Hello (Goodbye)
1: 5 and 10
The first foster home Mary can remember is the Kings, they live in New York, on the Upper East Side where all the rich people were from and they wanted a charity kid for the holidays. Mary wasn't complaining though, she didn't have to spend the holidays in the group home, the rich people fed her well, gave her warm clothes, and usually a present or two for Christmas before sending her back after New Years.
The Kings are relatively nice, and they even let her have chicken nuggets at the Christmas party so she tries not to let the pretty pink dress they put her in get too dirty when she crawls under the table. There are a lot of people at the party and they were starting to get louder as the night went on. There weren't many kids though, so she was surprised when she looked up from the shiny floor to see another girl under the table.
"Shh." The blonde girl pressed a finger to her lips, Mary nodded. "Don't want Grandmother to know I'm hiding." Grandmother, so not a holiday kid like her.
"Why you hidin'?" Mary furrowed her brows, trying to pull her knees up to her chest, but her dress was big and pink and foofy and got in the way so she had to settle for dragging her thumb across her bottom lip.
"'Cause it's boring out there." The girl rolled her blue eyes and it struck Mary for a moment that they were the prettiest blue eyes she'd ever seen. Prettier even than the fluffy white snow glittering past the window at sunset. "'Barbara, come here,' 'Barbara, do this,' 'Barbara, be a proper lady.'" The girl mocked with a fake snooty accent that made Mary giggle. "Why are you hiding? Bet they'd love you, you're little enough that they can still pinch your cheeks."
Mary thumb passed over her bottom lip again. "It's loud. I don't like loud." She wouldn't suck her thumb, she's not a baby.
"First time at one of these?" The girl - Barbara, Mary guessed her name was - cocked her head to the side. Mary nodded silently. "Shh!" The blonde pressed her finger to her lips again and tilted her head to listen to something. "I gotta go, I guess." She sighed, making a face that made Mary giggle again. "I'm Bobbi by the way." The blonde was already half out from under the table.
"Hi-" but the pretty blonde girl is already gone, and all Mary can see is her white shoes darting away from the table they were hiding under. Mary pouted as she retreated back under the table before anyone could spot her, her eyes landing on a strip of white ribbon where Bobbi had been sitting. Her small fingers picked up the ribbon and marveled at it before she heard her own name being called.
2: 9 and 14
Mary has never hoped for anything as much as she hoped that the Brody's would keep her. Mrs Brody is nice and loving and doesn't even yell at her when she breaks the rules. A word has been mulling around her mind for weeks now, but she hasn't brought herself to actually say out of fear for a bad reaction.
But, that was moot now because hot Texas sun was beating down on her as she ran and she was sure that she wouldn't make it back to the house anyway. There's a boy chasing her, he's older, he has longer legs, he's undoubtedly stronger, and he's mindless a brute who don't care that he's trying to beat up a 9-year-old. Growing up in the system there's always something or someone to run from, so she's fast, but not fast enough this time.
The hand grabs at her backpack, pulling her off her feet with a yelp, and she's thrown to the ground. Mary was a fighter though, she'd been fighting her whole life - it was why the last family before the Brody's gave her back - and she wasn't going to give up without a fight.
"You're just a big fat bully who can't even pick on kids your own age!" Mary spits at him, scrambling to her feet and clenching her fists for a fight. "You can't even win a regular fight so you have to pick on little girls."
"Yeah, what're you gonna do about it?" He's stalking closer to her as she tries to back up, but she knows soon her back will be against a wall and be right where he wants her. "You're jus' a little girl, remember."
"Yeah, but I'm not!" Mary has no idea where the voice came from, but it's the best thing she's heard all day since Mrs Brody said she had a piece of candy in her lunchbox that morning.
"This ain't got nothin' to do with you." The older boy tossed over his shoulder, shifting in just the right way that lets Mary see a flash of blonde hair.
"It does now." The girl is right behind the boy now and he's bothered enough by her to turn his back to Mary.
"Get lost, Bitch, or you'll be next." The boy threatened, cracking his knuckles. Mary started to slip away from where she was backed into the wall while his attention was elsewhere, but she froze in place and watched in awe as the blonde girl punched the boy in the face, then the stomach, and then pushed him away so he landed in a heap on the ground. "You bitch-" but the girl lunged at him and he stopped yelling.
