Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

They'd done it. They'd defeated the chromicons and found Fitz as well as a way back home. As much as it was supposed to be happy, especially when learning of the existence of FitzSimmons's young daughter, Alya. It was very bittersweet for Daisy. The team had been the only family Daisy'd ever known and she was terrified of losing that as the team was about to part ways. She kept her composure though, as May had thought her all these years before and buried the feelings as deep as she could for the time being. She was happy for them. They all deserved to be happy, even if that meant disbanding the team. 

Mack, still being Director of SHIELD, was the first one to say his goodbyes as he needed to leave for meetings in Washington DC. He was quickly followed by Yo-yo, who'd follow him and lead a team from there. As much as, Daisy would miss them, they'd still work for the same organisation and would probably see each other often. 

The next ones to leave were the FitzSimmons family. They'd spent the last few days settling back in to life on earth and getting to know Alya, but now it was time for the family to move back to Scotland. Fitz came to hug her first, followed by the young blonde and finally it was Jemma Simmons's turn. The last one hugged her tightest. "Please, be careful out there," she said to her best friend. "I'll let you know when we're settled and then I expect you," she nodded at the man beside Daisy, "Both of you, to come visit us." Daisy nodded in agreement. "I promise," she said. The two women had grown as close as sisters during their journey out in space. 

Once they were gone, tears finally filled the brunette's eyes as she looked at the people remaining in the room. Coulson pulled the younger woman in his arms, as May lovingly put her hand on Daisy's shoulder. "We might not be on the same team anymore, but we're always going to be here for you," May told her. 

"We're so proud of you and the woman you've become," Coulson adds. "You might not be my daughter biologically, but you know I've always seen you as such. This isn't going to change that." 

Upon hearing these words, the tears finally streamed down Daisy's face. "Thank you," she whispered, looking both of them in the eyes. The words would never be enough for all they'd done for her over the course of the last few years, but they were the best she had. "Thank you," she repeated. 

May smiled, "Speaking of daughter, we have a little parting gift for you," she said. "Maybe that will reassure you that even though we're retiring from the team, we aren't leaving you behind." She handed over an envelope to the younger agent. 

Daisy looked up from the envelope to both of the people she'd come to see as her parents and was about to protest, when Coulson smiled and gestured for her to open it. She finally gave in and carefully opened it, pulling out some papers. She gasped as she read through them. She looked up at the two with more tears in her eyes. "Really?" She managed to get out through the emotions. 

Coulson nodded. "I think it's about time that we made it official, don't you think?" 

Daisy quickly wrapped her arms around him. "I didn't need a piece of paper to know that you're my parents," she said, stepping away from Coulson, only to be pulled into a hug by May. 

"You deserve a real family, Daisy," May told her confidently. "We're just happy to be able to provide that for you." 

The younger woman nodded gratefully. "And you thought you wouldn't be a great mother," she shook her head thinking back to the memory. "You're the best parents, I could ask for. Thank you." 

"Be careful out there," Coulson told her. "We expect to have lots of updates from you. You'll have to come visit us as soon as you get back too." 

Before she could answer, Daniel Sousa, who'd left the room to allow them a moment of privacy to say goodbye, knocked on the door and poked his head through. It was May that gestured for him to join them. "Can we count on you to take care of our daughter?" she asked. 

Daniel looked from them to Daisy and back. "She doesn't need anyone to take care of her, but I'll be right by her side either way," he spoke confidently. 

"Good," Coulson said. "We expect you to be there too for a visit when you get back." Daniel nodded in agreement. 

Final goodbyes were said and then it was just the two of them. It took a moment for Daisy to be able to tear her gaze away from the door her parents just left through to turn to her new boyfriend. "Are you okay?" Daniel asked her. 

She sighed and stayed silent for a second, before looking up at him and stepping into his arms. "Everything is changing. It's hard to see my family leave, but it isn't goodbye, it's see you later," she said, reassuring herself as much as she's telling him. "As long as I've got you by my side, I'll be alright."

He kissed her forehead lovingly. "Don't worry. I'm not going anywhere. I'm right where I need to be." 

Daisy smiled at him and leaned in for a quick kiss. "Thank you," she said. "Now, we should probably go see what Kora's up to." 

Chapter Text

Coulson looked at the door where Daisy's team just walked through. All of them were present and seemingly unharmed, but one person was missing. The brunette herself was nowhere to be found. In her place, the team was accompanied by a young girl, not older than 5 years old. "What the hell happened out there?" Coulson demanded. "Where's Daisy? And why'd you bring a kid to the base."

The team looked at each other nervously, before one of them finally spoke up. "That is Daisy, sir." Coulson's eyes widened as he looked at the child, who indeed looked like a younger version of the brunette agent. "We got ambushed by an inhuman. I guess his power caused her to turn back into a child. 

FitzSimmons, who'd walked in right before the revelation, exchanged a look. "We'll take her to the lab, see if we can figure out a way to get her back to normal."

Coulson hesitated as he looked at the young girl. "Start by making sure that she's alright. I want you to report back to me regularly." 

Jemma nodded as she held her hand out to the young brunette. The girl hesitated, looked up at the agent standing beside her, before finally taking the hand held out to her. Silently, she followed the science duo out of the room. 

"Okay," Coulson turned back to the rest of the team. "Go find Mack. He'll do your debrief," he said, sending the team on their way. "Don't talk to anyone else about this. It could be a risk to Agent Johnson's safety." 

He watched the team nod and leave to find Mack, then turned around and went to find Agent May in the gym. After explaining to her what happened he sighed. "Maybe this is the opportunity to offer Daisy a better childhood," he told her. 

May shook her head. "It's too risky. We don't even know if she still has her powers. Even if she doesn't, we can't keep raise a child on base." 

Coulson nodded in agreement. "Maybe we can send her to Bobbi and Hunter?" He asked. 

May rolled her eyes. "As much as I'd trust Agent Morse with Daisy, Hunter can barely take care of himself and the two of them together are too volatile to involve a young girl." 

Once more, Coulson nodded in agreement. He sighed. "I just think this is an opportunity to provide her with a better life." He thought of the young girl as his daughter and seeing the innocence of her childhood self gave his hope that he could provide the child with a better hand than she'd been dealt with all her life. 

"I know," May sighed, as she sat down beside him. "If there was a way to do that, you know I'd take it too, but it's too risky and who knows what the side-effects could be of what that inhuman did to her."

The two sat in silence for a little while. "You know that you've already provided her with a better life, right Phil?" He shrugged his shoulders. "You've provided her with the answers she'd been looking for all her life and gave her a purpose, a family."

"Yeah," Coulson sighed. "But what if it's not enough. She's been through too much already. What if this is our chance to do right by her?" 

"Do you really think she'd want that though?" May questioned. "You'd have to send her away from here. Away from the people she considers family. Away from us." 

It was silent once more. "Why don't we go see how far FitzSimmons have gotten. Maybe we can at least give her some good childhood memories after that." 

As the two of them walked into the lab, they were confronted with Simmons running tests while Fitz seemed to be frustrated trying to keep a now seven year old Daisy to stop messing with the computers. Coulson smiled at the scene. "How are things going in here?" May asked, a small smile on her face. 

"Everything seems to be okay with Daisy other than the obvious, of course. From the tests I've conducted and the rate at which she's growing, I estimate that she'll be back to her normal self by the end of the week." The british scientist stated. 

Fitz turned from the young brunette to his partner. "The week?" he almost shrieked. "Please, sir, keep her out of the lab until then?" He begged. 

Coulson nodded, then turned to the young child. "Want to go get some ice cream? Maybe we can find you your own computer to mess with as well?" 

The young girl's eyes widened as she looked at him. "You mean I'd get my own?" she asked surprised.

May followed the two out of the lab. "As long as you don't do anything illegal and with some supervision, sure." 

The girl nodded enthusiastically, making Coulson smile at the scene. Maybe he wouldn't get the opportunity to give her a better childhood, but he'd do his best to give her the best childhood memories for the week she was like this. 

When Daisy got back to normal a few days later, she thanked him for everything. As he told her about his wish to provide her with a better life, she pulled the older man into a tight embrace. "You already have," she assured him. "You gave me everything I'd ever wished for. Not everything in my life is perfect, but it's a lot better then I ever imagined it could have been." 

Chapter Text

After a couple years in space and another couple of years of missions back on earth, Daisy and Daniel decided that it was time to settle down in a quiet appartement not too far from the base they'd been working from. The two had started the inhuman program back up within SHIELD and, even though they were still supervising it, they wouldn't actively partake in missions. They'd been settling into their appartement for the last few days and everything seemed to be perfect, except for one thing. 

Daisy groaned as it started up again. They'd been in the appartement for less than a week and the neighbours were already driving her crazy. "I'm sure it's just a spat," Daniel had said when they'd first heard it. "I'm sure it'll be fine in a couple of days." But the end didn't seem to come for their neighbours' disagreement. On the contrary, the two seemed to be screaming at each other more and more. 

Eventually, Daisy'd had enough. She just had an intense training session with some rookies at the base, when an attack seemed to appear out of nowhere. She'd just wanted to go home afterward to take a shower and sleep, but her neighbours seemed to disagree with that plan. 

It was late at night and Daisy was just done with the late night shouting match next door. Grumbling, she put on a vest over her pyjama and marched to the door, banging on it loudly. The pair inside quieted down, just as Daniel appeared at her side to help diffuse the situation. Then the door opened. Before Daniel could start explaining the reason of their late night visit, he heard a gasp from the three others around him. 

Confused, he looked from his wife to the couple on the other side of the door and back, waiting for an explanation for the unexpected reaction of the three individuals. "Daisy?" The Englishman was the first to speak up. 

"Bobbi, Hunter, it's been a while," Daisy smiled widely at the pair, as the blonde stepped out to embrace her. Hunter followed her lead. 

"It's good to see you again, Rockstar," Bobbi smiled at her. 

Daniel was just looking at the scene before him in utter confusion, as his wife turned back to him. "Daniel, these are Bobbi and Hunter. They used to be a part of the team. Bobbi, Hunter, this is my husband, Daniel." 

The man out of time held his hand out in greeting to the two, which they shook, before inviting the pair inside. "So, you're married?" Bobbi asked as they settled on the couch. 

Daisy smiled at her husband and nodded. "It's been an eventful couple of years since the two of you left SHIELD," she smiled thinking back to all the changes that have happened in the last couple of years. "But I guess we're going to have a lot of time to catch up, seeing as we're neighbours." 

"Sorry for barging in on you so late, by the way," Daniel, ever the polite one, spoke up. 

Bobbi smiled and Hunter shook his head. "Let me guess, you were coming over for a noise complaint?" He rolled his eyes lovingly as the two gave them guilty looks. "I told you, Bob, your Hellbeast scream attracted attention from the neighbours." 

The blonde rolled her eyes at her husband. "Like you didn't have any part in that argument." She turned her attention back to her old friend and her spouse. "I'm sorry to have bothered you, we'll try to keep it down from now on." 

"Hey, at least it was an excuse to get over here," Daisy shrugged her shoulders. "Who knows how much longer it would have taken us to realise we were living next door to each other otherwise."

Their neighbours chuckled as they thought about it. "It's late," Hunter said. "How about we all catch some sleep and meet back up here for breakfast in the morning for a proper catch up?" 

Daisy looked at Daniel, who nodded in agreement. "Sounds great," he answered for the both of them, excited to meet more of Daisy's friends. 

"I go for a run in the morning, if you care to join me?" Bobbi suggested to Daisy. 

The brunette nodded. "Yeah, sure, I don't have any other training planned for tomorrow anyways." 

After that the two couples parted ways for the night. As they got ready for bed, Daniel observed Daisy's behaviour. "You seem a lot more calm than you did earlier," he pointed out. 

Daisy smiled and sat down on her side of the bed. "It's just good to catch up with old friends," she said. "Seeing them brings back a lot of memories, both good and bad. It's just good to have some familiar faces close by."

Daniel nodded. "I know all of the changes these last few years have been tough on you," he said understandingly. "I'm glad you found something good in this whole situation." 

His wife kneeled on the bed to be closer to him, placing her hands on his cheeks. "All the change has been hard, but as long as I have you by my side, I can get through anything." She kissed him, as if that proved her point. 

He nodded. "I know and you'll always have me, but I'm happy that you'll have your friends close by as well. I look forward to getting to know them." 

Daisy smiled and kissed him once again, before settling down into the bed, falling asleep with a smile on her face. 

The next morning, Daisy was up earlier than usual. She'd slept well and was excited about the prospects of the day. She didn't have to work today and she and Daniel had plans with their neighbours. It seemed she wasn't the only one that was excited as she'd barely gotten dressed, when she heard a knock on the door. She opened the door to a smiling Bobbi and the two made their way into the early morning sun for their run. 

"I can't believe we're neighbours," Bobbi spoke up after just a couple of minutes. 

Daisy smiled and looked at her friend. "I can't believe you and Hunter are living together," she replied. 

Bobbi chuckled. "We almost killed each other a couple of times, but I think things might actually work out this time," she admitted. 

The younger woman smiled widely. "Good," she said. "You deserve to be happy. Both of you." 

"What about you? You're married now?" Bobbi asked intrigued. 

A loving smile appeared on Daisy's face as she thought about her husband. "Yeah, it's a crazy story, but I wouldn't trade it for anything in the world." That peaked Bobbi's interest, so Daisy told her the story of how they'd met. 

By the end of it, Bobbi was laughing loudly. "Of course our resident hacker would fall for a man from the 50's!" 

"At least we haven't tried to kill each other," Daisy threw back, a fond smile on her face. 

Bobbi shrugged. "I think that's just how Hunter and I work best," she said casually, "But we'll try to keep the killing for the daytime," she added with a wink. Daisy chuckled at her and nodded gratefully. 

"Ready to go meet our husbands for breakfast?" The younger woman asked, as she stopped running about a block away from their appartement. 

Bobbi nodded, "Better get there soon, before Hunter tries to cook and burns the apartment down again." 

"Again?!" Daisy questioned surprised. "I feel like there's a good story there." 

The brunette was happy to settle down with Daniel, having a part of her family this close-by was just an added bonus. She couldn't wait to learn of the adventures her friends had been up to since they left the agency and looked forward to telling them about their adventures as well. Maybe having a life outside of SHIELD wouldn't be as scary as she imagined it to be. 

Chapter Text

Daisy just came home from a long mission. Mack had suggested sleeping in her bunk at the base, but she wanted to go home. She'd been away from home long enough. As she walked in, all the lights downstairs were turned off. It wasn't unusual, given what time it was, so she made her way up the stairs. As she rounded the corner to walk to her daughter's room, she was met with the sight of her husband. As if sensing her presence, Daniel looked up and smiled, lifting a finger to his lips for her to stay quiet as she approached him. 

She quickly gave him a kiss, before turning to see what had captured his attention in the little girl's bedroom. Inside the room, Maggie was tucked into her bed clutching her panda that Coulson and May had given her when she was born. Next to her sat her older cousin, a homemade picture book in hand. From her position in the doorway, Daisy could see that the drawings in the book were clearly made by a child, but she couldn't see what they were showing. 

"The two heroes made their way from planet to planet, trying to find their missing friend," Her niece continued her tale, oblivious to her arrival. "They spent months in space between the stars and the planets looking for him, never giving up hope that they would find him."

Recognising the story immediately, Daisy smiled. Daniel stepped closer to her and wrapped his arms around his wife as the two of them continued to listen to the little blonde's story of Daisy and Jemma's adventures in space as they tried to find Fitz. Daisy smiled at the memories. Their team had been through a lot and even if they didn't see each other every day like they used too, they'll always be her family. 

"Eventually, they were able to find each other again," Alya finished off her story. "A bond between family is so strong, that no matter how much time has passed, they'll always find their way back together." 

Maggie looked up at her older cousin. "Do you think my Mommy will be home soon?" 

The older blonde nodded. "I'm sure your Mommy is doing everything she can to come home to you as soon as she can." She tried to reassure the younger girl. "Your Mommy is loves you very much and she wouldn't want you to be sad. She'll be back soon, I promise." 

"Alya's right, Baby girl," Daisy finally made her presence known, as she walked into her daughter's bedroom. "Mommy will always come home to you."

The youngest member of their family jumped out of her bed and straight into her mother's arms. "Mommy!" she screamed excitedly. 

"Hi, Baby girl, I'm so happy to see you," Daisy said as she hugged her daughter. "Mommy's missed you very much." She added in a whisper. 

Maggie pulled away slightly to look at the woman before her. "I missed you too, but I was very good and brave," she told Daisy proudly. "And look, Alya came to visit us!" She pointed to the blonde, sitting patiently on the bed as she watched the reunion between mother and daughter. The youngest girl rambled on and on about everything that happened in her mother's absence, as Daisy listened to every word she said.

Eventually, the young brunette yawned again. "Come on, let's get you tucked back into bed. You can tell me more about your adventures with Alya tomorrow, okay?" Daisy said, as she placed Maggie back into her bed. 

"Bedtime story?" The little girl asked, as she looked at her mother, barely able to keep her eyes open. 

Daisy kissed her daughter's forehead. "I know Alya already told you a bedtime story. I'll tell you one tomorrow," she promised. "Go to sleep, Baby girl. Mommy'll stay with you until you fall asleep. I love you." 

It didn't even take two minutes before the child fell into a peaceful sleep. Alya and Daniel quietly left the room, while Daisy stayed a few minutes longer. She was so happy to be back home with her family. She gave her daughter another gentle kiss on the forehead and eventually followed the other two out of the room. 

As she entered the living room, the other two looked up at her with a smile. "It's good to have you home, Auntie Daisy!" The young blonde went to give her a hug. 

"It's good to be home!" Daisy admitted, as she hugged her niece. "Thank you for coming over and helping with Maggie."

The young blonde shrugged. "She missed her Mommy. I know what that's like, so I thought I could come over and distract her a bit." 

Daniel nodded in agreement. "Maggie loves having you around. Your visit has definitely made her super happy."

"And that was a great bedtime story you told her," Daisy added. 

Alya shrugged. "My mom used to tell me stories about your adventures all the time when I was little. They made me feel closer to the rest of the family, even before I got to meet all of you. I thought it might help Maggie feel closer to you too." 

Daisy smiled gratefully and thanked her niece again. "Did you make the picture book yourself?" 

The blonde nodded. "A bedtime story is always better with a book." 

Eventually it was time for Alya to head to bed as well. Daisy and Daniel agreed that they should probably get some rest as well. The three of them said their goodnights, as Alya headed for the guest room and Daniel and Daisy to their own. 

As the couple laid down in bed, Daniel asked his wife, "How was the first mission with the new inhuman team?" 

Daisy turned to look at her husband. "I'm sorry to disappoint, but I don't have a picture book for that bedtime story." The two of them chuckled. Daisy told him all about the mission, before eventually giving in to sleep. Just before falling asleep, she smiled. She was just so happy to be home where she belonged. 

Chapter Text

It was supposed to be a slow morning, but either way Daisy woke up early. As she turned around in bed to wrap her arms around her boyfriend, she frowned. The other side of the bed was empty. Sleepily, she opened her eyes and looked around the room. 

Upon noticing the movement from the bed, Daniel sat down besides her. "It's still early. Go back to sleep," he whispered, as he gently kissed her forehead. 

She smiled softly at the love he always showed her. "Why are you up? Come back to bed," she said, trying to pull him down next to her so they could cuddle. 

"I'm meeting up with Mack this morning. I'll be back for lunch. How about we go for a picnic in the park?" Daniel suggested. Daisy smiled at the mention of the director. She was happy that the two of them had been getting closer, as Mack was like a brother to her. 

She nodded. "Fine, but I want a kiss before you leave," she compromised. He chuckled, but didn't hesitate to comply with her request. He kissed her forehead again, then her cheek, the tip of her nose and finally her lips. He then stood up to finish getting ready, before leaning in for one more kiss. 

"I'll see you later, beautiful," he whispered, before finally leaving her side. 

Daisy smiled at him. "Have a great time," she wished him, then added. "I love you." 

Daniel, stood in the doorway, turned back to face her. "I love you too." With that being said, he left the room and their appartement. 

Once alone, Daisy tried to fall back asleep, but soon realised that wasn't going to happen. She sighed and slipped out of bed herself, deciding that she could spend a couple of hours at the base working out before meeting back up with her boyfriend. She quickly got dressed in her workout clothes and packed an outfit for the rest of the day in her bag. Seeing as the sun was shining, Daisy decided to walk to the base. 

The brunette hoped someone would be in the gym, so they could spar, as she preferred that to working out alone. As she walked into the gym, she frowned and stopped in her tracks. The other occupant of the gym looked up at her and smiled at her in greeting. 

"Morning, Tremors. Wasn't expecting to see you here on your day off," Mack teased her. 

Daisy's frown deepened as he spoke to her. "Weren't you meeting Daniel this morning?" she asked him. He frowned at her and shook his head. 

"No, I have a meeting in DC later, thought I'd get a little work out in before I leave in an hour," he explained. "Why? Did Daniel say something?"

The young woman shook her head and plastered a fake smile on her face. "It's fine," she said, trying to convince both him and herself. "I'm sure I must have misunderstood. I was still half asleep when he left this morning." 

The two stood awkwardly looking at each other for a second, both knowing she was lying through her teeth. "Hey, you want to spar until I need to leave?" Mack suggested, hoping to distract her for a bit. 

Daisy sighed in relief and nodded. She was definitely grateful for the distraction. She dropped her bag next to the bench and made her way onto the mats. The two former partners got into position and started their sparring match. 

After about an hour of training, Mack needed to leave. The two made their way to the bench to grab their water bottles and sat down to catch their breaths for a second. "For what it's worth," Mack said, "I'm sure Sousa has a good explanation for this. The man loves you more than anything."

The brunette nodded. "I know," she sighed. "I just don't understand why he'd lie to me." She shook her head, trying to get rid of her insecurities. "I know he'd never cheat on me." She looked down. "I don't know. I guess, I just get insecure sometimes."

Mack placed a hand on her shoulder. "Talk to the man. He's square. I'm sure he'll have a decent explanation. And like you said, you were half asleep when you spoke, maybe you misunderstood and it's all just one big misunderstanding." He pulled her into a quick hug. "Whatever it is, everything's going to be okay, Tremors." 

She nodded gratefully at him. She took a deep breath, swallowing down the tears that were forming in her eyes and forcing the smile back to her face. "Thank you," she said genuinely. "I'll let you go now, otherwise you'll be late for that meeting, mister Director of SHIELD." 

He smiled at her. The two of them said their goodbyes. Daisy stayed in the gym, training a little while longer, before showering and heading home. 

A couple of hours later, Daniel got home. He walked around, looking for his girlfriend. When he found her, she was sat with her legs crossed on their bed, clearly lost in her thoughts and a deep frown on her face. Not wanting to startle her, he sat down beside her and gently cleared his throat. 

Her head snapped up to look at him, but the frown was still very much in place. "What's wrong, Darling?" He asked her gently, leaning in to give her a kiss. Before he could, she turned her face so he ended up kissing her cheek. 

"How was your morning with Mack?" She asked, completely ignoring his previous question. She looked into his eyes, trying to see if he'd lie to her face or not. Before he could even speak, she could feel the tears gathering in her eyes. 

Obliviously, he just said, "It was good," then asked again. "Now, please, tell me what's wrong." 

The tears finally escaped her eyes. She looked down ashamed. She was a super-powered SHIELD agent who had fought against Hydra and aliens, travelled through space and time, but her boyfriend lying to her brought her to tears, because she was insecure. "I'm happy you had a great time with Mack," she spoke harshly. "Want to know what I did this morning?"

Daniel frowned at Daisy's odd behaviour. "Sure, what did you do this morning?" He asked, hoping it would help him figure out what happened to upset her so much. 

"I went to the base to do some training," she told him. "Spent most of the morning sparring with my former partner, Mack." She looked up at the end to see his reaction. 

His eyes widened at that. "Oh," is all that he managed to say in response. 

