A/N: A one-shot about an idea that popped in my head. Remeber it is AU. No hate! No spoliers. Enjoy!
No copyright intended.
"I felt as though I had no choice in what I was doing. I was following a mother's instinct to try and save her child."
— Elisabeth Glaser.
~•~
They were coming.
They didn't know when. They didn't know who. They just knew they were coming for them. For her. Call it mother's instinct.
Her baby girl was in trouble, and she had to save her.
A list conformed in her head, but none sufficed. None of the options secured the chance her daughter would live.
She had to. It was her fault she was there, and it was her job to fix her mistake.
She should've said no. When Fury made the offer. She should've declined. But she didn't. Now she was faced with the very real possibility she wouldn't see her daughter take her first steps. She wouldn't take her to her first day of school. Or watch her get her graduation certificate after she graduated high school. She would've had friends there to congratulate her. Mel would've looked over at her, and she would give the signal for them to stay. No one would know who her parents were, or where they worked. She would've been a normal teenager, and lived a normal life, separate from S.H.I.E.L.D. If only that had happened.
But now, she had a chance to make up for it. To fix her mistake. She had to do whatever it took to save the child that rested in her arms. She knew she wasn't maternal. When she found out she was pregnant she panicked. She wasn't cut out for raising a child, but she did know how to protect one. She swore she would when the mission came up, and she wasn't going to break that promise.
It was worth it. While they would get caught for this. Possibly suspended. It didn't matter. Not when Miranda's life hung in the balance. She had to be safe from whatever fate awaited her beyond those doors.
Their feet carried them away, the baby tucked away. Her eyes remaining fully closed through the experience. The time finally came. They had to kiss her goodbye.
They were so hesitant. So apprehensive to hand her over.
It could be forever. The agent wouldn't be able to protect her. She could die.
Her thoughts died with the last one. She was dead if she stayed with them. This was her best chance. A kiss landed a top her petite, round head,
"Goodbye, baby bird."
Then they wrapped the necklace around her neck, and turned away. It was the hardest thing she had ever done. Walked away from her baby girl without knowing she would be safe. The thought that she did the wrong thing kept nagging her, but she forced it down. Fingers intertwined with hers and they squeezed together, giving her the strength to take the steps forward. Every step—every time her feet collided with the dirt ground it burned.
She couldn't meet his eyes. She knew they would mirror hers and she would be running back after her. But her instincts kept telling her this was for the best. She had to trust them, and together they forced each other to keep moving. She didn't look back, no matter how much her heart yearned for it. Her grip loosened, and their fingers–the only thing holding them together–came undone and fell to her side like slack.
Her head turned, one last glance. A final goodbye. A single nod, confirming they were doing it. No turning back.
Their bodies turned in the opposite direction, hands reaching for their choice of weapon. It was now or never. Her feet picked up speed, the distance between them and their daughter growing larger, and more distant.
The gunshot rang out through the hollow of the day. Everything froze. The women's feet planted in the ground and she couldn't resist her head whipping around. She was too far away. The shadow of the bridge blocked her view. She was prepared to dash after her, but after shifting to catch the look on Clint's face and the whisper of his words she stopped. He saw something.
She didn't know what. She couldn't make out what he was saying, but she knew what she had to do. She turned. Each step ached. She could feel the distance growing between the three of them. But she refused to let it stop her, because if she was to save her she had to keep moving.
Nineteen years. Nineteen agonizing years of not knowing, second-guessing and hoping for a day that never came. Nineteen years of forcing herself to keep moving, to keep going, to keep living like nothing had changed except everything had. The world never spun like it had when they found the hacker holed in a van. At first, Melinda didn't suspect. She had no reason to. Miranda was dead, she was killed. But the more she looked into her past, the more suspicious she grew. Skye had lied about her age. The dates started to match up, but there wasn't enough there. It was still a slim chance, there still wasn't enough evidence to be considered a possibility. At least until they met with Lumley. After that it all became clear.
She didn't need a DNA test to know. It was Skye, all along. For years, she had spent sleepless nights lying awake wondering what had happened that day. Was it painless? She was so sure that gun meant she was dead. She'd been wrong.
She was alive. She was living ten feet from her. The protocol Avery created had saved her life from whatever enemies were after her.
The gunshot that had haunted her dreams hadn't killed her. It saved her. The blood acted as disguise. It made her look dead, fooled the enemies long enough for her to be extracted. That was what had haunted Clint. Her body was smothered in the agent's blood, her eyes were closed shut and she looked so peaceful. He thought she was dead.
She was just sleeping. She slept through all the bloodshed. All the death. All the hurt, and she didn't even make a peep. Not even when the agent bled out with her lying in her arms.
If those agents hadn't came... If she had kept walking... She would've been killed.
She never imagined that her daughter would've been found through a mission after she hacked S.H.I.E.L.D. She also never imagined she would return to the field, but...she never pictured their resident hacker would end up being her daughter.
Skye.
She'd always seen Miranda in her. She pictured her as a rule-breaker, free-spirited and would talk back. A lot. She always thought Skye was like her. She never realized how much she was like her and Clint till now. It terrified her. Before it had just scared her, but now...what if she became like her?
She shouldn't be worried. Skye was different. She wouldn't, but when she found out. How would she handle that?
Coulson knew. By now he'd figured it out. He helped her and Clint look for their daughter. In order to do that he had to know everything. He was told everything.
He would want her to tell. He wanted her to investigate Skye's parentage. It was only a matter of time before he wanted her to tell Skye. Before he asked.
He found her at the bar, he had already checked the cockpit, but she wasn't anywhere to be found. This was his second guess. She was caught in the middle of a drink, and he stood beside the stool waiting for the right moment to speak. But they both knew there wasn't going to be a right moment.
Phil took a seat beside her, unbuttoning his jacket and pouring himself a glass. A sign that this was a casual conversation and not business. While there may not be a right moment, he still needed to ease the growing tension in the room, and help lower her guard.
"You need to tell her," He said.
May took a sudden swig of alcohol. Anything to help with the impending conversation. "I can't." Coulson admittedly hadn't heard that kind of vulnerability in her voice in a while.
"You can't keep blaming yourself for what happened. You've been looking for her for years."
That was true. Even though her death was assumed, there was nothing that confirmed it. Clint never opened up about what he saw, and a death certificate was never assigned to her name. Or her alias.
"If we hadn't brought her, we would've never have lost her." It was thought that kept nagging her. The one that tore her apart. She allowed her daughter to fall victim to their crazy lives.
Phil tried his final approach. It was a futile attempt, but he swore to Skye he would get answers about her parents.
"What about Clint? Skye's his daughter, too."
A/N: Thank you for reading. Love to hear what you think. Reviews are appreciated.