"Come near her or any other kid and you'll answer to me, understand?" The girl glared at the boy on the ground, who didn't respond to her threat. "Understand?" This time punctuated by a kick to the boys shin.
"YES!" The boy yelped, peering up at the blond through the blood flowing from his nose.
"Come on, Kid, I'll take you home." The blonde turned to Mary who was still staring at the scene in front of her; she'd run from school certain that the boy was going to beat her up, but this girl had just saved her and beat up the boy instead. And the boy was older than her too!
"That was awesome!" Mary finally found her voice when they were half a block away. The blonde laughed and blushed at the praise.
"Thanks." Her blue eyes peeked down to Mary. "Why was he after you anyway?" Mary looked down and shrugged, refusing to answer until the girl made her stop walking and knelt in front of her. "You're not going to get in trouble, he's been a menace for years, but he doesn't usually go for little kids."
"I'm not little, I'm nine!" Mary denied indignantly. "He was trying to kiss a girl in my math class when she didn't want him to so I told him to stop and kicked him." The blonde laughed, throwing her head back and it made Mary feel oddly proud.
"Wait," the blonde's laugh turned into a frown. "A girl in your math class? You're nine and he's sixteen!"
"I'm in advanced math." They walked in silence for a block and a half longer. "I can walk the rest of the way."
"Or I can walk you." They turned a corner and Mary had to squint when she looked up at the blonde to see her. "So you must be pretty smart to be in advanced math with sixteen-year-olds."
"Or the sixteen-year-olds are just that dumb." Mary countered with a smirk. More silence until the brunette felt something touch her head and flinched back in an automatic reaction.
"It's just a hat, don't want you to get burnt, sun safe and all that." The blonde showed her the baseball cap with the purple P on it before shoving it on her head again. They turned onto the block the Brody's house was on and Mary found herself sad that her blonde protector would be leaving soon. "Hey, if he bothers you again, just let me know. I'm staying with my Aunt at number twenty-three for a few months, just ask for Bobbi."
"Hi, Bobbi, I'm-" Mary started, smiling because this was the first friend she'd made in her two and a half months in Texas.
"You best get outta that sun, Sweet Pea, or you'll turn into a raisin." Mrs Brody called from the front door and the words were out of Mary's mouth before she could stop them.
"Coming, Mom!"
Mary never got to see her protector again because a week later the Brody's sent her back and all she could think about was she shouldn't have called Mrs Brody Mom.
3: 13 and 17
Mary is in San Diego now with the latest fosters that the system had dragged up for her. They're one of the worse ones she's been at - but the scar on her back reminds her they're not the absolute worst - so tries to spend as much time away from them as possible until they undoubtedly send her back. She managed to scam enough money out of some neighbourhood kids playing poker to get herself a secondhand bike and she likes the feeling of the wind in her hair when she rides down a hill.
Mary can't wait until she'd old enough to drive. The second she turns 16 she's getting her liscense and she won't stop driving until she finds her real parents. Just to know why they didn't want her. Why nobody ever wants her.
She's lost in her dreams of the future and the sensation of the wind pulling her hair back, and doesn't notice the car until it's too late.
"Shit! Are you okay?" Mary is lying in the middle of the road in a daze, she swears she can see little cartoon birdies flying around her head. "Hey, Kid, are you okay? Shit, you're not okay! I need to call nine-one-"
"I'm fine!" Not 911. Not the ambulance. Not the hospital... Too many hospitals. Mary sits up quickly and it makes her dizzy. "I'm fine!" She repeats, though she isn't sure if she should talk to the one on the left or the right.