Daisy narrowed her eyes at her boyfriend, "Oh?" She asked. "That's all you have to say for yourself? I catch you lying to me and 'oh' is all you have to say about this?" Angry tears streamed down her face. 

"This isn't what it looks like, Daisy," Daniel spoke gently. "I promise that this isn't anything bad!" He didn't know what to do. If he told her, it would ruin the surprise that he was trying to organise for her. If he didn't tell her anything, that would just make him look worse. He sighed. "I was trying to organise a surprise for you," he spoke. Hoping that she'd be satisfied with that answer. "I'm so sorry I lied to you, Darling. I love you and I never want to see you like this, let alone because of me." 

His girlfriend deflated and nodded. "I know you love me and never want to hurt me." 

Daniel sighed in relief, as he pulled her into his arms. "I promise, I'll never lie to you again!" 

Daisy shook her head. "No, I'm sorry, I should have trusted that you had a good reason for lying to me. I love you and I do trust you. I'm sorry for being insecure." 

He placed his hands on her cheeks and guided her head to look him in the eyes. "You, Daisy Johnson, have nothing too apologise for. I shouldn't have lied." He gently wiped her tears away and pulled her into a loving kiss. "How about we go have that picnic and I'll tell you where I really was." 

"Okay," Daisy nodded. "Give me five minutes to get ready," she said as she stood up from her position on the bed. As she was stood in the doorway to the bathroom, she turned around. "You don't have to tell me. I trust you," she said confidently. 

He smiled at her. "I know," he said. "But I want to tell you." Satisfied with the answer, Daisy slipped into the bathroom. 

Soon after the couple was walking hand in hand to the park, Daniel holding a picnic basked filled with delicious food for them to share. After finding the perfect spot and setting everything up, the two sat down close together. Daniel wrapped his arms around her, as they enjoyed the sun. "I went to see Coulson and May," he finally spoke up. 

Daisy sat up and turned around to face him, so she could give him her undivided attention. "I know they're not actually your parents, but they see you like that and I know you do too." She nodded in agreement. "I also know that in this time it's not a requirement anymore, but some things from my time are just hard to let go off." Daisy grabbed his hand and squeezed it in a sign of support. 

As much as Daniel had adapted to being in the future and he wouldn't want to go back to his time, some things were just hard to let go. Daisy loved that about him though. Seeing his face light up when she got him a typewriter or listening to him speak about his past, were her favorite moments to share with him. 

"I love you more than anything, Daisy Johnson. I went to see Coulson and May this morning to talk to them about my intentions with you. I went to ask them for their blessing," he admitted. He kneeled down in front of her (something he could do a lot easier now with his modern prosthetic). "Daisy, I want to spend the rest of my life with you. You make me happier than I ever thought possible. My life's been turned upside down the second I met you, but I'd never want to change that. You showed me things that I never even thought possible." Both of them chuckled, thinking back to the time she showed him a picture she took of him on her phone. "I want to spend the rest of my days going on adventures with you. Will you make me the luckiest man alive by marrying me?" He pulled a box out of his pocket and presented her with a ring. 

Daisy was speechless. She didn't know what to expect when he'd lied to her, but this was certainly not it. "Really?" She eventually got out, making him chuckle. 

He nodded. "Of course, really. I love you so much, Daisy." 

It was silent for a little longer, before the brunette remembered that he was, while obviously starting to worry, still waiting for an answer. "Yes," she finally said. "I love you so much," she said as she fell into his arms and kissed him passionately. 

Their smiles didn't leave their faces as they continued their picnic in the park. Late afternoon, as the sun was starting to set, the two of them were still snuggled together on their blanket. "Will you tell me about your meeting with Coulson and May?" she asked him. 

He kissed her forehead and pulled her closer to him, "I was so nervous to talk to them, but it went better than I expected. They love you very much and want you to be happy. We talked about you for a long time, before I finally got the courage to ask them for their blessing. I think Coulson was about to start jumping up and down in excitement and I actually got a fond smile from May." Daisy chuckled as she could imagine their reactions. 

"That sounds about right," she smiled fondly, as she thought about the two that had just about adopted her as their daughter. 

"They still threatened to hurt me if I ever hurt you, but I assured them that I would never intentionally do that," Daniel continued. 

Daisy turned her head to look at him with a serious face. "So I shouldn't tell Mama May about you lying to me earlier?" She teased him, but he visibly paled. He was about to try and defend himself when she cut him off with a kiss. "Relax. I understand what you lied and I'd never let them kill you over a stupid misunderstanding."

With the sun now completely gone, Daisy shivered. Daniel took that as a cue that it was time to leave. The young woman pouted, "Five more minutes?" She requested. "I don't want to leave this moment just yet." Her fiancé nodded in agreement, but wrapped his arms tighter around her to keep her warm. He didn't want to leave the moment either, but he smiled as he played with the new ring on her finger, remembering that they had a lifetime of moments ahead of them. 

Chapter Text

Daisy sat at the table across from Coulson her eyes narrowed. "So, what are we doing here?" She asked as she motioned to the cozy diner they were sat in. 

"What?" Coulson asked, trying to sound casual, "I can't take my daughter out to dinner?" 

The brunette smiled at the title. "You do know I'm not actually your daughter, right?" She said. She's not sure who she's trying to convince with that statement. 

Coulson rolled his eyes. "That's not true and you know it," he said calmly. "You might not biologically be my daughter, but that doesn't mean you aren't. You've been calling me 'Dad' for a while now too, so I know you want this too." 

She didn't respond to that, just smiled happily at him. Just then the waitress approached them and they placed their orders. 

"So?" Coulson started the conversation again, once the waitress left their table. "How is space?" 

The young agent smiled and nodded. "Space is good. Kora's been adjusting really well and Daniel's great." She blushed lightly at the last part. "I do miss you guys," she added. 

Phil smiled at his daughter. "We miss you too, Daisy. But I'm glad you're getting to know your sister and Daniel is a good man. You're doing an amazing job and I'm so proud of you." 

Daisy's blush deepened. His words meant everything to her, even if she wouldn't admit it. "Thanks, Dad." She answered quietly. She was grateful for the interruption when the waitress came back with their food. 

The two of them sat in comfortable silence as they ate their food. "I wanted to talk to you about something," Coulson said, interrupting their silence once more. 

"I knew it," Daisy exclaimed smugly, causing Phil to roll his eyes lovingly at her childish behaviour. "I knew there had to be a reason you wanted to have dinner with me." 

The older man sighed. "The main reason I asked you to dinner is because I genuinely wanted to spend time with you. I miss our father-daughter moments." 

Daisy reached across the table to grasp his hand in hers. She gave his hand a gentle squeeze. "I know," she admitted. "I love spending time with you too. I miss seeing you every day too."

Coulson smiled at his daughter. "The other reason I wanted to spend some time alone with you, is so that I can get your opinion on something." He looked at her face, to study her reaction. He only continued talking when she nodded at him. "I care about you a lot and I would never want to do something that would hurt you or make you feel uncomfortable." Daisy frowned at him, not understanding where he was going with this. "And I know Melinda feels the same about you."

"May?" Daisy said surprised. "What are you trying to say?" The more Coulson had said, the more it had confused the younger woman. 

Phil took a deep breath. "I'd like to ask Melinda to marry me, but I wanted to talk to you about it first, because if you for whatever reason don't feel comfortable with the idea of this then neither one of us will go through with it," He rambled. When he looked at Daisy's face for a reaction, he found a huge smile. 

"Finally!" Daisy exclaimed. "I was wondering when you were going to ask her. I know you've had a ring for months now." 

Her father frowned. "You knew about that?" His eyes widened, but before he was able to voice his concerns, Daisy interrupted him. 

"Yes, I knew. I found it while I was taking some me-time in the garage, before I left on the space mission. I don't think May's seen it though, as much as she loves piloting, she's not a big fan of cars," Daisy reassured him. Then she frowned. "Wait... why wouldn't I be comfortable with you asking May to marry you?" 

Coulson shrugged. "I know some foster kids have bad experiences with parents getting married. I'm not your foster parent, but your feelings matter to me. To both of us. You are family and we would never do something that you weren't comfortable with." 

"I do have some bad experiences with weddings," Daisy admitted, "But you and May are different. I know that no matter what we'll always be a family. What we have is special and I'm pretty sure it'll last forever."

Phil smiled. He was always pleasantly surprised how positif Daisy is, even after every obstacle life threw at her. She always managed to come back stronger. "You're amazing, you know that?" He asked, in awe of his daughter's attitude towards life. 

The younger girl just shrugged him off. "So when and how were you thinking of proposing?" She asked, obviously more comfortable changing the subject. 

"I don't know yet," Coulson admitted. "But I want you to be there for it."

Daisy nodded in agreement. "I'm sure whatever you'll think of will be perfect."

Chapter Text

Getting to know her sister meant that Daisy had spent a lot of time reflecting about her childhood. She'd come to the conclusion that as bas as it often was, she wouldn't change a single thing about it. In the end, all of her past had lead her to the greatest family she could have ever asked for, both biologically (thanks to Kora) and her SHIELD family. She couldn't imagine her life without them. 

Still, she'd vowed from a young age to always help the younger children she'd meet in the system. So, when a mission to check out an 0-8-4 at St Agnes, Daisy jumped at the opportunity to go check it out. Mack wasn't surprised, but was hesitant to send her out by herself. It was Daniel that volunteered to go with her. He argued that as a couple they'd have the perfect cover to head to the orphanage. Mack couldn't argue with that logic and so the couple were on their way to the place young Daisy, or Mary Sue Poots at the time, spent most of her childhood. 

Standing just out of the gate to the orphanage, Daisy stopped in her tracks. She took a deep breath and looked up at the building in front of her. "It's smaller than I remember," she mumbled to no-one in particular. 

Daniel took a step closer to her, gently taking her hand in his. "Are you sure that you're up for this?" He asked worriedly. "It's not too late to head back and ask Mack to send another team." 

The brunette superhero looked at their joined hands and then into his eyes. "I have to do this. I need to make sure the kids inside that building are safe." Daniel could understand that feeling, it's the way he'd felt about his family and friends. It's the way he felt about her since the first time he'd seen her standing in his office. 

The two made their way to the entrance of the building. Upon entering, they were met were met with one of the nuns scolding a couple of young children that were running around inside. Once the children were out of sight, the nun turned towards them, allowing Daisy to recognise her. 

The older woman put on a smile as she approached them. "Good morning. Can I help you with something?" She asked sweetly, causing Daisy to roll her eyes. 

Daniel, ignoring his girlfriend's reaction, put his arm around her waist and greeted the nun. "Good morning. My wife and I are here to get some information on adoption," he answered as politely as he always was. 

The nun nodded and motioned towards the office. As they were walking she spoke up again. "Are you already in contact with one of our social workers?" She asked in the same sweet tone she used before. 

"I don't know," Daisy spoke up for the first time since entering the building, "Does Alice still work here?" 

The nun stopped in her tracks and turned towards the couple. She studied Daisy's face as she answered. "Alice? Yes, she does still occasionally work with us." It was obvious to the both of them that the nun didn't like the mentioned social worker. "How do you know Alice? Maybe I can recommended someone more suited for your needs." 

Daisy had to stop herself from snarling as she responded. "Alice was my last social worker here. She's the only one that tried to look out for me properly, so if you don't mind, we're gonna stick with Alice, Sister Katharina."

"You've been here? With an attitude like that, I'm guessing you're Mary Sue?" Sister Katharina answered in disdain, the sweet smile now completely gone from her face. 

"Skye!" Daisy interjected automatically upon hearing the name the nuns had given her as a baby, making the older woman roll her eyes. Upon second thought she added. "Actually, I go by Daisy now. Daisy Johnson, the name my birthparents intended for me." 

"I guess, you don't need to much information on the adoption process, since you've been here yourself." She then looked Daisy in the eyes. "Or maybe not," she narrowed her eyes, her town almost mocking. 

Before she could, Daniel spoke up for Daisy. "What exactly do you mean by that?" He questioned. 

The nun's attention turned to him. "Mary Sue was a bit of a -" She hesitated and glanced at Daisy, then back at Daniel. "Problem child. Been here since she was a baby, but never stayed with a family for very long." 

Even though she knew the true reason as to why she didn't now, Daisy couldn't help but look down at her feet at the statement. Daniel on the other hand, narrowed his eyes at the older woman. He couldn't believe the words he was hearing about the kindhearted woman he fell in love with. "Do you have any kids like that here now?" He asked calmly.

Sister Katharina was taken aback by the question, but nodded. "Yes," she rolled her eyes. "Ella, she's been here for a year." She looked between the two. "Now that I think of it, she reminds me of you, Mary Sue. She's in your old room too." 

Daniel and Daisy looked at each other. "Can we talk to her?" Daniel asked eventually.

The nun shrugged. "The child doesn't speak, but you can go see her if you want. I'll be in the office calling Alice here to see you." 

"Thank you," the couple said, before stepping away. As soon as the were out of eyesight from the nun, Daisy visibly relaxed. She lead them through the old building to the room she'd spent most of her childhood in. They knocked before entering and looked around the room. The room was small and had clearly not been changed in years. It had two sets of bunkbeds agains the walls, with perfectly made beds. The bedding and curtains looked old and only a few toys lay on the rug in front of the wardrobe. Under the small window sat an old desk. 

The room itself was empty, except for a little girl sitting on one of the bed. She was clutching her old teddy bear and had looked up when the couple had entered. Daisy smiled at the little girl. "Hey, I'm Daisy and this is my husband Daniel. May we come in and talk to you?" She spoke gently, waiting for the little girl's nod of agreement, before stepping into the room. Daniel stayed in the doorway, watching his girlfriend interact with the young child. "You know, I used to live her too," she told the little girl. The only response she got was the surprised look on the little girl's face. She chuckled and pointed to the bedpost right behind the girl's head. On it were carved a lot of names, but one was there over and over again 'Skye'. "That's me," she told the girl. 

The young brunette looked up at her confused, but Daisy seemed to understand what she wanted to ask. "The nuns named me Mary Sue," she laughed at the look of disgust on the little girl's face. "Exactly. That's why I choose Skye as my own name. Then a few years ago, I found out that my birthparents wanted to call me Daisy."

There was a moment of silence, before the little girl nodded in understanding. She then pointed out another name on the bedpost.  "Your name is Ella?" Daisy asked, getting another nod in response. "Nice to meet you, Ella." 

Hesitatingly, Ella patted the bed next to her, indicating for Daisy to sit down. Smiling, Daisy followed the instructions. "Do you wanted to know why we're here?" Ella looked back at her questioningly. "It's a secret though so you can't tell anyone, okay?" 

Curious, the little girl nodded her head. "We're superspies and we're here to find something or someone special," Daisy spoke gently, almost whispering. "Have you seen something like that, Ella?" 

The little girl's eyes widened and she shrugged her shoulders, looking down at her lap. "Hey," Daisy said, trying to get her attention. "If what we're trying to find is a person, I promise we won't hurt them. We're here to make sure they're safe and everyone else around here is too." 

Slowly the little girl reached out and placed her hand on Daisy's. "Do you promise?" She asked. Daisy looked down at the little girl and smiled as she heard her voice. 

She nodded. She looked up at Daniel, who just looked at her confused as to why his girlfriend was grinning widely. "I promise," She said to Ella, looking her in the eye. 

"It's me," Ella responded, "You're looking for me." 

Daisy gasped as she realised that the little girl wasn't speaking out loud. "You're a telepath?" She asked the little girl, only to get a confused look back. "You can project your thoughts onto other people," She then clarified. 

"Not just mine," Ella explained, "But only when I touch them." She then motioned for Daniel to approach them. As he was close enough she touched her free hand to his. 

Daisy gasped as she heard Daniel thinking. "Daisy's so good with kids. She'd make such a good mother someday," he thought. 

Ignoring his thoughts for now, the older woman turned her attention back to the child. "Ella, we need to take you back with us, is that okay?" 

"Are you going to adopt me?" The child questioned innocently. 

Daisy paused. She was conscious that Ella could follow her entire thought process as she hadn't let go of her hand yet. "I'm not sure we'll be able to right now, Ella. I know it's hard to understand right now, but I wouldn't even be a good mom." She could see the disagreement on Daniel's face. "I don't know how to be a good mom, because I never had one either."

Suddenly, Daisy saw flashes of May running through her mind. She smiled. "You're one smart kid, Ella. May might be a great mom to me now, but I didn't know her when I was a child." Daisy was silent for a little moment. "Would it be okay if I just fostered you right now? I promise, I'll always be here for you." 

Ella smiled and nodded, so Daisy pulled a tablet out of her bag. Daniel seemed surprised that she carried it with her, making Daisy roll her eyes. "You do know I did start out as a tech consultant, right? Some habits are just hard to break, I guess." She shrugged as she started typing away on the device. 

"Okay, I guess I'm still getting used to modern technology," Daisy smiled at Daniel. It was true that he still had a long way to go, but she was impressed with how comfortable he'd gotten with the technology that wasn't even imaginable in his time. "What are you doing anyway?" He asked her. 

She looked up for a second, before continuing on her device. "I'm getting a foster licence. If we don't have it, we won't be able to take Ella with us right now and then who knows where she'll be by the time we get it." 

Daniel knew that Daisy was more informed about the system than anyone should be, so he trusted her judgement. As Daisy was done with the license, she sent it to her phone, before putting away the device she'd been using. Just as the tablet was out of sight, the door opened. Sister Katharina had never bothered to knock, before entering a room. She was followed by Alice.

The blonde smiled as she shook her head at the sight in front of her. "Well isn't this a flashback!" 

Daisy laughed as she stood to embrace her former social worker. "Good to see you too, Alice." 

"I have to say, it's not too surprising to see you back here," The older blonde told her. Daisy looked at her questioningly, she had vowed never to step foot inside this place again. "You were always very protective over the younger kids," Alice said as an explanation, "I guessed that once you'd settle down, you'd come to adopt a little child much like yourself." 

Daisy blushed at the words. "I guess, you know me better than I know myself," she admitted. "Although, we're going to start by fostering, see how things go from there." 

Alice nodded in understanding. "And I'm guessing by how comfortable you looked together when we entered, that Ella's the lucky child that gets to go home with you." Sister Katharina scoffed at the word 'Lucky' but otherwise kept quiet. 

Daniel ignored the nun and spoke up for Daisy. "Yes, Ella seems like she'd be a great fit into our home. I'm Daniel, Daisy's husband," he said as a way of introduction. 

"Oh, I'm sorry, I guess I was just excited to see young Skye, or Daisy as I've heard, thriving like I knew she would," Alice said apologetically. "I'm Alice, the social worker." They shook hands. "Is this the first time you're fostering?"

Daisy nodded, "Although we're already up to date with our foster license. We wanted to be ready in case we met a kid we wanted to bring home," she said, pulling up the paperwork she'd just made on her phone. 

Alice smiled widely. "Perfect," she said, "then you just need to sign some papers and then Ella's all good to leave with you. I'll contact you in about a month for the inspection, but I guess you know the process already." 

Daisy bent down to Ella's level. "Why don't you pack your bag, while we go sign the paperwork. We can meet downstairs at the front door when you're done, okay?" 

Ella nodded and gratefully hugged Daisy before she had the opportunity to stand back up. Daisy smiled and held the little girl close, before looking at her. "We'll see you in a couple of minutes." She kissed her forehead, before standing up. At the door, she looked back at the little girl excitedly packing her bag.  

As much as she said she wasn't ready for adoption, she already vowed never to send the little girl back to grow up like she did. Daniel, who somehow always knew when Daisy needed him, was waiting right outside the door for her. He wrapped his arm around her as they walked to the office and pulled her close to him. "Everything will be okay," he whispered, as he kissed her cheek.

Chapter Text

It had been hours since Simmons had injected Skye with the drug and she was yet to wake up. May had left the room shortly after finding out the younger girl was stable. The science twins were doing anything and everything to keep their hands and their minds busy, checking Skye’s vitals every so often. Meanwhile, Ward was trying every trick in the book to get Quinn to talk, not that it would make him feel any better. And lastly, Coulson was pacing the room, stopping every so often to look if the girl had woken up. 

“Any change?” He asked, turning to Simmons with hope in his eyes. 

The young scientist moved closer to check her vitals again. “I’m sorry, Sir. Her vitals are perfect, as they have been since we injected her with the serum. I don’t understand why she isn’t waking up.” 

“Her body might just need the rest. To recover from the trauma it went through,” Fitz theorized, making his partner nod in agreement. 

“I don’t have a better explanation,” she sighed worriedly. “Either way, we’ll keep a close eye on her until she wakes up.” 

Ward entered the room half an hour later. “Interrogating Quinn’s pointless. He won’t give us anything,” he explained resigned, before taking a seat in the corner of the room. 

a couple more hours went by before May joined them. She handed each of them a sandwich and ordered them to eat, before taking her own seat besides the sleeping girl’s bed.

All of them stayed silently in their spots for the next couple of hours. Surprisingly, it was May who broke it first. 

“You should all go rest,” she started. Seeing as each and everyone was going to protest, she held her hand up. “No point in all of us watching her sleep. We’ll take turns monitoring her. If anything changes I’ll wake you up.” 

That seemed to settle everyone down, as Ward left the room, followed by FitzSimmons. Only Coulson seemed to hesitate as he walked by May. 

She smiled at him reasuringly. “Skye’s going to be okay,” she said, placing a hand on his shoulder. 

He turned his head to look at the younger girl and nodded. “She has to be,” he said, then followed the other agents out of the room. 

For the next couple of days, things stayed the same. They all took turns monitoring Skye’s state as she stayed peacefully asleep on the bed. 

It was three days later, during Ward’s shift that things finally changed. Skye had been showing signs of waking up, which caused the SO to call for Simmons for medical support.

Just before the young doctor walked into the room, Skye’s eyes opened. Confused, she looked around the room, until her gaze met Ward’s. 

Hastilly, the girl shifted backwards on the bed to put as much space between them as she could.

Before the agent could say a word, Simmons appeared by her side. “Oh Skye, you’re awake!” She said happily, as she checked over her vitals, unaware of the wide eyed look the girl in question was giving her. 

Skye shifted on the bed so she could draw her knees up to her chest and protectively wrapped her arms around it. 

“You’re vitals seem to be all good. How are you feeling?” Simmons asked, as she turned to look at her friend. 

The girl shrugged. “Fine,” she mumbled, so unlike the confident girl she was only days before. “Am I in a hospital?” She asked.

Simmons shook her head. “Just the medbay back on the bus,” she assured, knowing that her friend prefered to be in familiar places.

Skye frowned as she looked around once more. “This doesn’t look like a bus.” 

The moment was interrupted by Coulson, who walked in to take his shift. “Oh thank god!” He sighed in relief as he saw his youngest charge awake. 

The brunette’s eyes snapped to him. She looked him up and down, before coming to a conclusion. “You’re here to take me back, aren’t you?”

Coulson frowned, giving Simmons and Ward a questionning look, before turning back to Skye. “Back where, Skye?”  

The girl seemed to be making herself as small as possible before answering. “Saint Agnes’s” 

The three other occupants of the room shared a look, which didn’t go unnoticed by the young hacker. It was Simmons that spoke up though. “Skye, how old are you?” 

The girl hesitated, she narrowed her eyes as she studied the three of them. Clearly, she was trying to deduce if she should be honest or not. 

“I promise, we’re not taking you back there. You’re safe here with us,” Coulson assured her. 

Skye seemed to think about it for a second longer, before nodding her head. “I’m sixteen,” she finally said.

Simmons gasped. She went to check her vitals once more, before looking through a few files. “Amnesia,” she said, “It’s the only explanation. But I don’t know what caused it. I don’t think it was the serum, although we don’t actually know what it is.” 

“Did she hit her head when she was shot?” Ward asked, making Simmons pause.

She frowned. “I- I don’t know. I guess I was so focussed on the gunshot wounds that I might have missed it,” she spoke guiltily.

