Set between seasons 1 and 2, so Daisy is still Skye.
Skye stood at a table in the empty rec room, quietly cursing at her 37th unsuccessful attempt to reassemble her service pistol.
She'd actually been excited two days ago when May said she was finally able to begin advanced firearm training. Then May had handed her her pistol—or, to be more accurate, a bag containing the parts of what had, presumably, once been a pistol. Apparently, according to the Agent Melinda May School of Firearms, one must be able to assemble their weapons before one is allowed to start shooting them.
To be fair, Skye had made a lot of progress in two days. This particular attempt even had the proper shape. She'd just feel a lot better about it if there wasn't a pile of important-looking parts left over.
May walked silently into the room, barefoot and clad in comfortable training garb. She raised an eyebrow at Skye. "You're up early," she said, heading toward where Skye knew she kept her special stash of tea.
Skye was happy to be training with May. However, her body never seemed to remember that fact when it came time to part with the soft, warm comfort of her bed every morning—if it could even be called "morning" when the sun hasn't yet risen. Normally May had to stop by her quarters to make sure she hadn't slept through her alarm again. However, the prospect of proper firearm training had managed to help her resist the siren song of her mattress this morning, and she had already been working on the weapon for an hour by the time May arrived.
"Just trying to get to firearm training before I turn forty," Skye supplied brightly.
Tea now brewing in her mug, May walked over and lifted a small metal rod from the pile of leftover parts. "What's this?"
"A relay baton for hamsters?" Skye suggested.
May quirked an eyebrow. "Try 'trigger pin.'"
"Doesn't sound that useful," Skye said wryly.
"Only if you were planning on using this as something other than a paperweight."
Skye sighed. "This would be going a lot faster if you had given me the damn manual."
A faint look of surprise seemed to cross May's face. "I didn't?"
Skye's jaw dropped. "You forgot?!"
"Well, why didn't you ask?" May retorted.
"I thought it was some sort of test!" Skye exclaimed indignantly.
"And you were right," May calmly replied. Was that amusement in her tone? "The lesson was 'Don't make things harder than they have to be.'" May reached into her pocket and drew forth the manual. "Schematics are on page five."
Okay, that was definitely amusement. Skye groaned dropped her head to the table, half of her wanting to burst out laughing and half wanting to kick herself for being the cause of her own frustration.
"I imagine you'll have that assembled quickly, but make sure you remember eat something this time," May added as she started to head out of the room. "Last time you skipped breakfast you ran out of energy halfway through sparring practice."
Skye rolled her eyes. "Yes, mom," she rejoined without a thought.
May pulled up short, the carelessly given word instantly reawakening the aching guilt she kept hidden away. She glanced sharply at Skye. She wasn't sure what she expected to see—embarrassment, maybe, or lighthearted rebellion—but the wide-eyed expression on her student's face could best be described as... fear. A fear that seemed to grow as May's piercing, questioning gaze met her student's eyes. The playful tone their conversation had held evaporated.
"I'm sorry," Skye said quietly, quickly ducking her head and devoting all her concentration to the pieces of her half-assembled pistol.
Concern began to override May's internal turmoil. Skye wasn't one to back down from an irreverent jibe, let alone apologize. May stepped back to the table, brow creased. "What's wrong?"
Skye shrugging dismissively, not lifting her head. "Nothing." For an instant, her hand darted up to brush her cheek before she continued reassembling the weapon in front of her.
May reached out, stilling her student's attempts to stuff part of the trigger mechanism inside the barrel. "Skye."
She laid down the pieces on the table, but said nothing.
"You can talk to me," May said softly.
Skye took a shaky breath, then began to address the parts as they lay on the table, not daring to raise her head. "I went through a lot of foster families as a kid." She raised her eyebrows in emphasis. "A lot."
May's heart sank at the recollection, but she nodded. "Yes, I know."
"Well, I know the records say I was a runner. It's true, I guess, but at the beginning, I tried. I really did. There were some great families; happy couple, nice kids, a dog, cookies and milk after school—the whole nine yards. Then one day I'd slip up and call her 'mom'... and next thing I know, it's 'Hello St. Agnes.'" May could hear the emotion Skye fought to keep hidden behind her sarcastic tone. Skye picked up one of the small metal parts and rolling it between her finger and thumb, pressing down until it became almost painful. "I guess it makes sense now," she continued. "It was probably a sign I was getting too attached, and SHIELD had to keep me moving. But it doesn't change how it felt. I thought was cursed or defective or something. I say the 'M' word, and a few days later I'm back at the orphanage." She laughed humorlessly. "One time it was literally the next day. Like they were so disgusted by the thought of me being their daughter that they just had to get rid of me."
May's heart twisted as she imagined Skye as a child, trying so hard to please a family and not understanding their rejection. An experience like that could ruin a person—but, somehow, Skye had managed to remain caring and empathetic beneath her rebellious veneer. Not for the first time, May wondered at the young woman's strength.
"We're not going anywhere," she said gently. Skye nodded quickly and brushed at her eyes again. "Yeah. I know."
"Really." May winced internally at the insufficiency of her words. She suddenly thought of Andrew and wished she had paid more attention when he talked about how to connect with people.
"I know." She could almost feel Skye retreating, almost see the protective walls going back up, sealing her emotions in and everyone else out. Now that was terrain with which May was all too familiar. If she didn't do something now, Skye would retreat, she reached out and put her hand on top of Skye's.
"We're not going anywhere," she repeated, "and neither are you."
May watched as the dam holding back the young woman's emotions broke, and Skye suddenly threw her arms around May in a desperate hug. Emotions Skye even didn't know she still had spilled out through her tears; rejection, loneliness, isolation, the longing for a connection she never had. May returned the embrace, letting the younger woman sob into her shoulder. She would do anything to take back the years the young woman had spent isolated and alone, but she had determined long ago that she would do always do her best to protect her now.
"It's all right," she said quietly, tightening her hug and willing warm reassurance to flow through her and to her student. "It's all right."
"You're home."
This might as well be subtitled "I am incapable of writing any AoS fic where Daisy doesn't call May 'mom'". lol
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