"How many fingers am I holding up?" The blonde continued as if Mary hadn't spoken at all. "Never mind, that's stupid anyway. What day is it? Do you know your name? When's your birthday?" She knew one out of three, but the girl didn't need to know that the name she'd been given at the orphanage and the birthday they'd assigned, weren't her real ones. "What's-"
"I said I'm fine." Mary snapped, shying away from the girl when she reached for her. "Sorry I crashed into you." Because it had been her fault, she hadn't been paying attention when she was going down the hill way too fast, and the car was very clearly stopped at a stop sign. Slowly. Ever so slowly, Mary got to her feet, mentally checking herself for injuries under the concerned gaze of the blonde stranger, who was starting to look more and more familiar. Her bike was on the ground a few feet away, one of the wheels still spinning, and the other bent at an angle that Mary knew meant she wouldn't be able to fix it. "Stupid piece of shit." The girl kicked at it angrily.
"Oh, jeez, I'm sorry." The blonde looked close to panicking, eyeing the brunette, and the bike as if one of them might spontaneously explode. "You're bleeding! I need to get you to a hospital, and-" Mary stops listening as the blonde rambles, instead inspecting the cut on her arm and the blood seeping from it. It reminds her of the time with the McAndrews' when Mr. McAndrews threw her through a flimsy wooden door and a piece of said door cut her leg open.
"I'm fine." Mary was starting to feel like a broken record, but the cut wasn't too bad, and even if it was she certainly wasn't going to a hospital. As bad as the Jakobi's were they at least had a first aid kit for when Mrs Jakobi lost her temper at one of the kids. "I can fix it myself." She should be getting back now anyway, because the younger kids don't stay out past the street lights switching on and she doesn't like to leave them alone with Jakobi's because some of them still have a little innocence in them. "I just need to get back to the house."
"Will you let me drive you at least?" Because she wouldn't be able to ride her bike anymore.
"Fine." Mary let out a grumble, shooting her bike one last dirty look before heading over to the passenger side.
When the blonde gets into the drivers seat she doesn't start the car right away, but instead stretches over and reaches onto the backseat, "here. For your arm." The girl hands her a wrinkled, plaid button up with an apologetic look.
"Thanks." Mary mumbled and the blonde smiled. Mary remembered that smile from a hot Texas day and a bully nearly twice her age chasing her. No wonder the girl looked familiar, but she couldn't remember her name - partially from the four year time gap, and partially because her mind had been occupoed with other things like the Brody's sending her back. What were the odds, Mary wondered, of meeting the same person half a country away four years apart.
"So where do you live?" The car started with a sputter and an unhealthy sounding rumble.
"New York." Were the first words out of Mary's mouth and the breaks were slammed on hard enough that she had to hold onto the dash in front of her to stop herself from colliding with it.
"I'm not driving to New York, Kid, got somewhere closer?"
"Jakobi house over on Sicamore, number nineteen." Mary reported dully, staring out the window as the blonde started driving again.
Most of the drive is in silence, only the sputtering and grumbling of the car breaking it up. Mary doubted that the blonde would remember her from Texas, she'd changed a lot from the 9-year-old with the Brody's to the 13-year-old that was with the Jakobi's now. And that was assuming the blonde even remembered the little kid from Texas.
"You need me to help you clean your arm?" The bllonde was frowning at the house as she spoke. Dead lawn, faded paint, two out of the three windows on the front of the house were broken, and the porch was missing a step.
"I'm fine." Mary shrugged, it would actually be better if the older girl stayed away. "Thanks for the ride." She caught a glimpse of one of the younger kids in the window and she could already hear Mrs Jakobi yelling. Definitely better if the blonde stayed away.
"Are you-"
"I'm sure." Mary snapped, getting out of the car before she could try and help.
"Hey!" Mary was halfway up the path before the blonde called out. "I'm sorry."
Sorry for the bike, sorry for her getting hurt, sorry that the Jakobi's have the worst reputation with kids, sorry for whatever landed this kid in foster care, sorry that she got place with the Jakobi's, sorry that the girl seemed familiar but she couldn't place why. She was sorry.
"Thanks." Mary called back with a half smile as if she understood all the sorry's those two words had portrayed.
Three days later social services came to the Jakobi house and took all the kids away while the police took the parents.
4: 17 and 22
When Skye was 16, true to her own promise to herself, she ran away from the system. She had a piece of junk for a car, a fake ID that said she was 21, and everything she could cram into the boot.