”Gunshot wounds!” Skye exclaimed, making everyone turn towards her. “Someone got shot?” She asked, wide eyed. She then turned to Coulson accusingly. “I thought you said I was safe here?”

Coulson nodded as he sat beside her. “You are safe here. I promise,” he said, still feeling guilty for how they’d found her. He explained everything to her, from SHIELD to her joining and finally her getting shot and what they went through to save her.

When he was done he noticed tears running down Skye’s face. He leaned closer to wipe her tears away. “You went through all of that, just to save me?” She asked. 

Coulson grabbed her hand and held it tightly in his own. “Of course, Skye!” He said. “We’re your family!”

Chapter Text

New Year's Eve in the bustling city was a spectacle of lights and laughter, but for young Daisy Johnson, it held a quieter wish. As the clock struck midnight, she stood by the window, gazing out at the fireworks, a small glimmer of hope in her eyes.

Daisy looked up at the stars in the sky, before closing her eyes and whispering to herself: "I wish for a family."

Little did she know that her wish was about to be answered in an unexpected way.

A few days later, Phil Coulson and Melinda May, agents of S.H.I.E.L.D., were reviewing a case file when Coulson came across Daisy's file.

"Melinda, there's something about this girl. Daisy Johnson. I can't shake the feeling that we need to help her." Phil spoke as he pushed the file into May’s hands

May looked down at the file. "You think she's in danger?" She questioned, not seeing anything that could indicate an immediate threat to the girl.

Coulson shook his head. "No, not that kind of help. I think she needs a family."

May, ever the pragmatic one, raised an eyebrow. "We're not equipped to be foster parents, Phil." She pointed out.

Coulson, however, was ever the optimist and hopeful one. "Maybe we're exactly what she needs. Let's meet her."

May sighed. From the glint in his eyes, she knew she’d be unable to change his mind. At least not without meeting this girl. Maybe then he’d realise what she knew all along; that they weren’t fit to take care of someone else, let alone a young girl.

The meeting was arranged, and Daisy found herself in the presence of two seemingly stern agents.

Daisy looked between the two, before deciding to break the uncomfortable silence. "Uh, hi. I'm Daisy,” she said in a quiet and uncertain voice. 

Coulson smiled reasuringly at her. "Nice to meet you, Daisy. I'm Agent Coulson, and this is Agent May."

May smirked, but kept a serious tone as she spoke. "Call us Phil and Melinda."

The meeting had turned out surprisingly well and it had taken Coulson barely any arguing for May to agree to take the girl in.

As days turned into weeks, Daisy started to feel a sense of belonging. Yet, the road to becoming a family wasn't without its bumps.

One night Daisy had come up to them a little worried. She liked being there and had been so used to rejection. "What if I mess things up? What if I'm not good enough?"

Coulson smiled sadly at her, wishing for her to be one hundred percent comfortable with them. "Daisy, you're more than enough. We're here for you, no matter what." He spoke genuinly. 

May, who had started to feel motherly and protectively over the girl, nodded her head. "And families stick together through thick and thin."

That seemed to reassure the younger brunette, at least for the time being.

The introduction to new friends brought both excitement and challenges. Jemma, Fitz, and Bobbie became integral parts of their extended family.

"Daisy, have you ever considered science? I think you'd be great at it." Jemma asked excitedly, not long after meeting her. 

Fitz, always matching Simmons’ energy, nodded in agreement. "And we could use an extra hand in the lab."

Daisy grinned at her new friends. She’d always been more into computer science, then actual science, but she could try it if it meant fitting in with her friends. "Sure, why not? Let's do some science!"

Bobbie looked at the trio, before speaking up. "Well, if you're joining the science team, I guess I'm teaching you some self-defense moves."

Daisy's newfound family became her rock, and as the years passed, she blossomed into a confident young woman. Through ups and downs, laughter and tears, their bonds grew stronger.

On a quier evening, a few days before her official adoption date, Daisy wanted to say a few words to her family. "Thanks for making my New Year's wish come true. I love you guys."

Coulson pulled her into his arms. "We love you too, Daisy. You're not just our foster daughter. You're family."

And so, in the heart of S.H.I.E.L.D., a family forged in the most unconventional way stood together, united by love, understanding, and the shared journey of becoming a family in the truest sense.

Chapter Text

The transition from the bleak hallways of St. Agnes to the bustling, high-tech corridors of the Lighthouse was a shock for Ella. For the first few days, she was a silent shadow, her small hand perpetually buried in the fabric of Daisy’s tactical jacket.

Her first meeting with May and Coulson was quiet. Daisy had warned them about Ella’s telepathy, so Coulson knelt down with a warm, crinkly-eyed smile that made Ella’s defensive walls tremble.

"I'm Phil," he said softly. "I hear you’re a fan of secrets. I’ve got a few good ones if you ever want to hear them."

May, however, was the one who truly broke through. She didn't offer a hug or a sweet word. She simply held out a wooden training staff. When Ella touched May’s hand to "speak," she didn't find the pity she was used to from social workers. She found a mind like a calm, deep lake—and a fierce, protective love for Daisy that mirrored Ella’s own.

Within a week, the "mini-Daisy" transformation was complete. Ella traded her orphan rags for a tiny pair of Quake-style gauntlets (purely aesthetic, courtesy of Fitz) and started wearing her hair in the same messy buns Daisy favored.

The mornings became their anchor. Every day at 06:00, the three generations gathered in the training salon:

May led the movements with silent precision. Daisy followed, her movements more fluid and chaotic. Ella stood right behind Daisy, mimicking every shift in weight, a tiny mirror of her foster mother’s strength.

The silence of Tai Chi was the only time Ella didn't feel the need to project her thoughts. She felt safe.

The routine shattered on a Tuesday.

"She needs to go, Daisy," Daniel said, leaning against the kitchen island with a stack of enrollment papers. "There’s a school nearby that works with SHIELD families. She needs friends, a life outside this bunker."

Daisy, who was currently teaching Ella how to bypass a basic firewall on a tablet, froze. "She’s seven, Daniel. And she’s Inhuman. You know what happens to 'different' kids in schools. They get bullied, or worse, they get noticed by the wrong people."

"She needs an education," Daniel argued, his voice level but firm. "We can't keep her in a bubble. That’s not a childhood; that’s a tactical lockdown."

"I survived without a 'normal' school!" Daisy snapped, standing up. "I spent my life running because the system couldn't protect me. I’m not letting her out of my sight until I know she can defend herself against more than just a playground bully."

"This isn't about her, Daisy. It's about your fear," Daniel said gently, reaching for her hand.

Daisy pulled away, her eyes flashing. "My fear kept me alive! I want her to have a better life, but that means keeping her safe. You weren't there, Daniel. You don't know how fast 'normal' can turn into a nightmare."

The tension in the room was thick enough to trigger a seismic vibration. Daisy’s breathing was shallow, her hands beginning to tremble with the familiar hum of her powers.

A small, warm hand slipped into Daisy’s left palm. Another slipped into Daniel’s right.

Ella stood between them, her head tilted back. She didn't look scared; she looked determined. As she completed the circuit, a shared vision flooded both of their minds.

It wasn't a memory. It was a projection of Ella’s feelings. They felt the cold, lonely silence of the room at St. Agnes. They felt the crushing weight of the "Mary Sue" label. Then, the feeling shifted—it became the warmth of the morning Tai Chi, the smell of Daniel’s coffee, and the vibrating energy of Daisy’s laugh.

Then, Ella projected a new image: a playground. She was there, wearing her little SHIELD hoodie, holding a book. She looked back at the "spies" waiting in the car—Daisy and Daniel—and she waved. She wasn't afraid. She felt strong because she knew exactly who was coming to pick her up at 3:00 PM.

“I want to go,” Ella’s voice echoed in both their heads, clear and brave. “Because I know you’ll always find me. You found me at the bad place. You’ll find me anywhere.”

The hum in Daisy’s hands died down instantly. She looked down at the little girl—her little shadow—and saw a courage she hadn’t realized she’d already passed on.

Daisy looked at Daniel, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. "She's tougher than I was," she whispered.

Daniel squeezed Ella's hand and pulled both of them into a hug. "She’s a Johnson-Sousa," he said into Daisy's hair. "She never stood a chance at being anything else."

Daisy took a shaky breath and finally nodded. "Okay. But I’m van-sitting across the street for the first week. With a sniper—I mean, a high-def camera."

Daniel laughed, the tension breaking. "I’ll pack the snacks."

Chapter Text

The day of the inspection was approaching fast. Daisy and Daniel had realized that the lighthouse, filled with weapons and spies, wasn't the place to pass the inspection. Luckily, Coulson had an appartment nearby they could use. They'd spent a couple of days a week there to give Ella a sense of normalcy in their otherwise crazy lives and make it seem lived in by the time Alice came by. 

The apartment in the city was a masterpiece of "normalcy." Daniel had picked out a plush rug for the living room, and Daisy had filled the bookshelves with everything from physics textbooks to Ella’s favorite fairy tales. They had spent weeks practicing American Sign Language, turning it into a game. Now, Ella could sign “I want juice” or “Daisy, look!” without needing to project her thoughts into their minds.

It felt like a real home. Until the knock on the door changed everything.

Daisy checked her reflection in the hallway mirror, smoothing down her blouse. "Alice is five minutes early. Daniel, hide the encrypted comms!"

Daniel chuckled, tucking a stray SHIELD tablet under a couch cushion. "Relax, Daisy. We’ve got this."

But when Daisy opened the door, her smile died. It wasn't Alice's warm, blonde presence. Standing there, clutching a clipboard like a weapon, was Sister Katharina.

"You," Daisy breathed, the old defensive walls slamming up.

"Mary Sue," the nun replied, her eyes scanning the apartment with immediate disapproval. "Alice has been reassigned. I am conducting the oversight for all 'difficult' placements this month."

"It's Daisy," Daniel corrected, stepping up behind her, his hand grounding her. "And please, come in."

The next twenty minutes were a nightmare of judgment. Katharina ignored the ASL charts on the fridge. She ignored the photos of the three of them at the park. Instead, she focused on a small bruise on Ella’s knee—a standard souvenir from a playground slide.

"Inconsistent environment," Katharina muttered, scribbling on her form. "The foster mother has a history of instability, trauma, and... let's call it 'anti-social' tendencies."

"I was a child when I was under your care!" Daisy snapped, her voice rising. "I am a decorated federal—"

"You are a woman who plays at being a hero while leaving a child with a 'husband' whose background is... curiously blank," the nun said coldly. She looked at Ella, who was trembling in the corner. "The placement is deemed unsafe. I’m exercising emergency removal power."

"What? No!" Daisy stepped forward, but the nun had already signaled two men waiting in the hallway—city contractors, not SHIELD.

"If you interfere, Mary Sue, I will ensure you never see the inside of a courtroom," Katharina threatened.

Daisy watched, paralyzed by a trauma she thought she’d outgrown, as they led a silent, crying Ella out the door. The moment the door clicked shut, the apartment felt like a tomb. Daisy collapsed onto the floor, the seismic hum in her chest so violent the windows began to rattle.

"Daisy, look at me."

Daniel was on the floor beside her, his hands firm on her shoulders. "We are not the two kids at the orphanage anymore. We have an army."

The recovery effort was a surgical strike of bureaucracy and grit.

Coulson and May arrived within the hour. While May stood as a silent, terrifying sentinel of support, Coulson was on the phone with every contact he had in the Department of Social Services. Alice was found—she hadn't been "reassigned," she’d been bypassed. Furious, she spent the night filing counter-affidavits, swearing to Katharina's personal bias against Daisy. Daniel tracked down the paperwork. He spent forty-eight hours straight in the Lighthouse archives, proving that Sister Katharina had a decades-long record of being overly punitive toward "spirited" girls.

Daisy, however, was a wreck. She sat in Ella’s empty room, clutching the girl's favorite teddy bear. She felt like she had failed. She felt like the system had finally won.

"She thinks I didn't want her," Daisy whispered when May walked in.

"She knows exactly who you are," May said, her voice unusually soft. "She’s a mini-version of you, remember? She’s probably hacking their WiFi with a paperclip right now."

Three days later, the legal dam broke. With Alice’s testimony and Coulson’s "influence," a judge issued an emergency order to return Ella and suspended Sister Katharina’s license pending a full investigation.

When the black SUV pulled up to the apartment, Daisy didn't wait. She sprinted to the curb. The door opened, and Ella flew out, hitting Daisy with the force of a small cannonball.

Ella didn't use her telepathy. She didn't use her hands to sign. She just buried her face in Daisy’s neck and sobbed.

Daisy held her tight, looking over at Daniel, who was shaking Alice's hand with a look of profound relief. Daisy looked back at the apartment, then at the little girl who had become her heart.

"Never again," Daisy whispered into Ella’s hair.

She pulled back, framing Ella’s face in her hands. Slowly, deliberately, Daisy signed: “You. Stay. Always.”

Ella’s tear-streaked face lit up. She signed back: “Mama.”

Daisy turned to Daniel, her eyes fierce and certain. "Get the lawyer back on the phone. We aren't just fostering anymore. I want the adoption papers filed by Monday. I don't care what it takes. She’s a Johnson, she’s a Sousa, and she’s never, ever going back to that system."

Daniel smiled, leaning in to kiss Daisy’s forehead before picking Ella up and settling her on his hip. "I already have the paperwork in the car, Daisy. I knew you’d say that."

Chapter Text

The courtroom was unnervingly quiet, a stark contrast to the small crowd of legends sitting in the gallery. The air was thick with the scent of old paper and Simmons’ expensive perfume.

Daisy sat at the petitioner’s table, her leg bouncing a mile a minute. She looked over her shoulder at her family. Mack and Yo-Yo were in the front row, Mack looking particularly dapper in a suit that barely contained his shoulders. Fitz and Simmons were trying to keep a wiggly Alya quiet with a holographic coloring book, while May and Coulson stood in the back, the watchful guardians they had always been. Even Kora was there, leaning against the wood paneling, a small, supportive smirk on her face.

Daniel reached over and placed a steadying hand on Daisy’s knee. "Deep breaths," he whispered. "We're in the home stretch."

"I know," Daisy whispered back, her fingers nervously tracing the edge of the adoption petition. "I just... I need this to be official, Daniel. I need her to be ours."

Judge Miller, a woman who looked like she’d seen it all and liked none of it, adjusted her spectacles and frowned at the thick folder in front of her.

"Mr. and Mrs. Sousa," the judge began, her voice echoing. "The home study from Ms. Alice is exemplary. The character references—one of which is from a high-ranking Director at... well, a very prestigious agency—are glowing."

Daisy felt a swell of hope. She had spent nights scrubbing her own records, weaving her "Skye" past into a legitimate history of "Daisy Johnson," making sure every foster home was accounted for and every gap in her adult life was filled with high-level security clearances.

"However," the judge continued, her brow furrowing. "I’m looking at the background check for Daniel Sousa."

The room went cold. Daisy felt the blood drain from her face.

"There is a significant chronological anomaly here," Judge Miller said, tapping a pen on the desk. "According to these records, Mr. Sousa was born in 1918. He has a service record from the SSR that is impeccable, but then... nothing. For decades. And then he suddenly reappears three years ago with a modern Social Security number and a birth certificate that looks brand new."

Daisy felt a bead of sweat on her neck. She had been so focused on fixing her records—making sure her "problem child" labels were deleted—that she’d played it too safe with Daniel’s. She’d assumed the SHIELD-generated cover for a man out of time would pass a standard scan.

"Is there an explanation for the seventy-year gap in your history, Mr. Sousa?" the judge asked, peering over her glasses. "Because right now, this looks like a very sophisticated identity theft."

The silence was deafening. Behind them, Daisy heard Fitz whisper-hiss to Simmons, "I told you we should have back-dated the census records!"

Daniel stood up, his posture perfect, radiating the quiet dignity of a man from the 1940s. "Your Honor," he said, his voice calm. "My history is... complicated. It involves undercover work for the government that required a complete withdrawal from public record. It was a sacrifice I made for my country."

"A sacrifice that lasted seventy years?" the judge asked dryly. "You don't look a day over forty, Mr. Sousa."

Daisy felt the panic rising. If the judge flagged this, the adoption would be frozen. Investigations would be launched. Ella, who was sitting between them in a small floral dress, sensed the shift in the room. Her eyes went wide, and her hand reached out to touch Daisy’s.

Suddenly, a voice rang out from the back of the room.

"It’s a classification issue, Your Honor."

Coulson stepped forward, his gait confident, holding up a sleek, black leather wallet that housed his highest-level credentials. "Phil Coulson. I oversaw Mr. Sousa’s most recent assignments. Because of the nature of his work—and his wife’s—their records are subject to the National Security Act. Some of the data in your system is 'ghosted' to protect active assets."

The judge looked at Coulson, then at the credentials. "And you’re saying that a man born in 1918 is standing before me today?"

"I'm saying," Coulson said with a small, knowing smile, "that in our line of work, we have access to medical and lifestyle protocols that... keep us on our toes. Mr. Sousa is a man of rare vintage, but his heart is exactly where it needs to be."

The judge stared at Coulson for a long time. The tension was so high that a lightbulb in the hallway flickered—Daisy’s nerves were leaking into the building's electrical grid.

Finally, the judge looked down at Ella. The little girl wasn't looking at the judge; she was looking at Daisy and Daniel with so much love it was tangible. Ella slowly lifted her hands and signed, “My dad.”

Judge Miller’s expression softened, just a fraction. She looked back at the paperwork, then at the mountain of "Special Agents" sitting in her gallery.

"I have a feeling," the judge muttered, "that if I don't sign this, I'll have a national security crisis on my hands." She picked up her pen. "The court finds that despite the... unorthodox nature of the father's paperwork, the best interest of the child is served by this union."

Scritch. Scritch.

The sound of the pen on the paper was the most beautiful thing Daisy had ever heard.

"Congratulations," the judge said, finally smiling. "Daisy, Daniel... you are now the legal parents of Ella Sousa."

The courtroom erupted. Mack let out a jubilant "Whoop!" and Alya started clapping her hands. Daisy pulled Ella into her lap, burying her face in the girl's shoulder, sobbing with pure, unadulterated joy. Daniel wrapped his arms around both of them, his chin resting on Daisy’s head.

"We did it," he whispered. "No more running, Daisy."

"No more running," she agreed, looking up as her family descended on them.

The Lighthouse wasn't exactly known for its ambiance—usually, it smelled like ozone and recycled air—but tonight, it felt like the warmest place on Earth. Fitz and Simmons had gone all out, transforming the main lounge into a makeshift ballroom with "floating" bioluminescent lanterns that Simmons had engineered specifically for the occasion.

In the center of the room stood a giant cake that Mack had insisted on getting from the best bakery in the city. It was topped with three little figures: a woman with a tactical vest, a man with a classic fedora, and a little girl holding a laptop.

The music was a chaotic mix of 1940s swing—Daniel's contribution—and the indie-rock playlist Daisy had curated.

Kora stood by the punch bowl, watching the scene with a soft expression. She caught Daisy’s eye and raised a glass. "You know, technically this makes me the 'cool aunt' who teaches her how to use her powers in secret," she teased.

"Don't you dare," Daisy laughed, leaning against Daniel. "I’ve already got May for the discipline and Yo-Yo for the speed. I don't need a telepath who also knows how to manipulate energy bursts."

Across the room, Alya was dragging Ella toward the science lab. "Come on! My dad says the monkeys aren't real, but I think we can find them!" Ella giggled, her hands moving in rapid-fire ASL as she tried to keep up with the younger girl's energy.

As the party roared on, Coulson drifted over to where Daisy and Daniel were sitting. He looked older in the soft light, but his eyes were bright.

"I have something for you," he said, handing Daisy a small, weathered leather box. "It’s not a SHIELD gadget. It’s a piece of history."

Daisy opened it to find a small, silver pin—a vintage SSR insignia. "This was on the desk of a friend of mine," Coulson said, glancing at Daniel. "It represents the beginning of everything we built. It’s for Ella. To remind her that she comes from a long line of people who never gave up."

Daisy felt the familiar sting of tears. "Thank you, Phil. For everything. Especially for the 'National Security' save in court today."

"I wasn't lying," Coulson winked. "Sousa is a man of rare vintage."

Later that night, after the cake had been devoured and the lanterns began to dim, Daisy found Ella sitting on the edge of the hangar bay overlook, staring out at the stars through the massive reinforced glass.

Daisy sat down beside her, the cold metal of the floor a sharp contrast to the warmth of the party behind them. Ella leaned her head on Daisy's shoulder and reached out, touching Daisy's hand.

"Is it forever now?" Ella's thought echoed in Daisy's mind, soft and hopeful.

Daisy pulled her closer, the vibration of her own heart steady and strong. "Forever. No more social workers, no more nuns, no more temporary foster families. Just us. Our family."

Daniel stepped out of the shadows, carrying two mugs of hot cocoa. He handed one to each of them and sat on Ella's other side. He didn't need telepathy to know what they were thinking. He just looked out at the stars, his arm around his daughter and his hand in his wife’s.

"I think tomorrow," Daniel said, "we should go to the park. No missions, no training, no hackers. Just a dad, a mom, and a kid who needs to learn how to fly a kite."

Ella signed “Yes” with a grin, and for the first time in her life, Daisy Johnson didn't feel like she was waiting for the other shoe to drop. She was home.

Chapter Text

The Zephyr was cruising through the silent vacuum of space, the low hum of the engines providing a steady bassline to the quiet of the night shift. In the cockpit, the stars stretched out like a canvas of possibilities. Mack was at the helm, his large hands steady on the controls, while Daniel Sousa sat in the co-pilot’s chair, staring at a navigation readout he only half-understood.

Mack glanced over at the man from 1955. Sousa was a good man—sturdy, reliable, and possessed a brand of integrity that was hard to find in any century. But Mack also had eyes. He’d seen the way Sousa looked at Daisy when she wasn't looking, and more importantly, the way Daisy seemed to breathe a little easier whenever Daniel was in the room.

"You know, Sousa," Mack started, his voice a deep rumble that vibrated in the small space. "I’ve been waiting for you to make a move. Or at least declare an intention."

Daniel blinked, caught off guard. "I... beg your pardon?"

"Daisy," Mack said simply. "If you don't have any intentions, you might want to get some fast. Because life on this ship moves at terminal velocity, and a woman like her? She doesn't wait around for the scenery to change."

Daniel went quiet. He shifted in his seat, his gaze drifting toward the back of the jet. Through the glass partition of the cockpit, he could see Daisy in the common area. She was hunched over a tablet, a stray lock of dark hair falling over her face, her brow furrowed in that concentrated way that always made his heart skip a beat.

"She’s remarkable, isn't she?" Daniel said softly, almost to himself. A small, helpless smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "I’ve met a lot of 'strong' women in my time, Mack. Most of them had to grow a thick skin just to be heard. But Daisy... she’s different. She’s got this fire in her that could level a building, but she uses it to keep everyone else warm."

Mack leaned back, crossing his arms over his chest, listening with a knowing glint in his eyes.

"She’s been through more than anyone should have to endure," Daniel continued, his voice gaining momentum as he rambled. "Betrayal, loss, literal planets falling apart... and yet, she still looks for the good. She’s brilliant, she’s quick-witted, and she has this way of making me feel like I’m not just a man out of time, but a man who actually belongs somewhere. I’ve never seen anyone fight with as much heart as she does."

Daniel finally stopped, realizing he’d been talking for nearly two minutes straight. He cleared his throat, looking slightly sheepish. "So, yeah. Intentions. I’d say I have a few."

Mack’s smile grew, but then it leveled out into something more serious. He turned his chair fully toward Daniel.

"I like you, Sousa. I really do," Mack said, his tone shifting to that of a protective older brother. "And I’m pushing for this. I want her to be happy. God knows she’s earned it. But you need to understand something."

Daniel straightened up, sensing the weight of the moment.

"Daisy is like a sister to me," Mack stated, his gaze piercing. "And she’s got a whole family on this ship—May, Coulson, Fitz, Simmons—who feel the same way. If you hurt her, if you break that heart she’s worked so hard to put back together... well, there isn't a corner of time or space where I won't find you. And trust me, I’m much harder to deal with than a bunch of Hydra goons."

