getting a glimpse of black hair before she wrenches open the sliding door. The gas station lights do nothing to detract from the angelic presence in front of her, and Daisy smiles.
“May,” leaves her mouth before anything else. She wants to take it back, because it’s dumb. It’s stating the obvious, and it’s not what May wants to hear after months of being apart, months of tracking followed by months of reluctant acceptance.
May doesn’t say anything about how dumb it is, and it makes Daisy feel just a little bit better. Instead, she stands firmly, eyes soft with desire to help, to do what she’s always done but with none of the pretenses and barriers like usual.
“Come with me, Daisy. There’s a hotel near here.”
Daisy unfolds herself and shakes her head violently. “SHIELD,” she says, like it explains everything.
But May understands because of course she does. “The plane doesn’t land until tomorrow.”
They won’t know.
Daisy takes a slow breath and rolls the gum in the mouth from side to side with her tongue. She plays with it another moment, because she can’t really be thinking about saying yes, can she?
She’s been on the run since Lincoln, and she loves May so very much but she can’t just come back. She doesn’t have answers yet. The Watch Dogs are still out there. Inhumans are still dying. If she sets foot in SHIELD one more time, she knows she’ll just remember all the hurt she’s caused for the only people she’s ever loved.
And if she’s being honest, she’ll run again. Because SHIELD won’t let her have the things that are helping her feel whole again.
She misses it, its presence in her mind. She hates that she feels empty now.
But she wants to be held, to be cared for again.
“Okay,” Daisy whispers.
May doesn’t give any indication how this makes her feel, and Daisy’s afraid she might have to repeat herself and she’s not so sure she could . Then May steps to the side.
“My car’s this way.”
Daisy sits shivering on the bed as May digs through the drawers for a spare blanket. The girl swallowed her gum ten minutes ago in the silent car ride as she thought May could hear her chewing and didn’t want to annoy her.
But with the gum gone, there’s nothing to distract from the bile coating her mouth. Daisy wants a toothbrush more than a blanket, but she doesn’t have the right to ask May to find one. In an hour, she’ll leave, and she can snag one from the front desk herself.
“I’ll have to ask up front for a blanket,” May announces, standing up straight from where she was crouched in front of the TV stand.
She doesn’t bother asking before grabbing the remote and flicking the TV on. The first channel up is Spongebob--reruns for the older kids at such a late hour. May doesn’t change it, and Daisy doesn’t say a word as she sets down the remote.
“I’ll be right back.”
Daisy nods her head. She wants to leave, but the tiredness is seeping into her bones faster than she can combat it. May must know that too. Any attempt at running won’t get her very far, and so Daisy watches as May leaves the room, the heavy door clicking shut behind her. She hears the beep of the lock and cringes.
She shouldn’t be startled by it, but she is.
Skye wants to think things through, to make a plan of escape for the morning, for the middle of the night, for an hour from now. She can’t process a thing. Her mouth tastes disgusting, but the exhaustion is starting to block it out. Her stomach growls, but the thought of eating anything has her in knots. Her head pounds, but she doubts she could keep down any water. Not to mention, the only water is in the hotel mini fridge or from the bathroom sink. She isn’t about to get up for either of those.
So Daisy resigns herself to watching the cartoon on TV. It’s quiet, almost too quiet to understand what the characters are saying. When the blankets shift, she can’t hear a thing. But in the moment, with her legs tucked up underneath her and her eyes glued onto the screen, she enjoys the peace that a dumb cartoon offers her.
When May gets back, she finds Daisy still shivering, but her eyes are closed as she lies sideways on the bed, her body curled loosely.
Gently, May takes the blanket she had grabbed and drapes it over the girl. Then, as quietly as possible she sets down a small hotel gift bag of items on top of the dresser. They can be dealt with in the morning.
In the meantime, she takes up residence in the armchair next to the bed. There is no sleep for her tonight, but there is sleep for Daisy. And May would sacrifice every night for the rest of her life for that girl.