There was a box in the back of the boot of things she'd collected over her years in the system; a white ribbon that she had vague memories of blonde hair blue eyes and hiding under a table, a hat with a purple P on it from Texas, a plaid shirt that had taken three washes to get all the blood out of, amongst other things of course.
A year of living off the grid and out of a car hadn't turned up any new leads on her long lost parents, and had only served get her in with a crowd that even at 17 and with no other options, Skye knew was the wrong crowd. The Rising Tide. It had started innocently enough, minor coding and cracking passwords on phones and computers for quick cash. Coding and phones turned to programming and school grading systems. It was when one guy at the local college she passing through bet her that she couldn't change the grades of every single student at the college that she started athering the attention of the hacker group.
Alcohole may have been involved, there's no way she would have accepted the bet any other way when she was trying to keep a low profile, but drunk Skye was apparently cocky Skye. She totally won the bet even when she was drunk off her ass and they preppy little rich kid had reluctantly handed over his two grand.
After that the Rising Tide happened, and Miles happened, and two months in Skye hopped back in her car and took off, promising that she'd be back, but that everything was just happening too fast.
She's at a bar in Georgia and there are girls older than her that have clearly been there for a while because they're dancing on the bar and singing old 90's songs and one of them looks like they'd be a good mistake for Skye to make.
On the other hand there's a scrappy poker game going on in the corner with a bunch of kids from the local government Academy and she's got a couple hundred dollars saved up that she wouldn't mind doubling or tripling.
"Got room for one more?" The game pauses when she appraoches, and she can see them all sharing looks as they decide whether to let her in.
"Anti's a quarter, two dollar big blind, one for small." The blonde is the one that nods, kicking out the chair next to her for Skye to sit.
A few rounds in and the others have started throwing around possessions as well as money; there's a Stark phone, a pair of diamond earings, limited edition Captain America cards. The blonde next her takes the pot and it's Skye's turn to deal.
The guy across from her lets out a low whistle when she can shuffle better than any of them. Ace-Jack of spades. She calls the blinds.
Queen of spades, 10 of clubs, three of diamonds.
The pot starts to grow and the blonde next to her tosses in the Stark phone she just won. It's all Skye has to call.
10 of Spades. Flush draw, straight draw, Royal flush draw. She licks her lips and eyes the pot. That could keep her going for weeks.
The blonde leans forward into the light and Skye lets out a gasp. Four years since San Diego and the Jakobi's, half a country away again and there she is. Her blond saviour from Texas, the girl that drove her back after she crashed her bike in San Diego. The odds are astronomical for them to meet again. Did the blonde recognise her too?
The guy across from her offers a computer as a bet - brand new, state of the art, she knows the model and it's worth thousands and is perfect for coding and programming.
Flush draw, straight draw, Royal flush draw. Everyone else folds and it's down to Skye and the guy with the computer. She doesn't have anything to cover the computer, but she wants it. She wants it bad. The keys to her beat up car are in her pocket, but it's not enough to cover the computer.
If she folds she's got nothing, if she calls it's her car on the line.
"Car for the call." The keys are in her hand as an offering and the preppy little rich kids don't even care that it's not even worth half of the computer.
King of spades on the river.
Skye is still staring at the board in dumbfounded shock when the guy across from her bets again. She can't lose. Whatever he has, she can't lose. But, she has nothing left to call the bet with.
"I'll cover her." The blonde from Texas. The blonde from San Diego. She tosses in Captain America cards and the vintage comic book she'd won earlier in the evening. It's too much. Skye's knows it's too much, but there's no way she can lose so she accepts it.
He turns over Queen-10. Full house. Not enough.
The table sits in silence when she turns over her Royal flush.
An hour later the game has dispersed and Skye is still nursing her newly won computer close to her chest. "Why'd you cover me?" The question has been bubbling ever since the hand and the blonde is still sitting next her with a half empty beer and a carefree smirk on her lips.
"Consider it a sorry for your bike and your arm." The blonde replies, Skye's eyes widen in surprise. She does remember her.
"The bike was barely worth fifty bucks when I bought it." Certainly not enough for the blonde to risk so much for her in a poker game.