Daniel didn't flinch, but he did raise his hands in a mock-defensive gesture, a small chuckle escaping him.

"Duly noted, Director," Daniel said, his expression turning sincere. "But you have my word. I wouldn't dream of hurting her. I’ve spent my life trying to protect people like her; I’m certainly not going to be the one she needs protection from."

He glanced back at Daisy one more time, his smile returning.

"Besides," Daniel added jokingly, "have you seen her in a fight? Between the two of us, she’s probably a lot stronger than I am. If I step out of line, she’ll likely blast me into the next quadrant before you even get the chance to find your shotgun-axe."

Mack laughed, a deep, hearty sound that filled the cockpit. He clapped Daniel on the shoulder with a hand the size of a dinner plate.

"Fair point, Sousa. Fair point. Just don't let the 'out-of-time' thing be an excuse. Go talk to her."

Chapter Text

Daniel took a steadying breath, smoothed out the front of his jacket, and gave Mack a sharp nod before heading into the common area.

The transition from the cool, dim cockpit to the bright light of the lounge made him squint. Daisy was still there, exactly as she had been—engrossed in code, her fingers flying across the holographic interface. She looked like a force of nature even when she was just sitting down.

"You know, the Director says staring is impolite," Daisy said without looking up. A playful smirk played on her lips. "Even for men from the fifties."

Daniel felt the heat creep up his neck. "Is it staring if I’m admiring the craftsmanship? That’s a lot of glowing boxes, Daisy."

She finally looked up, swiping the holographic screens into a neat pile and turning her chair to face him. The sharp, focused "Quake" persona softened, replaced by the tired, genuine warmth she only showed the people she trusted. "It’s a satellite sweep. Boring stuff. You look like you just got a lecture from the Principal."

"More like a 'big brother' talk," Daniel admitted, leaning against the table next to her. He didn't have a suave line ready. In 1947, he might have relied on a bit of old-fashioned charm, but with Daisy, honesty was the only currency that mattered. "Mack wanted to make sure my intentions were... properly calibrated."

Daisy tilted her head, her dark eyes searching his. The humor in her expression faded into something more vulnerable. "And? Are they?"

Daniel reached out, his hand hesitating for a fraction of a second before he let his fingers brush against hers. "I told him that I’ve spent a lot of my life looking for a reason to stay in one place. I think I finally found one."

Daisy stayed silent, her gaze dropping to their joined hands. For a woman who could move mountains, she looked remarkably small in that moment. "Daniel, my life is... it’s a lot. It’s a mess of timelines and powers and people constantly trying to take pieces of me."

"I’m a man who survived a war and woke up in the future, Daisy. I’m not exactly looking for a quiet life in the suburbs," Daniel said softly. He stepped closer, closing the gap between them. "I’m looking for the woman who makes this whole crazy universe make sense. That’s you."

Daisy looked up, her eyes shimmering. She didn't say anything at first. Instead, she stood up and wrapped her arms around his waist, burying her face in his chest. Daniel held her tight, resting his chin on the top of her head, feeling the tension bleed out of her shoulders.

"Mack’s right about one thing," she whispered into his shirt, her voice muffled but clear. "If you hurt me, he’ll kill you."

Daniel chuckled, the sound rumbling through his chest. "I’m well aware. But honestly? I’m more worried about you. I saw what you did to that Chronicom hunter. I’ll stay on my best behavior."

Daisy pulled back just enough to look at him, a genuine, glowing smile breaking across her face. "Smart man, Sousa."

She reached up, tangling her fingers in the lapel of his jacket, and pulled him down for a kiss that felt like a fixed point in a spinning world.

Up in the cockpit, Mack watched the feed on a small monitor, a satisfied grin on his face. He reached over and tapped the comms. "Hey, D? Don't forget we have a mission briefing in ten minutes. Try to keep the 'intentions' to a minimum until we finish the sweep."

Daisy pulled away, laughing as she flipped a middle finger toward the cockpit camera without looking. "Love you too, Mack!"

Chapter Text

The air in the secure server room was thick with the hum of high-powered cooling fans and the faint smell of ozone. Daisy sat cross-legged on the floor, her fingers flying across a translucent keyboard as she tore through Hydra’s encrypted firewalls.

Suddenly, the silence of the corridor outside was shattered. Gunfire, the rhythmic thud of bodies hitting concrete, and the unmistakable sizzle of electricity echoed through the vents.

Daisy pressed her hand to her ear, tapping her comms. "May? Mack? There’s a lot of noise outside my door. Do I need to drop the hack and come clear the hallway?"

May’s voice came back, calm as ever, though there was a hint of strain. "Stay on the data, Daisy. We’ve got a situation. Another team was sent in on the same intel—they’re friendlies, but they aren't looped in on our 'ghost' status. Stay out of sight. We don't want to explain why the director is currently walking and talking."

"Copy that," Daisy muttered, turning back to the screen. "Ghost mode it is."

She reached the final layer of encryption. 98%... 99%... The heavy reinforced door behind her hissed open. Daisy didn't hesitate. She rolled to her left, her hand outstretched to send a focused kinetic pulse at the intruder. But she froze mid-motion.

Standing in the doorway, bathed in the red emergency lights of the hallway, was Natasha Romanoff. The Black Widow had her glock raised, her crimson hair slightly disheveled, looking every bit the world-class assassin she was.

Daisy’s jaw practically hit the floor. Her hand dropped, the vibration in her palms fizzling out. "Oh my god," she breathed. "You’re... you’re her. The Black Widow. The actual Black Widow."

Natasha lowered her weapon slightly, her sharp eyes taking in the glowing gauntlets on Daisy’s arms and the sophisticated SHIELD tech on the floor. A small, amused smile tugged at the corner of her lips. "And you’re the one who just bypassed a 128-bit Hydra encryption in under four minutes. I was wondering who was beating me to the punch."

"I—uh, yeah. Daisy. I mean, Quake. I mean, hi," Daisy stammered, her usual snark completely evaporated by a massive wave of fangirl adrenaline. "I’ve followed your work. Since, like, the 'Big Three' era. You’re a legend."

Natasha walked into the room with feline grace, checking the corners. "I’ve heard whispers about you, Daisy. The 'Seismic Specialist.' Those are some impressive skills you’ve got." She glanced at the screen. "And your hacking? Even Stark says you’re a nuisance to his firewalls. That’s a compliment, by the way."

Daisy felt like she might float away. "Stark knows I exist?"

"Hard not to notice when you shake a building," Natasha said, her voice dropping into a more serious tone as she heard heavy footsteps approaching the room. She looked at Daisy and winked. "We should spar sometime. If you think you can keep up without the vibrations."

"In a heartbeat," Daisy grinned, the fan-girling finally settling into combat readiness.

The door was kicked open by a squad of six Hydra agents in full tactical gear.

"Data's at a hundred percent!" Daisy shouted, grabbing the drive. "Ready to play?"

"Don't get in my way," Natasha replied.

It was a symphony of violence. Natasha was a blur of black and red, moving with a gymnastic lethality that made it look like she was dancing. Daisy provided the percussion, using short, controlled bursts to throw agents into walls and shatter their weapons before they could fire.

At one point, an agent tried to sneak up behind Natasha. Without looking, Daisy flicked her wrist, sending a concentrated wave that knocked the man clean across the room. Natasha didn't even skip a beat, using the man’s airborne body as a stepping stone to deliver a flying knee to another guard.

Within seconds, the room was silent again.

Natasha holstered her stingers and looked at Daisy, who was slightly out of breath but wearing a triumphant smile. "Nice assist, kid."

"Anytime, Nat," Daisy said, then immediately blushed. "Can I call you Nat? Is that too much? That was probably too much."

Natasha laughed—a low, genuine sound—and headed for the door. "Get your team out of here before the Avengers' cleanup crew arrives."

As Natasha disappeared into the smoke of the hallway, Daisy leaned back against the server rack, clutching the data drive to her chest.

"May?" Daisy whispered into her comms. "I'm never washing this tactical vest again."

Chapter Text

The atmosphere on the Zephyr's cargo deck wasn't just tense; it was radioactive.

Natasha stood in the center of the bay, her arms crossed, her eyes like chips of ice. Opposite her stood Coulson, looking uncharacteristically guilty, and May, who was as stoic as a stone wall.

"How long, Phil?" Natasha’s voice was a low, dangerous silk. "How long have you been playing ghost while we were mourning you? While we were falling apart?"

"Nat, it's complicated," Coulson started, his hands held out in a placating gesture. "The T.A.H.I.T.I. project, the memory wipes—I wasn't even 'me' for a long time."

"He was dead," May interjected, her voice sharp. "Then he wasn't. It wasn't a choice he made to keep you in the dark, Romanoff. It was a SHIELD directive."

"And you just followed orders? Since when do you care about the manual, Melinda?" Natasha snapped. The air felt like it was about to catch fire.

The sliding doors hissed open, and Daisy walked in, bouncing on the balls of her feet. "Hey, guys! I just finished the—" She stopped dead, sensing the localized storm. "Oh. Are we... are we having a moment?"

Natasha turned her gaze to Daisy. The anger was still there, buzzing under the surface, and the spy clearly needed an outlet before she actually punched Coulson in his revived face.

"Daisy," Natasha said, her voice Tightening. "You mentioned a spar. Is the offer still open?"

Daisy’s eyes widened to the size of dinner plates. "Wait, seriously? Right now? I mean, I’m wearing my training gear, so—yes. Absolutely. A thousand times yes."

"No," May said instantly.

Natasha tilted her head, a smirk finally touching her lips—though it didn't reach her eyes. "What’s the matter, May? Afraid I’ll break your protege? Or are you just getting soft in your old age? I didn't realize 'The Cavalry' had a 'Mother Hen' setting."

May’s jaw tightened. She looked at Daisy, who was looking back with the most pathetic, pleading "puppy-dog" eyes in history.

"She’s not a porcelain doll, Natasha," May said, her voice dropping an octave. "She’s been training with me for years. She’s probably the most dangerous person on this ship."

"Then let's see it," Nat challenged.

May sighed, the sound of a woman who knew she’d lost this round. "Fine. But I supervise. No gear, no powers. Just hand-to-hand. If I see a Widow's Bite or a seismic tremor, I’m calling it."

The team had gathered on the upper balcony. Mack and Yo-Yo were leaning on the railing, while Fitz and Simmons looked on with a mix of excitement and terror.

In the center of the mat, Daisy and Natasha circled each other. Natasha was all fluid, lethal grace—a cobra waiting to strike. Daisy was more grounded, her stance a perfect mirror of May’s disciplined Tai Chi mixed with her own street-fighter unpredictability.

Natasha moved first, a blur of speed. She threw a high kick that Daisy parried with a textbook forearm block, immediately followed by a sweeping low kick that Daisy hopped over with a grin.

"Not bad," Natasha noted, launching a flurry of jabs.

Daisy slipped the first two, deflected the third, and caught Natasha’s wrist on the fourth, using the assassin’s own momentum to attempt a shoulder throw. Natasha rolled out of it mid-air, landing on her feet and immediately diving back in.

The sound of flesh hitting flesh echoed through the bay. Daisy wasn't just "holding her own"—she was anticipating. She’d spent years fighting Kree, Chronicoms, and May herself. She knew how to read a body.

When Natasha tried her signature head-scissors takedown, Daisy dropped her center of gravity, caught Natasha’s waist, and pivoted, turning the move into a stalemate that left them both panting and grinning.

"Okay, okay," Natasha breathed, stepping back and wiping a bead of sweat from her forehead. She looked at May, who was leaning against a crate with a look of suppressed pride. "You weren't kidding. She moves exactly like you. Only... she’s faster."

"She had a good teacher," Daisy panted, giving May a wink.

Natasha looked at Daisy with a new level of respect. The anger from earlier had been replaced by the camaraderie of the craft. "You've got a hell of a girl here, Phil," she called out to Coulson.

She then turned back to Daisy. "Next time, we use the gauntlets. I want to see what 'Quake' can really do."

Daisy beamed, her inner fangirl screaming. "It's a date."

Chapter Text

The galley of the Zephyr was filled with the unusual scent of something other than protein bars and localized dread. Mack had whipped up a massive spread of tacos—the universal peace offering—and everyone was crammed around the long table.

Natasha sat across from Daisy, leaning back with a glass of wine, her eyes tracking the younger woman with a playful, predatory curiosity. The tension from earlier hadn't disappeared, but it had shifted into something much more interesting.

"So," Natasha said, her voice a low purr as she looked at Daisy. "The legendary Quake. You know, I checked the SHIELD database while we were eating. Your file is about 80% redacted, 10% 'Extinction Level Threat,' and 10% 'Mary Sue Poots.'"

Daisy nearly choked on her taco, her face turning a spectacular shade of crimson. "We do not talk about the Poots name. That is a classified secret, Romanoff."

"I don't know," Nat teased, leaning forward, her chin resting on her hand. "I think it’s cute. In a 'I-could-vibrate-your-heart-to-pieces' kind of way. You're full of surprises, Daisy. Usually, hackers are pale and afraid of the sun. You’re... significantly more athletic."

Daisy took a long, nervous sip of her water. "Well, you know. Running from the government keeps the cardio up. And having May as a trainer is basically like living in a perpetual boot camp."

Natasha let her gaze drift toward May and Coulson, who were sitting at the head of the table. Coulson was currently fussing over the spice level of May’s food, and May was stoically accepting a second helping of salsa that she clearly didn't want but was taking anyway just to make him happy.

"It’s actually adorable," Natasha noted, her smirk widening. "I’ve seen the Avengers handle cosmic threats, but I’ve never seen anything as intense as the 'Mom and Dad' energy coming off you two. Do you give her a curfew, Phil? Does Melinda check her gauntlets for scuff marks before she goes out to play?"

May didn't look up from her plate. "I check them for structural integrity. And she knows better than to be late for morning drills."

"She’s a grown woman, Nat," Coulson added, though he was busy cutting a piece of lime for Daisy’s plate without her even asking.

"Right," Natasha chuckled. "A grown woman who you both look at like she’s the center of the solar system. I’ve seen May take out a floor of mercenaries without blinking, but the moment I landed a solid kick on Daisy during our spar, May’s hand went straight for her knife. It’s sweet. Terrifying, but sweet."

Daisy groaned, burying her face in her hands. "Please stop. I’m an international secret agent. I have a reputation."

"A reputation for being a very talented, very pretty 'nuisance' to the world order," Natasha corrected, reaching across the table to move a stray strand of hair behind Daisy’s ear. Her fingers lingered just a second too long for it to be accidental. "I think I like having you in the family, Daisy. Even if the parents are a bit overprotective."

Coulson cleared his throat, suddenly looking very much like a man ready to give the "intentions" talk again, while May’s eyes narrowed just a fraction.

"Anyway," Natasha said, sensing the parental sensors spiking. "Tell me the rest. How did the 'Great Phil Coulson' go from a bloody Captain America trading card to a flying secret base in the sky? I want the version that isn't in the redacted files."

As Coulson began the long, winding tale of T.A.H.I.T.I. and the guest house, Daisy felt Natasha’s foot nudge hers under the table. She looked up to find the Black Widow giving her a slow, conspiratorial wink.

"Don't worry, Poots," Nat whispered over the rim of her glass. "Your secret’s safe with me. For a price."

"And what's that?" Daisy asked, her heart doing a weird little somersault.

"Breakfast," Nat replied. "And a rematch. With the gauntlets."

The morning sun hadn't quite cleared the horizon when the Zephyr’s training room hummed to life. The air was cool and smelled of floor wax and the faint, metallic tang of the hangar bay.

Natasha arrived in charcoal grey leggings and a simple tank top, her movements as quiet as a ghost. She took a spot to the left of Daisy, mirroring the synchronized flow of May’s opening form. The three women moved in a silent, fluid triptych: May was the mountain, steady and unyielding; Daisy was the river, shifting and resonant; and Natasha was the wind, effortless and deceptive.

"You're a little stiff in the shoulders, Romanoff," May noted, her eyes closed as she transitioned into a crane stance. "Too much tension from the 'mom and dad' talk?"

Natasha let out a soft huff of a laugh, her gaze flickering to Daisy’s focused profile. "Just admiring the view, Melinda. It’s a lot more interesting than a Stark Tower gym."

Daisy felt a flush that had nothing to do with the exercise. As soon as May called the session to an end and headed for the showers—muttering something about Coulson and a broken toaster—Natasha caught Daisy’s eye with a wicked glint.

"So," Nat whispered, her voice a low, inviting challenge. "Rematch? Before the chaperones get back?"

They retreated to the lower containment room—the "Cage." It was soundproofed and reinforced, the perfect place for two of the world's most dangerous women to play.

Daisy snapped her gauntlets into place, the familiar hum of the servos vibrating against her forearms. Natasha adjusted her Widow’s Bites, the blue glow of the capacitors humming in response.

"No holding back?" Daisy asked, her stance widening.

"Please," Nat smirked. "I don't play well with others."

It wasn't a spar; it was a conversation in kinetic energy. Natasha moved with terrifying speed, a blur of strikes and grappling attempts. Daisy didn't just block; she sent out micro-bursts of vibration, creating a "cushion" of air that threw Natasha off-balance just enough to counter.

When Nat lunged, Daisy dropped low and sent a focused pulse at the floor. The shockwave sent Natasha vaulting over Daisy’s head. Mid-air, Nat fired a non-lethal stinger. Daisy felt the sizzle of the blue bolt graze her shoulder, the static making the hair on her arms stand up.

"Missed me," Daisy teased, spinning to catch Natasha in a waist lock.

"Did I?" Nat whispered, her breath warm against Daisy’s ear as she used the momentum to flip them both. They tumbled across the mats, a tangle of limbs and laughter, ending with Natasha pinned beneath Daisy, their faces inches apart.

The air between them was thick with more than just exertion. Daisy’s hands were still vibrating slightly, the resonance thrumming through Natasha’s chest.

"You're very loud, Daisy Johnson," Natasha murmured, her eyes dropping to Daisy's lips. "Even when you aren't saying anything."

"And you're very—"

"Disobedient."

The voice was like a bucket of ice water.

May stood in the doorway, her arms crossed, her face a mask of legendary disapproval. Behind her, Coulson looked like he was trying to hide a disappointed sigh behind a tablet.

"Out," May commanded.

Five minutes later, Daisy and Natasha were lined up against the wall like two teenagers caught sneaking out past curfew. May paced in front of them, her boots clicking sharply on the metal floor.

"You used tech in a closed environment without a safety tech on standby," May lectured, her gaze boring into Daisy. "You risked a structural breach. And you," she turned to Natasha, "should know better than to encourage her. She’s impulsive enough without an Avenger egging her on."

Natasha was trying to look appropriately chastened. She really was. But every time May used that stern, parental tone, Nat’s eyes would drift to the side, catching the way Daisy’s hair was a mess or the way she was biting her lip to keep from grinning.

"It was a controlled test of variables, Melinda," Nat said, her voice smooth despite the scolding.

"It was a mess," May snapped. "Go. Both of you. Before I put you on kitchen duty for a month."

As they hurried out of the room, Natasha leaned in close to Daisy, her shoulder brushing against the younger girl’s. The lecture was already a distant memory.

"I think we need to get off this ship," Natasha whispered, her voice full of mischief. "I saw a diner about five miles from the landing strip. They have the worst coffee and the best pancakes in the state. No directors, no 'moms,' and definitely no red tape."

Daisy beamed, her heart doing that dizzying somersault again. "Is the Black Widow asking me on a date?"

"I'm asking if you're brave enough to go," Nat winked, heading toward the extraction hatch. "Bring a jacket, Poots. It’s a long walk."

Chapter Text

Chapter Text

The facility was located deep in the Siberian tundra, a jagged concrete tooth rising out of the permafrost. On paper, it was a decommissioned Soviet weather station; in reality, it was something far worse.

Daisy and Natasha moved through the ventilation ducts with practiced silence. Below them, the sterile white halls were populated by scientists in lead-lined coats and guards carrying sonic dampeners.

"Visual on the central hub," Daisy whispered into her comms. She adjusted her goggles, the orange HUD highlighting the heat signatures below. "Nat, it’s not just Hydra. I’m seeing architecture that looks like… the Red Room."

Beside her, Natasha’s breath hitched—a sound so small only Daisy’s enhanced hearing could catch it. The Black Widow’s eyes were hard, fixed on the bunk beds visible through the grate. They weren't beds; they were metal slats with leather restraints.

"They're trying to combine the Widow program with Inhuman catalysts," Natasha said, her voice like shards of ice. "They want soldiers who don't just have the skills, but the biology to back it up."

"Not on our watch," Daisy replied, her hands already beginning to hum.

They dropped from the ceiling like twin shadows. Natasha was a whirlwind of steel and precision, her batons sparking as she neutralized the guards. Daisy provided the heavy artillery, her seismic pulses slamming into the reinforced doors and sending the scientists sprawling.

They reached the final chamber—the "Processing Ward." Inside, a dozen young girls, none older than ten, sat on the floor. In the center was a girl with glowing white eyes, her hands pressed to her ears.

"Get them out!" one of the scientists screamed, clutching a remote. "She's peaking!"

The girl let out a silent scream. It wasn't sound; it was a sensory supernova. A wave of raw, psychic energy flooded the room. For Daisy, it felt like a static shock, but for Natasha, whose mind had been fractured and rebuilt by the Red Room years ago, the effect was catastrophic.

Natasha’s batons clattered to the floor. Her eyes went wide and vacant as the girl’s power forced her into a feedback loop of her own trauma. She was back in the dark, back in the chair, the smell of burnt hair and winter air filling her senses.

"Nat! Natasha, look at me!" Daisy shouted, rushing to her side.

Natasha didn't see her. She lashed out blindly, her movements erratic and fueled by a decade of repressed fear. Outside, the alarms blared. More guards were coming.

Daisy realized she couldn't fight Natasha, and she couldn't stop the guards while the young Inhuman girl was still screaming. She had to ground them both.

"Kid, look at me!" Daisy called out to the girl. She knelt down, placing her hands flat on the cold concrete floor. "I know it’s loud! I know the world feels like it's shaking! But I can help you find the frequency!"

Daisy didn't blast. Instead, she let out a low-frequency vibration, a steady, rhythmic thrum that mimicked a heartbeat. She tuned the room, canceling out the chaotic psychic noise with a physical resonance that acted like a weighted blanket for the brain.

The glowing light in the girl's eyes dimmed. She began to breathe in time with the vibration Daisy was creating.

Natasha gasped, her knees hitting the floor. The "Red Room" faded away, replaced by the sight of Daisy—sweating, focused, and shielding her with her own body.

"Daisy?" Nat rasped, her hand trembling as she reached for her weapon.

"I've got you," Daisy said, her voice strained from the effort of holding the frequency. "I've got all of you. Get the kids, Nat. I'll hold the door."

Natasha didn't hesitate. The assassin was gone, replaced by a woman who knew exactly what those girls were feeling. She gathered them up, her touch surprisingly gentle, and led them toward the extraction point.

Back on the Zephyr, the medical bay was crowded. Simmons was checking the children for vitals, while Coulson was handing out juice boxes and trying to explain that a "flying bus" was perfectly normal.

Daisy found Natasha in the hangar bay, sitting on the edge of the open ramp. The wind whipped her red hair, but she didn't seem to notice.

"I found them," Daisy said quietly, sitting down next to her. She held out a tablet. "The scientists tried to wipe their records, but they didn't account for me. Every girl. Name, birth date, parents' locations. They aren't numbers anymore, Nat."

Natasha took the tablet, her fingers brushing Daisy’s. She looked at the first profile—a girl named Elena—and let out a shaky breath.

"You saved me back there," Nat said, looking at Daisy with an intensity that made the younger woman's heart skip. "Not just from the guards. From the dark."

"You would have done the same for me," Daisy replied, leaning her shoulder against Nat’s. "Actually, you have done the same for me. Every time you tease me about my name, it keeps me grounded."

Natasha smiled, a real, soft expression. She looked back at the main cabin, where May was standing guard by the door and Coulson was accidentally knocking over a tray of snacks.

"Look at them," Nat whispered, nudging Daisy. "Melinda looks like she’s ready to assign those kids a 5-mile run, and Phil is one step away from buying them all suits."

"They're doing their best," Daisy laughed.

"Maybe," Nat said, her voice dropping into that playful, flirty purr. "But you and I? We'd make much better, much hotter parents. We’ve already got the 'good cop, bad cop' routine down. And I think Elena already likes you more than she likes Coulson."

Daisy blushed, her hands vibrating just enough to be noticed. "Is the Black Widow suggesting we start a family? Because I think we should start with a second date first."

"Consider this the second date," Nat said, leaning her head on Daisy’s shoulder. "Saving the world is a classic Romanoff-Johnson romantic outing."

Chapter Text

The med-bay of the Zephyr had been transformed into a chaotic makeshift daycare. Most of the girls had fallen into a deep, exhausted sleep, but little Elena—the one whose powers had nearly leveled the facility—was wide awake and vibrating with nervous energy.

Daisy was sitting on the edge of Elena’s cot, using a handheld projector to create low-light holographic stars on the ceiling. She was explaining the orbital mechanics of the solar system, but in a way that sounded like a fairy tale.

"And that one's Saturn," Daisy whispered, her voice a soothing lilt. "He’s the shy one, so he wears big rings so people don't get too close. Kind of like how I use my gauntlets."

Natasha was sitting right behind Daisy, her chin resting on Daisy’s shoulder as she helped hold the projector steady. She was humming a low, Russian lullaby—the same one she’d once been forced to memorize for a mission, but now, the words were filled with a protective warmth.

"If she gets scared again," Natasha murmured, her breath ghosting over Daisy's ear, "we’ll just teach her how to redirect that energy. She’s got the spark, Daisy. She just needs a steady hand to hold."

"She’s got us," Daisy replied, turning her head slightly so her nose brushed against Natasha’s. "We’re the steadiest hands on this ship. Mostly."

Natasha chuckled, her arm sliding around Daisy’s waist to pull her closer. "Speak for yourself, Poots. You’re the one who vibrates when you’re flustered."

"I am not—"

"Is there a reason the internal sensors are reporting localized seismic activity in the med-bay?"

The voice was like a crack of a whip.

Daisy and Natasha practically jumped out of their skins. Daisy fumbled the projector, causing the holographic stars to spin wildly across the room like a disco ball, while Natasha instinctively went for a combat knife that wasn't there.

May was standing in the doorway, her arms crossed over her chest, looking between the two of them with an expression that sat somewhere between 'deeply unimpressed' and 'alarmingly observant.' Behind her, Coulson poked his head in, holding a stack of coloring books.

"We were just... settling the asset," Natasha said, recovering her cool with terrifying speed. She didn't move her arm from Daisy’s waist, though. If anything, she pulled her a little tighter.

"The 'asset' is eight years old and currently wearing your tactical jacket as a blanket," May noted, her gaze dropping to where Elena was indeed cocooned in Natasha’s high-grade Kevlar.

"She was cold," Daisy squeaked, trying to ignore the heat rising in her cheeks. "And Nat’s humming was... structurally sound for the room's acoustics."

May stepped into the room, her boots silent on the floor. She looked at the two of them—Daisy’s hair a mess, Natasha’s guard completely dropped—and then at the sleeping children. She leaned over and adjusted the blanket on the girl in the next cot with a practiced, gentle efficiency that she would never admit to.

"You're hovering," May said, looking back at Daisy and Nat. "You’ve gone from 'Special Ops' to 'PTA Meeting' in record time. If I didn't know better, I’d say you two were auditioning for a domestic life."

"Well, they do say the family that saves the world together, stays together," Coulson chirped from the doorway, beaming. "I think it’s great. Very healthy for the team dynamic."

"Phil, don't encourage them," May warned, though the edge in her voice had softened. She looked at Natasha. "Romanoff, try not to teach the kids how to pick locks before breakfast. And Daisy? Stop vibrating. You’re making the IV stands rattle."

"Yes, ma'am," Daisy mumbled.

May turned to leave, but stopped at the door. She didn't look back, but her voice was clear. "You’re doing a good job. Both of you. They feel safe."

As the door hissed shut behind May and Coulson, Natasha let out a long breath and leaned her forehead against Daisy’s.

"See?" Nat whispered. "Even the Cavalry thinks we’re a natural fit. Though I think she’s just jealous she didn't get to give the 'Stark Industries' talk first."

Daisy laughed, the tension breaking. She looked at Elena, then back at the woman who had fought through a lifetime of ghosts to stand beside her. "I think I could get used to this. The parenting thing. As long as you're the one dealing with the 'pick-locking' phase."

"Deal," Nat smiled, pulling Daisy into a soft, lingering kiss. "But only if you handle the teenage rebellion. I don't think the world is ready for a kid who can hack the Pentagon and shake a building."

Chapter Text

The air in the Hunan province was thick with the scent of smoke and charred earth. The village was silent—a haunting, heavy silence that followed the storm of a high-level redacted skirmish.

Melinda May moved through the ruins with surgical precision, her weapon raised. Behind her, Phil Coulson scanned the perimeter, his usual lighthearted banter replaced by a grim, focused intensity. They were here for an 0-8-4—an object of unknown origin.

They found the "object" tucked beneath the floorboards of a collapsed medical clinic. It wasn't a device or a weapon.

It was a baby.

She was wrapped in a blood-stained silk blanket, her wide, dark eyes staring up at them without a single cry. The chaos that had leveled this village—the death of every agent sent before them—had been centered entirely on her.

"Phil," May whispered, her voice tight as she lowered her guard. "It’s a child."

Coulson knelt down, his fingers trembling slightly as he reached into the dark. The moment the infant’s tiny hand curled around his index finger, something in his expression shifted. The seasoned field agent vanished, replaced by a man looking at a miracle.

"She’s the 0-8-4," he murmured. "Everyone died protecting her... or trying to take her."

"We have to call it in," May said, though she didn't move. Her mind was already running through the protocols: Recovery. Containment. Evaluation. "The transition team is twenty minutes out. They’ll take her to a secure facility for testing."

"Testing?" Coulson looked up, his eyes uncharacteristically fierce. "She’s not a lab rat, Melinda. Look at the reports. This village was wiped off the map. If we put her in the system, Hydra or whatever did this will find her in twenty-four hours."

"We are SHIELD agents, Phil. We follow the directive." May’s voice was steady, but her eyes lingered on the baby’s face. The child didn't look like a threat; she looked like a soul that had seen too much.

"The directive is to protect," Coulson countered. He lifted the baby, cradling her against his tactical vest. She let out a tiny, soft coo and tucked her head into the crook of his neck. "If we hand her over, she’s a ghost. She’ll be a number in a file until someone decides she’s too dangerous to keep."

May looked at the smoke rising from the horizon. She thought about the cold, grey walls of the academy. She thought about the "safety" SHIELD provided—a safety that often came at the cost of a life lived in a cage.

"Temporarily," May said, her voice dropping to a low, dangerous level. "Until we find a safe space. Somewhere the high-level clearances can't reach."

They didn't wait for the transition team. By the time the backup arrived, May and Coulson were gone, ghosting through the mountain passes toward a safe house only they knew about.

On the third night, sitting in a small, dimly lit cabin near the border, the reality set in. The baby was hungry, she was tired, and she was officially the most wanted person on the planet.

"We can't keep calling her the 0-8-4," Coulson said, rocking the girl back and forth. He had spent the last hour meticulously cleaning her face with a damp cloth. "The Intel says her parents called her Daisy. Daisy Johnson."

"That name is a beacon," May said, sitting at the table as she stripped and cleaned her handgun. "If we use it, we're leaving a trail of breadcrumbs for every sleeper agent in Asia. She needs a new identity. A complete scrub."

Coulson looked down at the baby. "What about Skye?" he suggested, looking out at the vast, open canopy of stars above the mountains. "No boundaries. No history. Just... Skye."

May paused, her hands still. She looked at the man who had been her partner for years, and then at the child who had somehow turned a massacre into a beginning.

"Skye," May agreed. She stood up and walked over, placing a hand on the baby’s head. "But she needs a surname that carries weight. Something that says she’s protected by the people who found her."

"Skye May-Coulson," Phil whispered.

The name felt right. It felt like a vow.

"This is a career-ender, you know," May said a few hours later, though she was currently clumsily warming a bottle of powdered formula. "Kidnapping an 0-8-4? We’ll be lucky if they only put us in the Fridge."

"I don't think I care," Coulson replied. He was watching Skye sleep in a makeshift crib made from a supply crate. "Look at her, Melinda. She’s not an object. She’s... ours."

The word hung in the air, heavy and transformative. They weren't just partners anymore. They weren't just agents.

Over the next few weeks, the "temporary" arrangement became their reality. May, the legendary "Cavalry," found herself mastering the art of the swaddle with the same precision she used for a combat takedown. Coulson, the master of bureaucracy, used every back-door hack and old favor to erase "Daisy Johnson" from the world, replacing her with a carefully woven web of "Skye."

They told themselves they were just waiting for the right moment to place her. But every time Skye laughed when Coulson made a face, or every time she fell asleep only when May was in the room, the lie became harder to tell.

She wasn't their mission. She was their daughter. And as May watched Phil walk Skye across the small cabin floor, she realized she would burn the world—and SHIELD—to the ground before she let anyone take her back.

"She’s starting to look like you," Coulson joked, noting the way Skye's tiny brow furrowed in concentration as she tried to grab his lanyard.

"She has your stubbornness," May shot back, a ghost of a smile appearing. "God help us when she’s a teenager."

Coulson beamed, kissing the top of Skye’s head. "She’ll be brilliant. Because she has the best teacher in the world."

They were agents of a secret organization, living on the run with a stolen 0-8-4. It was the most dangerous thing they had ever done—and for the first time in their lives, it was the only thing that mattered.

Chapter Text

By the time Skye was ten, the life of a "ghost" had been replaced by something remarkably close to stability. With the covert assistance of Delta Team—a group of specialists who owed Coulson more than a few favors—every trace of the 0-8-4 incident in China had been incinerated. The bloody footprints in the Hunan province were replaced by a pristine, ironclad digital history.

In the eyes of the world, she was Skye May-Coulson, born in a private clinic in Virginia.

The secret had been a heavy burden until Nick Fury cornered them in a secure bunker three years in. He’d looked at the toddler sleeping in a tactical carrier on May’s back and then at the two agents who were his best assets.

"I can keep a secret, Phil," Fury had growled, his one eye fixed on them. "But if she so much as sneezes near a Hydra node, she’s on me. This stays off the books. Officially, she doesn't exist to the World Security Council. Understood?"

They understood.

Their "home" was a fortified townhouse in the suburbs of D.C. It looked normal from the outside, but the basement was a state-of-the-art training facility. May spent hours teaching Skye how to fall, how to strike, and how to disappear into a crowd.

But while Skye respected her mother’s martial arts, her heart belonged to the "extracurriculars" provided by Aunty Nat.

Natasha Romanoff dropped by whenever she was in town, usually sliding through a second-story window just to keep May on her toes. She didn't bring dolls; she brought encrypted flash drives and logic puzzles.

"You're leaning on the brute-force attack again, Little Bird," Nat whispered one afternoon, leaning over Skye’s shoulder as the girl tried to bypass a DEO-level encryption. "Think like the person who built the wall. Find the ego, and you'll find the crack."

Skye’s eyes lit up, her fingers flying. "Found it! Aunty Nat, look! I’m into the thermal controls."

"Good," Nat smirked, ruffling the girl's hair. "Don't tell your mom I showed you that. She still thinks we're playing Minesweeper."

Later that night, after Skye had gone to bed (or, more likely, was under her covers with a tablet), May and Coulson sat in the kitchen. The air was thick with the scent of chamomile tea and the tension of a looming decision.

"She needs to go, Melinda," Phil said softly, sliding a brochure for a local private school across the table. "She’s ten. She needs friends who aren't world-class assassins or high-level technicians. She needs... normal."

May didn't even look at the brochure. Her gaze was fixed on the security monitors. "Normal is a luxury we can’t afford. You saw what she did today. She hacked a government-adjacent server before lunch. If she says the wrong thing to a teacher, or if a bully pushes her and she uses the counter-strike I taught her, the 'ghost' becomes a target."

"We trained her for a reason," Phil countered, his voice steady. "We gave her the tools to protect herself so she could live a life. If we keep her locked in this house, we aren't protecting her. We’re just keeping her in a different kind of cage."

May finally looked at him, her eyes bright with a rare, sharp flicker of fear. "If she’s at home, I know where the threats are. At a school? I can't vet every student, every parent, every janitor. One facial recognition scan from a rogue satellite and our life ends."

"Fury’s got the digital blinders up," Phil reminded her, reaching across the table to take her hand. "And Delta Team is monitoring the local grids. She’s safe, Melinda. But she’s lonely. She asked me today if other kids have to check for tailing cars before they go to the park."

May winced. The "parent" in her warred with the "agent." She looked toward the hallway where their daughter was sleeping.

"If she goes," May said, her voice dropping to a low vow, "I’m the one who does the morning drop-off. And I want a high-gain comms unit in her backpack disguised as a keychain."

Phil smiled, a look of immense relief washing over him. "Deal. I’ll even let you vet the principal."

"I already did," May muttered, finally picking up the brochure. "He has a parking ticket from 2012 he didn't pay. I don't like his lack of discipline."

Phil chuckled, squeezing her hand. "She’s going to be fine, Melinda. She’s a May-Coulson. The world won't know what hit it."

Chapter Text

The morning of the first day of school was not off to a heroic start. Skye was currently curled into a ball on her bed, her face buried in a pillow.

"I’m not going," her voice came out muffled but defiant. "You can’t make me. I’ll go into the crawlspace. You’ll never find me."

May leaned against the doorframe, her arms crossed. "I found a hidden Hydra base in a volcano, Skye. I think I can find a ten-year-old in a crawlspace."

Phil sat on the edge of the bed, gently rubbing Skye’s back. "What’s the real reason, honey? You’ve faced down Aunty Nat’s training simulations without blinking."

Skye turned her head just enough to look at them with one watery eye. "The simulations don't judge my outfit or tell me I’m weird. What if the other kids don't like me? What if I say something about 'encryption layers' and they think I'm a freak? I don't know how to be a normal kid, Dad. I only know how to be... this."

May’s heart twisted. She knelt by the bed, her voice softer than it ever was in the field. "Being 'normal' is just another undercover mission. You’re the best at those. Just observe first. Find your team."

When the black SUV pulled up to the curb at 3:00 PM, May was behind the wheel, her eyes scanning the playground like a hawk. Phil was in the passenger seat, tapping his fingers nervously on the dashboard.

Then, they saw her.

Skye didn't just walk out; she practically bounced. She was flanked by two other kids—a boy with curly hair and a sweater that looked three sizes too big, and a girl with a bright yellow headband who was talking a mile a minute.

Skye pulled the car door open, her face glowing. "Mom! Dad! You won't believe it!"

"You didn't have to use the emergency extraction signal," Phil noted, breathing a sigh of relief. "I take it it went well?"

"It was amazing!" Skye scrambled into her seat. "I met Leo and Jemma. Well, Fitz and Simmons. They’re so smart. Fitz saw my backpack—the one with the specialized wiring you did—and he knew exactly what kind of soldering I used! And Simmons knows everything about biology. We spent all of lunch talking about the chemical composition of the cafeteria mystery meat."

May caught Phil’s eye in the rearview mirror. The tension in her shoulders finally vanished. "You found your team," May said, a genuine smile tugging at her lips.

"I did!" Skye leaned forward, grabbing the back of the headrests. "Can they come over for a playdate? Like, tomorrow? Simmons wants to see my 'home lab'—which I told her was just a hobby kit—and Fitz wants to compare tablet processors."

"We'll have to vet the parents first," May said instinctively, though her tone was teasing.

"And," Skye added, her voice dropping to an excited whisper, "the principal called us into his office. Not because we were in trouble! He said our test scores were 'off the charts' and they want to move all three of us up to the advanced track. He said we’re a 'once-in-a-generation trio.'"

Phil beamed, his chest swelling with pride. "Advanced classes already? That’s my girl."

"Aunty Nat is going to be so smug," May muttered, though she couldn't hide her pride. "She’ll claim it’s the hacking lessons."

"It's the everything," Skye said, leaning back and looking out the window with a newfound confidence. "I think I’m going to like being a 'normal' kid."

As they drove away, May kept one eye on the road and one on her daughter. The "0-8-4" was long gone. In its place was a happy ten-year-old with a bright future and a "team" of her own. For the first time in her life, May felt like the mission was truly accomplished.

Chapter Text

The house on the outskirts of Des Moines smelled of stale cigarettes and floor wax that couldn't quite mask the damp. To the state of Iowa, it was a licensed foster home. To the three kids living inside, it was a prison where the guards were indifferent and the food was scarce.

"Mary Sue! Get down here and finish these dishes!" Mrs. Miller’s voice shrieked from the kitchen.

Seven-year-old Skye flinched, her small hands tightening around the tattered backpack she kept hidden under her bed. She hated that name. It was a label slapped on her by an orphanage that didn't care to look deeper, a name that felt like a heavy, itchy sweater she couldn't take off.

"Her name is Skye," a firm voice rang out from the doorway.

Clint Barton, twelve years old and already wearing the weary expression of a man twice his age, leaned against the frame. His brother, Barney, stood behind him, looking impatient. Clint had arrived at the Millers' six months before Skye, and from the moment the skinny, dark-haired girl had dropped onto the porch, he’d stepped into the gap as her self-appointed guardian.

"I don't care what the brat calls herself," Mr. Miller growled from the living room, not looking up from the television. "The paperwork says Mary Sue. Move it, girl."

Skye felt the familiar sting in her eyes, but before she could move, Clint was there. He walked past her, his hand briefly ruffling her hair—a silent signal of I’ve got you—and headed into the kitchen.

"I’ll do the dishes," Clint said, his voice level. "She’s got homework."

"She’s got chores," Miller countered.

"I'll do hers and mine," Clint insisted, his gaze unblinking. It was a trade he made daily: his labor for her peace.

Later that night, the house was silent except for the rhythmic snoring of the Millers. Barney pulled Clint into the shadows of the cramped hallway, his eyes bright with a desperate, frantic energy.

"We're leaving, Clint," Barney whispered. "Tonight. I swiped some cash from Miller’s wallet while he was passed out. We’re going to the city. We can find work at the circus, or the docks. Anywhere but here."

Clint’s heart hammered. He looked at the door to the room he shared with Barney, and then at the small, narrow closet-space where Skye slept.

"Okay," Clint said softly. "Let me wake her up."

Barney grabbed Clint’s arm, his grip bruising. "No. No kids, Clint. She’s seven. She’ll slow us down, she’ll cry, and she’ll get us caught within ten miles. This is a clean break."

"I'm not leaving her, Barney," Clint snapped, his voice a low hiss. "You saw how they treat her. If we leave, she’s the only one left for them to kick around. She’s our sister."

"She’s a foster kid we met six months ago!" Barney argued. "Look at me, Clint. It’s you and me. That’s the deal. Always has been. If you stay for her, you’re choosing a stranger over your own blood."

Clint looked at Barney—the brother who had protected him through the worst years of their lives. Then he looked at the door to Skye’s room. He thought about the way she looked at him when he fixed her broken toys, and the way she called him 'big brother' when the Millers weren't listening.

He walked to the door and pushed it open. Skye was already awake, sitting up in bed, her eyes wide with terror. She had heard everything.

"Clint?" she whispered, her voice trembling. "Are you going?"

Barney stood in the hallway, his bag over his shoulder, the front door a few feet behind him. "Last chance, Clint. I’m leaving now. With or without you."

Clint looked at Barney, then back at Skye. He saw the way she was clutching her backpack, ready to be abandoned yet again. He remembered what it felt like to be the one left behind.

"Go ahead, Barney," Clint said, his voice cracking but certain.

"You're kidding," Barney breathed. "You're throwing this away for her?"

"I’m staying for her," Clint corrected. He walked over to Skye’s bed and sat down, pulling her into a protective side-hug. "I’m not leaving her alone in this house. Not ever."

Barney stared at them for a long beat, a mixture of anger and disbelief on his face. Without another word, he turned and vanished into the night.

The room was silent. Skye looked up at Clint, her eyes shimmering with tears. "You stayed."

"I stayed," Clint promised, wiping a tear from her cheek. "And listen to me, Skye. From now on, it's just us. I’m going to teach you how to hide, how to fight, and how to spot a lie from a mile away. We’re going to get out of here together. Not tonight, and maybe not tomorrow. But when we go, we go as a team."

"Together?" she asked.

"Together," Clint vowed. "And nobody calls you Mary Sue ever again. You're Skye. And I'm Clint. And that's the only thing that matters."

He stayed awake all night, sitting by the window with a makeshift slingshot in his hand, watching the road. He had lost his brother, but he had found something else: a reason to keep fighting.

Chapter Text

The transition from "Skye the Hacker" to "Skye the Hydra Asset" was seamless, largely because John Garrett had spent years meticulously crafting the mask.

When Garrett pulled her out of a black site after her first major Rising Tide hack, he didn't see a criminal; he saw a weapon. He didn't just give her a home—he gave her a purpose. Through a combination of isolation, tactical "mentorship," and subtle psychological conditioning, he convinced her that SHIELD was the true monster: the organization that had stolen her parents and erased her history.

"You’re a ghost, kid," Garrett had told her, leaning over her shoulder as she coded her first Hydra-embedded worm. "And ghosts are perfect for haunting people who think they're safe. Go in, make them love you, and bring me the keys to the kingdom."

When Coulson’s team picked her up in the back of her van, it wasn't a lucky break for SHIELD—it was a planned insertion. Skye played the part of the spunky, anti-establishment hacktivist perfectly. She let them "catch" her, acted indignant, and slowly let herself be "charmed" by Coulson’s fatherly routine.

The hardest part wasn't the hacking; it was the silence. Because even inside the Bus, there were shadows she didn't recognize.

Grant Ward was her S.O., the stoic specialist assigned to turn the "civilian" into an agent. For months, Skye watched him, learned from him, and even started to feel a dangerous pull toward him. She thought she was the only one with a secret. She thought she was the only fox in the henhouse.

One night, high above the Atlantic, Skye slipped out of her bunk to transmit an encrypted burst to Garrett. She was deep in the vents, her tablet glowing, when she saw a faint light reflected in the glass of the server room below.

She froze. Ward was standing there.

Her heart hammered. If he sees me, the mission is over. I’ll have to kill him.

But Ward wasn't looking for her. He was plugging a drive into a secure port—a drive with a familiar, crimson-and-silver logo. He was transmitting to a private frequency.

Skye’s breath hitched. He's Hydra. He's one of us.

But then she realized the terrifying truth: Garrett hadn't told her. He had put two agents on the same ship, let them work side-by-side, and kept them in total ignorance of each other. It was the ultimate fail-safe. If she failed, Ward would succeed. If Ward was caught, she was the backup.

As the "Turn, Turn, Turn" moment approached, Skye found herself paralyzed. She had been brainwashed to hate SHIELD, but Coulson had given her a name. May had given her strength. Simmons had treated her like a sister.

She looked at Ward across the galley, realizing he was likely under the same spell she was. Two orphans raised by a wolf, now sent to slaughter the only family they had ever actually known.

The tablet in her hand vibrated. A message from Garrett: "THE CELL IS READY. INITIALIZE OVERRIDE. KILL THE DIRECTOR."

Skye looked at the message, then at Coulson, who was currently geeking out over a vintage piece of tech, completely unaware that his two most trusted proteges were both holding knives behind their backs.

The tension on the Bus was a physical weight. The sensors were screaming, the Hub had fallen, and the word "Hydra" was echoing through the comms like a death knell.