"Maybe." The blonde agrees, her hand reaches for Skye's arm, light fingers tracing the scar that had faded to almost nothing over the last four years. "But, the arm." Nimble fingers trace up the arm and curved around the back of Skye's neck, bringing their faces closer together, she can feel her breath hot on her face. "The body it's attached to." The blonde's other hand touches her hip and Skye has a moment of clarity to wonder how much the blonde has been drinking. "The person."
"Morse!" A voice yells across the bar and the blonde's fingers tighten ever so slightly against her skin. "Stop fucking in the bar, we're leaving!"
Skye starts to pull back, to extract herself from the hypnotising blonde. "Hey." Blue eyes draw her back in and Skye feels like they're staring into her Soul, reading every single one of her deep dark secrets. "You're worth so much more." It ends with a brush of lips against her forehead as the blonde gets up.
"Hey." Skye calls when they're near the door and she's still stuck in place at the table. "Thanks." Thanks for so much more than covering her, than the computer, than giving her assurances she didn't even know she was craving.
She wasn't lying when she told Coulson she won the computer in a bet. She just didn't mention the blonde that helped her do it.
5: 21 and 26
This time Skye swears she'll remember her name. In Texas she'd been 9, by the time they met again in San Diego it had been four years and she'd forgotten, when they met in Georgia it had been another four years and the blonde hadn't given her name. Skye didn't remember ever telling her name in any of their meetings.
She introduces herself as Agent Morse with S.H.I.E.L.D and she wants to know why she's trying to hack Stark Tower. Is she working with the Mandarin? Why is she hacking Stark? Is she one of those Avengers groupies trying to get close to the team? What is her agenda? Then the blonde pauses and she can see the recognition in her eyes.
"This is what you're doing with that computer?" She sounds disapointed more than anything and it makes Skye feel inexplicably guilty. "Hacker for hire or something?"
"Or something." Agent Morse doesn't take her in to S.H.I.E.L.D, instead she takes her to a hole-in-the-wall diner and they have coffee. Since Stark's fight with the Mandarin is public they've been keeping an eye on everything - especially after the Battle fo New York - and Stark's own computer program alerted S.H.I.E.L.D that someone was trying to hack in since it couldn't get in touch with Stark himself. "I was trying to use Stark's system to piggy-back into Shield."
"Not helping your case, Kid." The blonde rolls her eyes as Skye absently picks at sugar packets and starts arranging them. It's a habit. It's calming. It's better than facing the disapointment she inexplicably feels under the blue gaze across the table.
"I'm not a kid anymore, I don't need you to save me." Because that's what she did. In Texas with the bully. In San Diego when she crashed her bike. In Georgia with the poker game.
"Clearly you do, if it wasn't me, it would have been another Agent who would have arrested you on the spot." It's enough to make her look up from the sugar.
"I wasn't going to do anything, I just wanted information." The Rising Tide. They would have done something, they would have released everything they could get their hands on about S.H. .D, but Skye just wanted information. The same thing she'd wanted her whole life. The Rising Tide was just her means to getting that end.
"Still not helping." It's been 12 years since the hot Texas was beating down on 9-year-old Mary Sue Poots as she squinted up at her blonde saviour who wanted to know why the bully was chasing her. It was the same look the blonde was giving her now. The look hadn't changed much in 12 years.
"I just want to know why my parents didn't want me." She still feels the same need to explain herself to the tall blonde that she did when she was 9. "I've looked through every system and database I could find and I'm nowhere. But, I found a line of code in my file that had Shield origins, so I just wanted to know what it was and if it had to do with my parents, but I couldn't get in on my own." This time there was no look of pride for standing up to a bully nearly twice her age.
"Look." Agent Morse let out a sigh, she looked sad. She looked pitying. Skye didn't like pity. "I know you don't want to hear it, but Shield doesn't concern itself with orphans, so whatever you're looking for you won't find it by hacking us." Skye looked away, she could feel her eyes stinging. It wasn't anything new to her - she wouldn't stop looking no matter who told her though - but the fact that it came from her. "I won't report you this time, but if it happens again I can't help you."