Skye found Ward in the shadowed corner of the hangar bay. The air smelled of jet fuel and betrayal. She didn't have her tablet; she had a standard-issue SHIELD pistol tucked into her waistband, a gift from the very people she was supposed to destroy.

"I saw you, Grant," she whispered, her voice trembling with a mixture of rage and recognition. "In the server room. I know who you work for."

Ward didn't flinch. He stepped toward her, his expression more open than she had ever seen it. "Then you know we're on the same side, Skye. Garrett told me he had an ace in the hole, but I never imagined it was you." He reached out, his hand hovering near her face. "Everything I did—protecting you, training you—it was real. I love you, Skye. And no matter what happens when this ship touches down, I vow to always have your back. We’re the only ones who can survive this."

Skye felt the cold, hard conditioning of Garrett’s voice in her head, battling the warmth of Ward’s hand. She reached for her gun, her knuckles white. "You don't know me, Ward. You know the mask Garrett built."

She lunged, the weapon coming up, but a voice from the upper deck froze them both.

"Skye? Ward? We need to move," Coulson called out, leaning over the railing. He looked exhausted, but his eyes were bright with a desperate kind of hope. "Listen, I know things are falling apart, but I just got a decrypted burst from a contact in Hunan. It’s about your parents, Skye. I think we’re close to the truth."

Skye’s breath hitched. The gun lowered an inch.

"But even if we don't find them," Coulson continued, his voice softening, "it doesn't change anything. You’ll always have a family here. With us. You’re one of us, Skye. Always."

The "us" hit her like a physical blow. Garrett had told her she was a weapon; Coulson told her she was a daughter.

She faltered, her finger slipping from the trigger. Ward noticed the hesitation instantly. His face hardened, the "specialist" taking over. He grabbed her arm, pulling her into the shadows beneath the stairs where Coulson couldn't see.

"Focus," Ward hissed, his grip bruising. "He’s manipulating you. That’s what SHIELD does—they give you a 'family' so you’ll die for their lies. Garrett is the only one who gave us the truth. Stay on mission, Skye. Do your job."

Skye felt her façade shatter. The world was spinning into a blur of grey. Right and wrong had become indistinguishable, a chaotic noise that she couldn't filter out.

Two hours later, Skye found herself in the cockpit. May was at the yoke, her eyes fixed on the horizon, her jaw set in that familiar, impenetrable line.

"Get out, Skye," May said, not looking back. "I’m busy."

"I’m Hydra," Skye blurted out.

Chapter Text

"I’m Hydra," Skye blurted out.

The silence that followed was deafening. May didn't gasp. She didn't scream. She simply engaged the autopilot, stood up, and turned around. In one fluid motion, she had Skye pinned against the console, a forearm pressed against the girl’s throat.

"Give me one reason I shouldn't throw you out the cargo ramp," May growled, her eyes burning with a cold, lethal fury.

"Because Garrett... he found me first," Skye choked out, tears finally breaking through. "He told me SHIELD killed my parents. He told me I was a ghost. He... he made me believe him, May. But Coulson... Coulson looked at me like I mattered. I don't know what's real anymore. I’m a weapon, but I don't want to fire."

May’s grip loosened. She looked at the frantic, broken girl in front of her. She saw the glazed look in Skye’s eyes—the hallmark of psychological conditioning she had seen in the field too many times. This wasn't a traitor; this was a victim.

"He brainwashed you," May stated, her voice dropping the anger for a grim, professional tone.

"I have an order," Skye whispered. "To kill Coulson. I can’t... I can’t stop the voice in my head."

May didn't lead her to the interrogation room. She led her to the secure holding cell in the belly of the ship—the Cage.

"Get in," May commanded.

"You're arresting me?"

"I'm saving you," May said, shutting the vibranium-reinforced door. "The walls in here are shielded. No frequencies, no signals. You stay in here until the static in your head clears. I’m going to tell Phil you’re 'protecting the asset.' We’re going to work together, you and I. We’re going to take down Ward, and then we’re going to find Garrett and end this."

Skye sat on the floor of the cell, the silence of the room finally allowing her to breathe. Through the glass, May looked at her—not with suspicion, but with the fierce protectiveness of a mentor who had just found something worth fighting for.

"You’re not a ghost, Skye," May said firmly. "And you’re not his weapon. You’re a SHIELD agent. Now start acting like one and tell me everything you know about Ward’s extraction plan."

Skye wiped her eyes, her gaze sharpening as the brainwashing began to fray. "He's going for the hard drive in the safe. He thinks I'm covering him. If we loop the camera feed, we can trap him in the server room."

"Good," May nodded. "Let's go to work."

The air in the server room was chilled to a precise 18°C, the humming of the mainframes providing a rhythmic backdrop to Ward’s betrayal. He moved with the confidence of a man who thought he’d already won, his hand reaching for the encrypted hard drive.

Suddenly, the heavy blast doors slammed shut. The magnetic locks engaged with a heavy clack.

"Skye?" Ward called out, tapping his comms. "The doors just locked. I need an override."

"Override denied, Grant," Skye’s voice came over the intercom. It wasn't the voice of the confused girl he’d pulled aside earlier; it was cold, sharp, and grounded.

The wall monitors flickered to life. Skye was standing in the command center, May right behind her.

"You made a mistake," Skye said, her eyes fixed on the man who had claimed to love her while plotting the ship's destruction. "You thought because we were both broken by Garrett, we’d both be loyal to him. But I actually like the person I am when I'm with these people. I hate the person he told me to be."

"Skye, open the door," Ward warned, his hand moving toward his sidearm. "Garrett is on his way. You don't want to be on the wrong side of this."

"I'm on the side that doesn't use kids as weapons," Skye snapped. She hit a key, and a high-frequency sonic burst flooded the server room, dropping Ward to his knees as he clutched his head.

Above the ship, a Hydra-modified Quinjet banked hard, locking onto the Bus. Garrett’s voice crackled over the open channel, dripping with that manic, grandfatherly charm.

"Come on, kid! Don't tell me the cavalry actually got to you? I built you! I gave you a name!"

"You gave me a lie!" Skye shouted back, her fingers flying across the console. "May, he’s locking on to our fuel lines. If he fires, the ship is gone."

May stepped up to the secondary console, her hands moving with the lethal efficiency of a pilot who had survived the impossible. "Not today. Skye, I need you to drop the cloaking on the Quinjet. If I can see him, I can hit him."

"I'm into his nav-com," Skye said, her hacking skills kicking into high gear. She didn't just see the code; she saw the flaws. "I’m feeding his targeting computer a ghost signal. He thinks we're 200 meters to the left."

Outside, Garrett fired. The missiles streaked through the air, detonating against empty sky.

"What?! What are you doing, Skye?!" Garrett’s voice was a roar of confusion.

"I'm being the ghost you told me I was," Skye whispered.

May grabbed the manual flight controls. "Brace yourself."

The Bus performed a jarring barrel roll, positioning its under-cannons directly beneath the Hydra jet. May didn't hesitate. She fired a precision EMP blast.

The Quinjet’s engines sputtered and died. It began to fall, its systems dark.

"He's going down," May stated, her voice flat. "He’ll survive the crash, but he’s not going anywhere. The local authorities—the real ones—are already en route."

The silence that followed was heavy. Ward was unconscious in the server room, Garrett was a wreckage in the trees below, and the brainwashing that had clouded Skye’s mind felt like a distant, fading nightmare.

Skye slumped in her chair, her hands trembling as the adrenaline ebbed away. She looked at May, expecting a lecture or a debrief.

Instead, May placed a hand on her shoulder. It was a firm, grounding weight.

"You did well, Agent," May said.

"I almost killed Coulson," Skye whispered, the guilt threatening to pull her back under.

"But you didn't," May countered. "You chose. That’s the difference between a weapon and a person. Garrett didn't build you, Skye. You just built yourself."

Coulson walked into the room then, looking between the two of them. He didn't know the full extent of the struggle Skye had just endured—the mental war she’d won—but he saw the look in her eyes.

"We're safe?" Coulson asked.

"We're safe," Skye said, standing up and walking toward him. She pulled him into a sudden, tight hug. "We're a family, right? Even if I’m... complicated?"

Coulson hugged her back, looking at May, who gave him a rare, almost imperceptible nod.

"Especially because you're complicated," Coulson promised. "That’s what makes us the best team in the world."

Chapter Text

The hum of the Zephyr’s engines used to be a sound that promised adventure, or at least a temporary escape from the gravity of Earth. Now, to Daisy Johnson, it just sounded like a headache.

She leaned against the bulkhead of the command deck, watching the blue-and-white marble of the planet grow larger in the viewport. Beside her, Daniel Sousa was tinkering with a Stark-tech tablet, his brow furrowed in that focused way that always made Daisy want to kiss him or tease him—usually both. Kora was in the bunk area, finally getting a decent night’s sleep without the threat of a cosmic storm.

They were home. But "home" came with a new title: Director of Special Ops. And with that title came a very specific, very blonde problem currently sitting in a reinforced holding cell downstairs.

"She's still refusing the protein bars," Sousa said, not looking up from his screen. "Requested a 'decent burger' and asked if our security was always this 'mid.' I’m assuming that’s a bad thing?"

Daisy sighed, rubbing her temples. "It means she’s unimpressed, Daniel. And honestly? I don't blame her."

Gwen Stacy—or 'Ghost Spider,' as the chatter called her—was a whirlwind. She was fast, she was powered, and she had an attitude that mirrored a younger, snarkier version of a girl who once lived in a van and hacked SHIELD for fun. Every time Daisy tried to talk to her, Gwen would stick to the ceiling and crack a joke about how "uncool" the government was.

"I can't get through to her," Daisy admitted, her voice dropping. "She looks at the suit, she sees the badge, and she just shuts down. She thinks I’m the Man."

Sousa finally looked up, his expression softening with that unshakable 1940s sincerity. "You're not the Man, Daisy. You're the woman who spent three years in space saving the timeline. You just need to remind her of that. Or... ask someone who’s dealt with a stubborn recruit before."

Daisy knew exactly who he meant.

The "Retirement House" was tucked away in a quiet corner of Virginia, though "retirement" was a loose term for Phil Coulson and Melinda May. When Daisy arrived, May was in the garden, though she wasn't exactly pruning roses—she was practicing forms with a wooden staff.

"You're overthinking it," May said before Daisy even reached the porch.

Daisy stopped, a wry smile tugging at her lips. "I haven't even said anything yet."

"You have your 'Director' face on," May replied, planting the staff and wiping sweat from her brow. "It looks a lot like Phil’s. Tight jaw, worried eyes. Who is he? Or she?"

"She. Gwen. Thinks she’s untouchable, hates authority, and currently thinks I’m a fossil," Daisy sighed, leaning against a wooden pillar. "I tried the 'we can help you' speech. She laughed. I tried the 'you're dangerous' speech. She yawned. I feel like I'm losing her before I even start."

A soft chuckle came from the doorway. Phil Coulson stepped out, holding two mugs of tea. He looked older, more peaceful, but that spark of the proud father was still bright in his eyes.

"Hates authority, lives in a van—er, a subway station, I heard? Thinks she knows better than the oldest spy organization on the planet?" Coulson handed a mug to Daisy. "Sound like anyone we know, Melinda?"

May let out a short, rare huff of a laugh. "Like father, like daughter."

Daisy groaned into her tea. "I wasn't that bad."

"You were worse," May countered, stepping closer. Her gaze softened, that fierce "Mama Bear" look that Daisy had spent years earning. "You didn't trust us because you had no reason to. This girl? She’s a stray, Daisy. Just like you were. Just like Trip was, or Bobbi, or Hunter."

"You’re going to adopt a whole team of them, aren't you?" May teased, a tiny smirk playing on her lips. "A whole bus full of strays. You can't help yourself. You see the good in people even when they’re trying to kick you in the ribs."

Daisy looked down at her tea, the steam curling around her face. She thought about Gwen’s defiant glare, the way the girl's shoulders had shook for just a second when she thought no one was looking. She thought about her own journey—from Skye to Daisy, from hacker to hero.

"Maybe," Daisy admitted, looking back at May. She reached out and squeezed the older woman's hand. "But you know, you took a little more time to adjust to the team than Phil did. You spent months trying to pretend you didn't care about the 'puppy' following you around. But you adopted us just as much as he did."

May didn't deny it. She just squeezed back.

Daisy stood a little taller, the weight on her shoulders feeling a bit more like a mantle and less like a burden. "If my strays end up half as well as our family did... then I think I'll be just fine. Even if I end up a little frustrated along the way."

Coulson smiled, leaning against the doorframe. "Just remember, Daisy. The best way to catch a spider isn't with a net. It's by showing her she doesn't have to stay on the ceiling alone."

Daisy nodded, feeling the vibration of her own power—steady, controlled, and ready. "I should probably go buy some better burgers."

Chapter Text

The Academy of Operations was legendary for its grueling curriculum, but its greatest deterrent was the woman standing at the center of the mat. Melinda May didn’t need to raise her voice to command a room; her silence did the heavy lifting.

"Again," May said, her voice like flint.

The recruits, a group of twenty-somethings who had been the best in their respective programs, were currently gasping for air. They looked at May—immaculate, unbothered, and terrifying—and felt the weight of their own inadequacy.

Then, the heavy reinforced doors of the gym hissed open.

A pair of light-up sneakers pattered across the floor. Five-year-old Daisy, clad in a tiny tactical vest over a purple t-shirt, marched right up to the line of panting recruits. She held a clipboard that was almost as big as her torso.

"You're breathing too loud," Daisy informed Recruit Miller, squinting up at him with a look of intense parental disappointment. "Mommy says if they hear you breathing, they hear you coming."

The recruits froze. They didn't know whether to laugh or stand at attention. Miller looked toward May for guidance, but May simply adjusted her stance.

"She’s right," May said, the corner of her lip twitching in a way that only those who truly knew her would recognize as pride. "Listen to the Specialist."

Daisy wasn't just a mini-Melinda; she was a strange, perfect fusion. While she spent the morning mimicking May’s icy stares and perfecting her "silent walk" through the Academy vents, the afternoon brought out the side of her that made Melinda’s heart ache in the best way possible.

During the lunch break, Daisy found Recruit Ward—a top-of-his-class candidate who had just been humiliated in hand-to-hand combat by May—sitting alone in the courtyard, nursing a bruised ego and a swollen lip.

Daisy approached him, her "scary" instructor face gone. In its place was a look of pure, Phil Coulson-level empathy. She reached into her utility belt—which mostly contained stickers and a juice box—and pulled out a Captain America band-aid.

"It's okay to lose to her," Daisy whispered, sitting down on the bench with her legs dangling. "She’s the Cavalry. Dad says she’s the bravest person in the world, but even she had to learn how to fall."

Ward looked at the five-year-old, stunned by the sudden shift in her energy. One minute she was a shadow-ninja, the next she was a beacon of reassurance.

"She’s pretty tough," Ward muttered, taking the band-aid.

"She’s just protecting you," Daisy said, her eyes bright and sincere. "She trains you hard so you don't get hurt later. That’s what family does."

She patted his arm with a hand that had the same steady, grounding presence Phil used when a mission went south.

That evening, Phil Coulson walked into their quarters to find his two favorite people on the floor. Melinda was showing Daisy how to properly clean a (disarmed) field kit, while Daisy was busy explaining the "emotional state" of the recruits she had analyzed that day.

"Phil," Melinda said, looking up. "Your daughter gave out three gold stars today for 'effort.' She’s ruining my reputation as a hard-nose."

"I’m not ruining it, Mommy," Daisy chirped, crawling over to Phil to be hoisted into the air. "I’m just doing the... what did you call it, Daddy? The 'PR' side of the business."

Phil laughed, kissing Daisy’s forehead before leaning down to press a kiss to Melinda’s cheek. "Public Relations. A vital part of any operation."

"She’s got your heart, Phil," May said, watching Daisy try to explain the tactical advantage of a Captain America band-aid to her father. "She’ll be the best of us. She’ll know when to break a bone and when to heal a soul."

Daisy looked between them, the two pillars of S.H.I.E.L.D., and smiled. "I just want to be like you guys. When do I get my real badge?"

"When you can beat your mother in a spar," Phil teased.

Daisy looked at May, who raised an eyebrow in a silent challenge.

"Okay," Daisy said, dropping into a perfect—if tiny—fighting stance. "Give me ten years. Or five. I'm a fast learner."

Chapter Text

The temple in Bahrain didn’t smell like sand; it smelled like ozone and old grief.

Melinda May moved through the shadows, her breath shallow. The intel had been wrong. This wasn't a group of rebels holding a gifted individual. It was a mother holding the world hostage through her daughter.

Jiaying stood at the center of the chamber, her face a patchwork of scars and a cold, ethereal beauty. Beside her stood a girl—Daisy. She couldn't have been more than seven years old. Her skin was unnaturally pale, and her eyes were wide with a terror so profound it felt like a physical weight in the room.

"She is the transition," Jiaying whispered, her hand resting on the girl’s shoulder. "The humans wanted a weapon. I gave them a goddess."

Daisy’s hands were encased in heavy, specialized gauntlets provided by the local militia, but they weren't enough. The ground beneath May’s boots began to hum. It wasn't just a tremor; it was a sob translated into seismic energy.

"Daisy, sweetheart," May said, her voice dropping into that low, steady register she used only for the most delicate extractions. She lowered her weapon. "You don't have to do this."

"I have to," the girl whimpered. The air began to crack. "Mother says the world is too loud. I have to make it quiet."

"She’s hurting, Jiaying!" May shouted, stepping into the light. "She’s a child. Terragenesis at this age—it’s killing her."

"It’s making her free," Jiaying snapped.

The surge happened in a heartbeat. The walls groaned. Dust rained from the ceiling as Daisy let out a scream that shattered every window in the complex. May didn't hesitate. She didn't fire. She ran. She tackled the girl, shielding Daisy’s small body with her own as the temple roof collapsed.

In the chaos, Jiaying disappeared into the dust, fleeing the SHIELD extraction teams. But Melinda May didn't move. She stayed curled around the shaking, vibrating child, whispering, "I've got you. I've got you."

The "Cavalry" never existed in this timeline. There was no legend of a woman who took down a building of enemies single-handedly. Instead, there was the story of the woman who brought a "weapon" home and refused to let go.

The impact on May was tectonic. She didn't retreat into a desk job at the Academy out of guilt; she stayed in the field out of a fierce, protective necessity. She knew that if she didn't supervise Daisy’s containment and training, SHIELD would turn the girl into exactly what Jiaying had intended: a living nuke.

Her marriage to Andrew Garner, however, became the casualty of the war for Daisy’s soul.

"She’s a child, Melinda, not a project!" Andrew argued in their kitchen, months after Bahrain. "You're not being her handler; you're being her warden. You’re bringing the job home."

"I'm keeping her alive, Andrew!" May’s voice was sharp. "If I don't teach her control, they’ll put her in a cage in the Fridge. I won’t let that happen."

Andrew looked at the little girl sitting on the stairs, clutching a stuffed rabbit and trying to keep the floor from shaking. He saw a patient; May saw a daughter who needed a shield. They divorced a year later—civil, but hollow. Andrew couldn't live in a house that might collapse if the child had a nightmare.

Years passed. May remained a Specialist—the best SHIELD had—but she was never alone. Daisy, now twelve, followed her like a silent, vibrating shadow.

They were at the Academy, but not as teachers. They were there for "Containment Exercises." The recruits were terrified of May, but they were fascinated by the girl who wore dampening gauntlets and had eyes that seemed to see right through their facades.

May stood on the observation deck, watching Daisy concentrate on moving a single pebble without cracking the foundation of the building.

"She’s getting better," a voice said.

May didn't turn. She knew the cadence of Phil Coulson’s step. He had been the one to forge the paperwork, to make "Daisy Johnson" a ward of the state under May’s direct supervision.

"She’s tired, Phil," May said, her eyes never leaving the girl. "She spends every waking second fighting her own heartbeat."

"She’s lucky," Phil countered, leaning on the railing. "Anyone else would have seen a threat in that temple. You saw a kid. You saved her twice, Melinda. Once from the building, and every day since from herself."

Daisy looked up then, catching May’s eye. She didn't give a stony stare. She gave a small, tentative smile—the kind of smile that Coulson usually wore.

"Mom!" Daisy called out, her voice echoing in the gym. "I did it! The pebble moved. The floor didn't!"

May felt a lump in her throat she hadn't felt since before Bahrain. She didn't care about the Specialist's reputation. She didn't care about the "Cavalry" she never became. She walked down to the mats, ruffled Daisy’s hair, and looked at the girl who was supposed to be a weapon.

"Good job, Specialist," May whispered. "Let's go get some chocolate."

Jiaying was still out there, a ghost in the wind, but as Daisy gripped May’s hand, the ground stayed perfectly still. For the first time, the world wasn't too loud. It was just right.

Chapter Text

The Bus was a marvel of engineering, but for Daisy, it was a sanctuary with wings. After the attack on New York, the world had felt fractured—until the call came.

Daisy had watched May take that call in a London safe house. She’d watched the "Cavalry’s" stone-cold mask shatter into a thousand pieces of relief.

"He’s alive, Daisy," May had whispered, her voice thick. "Phil’s back."

Now, 30,000 feet above the Atlantic, the family was whole again. Not the "Johnsons"—that name belonged to a father who had been a ghost and a mother who was a nightmare. They were the team. They were the family that chose each other.

The mission to the hidden temple in China hadn't been a rescue; it was a confrontation with the past.

Jiaying stood on the dais of white stone, looking every bit the immortal queen. She didn’t look like the woman May had fought in Bahrain; she looked younger, her skin smooth, her eyes burning with a terrifying vitality.

"Daisy," Jiaying said, her voice a soothing melody that made Daisy’s skin crawl. "You’ve spent years in the dark. Come home. Let me show you what you were meant to be."

"I am home," Daisy said, her hands trembling in her gauntlets. Behind her, Fitz and Simmons were scanning the perimeter, and Ward was holding the line. But her eyes were on the two people flanking her: Phil and Melinda.

"You’re with the people who muzzled you," Jiaying spat, her eyes flashing. "They fear you. I am you."

"You're nothing like her," May stepped forward, her hand resting on the grip of her pistol. "You're a parasite."

Jiaying’s face twisted. The pretense of motherly love vanished, replaced by a cold, predatory hunger. "If you won't be my legacy, Daisy... then you will at least be my sustenance."

Jiaying lunged. She didn't use a weapon. She reached out, her fingers sinking into the skin of Daisy’s forearms.

Daisy screamed—not a sound of seismic power, but of pure, agonizing depletion. The color began to drain from her face as Jiaying’s scars began to glow with a sickly light. Jiaying wasn't just attacking; she was draining her. She was pulling the life force from her own daughter to fuel her immortality.

"I can always make another," Jiaying hissed, her grip tightening. "But I will not let my power be wasted on a SHIELD lapdog."

"Daisy!" Coulson shouted, firing his icer, but the Inhuman guards intercepted the shots.

The ground began to shake—not from Daisy’s will, but from her body’s desperate, dying protest. She felt her heart slowing, the world turning gray at the edges.

Then, the weight was gone.

May hadn't fired a gun. She had moved with the blinding speed that made her a legend, a blur of black tactical gear and fury. She didn't just strike Jiaying; she used a pressure-point strike to the throat, followed by a devastating kick that sent the Inhuman woman flying back across the dais.

May didn't chase her. She caught Daisy before the girl hit the stone floor.

"I've got you," May breathed, pulling Daisy against her chest. "Look at me, Daisy. Stay with me."

Jiaying scrambled up, her face contorted. She looked younger, stronger from the bit of life she’d stolen, but she was met with the business end of Coulson’s SHIELD-issued sidearm and a team that looked ready to burn the mountain down to protect their own.

"It's over," Coulson said, his voice dropping into that quiet, terrifying "Director" tone. "You don't get to touch her again."

Back on the Bus, the infirmary was quiet. Simmons was monitoring Daisy’s vitals, her brow furrowed in concentration.

"She’s stable," Jemma whispered as May walked in. "Her cellular regeneration is kicking in. Being Inhuman saved her life, but... she’s exhausted."

May sat on the edge of the cot, taking Daisy’s hand. It was cold, but the pulse was steady.

A few minutes later, the door slid open. Coulson walked in, followed by Fitz and Ward, who were carrying a ridiculous amount of snacks and a portable DVD player.

"We thought a movie marathon might help the recovery," Fitz said, looking hopeful.

Daisy’s eyes fluttered open. She looked at the crowded infirmary—at Fitz’s nervous hovering, Simmons’s clinical care, Ward’s silent watch, and the two people who had quite literally walked through fire to keep her.

"She tried to take it all," Daisy whispered, her voice raspy. "She tried to take everything I am."

"She couldn't," May said, squeezing her hand. "Because you aren't hers. You haven't been for a long time."

Daisy looked at Coulson, who was currently trying to figure out how to prop up the DVD player on a rolling tray. She looked at May, whose eyes never left her face.

"We’re not the Johnsons," Daisy said, a small, tired smile tugging at her lips.

"No," Phil said, finally getting the screen to stay upright. He looked at May, then back to Daisy. "We’re much more difficult to get rid of than that. We’re a team."

"And a team," May added, leaning over to tuck the blanket closer around Daisy’s shoulders, "is just a family that knows how to fly a plane."

As the movie started and the "Bus kids" argued over which candy was superior, Daisy felt the vibrations of the engines beneath her. It wasn't a threat anymore. It was a heartbeat. She closed her eyes, safe in the center of the storm, surrounded by the people who didn't want her power—they just wanted her.

Chapter Text

The Bus was quiet, but it wasn't the peaceful kind of quiet. It was the heavy, suffocating silence that followed a breach of trust.

Skye sat in the interrogation room, her hands tucked under her thighs to hide the way they were shaking. Upstairs, she knew the team was reeling. They had found the encrypted hardware. They had seen the unauthorized pings. They thought she was a traitor—another Rising Tide anarchist selling SHIELD secrets for the thrill of the "truth."

The door slid open. Phil Coulson walked in, but he didn't have the warm, "cool history teacher" look he usually wore. He looked tired. Behind him, May stood like a shadow, her arms crossed, her eyes unreadable and cold.

"We traced the signal, Skye," Coulson said, sitting across from her. "You weren't just hacking. You were sending a GPS burst to a private server. Who's the contact? Miles Lydon?"

Skye took a breath, the air hitching in her chest. "No. Not Miles. I ditched that ego-maniac in Austin."

"Then who?" May’s voice was a whip-crack. "Because right now, you’re looking like a very high-level mole."

Skye looked up, her brown eyes bright with a mixture of defiance and a vulnerability she’d spent a lifetime trying to bury. "I wasn't sending Intel. I was sending a check-in. I’m a Ward of the State, Phil. But I’m also a legal liability. If I don't ping the tower every seventy-two hours, a protocol kicks in that involves a lot of very loud suits and a very angry redhead."

Coulson frowned. "What are you talking about?"

Skye reached for the back of her neck, pulling a thin, platinum chain from beneath her shirt. Hanging from it wasn't a SHIELD badge or a Rising Tide flash drive. It was a miniaturized arc reactor charm, glowing with a soft, pulsing blue light.

"My name isn't just Skye," she whispered. "It’s Mary Catherine Stark. And I needed to let Pepper know I hadn't been kidnapped by AIM."

The silence that followed was even heavier than the one before.

"Stark?" May repeated, her eyebrows twitching upward—the closest she ever got to a literal gasp.

"Tony’s... daughter?" Coulson looked at the charm, then back at Skye. "The timeline doesn't—"

"Nineteen years ago," Skye interrupted, her words tumbling out now that the dam had broken. "A brief thing in Malibu. Mom didn't want the life. She went off the grid, changed our names. When she died, I went into the system. I didn't even know who he was until I hacked the foster care database and found a redacted NDA with a Stark Industries letterhead."

She leaned forward, her voice urgent. "I didn't join the Rising Tide to bring down SHIELD. I joined to find out why SHIELD was keeping my mother's file classified. And I didn't tell you because... look at his life, Phil. The cameras, the villains, the ego. I wanted to see if I could be a hero on my own merit. Not because of the name on the building."

"And Pepper Potts?" Coulson asked.

"She found me three years ago. Tony doesn't know—not the whole truth, anyway. Pepper’s been my 'Emergency Contact.' She’s the one who funds my van, the one who makes sure I have health insurance. I promised her I’d check in if I ever got 'picked up' by the government."

The team didn't take it easily. Ward felt like he’d failed as a handler; Fitz and Simmons were half-terrified and half-starstruck. But it was May who found Skye later that night, sitting on the ramp of the Bus, staring at the stars.

"You should have told us," May said, sitting down beside her. She didn't look angry anymore—just contemplative.

"I know," Skye sighed. "I just... for the first time in my life, I felt like I belonged somewhere that wasn't a PR stunt. You and Coulson... you didn't look at me and see a billion-dollar inheritance. You saw a hacker who needed a direction."

May looked out at the horizon. "We still see that. A name doesn't change your footwork. And it doesn't change the fact that you risked your cover to make sure your stepmother didn't worry. That’s not a Stark trait. That’s a 'us' trait."

Skye felt a lump in her throat. She leaned her head on May’s shoulder, a move she’d never have dared a week ago. May didn't pull away.

"Does this mean I have to call him?" Skye asked quietly.

"Pepper already did," a voice came from the top of the ramp. Coulson stood there, holding his tablet with a faint, amused smirk. "She says Tony is currently flying toward our coordinates in the Mark VII. He’s demanding to know why 'his kid' is on a 'flying '90s bus' and why the coffee on board is so terrible."

Skye groaned, burying her face in her hands. "Oh, god. He’s going to try to buy the plane, isn't he?"

"Already made an offer," Coulson said, clicking his tablet off. "But I told him we aren't for sale. We’re a team, Mary Catherine. And we keep our own."

Skye looked at them—the stoic specialist, the resilient director—and for the first time, the "Stark" in her didn't feel like a burden. It was just a part of the story.

"It's just Skye," she reminded them, her voice steady. "Skye of SHIELD."

May stood up, offering a hand to pull her up. "Then get inside, Skye. Your father’s about to breach our airspace, and I’m not letting him on board until you’ve practiced your parry. Billionaire or not, you're still a trainee."

Chapter Text

The morning of February 14th began with a tactical error.

Natasha Romanoff, a woman who could dismantle a high-security encryption and a hallway full of mercenaries without breaking a sweat, found herself standing in the kitchen of their shared safehouse holding a bouquet of long-stemmed red roses and a box of chocolates that cost more than a small sedan.

She had even managed to find a card with a suspiciously high amount of glitter on the front.

"Happy Valentine’s Day," Natasha said, leaning against the counter with her signature smirk, sliding the gifts across the marble toward Daisy.

Daisy Johnson, currently hunched over a laptop with three different windows of scrolling code open, didn't look up immediately. She took one look at the roses—wrapped in excessive layers of crinkly plastic—and then at the gold-foil box. She sighed, a long, weary sound that usually meant she had found a backdoor into a government server.

"Nat," Daisy said, finally looking up. "The roses? Really? Do you have any idea what the carbon footprint of out-of-season florist flowers is? Or the fact that you just handed a significant portion of your paycheck to a corporate conglomerate that manufactured this 'holiday' in 1910 just to boost mid-winter sales?"

Natasha blinked. "I thought... people liked flowers. You are a person. Theoretically."

"I am a former hacktivist who spent three years living in a van to avoid being 'tracked' by the system," Daisy countered, standing up and gesturing vaguely at the glittery card. "I don't do commercialized affection. This isn't romance, Nat; it’s a subscription model for guilt. We’re better than a Hallmark algorithm."

Natasha looked at the roses. Then she looked at the defiant, beautiful spark in Daisy’s eyes. She didn't look offended. In fact, her smirk widened into something more dangerous.

"You’re right," Natasha said, picking up the bouquet and unceremoniously tossing it into the trash can. The chocolates followed with a satisfying thud. "It was lazy. Amateurish. I should be demoted."

Daisy blinked, surprised by the sudden surrender. "Wait, you're not mad?"

"I’m inspired," Natasha replied, grabbing her tablet. "If you want a revolution against the status quo, consider me your tactical support. No flowers. No overpriced steak dinners. Actually, I just got a ping from Hill. There’s a black-market weapon shipment moving through a shipyard in Jersey tonight. Very un-romantic. Very gritty. Interested?"

Daisy’s face lit up. "Now that is a Valentine's gift."

The "date" was a masterclass in anti-romance.

While every other couple in the city was leaning over fondue pots and whispering sweet nothings, Natasha and Daisy were crouched on a rusted shipping container in sub-zero temperatures.

"See that guy by the crane?" Daisy whispered, her fingers flying over her mobile hacking rig. "He’s got a localized jammer. I'm going to vibrate his teeth till he drops it, then I’ll loop the security feed."

"Romantic," Natasha murmured, checking the chamber of her Glock. "I'll take the three on the left. On your signal, Quake."

The night was spent in a blur of adrenaline, tactical takedowns, and the rhythmic thud of Daisy’s quakes hitting the pavement. By the time the smugglers were tied up for the authorities and the shipment was secured, both women were covered in a fine layer of industrial dust, their hair messy and their adrenaline levels through the roof.

They arrived back at the safehouse around midnight, exhausted and smelling faintly of sea salt and gunpowder.

"Dinner?" Natasha asked, kicking off her boots.

"Greasy takeout and the couch," Daisy declared.

They ended the night exactly how they weren't "supposed" to. No silk sheets, no champagne. They sat on the floor, leaning against the sofa with two cartons of lukewarm lo mein and a bottle of cheap beer. Natasha reached for the remote and flipped on Die Hard.

"Really? A Christmas movie in February?" Daisy teased.

"It’s an American classic," Natasha countered.

As the movie played, Daisy watched Natasha out of the corner of her eye. The Black Widow, the world's most dangerous spy, was completely relaxed. Every time Hans Gruber or John McClane spoke, Natasha’s lips moved in a silent, perfect mimicry of the dialogue. She knew every beat, every sarcastic quip, and every explosion.

"Yippee-ki-yay, mother..." Natasha whispered along with the screen, her eyes dancing with a quiet, private joy.

Daisy leaned her head on Natasha’s shoulder, a soft, genuine smile finally settling on her face. The hum of the city outside felt miles away.

"So," Natasha said, her shoulder brushing Daisy’s as the credits rolled. "Did we successfully ruin the holiday? Or was the shipyard raid too 'traditional' for you?"

Daisy looked at Natasha in the dim light of the TV. No masks, no corporate scripts, just the two of them.

"It was perfect," Daisy whispered. "No pressure, no Hallmark guilt. Just me, you, and a high-body-count action flick. Don't tell the Rising Tide, but I think I might actually like Valentine's Day—as long as it involves tactical gear."

"Your secret is safe with me," Natasha murmured, reaching out to tuck a stray strand of hair behind Daisy’s ear.

Chapter Text

The Bus was vibrating, and for once, it wasn’t turbulence. It was the rhythmic, supersonic thrum of an approaching repulsor engine.

In the lab, Skye’s fingers were a blur across her translucent screens. Lines of orange and blue code cascaded down the monitors, weaving a digital web around the plane’s localized servers.

"Fitz, Simmons, I need the internal comms isolated!" Skye shouted over her shoulder. "If he gets into the mainframe, he’ll have the landing gear dancing the macarena before we hit the tarmac."

"He’s using a brute-force JARVIS override!" Fitz yelped, his hands flying over his own station. "Skye, that’s a billion-dollar AI versus a girl in a van—I mean, a girl in a plane!"

"Watch me," Skye gritted out. She didn't use the standard SHIELD protocols; they were too predictable. Instead, she used the messy, chaotic backdoors she’d perfected in the Rising Tide—code that didn't follow logic, just instinct.

On the main monitor, a red icon of the Iron Man helmet slammed against a digital wall. Skye flicked her wrist, sending a recursive loop of "Nyan Cat" straight into the Mark VII’s HUD.

"He's locked out," Skye breathed, leaning back and wiping sweat from her forehead. "The Bus is a ghost. No entry, no remote piloting, no intrusion."

The silence lasted exactly three seconds. Then, the external cameras flickered to life. A streak of hot-rod red and gold was hovering inches away from the cockpit window, matching their speed perfectly.

"Skye," Coulson’s voice came over the intercom, sounding remarkably calm for a man looking at a weapons-platform-in-a-suit. "He’s waving at me. Well, I think it’s a wave. It might be a gesture indicating he’s about to use his laser on the cargo door."

"Let him knock!" Skye yelled back, though her heart was pounding against her ribs.

May appeared in the lab doorway, her arms crossed. She looked at the screen, then at Skye. "He’s charging his chest piece. He doesn't like being told 'no.' Especially by a firewall."

"He needs to learn that he can’t just fly in and claim people," Skye said, her voice wavering just a little. "I’m not a Stark asset. I’m a person."

"We know that," May said softly, walking over to stand behind her. "But if he blasts a hole in the fuselage, Jemma’s lab equipment is going to be all over the Atlantic. And Phil really likes this plane."

The intercom crackled again. "Skye? It's Phil. He’s currently painting 'MOPED' on the side of the fuselage with a low-grade heat beam. He’s being... persistent. And the structural integrity of the hull is starting to complain. Let him in. We’ll handle the rest."

Skye looked at the "Locked" status on her screen. She looked at May, who gave a singular, encouraging nod.

With a heavy sigh, Skye hit the manual override. "Fine. But if he tries to install a bar in the lounge, I’m hacking his bank accounts."

The cargo ramp hissed open, and the Mark VII clattered onto the deck, the suit unfolding in a hiss of hydraulics. Tony Stark stepped out, looking ruffled, annoyed, and strangely impressed.

"First of all," Tony said, pointing a finger at Coulson, "whoever wrote that code is a nightmare. I had a singing pop-tart cat on my display for three minutes. My retinas are scarred."

"That would be Specialist Skye," Coulson said, gesturing to where Skye stood at the top of the stairs, flanked by May.

Tony stopped. The snarky remark he had locked and loaded seemed to dissolve. He looked at Skye—really looked at her—seeing the curve of the jaw he recognized from his own mirror and the defiant spark in her eyes that was all her mother.

"Mary Catherine," he said, his voice losing its performative edge.

"It’s Skye," she corrected, her chin up. "And you’re late. By about nineteen years."

Tony winced, stepping forward, but he stopped when he felt the cold, sharp presence of Melinda May moving half a step in front of the girl.

"Director," Tony said, acknowledging Coulson, then shifted his gaze to May. "And you must be the one Pepper told me about. The one who’s been teaching my daughter how to punch people."

"I'm her S.O.," May said, her voice a low warning. "And currently, she’s in the middle of a training cycle. You’re interrupting."

"I’m 'interrupting'?" Tony scoffed, though he didn't move closer. "I’m the father. I’m the one with the tech, the tower, and the actually comfortable beds. I’m here to take her home."

"I am home," Skye said, her voice echoing in the hangar. She walked down the stairs, standing between May and Tony. "This is my team. This is my life. You can be a part of it, Tony, but you don't get to command it."

Tony looked at Coulson, who was watching with the patient expression of a man who had handled much bigger gods than this. He looked at May, who looked ready to dismantle the Iron Man suit with her bare hands if he so much as upset Skye’s breathing.

"She’s got your stubbornness," Coulson noted helpfully.

"And her mother’s aim," Tony muttered, looking at the way Skye stood—balanced, ready, and utterly independent. He let out a long, dramatic sigh. "Fine. No kidnapping today. But I’m staying for dinner. And someone better tell me there’s something better than 'S.H.I.E.L.D. Nutri-Loaf' in the galley."

Skye laughed, the tension finally breaking. She didn't hug him—not yet—but she didn't lock the door either.

"May makes the best stir-fry you've ever had," Skye said, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "But only if you promise not to touch the Wi-Fi."

Tony held up his hands in a gesture of surrender. "Scout's honor. Mostly."

As they headed up toward the lounge, May lingered for a second with Coulson.

"He's going to be a handful," May murmured.

"He is," Phil agreed, watching the billionaire and the hacker trade barbs. "But look at her, Melinda. She’s not hiding anymore."

May watched Skye lead Tony away, a small, triumphant smirk on the girl's face. "No," May said. "She’s just getting started."

Chapter Text

The transition from the Bus to Avengers Tower felt like being traded from a cozy, albeit cramped, family van to a high-security palace of glass and chrome.

The Quinjet settled onto the Stark pad with a whisper. Melinda May didn't offer a platitude as the ramp lowered. She simply adjusted the strap of Skye’s bag and looked the younger woman in the eye.

"Control isn't about holding it in, Skye," May said, her voice a grounding anchor. "It’s about knowing where the energy goes. If anyone here pushes you too hard, you tell them. Or you tell me."

Skye’s hands were tucked deep into her pockets, her fingers twitching against the heavy, vibration-dampening gloves Fitz had rigged for her. "May, are you sure about this? Coulson... he's really okay with me being here?"

"Phil knows that if you lose control on the Bus, we fall out of the sky," May said bluntly, though her eyes softened for a fraction of a second. "Here, you’re in a building made of reinforced vibranium and Stark-grade steel. You can let go. And you're with people who have felt what you're feeling."

Waiting for them at the airlock wasn't a team of scientists in hazmat suits. It was Natasha Romanoff, looking effortlessly lethal in a simple black sweater.

"She’s all yours, Romanoff," May said, a silent understanding passing between the two specialists. "Watch her breathing. It’s her tell."

"Got it, Melinda," Nat replied. She turned to Skye with a small, knowing smile. "Welcome to the circus, kid. We’ve got the 'Gifts' floor all set up for you."

The first few days were a blur of sensory overload. Skye spent most of her time in a specialized suite—a room that felt less like a cell and more like a high-tech yoga studio.

Her first visitor was Bruce Banner. He didn't come in with a clipboard; he came in with two mugs of chamomile tea and a look of profound, weary kindness.

"I heard the floorboards in the common room groaned when you walked by this morning," Bruce said, handing her a mug. "Don't worry. Tony’s ego usually does more damage to the structural integrity than that."

"I’m a ticking time bomb, Bruce," Skye whispered, her hands shaking so hard the tea rattled against the ceramic. "I can feel the molecules in the air. I can feel the city humming. It’s too much."

"I have a friend," Bruce said, sitting on a floor cushion, "a big guy, green, hates everything. He feels like a bomb, too. The trick isn't stopping the explosion, Skye. It’s learning to live in the heartbeat before it happens. You aren't a monster. You're just... loud. We can work with loud."

Later that evening, as Skye sat on the balcony overlooking the Manhattan skyline—trying desperately not to vibrate the glass out of its frame—she felt a presence. It wasn't a sound, but a cold, tingling sensation at the back of her neck.

Wanda Maximoff stepped out of the shadows. Her own hands were glowing with a faint, wispy red energy, dancing between her fingers like silk.

"The others, they talk about physics and training," Wanda said, her accent thick and melodic. "But I feel the static in your mind. It’s like a scream you cannot let out."

Skye looked at her, feeling a sudden, sharp kinship. "Does it ever stop? The noise?"

"No," Wanda admitted, leaning against the railing. Red sparks flickered as she reached out, not touching Skye’s hand, but hovering near it. "But you learn to harmonize with it. Your power comes from the earth, from the bones of things. Mine comes from... elsewhere. But the fear? The fear is the same."

Wanda tilted her head. "Tony wanted to install sensors in your floor. I broke them. You deserve to have a thought that isn't a data point."

Skye let out a ragged laugh. "Thanks, Wanda."

By the end of the week, Natasha found Skye in the training gym. Skye was standing in the center of a vibranium-reinforced ring, trying to "pulse" a series of targets without bringing down the lighting rig.

"You're fighting your own skeleton, Skye," Nat said, leaning against a weight rack. "Stop trying to be still. You’re an earthquake. Be the earthquake."

"If I do that, I'll break the floor," Skye argued.

"The floor is fine. I'm more worried about you," Nat stepped into the ring, her movements fluid. "May told me you’re a hacker. You think in sequences. You think in backdoors. Use that. Don't fight the vibration—reprogram it."

Natasha moved in, throwing a slow, controlled strike. Instinctively, Skye’s hands went up, and a small, localized burst of kinetic energy puffed out, pushing Nat back a few inches.

The lights flickered, but the ceiling stayed put.

"See?" Nat smiled, a genuine, rare flash of warmth. "You didn't break me. And you didn't break the room. You just defended yourself."

Late that night, Skye’s tablet chimed. It was an encrypted channel—one she knew Tony Stark couldn't track, because she had hidden the protocol inside an old Rising Tide loop.

A video feed flickered on. It wasn't a face, just a silhouette in a dimly lit office.

"How are they treating you?" the voice asked. It was Coulson. He sounded distant, but his concern was as palpable as the vibration in the floor.

"Bruce is great," Skye said, smiling at the screen. "Wanda is a little spooky, but she gets it. And Nat... she reminds me of May. Just with better hair."

"I'm sorry I can't be there, Skye," Phil said, his voice dropping an octave. "But you're with the people who can help you become what you're meant to be. Just remember what I told you on the Bus."

"I'm not a 0-8-4," Skye finished for him, her eyes stinging. "I'm a person."

"Exactly. Get some sleep, Specialist. You have training with a billionaire tomorrow, and I hear he’s a very demanding student."

As the screen went black, Skye looked around the high-tech room. She was still terrified, and her bones still hummed with a power she didn't fully understand, but for the first time since the temple, the world didn't feel like it was falling apart. It just felt like it was waiting for her to find the right frequency.

Chapter Text

The Director’s office at the Lighthouse still smelled faintly of motor oil and old paper, a grounding scent that Mack carried with him like a shield. He looked across his desk at Daisy, who was currently swiping through a series of digital dossiers floating in the air between them.

"It’s a solid roster, Tremors," Mack said, leaning back with a rumble of approval. "Bishop’s got the aim, Chavez has the literal muscle, and the Lang and Barton kids... well, they’ve got the legacy. Plus, having Morgan Stark’s tech-support is a win no matter how you slice it."

"But we’re missing a scalpel," Daisy said, her eyes narrowing as she pulled up the final file. A photo of a blonde woman in a tactical vest appeared—Yelena Belova. "The Thunderbolts are courting her hard. Val is promising her vengeance and a paycheck. I need to promise her something better."

Mack crossed his arms. "And what’s that?"

"A home," Daisy whispered. "Something she’s been looking for since she lost her sister."

Yelena Belova sat in a booth at a dim, out-of-the-way diner in Ohio, looking like she was prepared to kill everyone in the room with a soup spoon. When Daisy slid into the seat across from her, Yelena didn't even look up from her plate of macaroni and cheese.

"You are from the man with the very large shotgun-axe," Yelena said, her accent sharp as a blade. "I told him I am not interested in being a 'New Avenger.' It sounds like a brand of sparkling water."

"It’s not a brand," Daisy said, keeping her hands visible on the table. "It’s a team. My team. And I’m not here to talk about Mack."

Yelena finally looked up, her green eyes cold. "Then why are you here? To tell me about the glory of saving the world? I have seen the world. It is quite messy and ungrateful."

"I'm here because of Natasha," Daisy said quietly.

Yelena froze, the fork halfway to her mouth. The air in the booth suddenly felt ten degrees colder. "You did not know my sister. She did not hang out with S.H.I.E.L.D. hackers."

"She saved my life," Daisy countered, her voice dropping into that steady, vulnerable register that always signaled the truth. "Years ago. I was in a bad place—running, grieving. I’d lost someone. A man named Lincoln. I was reckless, trying to take down Hydra cells on my own to punish myself for being alive."