"I don't need you to save me." Skye repeated with a defiant glare. "And I won't stop looking so you might as well arrest me." Blue eyes glared back just as fiercely. The blonde didn't move, didn't say anything, and Skye didn't want to sit around face her disapointment. She was half way out the door before Agent Morse stopped her.
"I meant it when I said you were worth more than that." It feels like her blue eyes are piercing her Soul. "And you're worth more than this too." The blonde is the one that leave first, and Skye can feel a piece of paper left in her hand as she watches the blonde go.
Bobbi - followed by a phone number and a message that it's good for one more save. Because that's what she does, she saves her.
1: 27 and 32
4 years. It's always 4 years. Ever since she was 5, Daisy had met her every 4 years of her life. 5 in New York - a long lost memory that surfaced during Christmas when they were all talking about childhood Christmases and she remembered hiding under a table in New York and she'd remembered that it had been her she'd been hiding with. 9 in Texas when she was in advanced Math and on the run from a bully nearly twice her age, two years older than she'd been when she beat him up. 13 in San Diego with a broken bike and a scar that had long since faded to nothing. 17 in Georgia, she'd been in the Academy and Skye still had the pieces of that old laptop. 21 in New York again, when she'd been a fledgling with S.H.I. and Skye was too stubborn for her own good.
Two years ago when Simmons had already left for Hydra, and Bobbi was stopping through on her way to do her own undercover with the Nazi organisation. She'd been surprised to say the least to see Skye a part of S.H.I.E.L.D.
Except this was 2 years after their last meeting, and they hadn't lost contact like every other time. That should have been an omen.
Bobbi kept doing it, kept saving her, no matter what the cost. Except now Daisy could do some saving too - not enough saving to stop Ward hurting Bobbi, or to stop Bobbi and Hunter leaving S.H.I.E.L.D. Because Bobbi was her saviour.
The bar was loud and crowded and she knew Fitz was across the bar, and Simmons a few table away from him, May was a few tables behind her, Coulson was nearby too, and Mack was at the bar. Bobbi and Hunter were in the middle of the room with a collection of six shots in front of them. The shot in Daisy's hand felt heavy and unwanted.
She could see that Bobbi's eyes were glassy, she knew her own were too.
4 years. It was always 4 years, did that mean she would get to see Bobbi again in 2 years?
The shot burned as it went down and maybe she could pretend that's why she would cry herself to sleep that night. Because Bobbi had been the most consistent part of her life, showing up every 4 years, right when she needed her.
Everyone was staring to leave, but she couldn't bring herself to walk out the exit, instead heading for the bathroom. to try and wash away the tears. To wash away the last 22 years of Bobbi. The door opened when she was staring at herself in the mirror, convincing herself to woman up and move on. But, it was so hard to move on when the person she was trying to move on from was standing right behind her with glassy blue eyes and a sad smile.
Bobbi's arms are warm and strong and she never wants her to let go. "I still need saving." God, Daisy feels like a stupid little kid, but she can't help it.
"I know, Rockstar. I know." Bobbi holds on a little longer, and Daisy tries to hold on even after she's let go. "You still have that number, right?" Daisy nodded, she still had the scrap of paper with her number on it, still had the pieces of the computer she'd held her win - stupid Hydra had destroyed it and she wasn't ready to talk about it thank-you very much - still had the shirt she'd used as a bandage, and the hat with the purple P on it and the hair ribbon from under the table. She still had every everything. "That doesn't expire okay?" Daisy nodded instead of answering. "You have to go now." Bobbi's fingers brush some hair back from Daisy's eyes.
"I know." She didn't want to. 22 years of not getting to say goodbye, and when she did it hurt worse than when Ian Quinn shot her. The brush of her lips felt like everything she'd wanted when she was 17 in a bar in Georgia, and so much more. "Goodbye."
The door clicked behind her when Daisy stepped out of the bathroom, cheecks still red, eyes puffy and wet, heart heavy and broken.
Bobbi wasn't there to save her from herself.
To be honest, I haven't actually seen the episode where Bobbi and Hunter leave, but I did see a three minute clips of Bobbi nearly crying and everyone drinking shots. Also, it's not exactly romancey Morse Code, but it has illusions of what could have been.