Daisy looked out the window, the memory playing like a grainy film. "I walked into a trap in Budapest. I thought I was done. Then, out of the vents, this red-headed blur just... decimated the room. She didn't stay to give a speech. She just pulled me out of the rubble, handed me a bottle of water and a burner phone, and told me that 'the world doesn't need another martyr, it needs people who stay standing.'"

Yelena’s expression didn't soften, but the murderous glint in her eyes faded, replaced by a painful curiosity. "She told you that?"

"She stayed with me for three hours in a dingy safe house," Daisy continued, a small smile tugging at her lips. "She fixed a gash on my arm and told me about a girl she knew who was just as stubborn as I was. A girl who used to think that being a weapon was the only way to be useful."

Daisy leaned forward, the table vibrating just a fraction—a tiny, subconscious hum of empathy. "She didn't talk about the Avengers, Yelena. She talked about you. She said her greatest regret wasn't the red in her ledger; it was that she wasn't there to show you that you didn't have to be what they made you."

Yelena looked away, her jaw tight. "She was always very dramatic."

"She was a big sister," Daisy corrected gently. "And right now, I have a group of girls—Kate, America, Morgan—who are brilliant and brave, but they’re terrified. They need someone who knows how to survive the dark so they don't have to. I don't want a soldier, Yelena. I want the person Natasha believed in."

Yelena was silent for a long time, poking at her macaroni. Finally, she looked at Daisy. "Does your team have a good dental plan? And the vests? I require many pockets. The Thunderbolts woman, she has no taste in vests."

Daisy laughed, a genuine, bright sound. "We have the best vests money and S.H.I.E.L.D. tech can buy. And Morgan Stark is currently designing a jet that has a built-in espresso machine."

Yelena let out a short huff. She reached into her pocket and pulled out a small, lethal-looking combat knife, flipping it shut with a practiced click.

"I will come and look at your 'sparkling water' team," Yelena said, pointing the knife at Daisy. "But if you try to make us do a group hug, I will stab you. Only a little bit."

"Deal," Daisy said, standing up and offering her hand.

Yelena took it. Her grip was iron, but as she stood, she looked a little less like a weapon and a little more like a woman finding her way home.

"One more thing," Yelena added as they walked toward the door. "The red-headed blur... did she mention if I was the better fighter?"

Daisy smiled, thinking back to that dark room in Budapest. "She said you were the one she was most afraid to spar with."

Yelena smirked, her chest heaving in a rare moment of pride. "Correct. Let's go see these children you have adopted, Quake."

Chapter Text

The training gym in the Brooklyn safe house was thick with the smell of floor wax and old sweat. Clint Barton was meticulously restringing his bow, his movements rhythmic and practiced, but his mind was miles away, anchored in the memory of a rainy night in an Ohio group home. He remembered a pair of too-large brown eyes and a small hand clutching his sleeve, and he remembered the weight of the guilt that had lived in his chest ever since he’d climbed into his brother’s truck and left her behind.

He’d spent years looking for "Skye." He’d used every S.H.I.E.L.D. database, every back-alley contact, and every favor he owed, but the girl had been a ghost. That failure was the reason he’d hesitated in Budapest; the reason he’d looked at a lethal Russian assassin and seen a person who needed a way out instead of a target. He couldn't save the little girl he’d called his sister, so he’d saved Natasha instead.

"Clint, eyes up," Natasha’s voice cut through his thoughts. She was looking at the security feed. "Our contact is here. She’s... unconventional."

Clint looked at the screen and nearly dropped his bow. The woman walking into the warehouse was older, her hair shorter and her gait more confident, but those eyes were unmistakable. It was her.

When they met on the warehouse floor, Daisy—now a tactical specialist for a S.H.I.E.L.D. splinter cell—didn't even flinch. She kept her gaze fixed on Natasha, her expression a mask of professional admiration that bordered on "fangirl" territory.

"Black Widow. It’s an honor," Daisy said, her voice steady, though Clint could hear the faint, frantic rhythm of her heartbeat. "I’ve followed your work in the Red Room archives. Your extraction in Tripoli was legendary."

"And the archer?" Natasha asked, her eyes darting between Clint and the girl. She knew Clint’s history; she knew the name he whispered when he thought he was alone.

Daisy finally glanced at Clint, her eyes turning into chips of ice. "The Hawk? Yeah, good shot. I’ve seen the footage."

The dismissal was a physical blow. Clint stepped forward, his throat dry. "Skye? Is that... is it really you?"

Daisy didn't blink. "My name is Johnson. Specialist Johnson. Now, if we’re done with the introductions, the Hydra shipment is moving in twenty minutes and I need a sniper on the north ridge. You think you can handle that, Barton?"

The mission was a whirlwind of efficiency. Daisy moved with a grace that was both lethal and desperate, her seismic pulses rattling the crates as she cleared the floor. Clint watched her from the rafters, his heart aching with every vibration. She was a weapon now, a force of nature, and he had been the one who let her get lost in the dark.

After the last Hydra agent was neutralized, the adrenaline began to fade, and with it, Daisy’s facade. She was leaning against a pillar, her hands shaking—a tell-tale sign of her powers overextending. Natasha walked up to her, not as a fighter, but as a sister.

"You're a very good liar, Specialist," Natasha said softly, reaching out to steady Daisy’s arm. "But you’re vibrating so hard I can feel it in my boots. And Clint hasn't taken a breath in three minutes."

Daisy’s jaw tightened. She looked at Clint, who was standing a few feet away, his bow lowered. The anger in her eyes suddenly dissolved into something much older and more painful.

"You left," Daisy whispered, the mask finally cracking. "You said you’d come back for me. You said we were a team, Clint. I waited for six months at that window."

"I know," Clint said, his voice cracking. "I went back, Skye. A year later, when I thought I could protect you, I went back to that house and you were gone. I’ve spent twenty years looking for you. Every mission, every city... I was looking for you."

Daisy looked down at her hands, the tremors slowing. "I didn't think I’d ever see you again. I thought you’d forgotten."

"I never forgot," Clint said, stepping closer. "I have three kids, Daisy. Cooper, Lila, and Nathaniel. And they know all about you. They’ve grown up hearing stories about the smartest, toughest girl I ever knew. They call you 'Auntie Skye' when we look at the stars."

Daisy’s eyes filled with tears, the coldness of the S.H.I.E.L.D. specialist replaced by the vulnerability of the foster child she’d once been. She looked at Natasha, who gave her a small, encouraging nod.

"They... they know me?" Daisy asked.

"They’ve been waiting to meet you for a long time," Clint promised, reaching out tentatively. This time, Daisy didn't pull away. She stepped into the hug, burying her face in his tactical vest as twenty years of resentment and longing finally broke.

"I’m still mad at you," she mumbled into his shoulder.

Clint let out a shaky laugh, holding her tighter. "I know. You can tell me all about it on the way to the farm. But fair warning—Lila is going to want to know everything about how you made that building shake. And she doesn't take 'no' for an answer."

Daisy pulled back, wiping her eyes and offering a small, watery smile to Natasha. "I guess I can fit a farm visit into my schedule. As long as the Black Widow is there to protect me from the kids."

"I wouldn't miss it," Natasha said, her hand resting on the small of Daisy’s back. "Someone has to make sure Clint doesn't get too emotional. It’s embarrassing for the brand."

As they walked toward the extraction jet, the weight that had lived in Clint’s chest for two decades finally began to lift. He hadn't just completed a mission; he’d found the piece of his soul he’d left behind in Ohio. And this time, he wasn't letting go.

Chapter Text

The date on Daisy’s old S.H.I.E.L.D. file had always been a placeholder, a generic day in July assigned by a social worker who didn’t have anything better to go on. But after a lifetime of searching, after the chaos of Afterlife and the messy, tragic truth of her parents, she finally had the real one.

She didn't tell a soul.

She spent the morning in the quietest corner of the Lighthouse, a sub-level balcony that looked out over the vast, empty hangar. The air was cool and tasted of recycled oxygen, but it felt peaceful. Daisy leaned against the cold metal railing, her fingers absentmindedly tracing the dampening gauntlets on her wrists.

She let her mind drift back. She thought of the cold, cramped nights in the van, shivering under a thin blanket while she chased digital ghosts. She thought of the Saint Agnes orphanage, the endless cycle of "almost" families, and the hollow feeling of being a 0-8-4—an object of unknown origin.

Then, the memories shifted. She saw Coulson’s patient, crooked smile when he handed her a S.H.I.E.L.D. badge. She felt the weight of May’s hand on her shoulder after a grueling spar. She heard the frantic, twin-engine chatter of Fitz and Simmons arguing over the physics of her latest earthquake.

Her life had been a jagged line of trauma and recovery, a series of seismic shifts that should have leveled her. She had traveled to the literal end of the world and back through the stars with a man from the 1940s and a sister she never knew she wanted.

"I’m still standing," she whispered to the empty hangar.

The silence was comforting for a while, a chance to mourn the girl she used to be and honor the woman she had become. But after hours of solitude, the quiet began to feel less like a sanctuary and more like a void. The reflection was done. The past was honored. Now, she just wanted to be with the people who made the present worth living in.

Daisy stood up, stretched her stiff limbs, and headed toward the common room. She expected to find Mack tinkering with a drone or Elena reading on the sofa. She expected the mundane, comfortable hum of a Tuesday afternoon.

Instead, as the heavy blast door hissed open, the world exploded into color and noise.

"SURPRISE!"

Daisy nearly took the door off its hinges with a reflexive pulse of energy, but she caught herself just in time. The common room was draped in haphazardly hung streamers. A banner—clearly hand-painted by Mack—read HAPPY REAL BIRTHDAY, DAISY in bold, steady letters.

Fitz and Simmons were holding a cake that looked suspiciously like a miniature Zephyr-One, while Elena was already at her side, a mischievous grin on her face.

"You really thought you could hide a digital footprint from us?" Elena teased, handing Daisy a drink. "You looked up that birth certificate on a secure server, chica. We’ve been planning this for three days."

Daisy stood in the doorway, her mouth slightly open. She looked at Mack, who was beaming with brotherly pride, and at Piper and Davis, who were already arguing over the playlist. Even May was there, leaning against the far wall with a rare, soft expression that was as good as a hug.

"I didn't think... I mean, I didn't say anything," Daisy stammered, her heart doing a frantic little dance in her chest.

"You didn't have to," Mack said, stepping forward and pulling her into a bear hug that made her ribs groan in the best way. "We’re S.H.I.E.L.D., Daisy. Finding things out is what we do. Especially when it involves family."

Daisy looked around the room, the heat of tears stinging the corners of her eyes. She had spent the morning reflecting on her "lost" years, on the girl who had no one. But looking at the faces surrounding her—the geniuses, the warriors, the survivors—she realized the search was over.

"The cake is scientifically perfect," Fitz announced, holding up a finger. "I calculated the moisture-to-frosting ratio to ensure maximum satisfaction."

"He means it tastes good," Simmons added with a laugh.

Daisy took a breath, the seismic hum in her marrow settling into a steady, rhythmic thrum of belonging. She walked into the center of the room, letting the noise and the laughter wash over her.

"I guess I’m not as good a hacker as I thought," Daisy joked, wiping a stray tear from her cheek. "But I think I can live with that."

She spent the rest of the night not in reflection, but in the loud, messy reality of her life. They told stories, they argued over the "best" mission, and for the first time in her life, the day she was born didn't feel like a mystery to be solved. It felt like a celebration of the home she had finally built.

Chapter Text

The drive from the airstrip to the farmhouse was quiet, the gravel crunching under the tires of the black SUV like a ticking clock. As the red barn came into view, silhouetted against a soft, amber sunset, Daisy felt the air in her lungs turn to lead.

The vibrations started small—a low hum in her marrow that made the dashboard rattle. She looked at the farmhouse, so picturesque and full of light, and all she could see was a target. Every place she had ever loved had ended in fire or rubble. Trip, Lincoln, the original Bus—she was a tectonic event in human form, and she was walking right into a sanctuary.

"I can't," Daisy choked out, her hand flying to the door handle. "Clint, stop the car. I need to get out."

Clint’s face went pale, his hands tightening on the steering wheel. "Daisy? Hey, it’s okay. We’re safe here. Nobody knows about this place."

"That’s what they always say!" Daisy’s voice rose, a sharp, panicked edge cutting through the cabin. "Wherever I go, things break. People die. I’m a curse, Clint. If I step foot on that porch, I’m bringing the world down on your kids' heads. And what if I’m not who you remember? I’m not that little girl. I’m a weapon. I’m dangerous."

The SUV pulled to a stop a hundred yards from the house. Clint started to reach for her, his heart in his eyes, but Natasha’s hand landed firmly on his shoulder.

"Go inside, Clint," Natasha said, her voice quiet but absolute. "Tell Laura we’re here. Get the kids settled. I’ve got her."

Clint hesitated, looking at Daisy’s shaking frame, but he knew better than to argue with the Widow. He gave Daisy one last, lingering look of paternal worry before slipping out of the car and heading toward the house.

The silence that followed was heavy. Daisy leaned her forehead against the cool glass of the window, her breath coming in ragged, shallow hitches.

"You're overthinking the math, Daisy," Natasha said, shifting into the driver’s seat so she could look at her directly. "You're trying to calculate the risk of happiness, and you’ve decided the interest rate is too high."

"You don't understand," Daisy whispered, a tear tracing a path through the grime on her cheek. "You saw what I did to that warehouse. I don't just 'live' in places, Nat. I haunt them. Clint thinks I’m the sister he lost, but that girl is dead. I’m just Quake now. If I mess this up—if I hurt one of those kids—I’ll never come back from it."

Natasha didn't offer a platitude. She reached out and grabbed Daisy’s hand, her grip steady and grounded, a stark contrast to the seismic hum radiating from Daisy’s skin.

"Look at me," Natasha commanded. Daisy looked. "I spent years thinking I was a ghost. I thought the only thing I was allowed to be was a shadow in the corner of someone else’s life. Then I met Clint. And then I met those kids. They don't want a hero, Daisy. They don't want a 'Specialist.' They want the person their dad loves."

Natasha squeezed her hand, a rare, vulnerable softness in her gaze. "You think you’re a curse because you’ve seen death. But look around. You’re the one who stayed standing. You’re the one who saved that warehouse today. You isn’t a weapon, Daisy. You’re a shield. And shields are exactly what families need."

Daisy took a shaky breath, the vibrations in the car finally beginning to settle. "What if they don't like me?"

"Lila has already decided you're cooler than her dad," Natasha joked, a small smirk playing on her lips. "And Nathaniel... well, he’s a baby. If you hold him and don't drop him, you’re already a legend in his book. You aren't going to mess this up, because you’ve already done the hard part. You survived long enough to find us."

Natasha leaned in, brushing a stray hair from Daisy’s face with the familiarity of a big sister. "We’re the ones who get to choose our family, remember? I chose Clint. He chose you. And I’m choosing you, too. You’re not alone in this anymore."

Daisy let out a long, shuddering exhale, the weight in her chest finally starting to lift. She looked at the house again. Clint was standing on the porch, a small blonde girl tucked under his arm, both of them waving.

"Okay," Daisy whispered, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. "Okay. Let’s go in."

As they walked up the path, the front door burst open. Lila Barton didn't hesitate; she sprinted down the stairs and launched herself at Daisy’s waist.

"Auntie Skye!" the girl shrieked, burying her face in Daisy’s tactical vest. "Dad said you were coming! Is it true you can make mountains move? Can you show me? Do you want to see my bow?"

Daisy froze for a heartbeat, her hands hovering in the air. Then, she felt Natasha’s hand on her shoulder—a gentle push. Daisy wrapped her arms around the girl, the tremors in her hands vanishing completely. The earth didn't shake. The house didn't fall.

"Yeah," Daisy said, her voice thick with emotion as she looked up at Clint’s tearful smile. "I can show you. But only if your dad says it's okay."

"Whatever you want, Daisy," Clint said, stepping down to join the huddle. "Whatever you want."

Chapter Text

The dining table was a battlefield of half-eaten greens and scattered crumbs, but the real intensity was coming from the two older Barton kids. Nathaniel sat in his high chair, happily smearing mashed peas across his tray and making soft, bubbling noises, oblivious to the emotional minefield his siblings were laying out.

"Did it hurt?" Lila asked suddenly, her fork frozen halfway to her mouth. "When you got your powers? Dad said you went into a cave and came out different. Like a cocoon."

Daisy’s hand tightened around her water glass. She could almost smell the dust of the ancient temple, feel the suffocating sensation of the gray stone creeping up her skin, and hear Trip’s breathing stop as he turned to ash in front of her. She forced her facial muscles to stay relaxed, though the water in her glass began to ripple in tiny, perfect concentric circles.

"It was... a lot of changes all at once," Daisy said, her voice light but careful. "Like a very intense growth spurt. But I had good people to help me through it."

"Dad says you don't have a mom or a dad," Cooper added, his tone blunt with the innocence of a child. "He said they were 'lost.' Did you ever find them? Are they nice like Mom and Dad?"

Clint winced, his chair creaking as he shifted uncomfortably. "Cooper, that’s a bit personal—"

"It's okay, Clint," Daisy interrupted, though her smile felt like it was made of glass. She thought of Jiaying’s cold hands on her face, trying to drain her life away. She thought of Cal’s broken, desperate eyes before his memory was wiped. "I did find them. They weren't exactly what I expected. Sometimes, the family you find along the way is better than the one you’re born with. That’s why I’m so happy to be here."

"Why does Daddy always call you 'Auntie Skye' if your name is actually 'Daisy'?" Lila pressed, leaning in. "Were you hiding from bad people? Did they hurt you? Is that why you have the scars on your arms?"

The table went silent. Daisy’s mind flashed to the Centipede labs, to the needles, and the way her blood had been harvested like a commodity. She thought of the long months on the run, sleeping with a gun under her pillow. The scars weren't just on her arms; they were stitched into her soul.

"I was just looking for where I belonged," Daisy said, her voice a bit thinner now. "When you don't know who you are, you have to make up a name that feels brave. 'Skye' felt like I could go anywhere. But 'Daisy' feels like I can finally grow roots."

"Are you going to leave again?" Cooper asked, his voice losing its edge and becoming small. "Everyone cool leaves. Auntie Nat goes away for months. Uncle Pietro... he never came back at all. Are you going to go away and not come back?"

The mention of Pietro made the air in the room turn heavy. Daisy looked at the empty space at the table where a brother should have been, and she realized the Bartons knew loss just as well as she did. She looked at Clint, whose eyes were shining with a decade of unshed tears.

"I have to go sometimes," Daisy said softly, reaching across the table to ruffle Cooper's hair. "But the thing about being an Auntie is that I always know the way back. No matter how far I go, I’ll have this farm on my map. I promise."

Laura stepped in then, her maternal radar hitting the red zone. She saw the way Daisy’s fingers were trembling and the way the water in the glass was nearly jumping over the rim.

"Alright, that’s the end of the press conference," Laura announced, her voice firm but kind. "Cooper, Nathaniel needs a bath and you’re on 'splash guard' duty. Lila, pajamas. Now. Nat, could you help me wrangle the boys? I think Clint and Daisy need a minute to breathe."

Natasha stood up, her hand lingering on Daisy’s shoulder for a second—a grounding squeeze that said you survived it—before she herded the protesting children toward the stairs. Lila lingered, her lip pouting.

"I want Daisy to help me!" Lila insisted. "She has to tell me the story about the mountain!"

"I'll be up in ten minutes, Lila," Daisy promised, her voice regaining its strength. "Go get your teeth brushed. If you’re fast, I’ll tell you about the time I outran a drone in a van."

"Deal!" Lila shouted, sprinting for the stairs.

As the chaos drifted upward, leaving only the sound of the wind against the porch, Daisy slumped back in her chair. She let out a long, shuddering breath.

"I'm sorry," Clint whispered, reaching across the table to take her hand. "I didn't think they’d go that deep. I forget sometimes that they see the world through the stories I tell them."

"It’s okay," Daisy said, finally letting the glass smile drop. She looked at him, her eyes raw. "It’s just... I’ve spent so long pretending those parts of me don't exist so I can be a good agent. To them, it’s just a story. To me, it’s still Tuesday."

"You don't have to be an agent here," Clint said, squeezing her hand. "You can just be my sister. The one who hated the crusts on her sandwiches and was better at math than I ever was."

Daisy wiped a stray tear from her cheek and let out a small, shaky laugh. "I still hate the crusts, Clint."

"I know," he smiled. "I cut them off your toast this morning. I didn't think you noticed."

Daisy looked at him, really looked at him, and realized that for the first time in twenty years, she didn't have to look for a way out. She was already home.

"Go on," Clint nudged her. "Go tell that kid a story before she comes back down here and starts asking about the Fall of S.H.I.E.L.D."

"Right," Daisy said, standing up and smoothing out her shirt. "A story. I think I’ll tell her the one about the 'Lola.' She’ll like the flying car."

"She'll love it," Clint promised. "I'll be here when you get back down."

Chapter Text

Daisy walked into Lila’s room to find the girl tucked under a thick wool blanket, her eyes wide with anticipation. For twenty minutes, Daisy wove a tale about a red flying car named Lola and a team of "science wizards" who could solve any puzzle. She kept the danger light and the wonder high, and by the time she kissed Lila’s forehead, the girl was drifting off, dreaming of flying cars and seismic pulses.

When Daisy stepped back into the living room, the house was hushed. Natasha and Laura were upstairs with the boys, leaving Clint alone on the porch. He was staring out into the dark treeline, a bottle of beer held loosely in his hand, his shoulders hunched in a way that made him look smaller than the hero the world knew.

Daisy stepped out and leaned against the railing beside him. The night air was cool, carrying the scent of pine and fresh rain.

"They're finally out," she said softly.

Clint didn't look up immediately. "I heard the stories from the hallway. You're good at that. Better than I am." He finally turned to her, and the guilt in his eyes was so thick it was almost suffocating. "I’ve been sitting here thinking about the questions they asked. About the things I didn't know. The 'cocoon,' the parents who weren't nice, the scars... Daisy, I should have been there. I should have looked harder. I should have dragged you out of that system before it had a chance to break you."

Daisy saw the way his knuckles were white against the bottle. He was carrying the weight of twenty years of her trauma as if it were his own failure.

"Clint, look at me," Daisy said, her voice firm but grounded. She waited until he met her eyes. "Things happen for a reason. If you’d found me when I was twelve, or fifteen... I wouldn't be the person I am today. I wouldn't have met my team."

She looked out at the dark fields, a small, genuine smile forming. "I found a family, Clint. They’re a complete disaster, honestly. There’s the Director—he’s stubborn and cryptic, but he’s the closest thing to a father I’ve ever had. And May... she’s the most dangerous woman I’ve ever met, but she’s the one who taught me how to stand my ground. She basically adopted me, even if she’d never use that word."

Daisy let out a soft laugh. "And then there’s Fitz and Simmons. They’re my siblings. They argue about physics and save the world with nothing but a screwdriver and a sandwich. And Bobbi and Hunter... they’re like the chaotic aunt and uncle who are always bickering but would die for each other."

She turned back to him, her expression softening. "They’re a mess, and we’ve been through hell, but they’re mine. One day, when the world isn't so complicated, I want you to meet them. I think you’d actually like them. You and the Director could bond over your mutual love of old-fashioned values and being incredibly annoying."

Clint let out a dry, shaky chuckle, but the tension didn't fully leave his frame. He reached out, hesitantly resting a hand on her shoulder. "I just don't want to lose you again, Daisy. I’m not done with you. I’m never going to be done with you."

Daisy leaned into his touch, but deep down, a small, cold part of her was waiting for the other shoe to drop. She was waiting for a mission to go south, for a secret to come out, or for Clint to realize that having a sister who was a "living weapon" was too much of a risk for his quiet farm life. She’d spent her life being the one people left behind, and the fear that he would decide she was too broken to keep was a vibration she couldn't quite shake.

"I'm still here, Clint," she whispered, as much to herself as to him. "And for now, that has to be enough."

He pulled her into a side-hug, the warmth of the Barton home glowing behind them through the windows. "It’s more than enough. It’s everything."