FAGE 8:Soul Mates

Title: Sins of the Father

Written for: nathyfaith

Written By: Silverspoon

Rating: M (for language)

Summary/Prompt used: Person A travels to visit his/her family after some tragic events and meets Person B.

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x-x-x

November 30th, 2015

St. Winifred's Hospital, Wisconsin

There had been no visitors since his arrival, save for the S.H.I.E.L.D. agents posing as orderlies, who would sneak in from time to time to stare at him as he wallowed in his stupor. He could easily identify them as agents from their brisk manner and clean cut appearances, but their presence hardly bothered him. He had bigger issues to concern himself with, he supposed; mainly, the fact that he had spent nigh on two months in a catatonic state, which he had emerged from hours before only long enough to snuff out the life of a middle aged man he had never met.

When he closed his eyes, which was about all he could do lately, Cal thought he could still feel the solid mass of the man's neck beneath his hands. The bones had snapped so easily and, although he had been sickened by the noise, he had simply made his way from the office and calmly returned to his bed without uttering so much as a peep. When he had awoken a few hours later, his body had again refused to submit to his will and he was once more rendered a prisoner in his own subconscious.

The intense fury at his predicament had gradually subsided as the morning had progressed, perhaps as the chatty pre-med. student had spooned porridge into his mouth, and had since given way to a kind of weary resignation that Cal could almost feel in his bones. He knew that his nocturnal actions, no matter how involuntarily, would not have gone unnoticed by S.H.I.E.L.D. He knew it was only a matter of time before they came for him, and yet he couldn't find it within himself to resent them for that. It made sense, after all, to neutralise a threat, and Cal was acutely aware that for reasons unknown to even himself, he had once again become a very definite threat.

It had started out as a perfectly normal Friday evening. He had been catching up on the shows he had DVR'd during the week, whilst working his way through a delightful bottle of Australian red that had been gifted to him by his receptionist that morning. Cal had happily eaten his way through three quarters of a family sized Hawaiian pizza before he had begun to feel most peculiar in a way that could not be attributed merely to alcohol. The very next thing he recalled was the crippling pain and the stream of blood that had poured from his nostrils to pool on the cream carpet beneath the coffee table. Then, the memories had returned, crashing over him with such ferocity that he had cried real tears and called out for an absolution that had never come. Faces and voices mingled with the guilty sting of past deeds done, until Cal had found himself a trembling mess on the lounge floor. By the time he had gathered his wits enough to consider climbing to his feet, he had realised too late that he had lost that particular ability. And so, with newly resurrected thoughts of Daisy plaguing his mind, he had been forced to endure the weekend surrounded by empty pizza boxes as he lay on a bloodstained carpet, until his concerned receptionist had come in search of him on the Monday morning.

Since then, his days had passed in a steady blur of unwelcome bed baths, long and undignified stints on the commode, and clueless doctors shining torches into his eyes. They were mystified by his condition, communicating as much in clear earshot of their patient, who they evidently believed to be incapable of comprehending the English language. Occasionally, a young candy striper would stop by his room to perch on the edge of his bed and read aloud from 'Moby Dick' or something as equally trite, but for the most part Cal was left alone. The one face he longed to see was still fresh in his memory but he had resigned himself weeks ago to the fact that they would never allow Daisy to come. Their goodbyes had already been said and that was a fact that Cal would be forced to come to terms with.

Now, all that was left to do was to make his silent peace with God and await the inevitable.

S.H.I.E.L.D. would come; they always did, and perhaps then his misery would once and for all come to an end.

x-x-x

It was not the first time that she had 'borrowed' a Quinjet without Coulson's knowledge, and yet she had never before done so with the specific intention of sabotaging the director's orders. Nonetheless, Daisy couldn't seem to find it within herself to feel even a slight prickle of guilt, instead spurred on by the overpowering instinct to protect her blood at all costs.

She was barely out of the hangar before she had disabled the jet's tracking devices and set a course for Wisconsin, making full use of the cloaking capabilities in order to maintain her cover. The three and a half hour flight had taken her just under half as much, which she was almost certain must have been some kind of world record even by S.H.I.E.L.D.'s standards. She had been taught to fly by Melinda May though, and there was very little the woman did not excel at, save for small talk.

With the jet abandoned and de-cloaked in a field ten miles outside of the city, Daisy had acquired a car in order to complete the last leg of her journey to the hospital. She was sure that she had never felt as anxious in her entire life, let alone her career as a spy, but she was acutely aware as the seconds ticked by that she was drawing closer and closer to discovery. When Coulson or the others realised that she had disappeared along with a Quinjet and a drawer full of clothing, Daisy's eight hour window would vanish, sealing Cal's fate.

By the time she pulled up behind the hospital and ditched the dark blue Volvo she had hot-wired, she was forced to grit her teeth to keep her powers from bursting forth and shaking the building to its foundations. She avoided the elevators in favour of the stairs and took them two at a time until she was standing in front of the door leading to the fifth floor, which had been her father's temporary home for the past seven weeks.

Her progress down the corridor was somewhat more restrained, however, as she was forced to maintain an air of normalcy as she strolled along, peering discretely into doorways. The hood of her grey sweatshirt was pulled up high in order to obscure her face from the security cameras, since she was sure that Coulson's agents would be on her within seconds should she be recognised.

Finally, the penultimate door in the hallway yielded success, and Daisy pushed into the room with such a surge of relief flooding her that she almost cried out. Cal was seated in an armchair by the window, hands hanging limply by his sides and head cocked as he peered seemingly unseeing out into the parking lot through the chink in the blinds.

Daisy took several halting steps forward, her desire to rush into her father's arms almost overwhelming, despite his very obvious lack of coherence. She settled instead for resting a gentle hand on his shoulder blade, immediately regretting the action when she realised just how thin he had gotten as her fingertips brushed against prominent bone.

"Cal... Dad..." she murmured, sniffling in an attempt to thwart the tears that brimmed behind her lashes. Although she expected no response, the lack of light behind his once keen eyes as she knelt down in front of his chair brought a wave of sorrow crashing over Daisy that she was ill prepared for.

She stayed quiet for several seconds, her brown eyes sweeping his tired and haggard face, searching so hard for just the faintest spark of recognition that she failed to note the figure sliding through the doorway. She gathered Cal's hands into his lap, shocked by how cold to the touch his skin appeared to be, despite the warmth of the bedroom.

"I'm going to get you out of here," Daisy vowed, her jaw set in determination as she traced soothing circles over the back of her father's hand. His failure to acknowledge her pierced her heart in a way that it shouldn't have, but Daisy brushed aside her own distress as she climbed to her feet. She was not, however, expecting to be met by the sight of the tall, muscular man in a dark suit sliding the door closed behind himself.

"Agent Johnson," he said flatly by way of greeting, his hands slipping into his pockets in a move that did not go unnoticed by Daisy. She pursed her lips in response and stepped away from Cal's chair, unwilling to put him in harm's way when the inevitable fight ensued.

"I won't let you do this," she replied, her tone reminding her of a belligerent child. She crossed her arms over her chest for good measure, irritated when the agent only flashed her a tolerant smile.

"I have my orders, Agent Johnson, and so do you," he continued, hazarding a step forwards.

Almost instinctively, Daisy threw her hands up in front her body, a gesture that dared the agent to resume his approach. He only shook his head, expression neutral.

"Surely you wouldn't risk the lives of the hundreds of innocent people in this building?" he queried, his gaze beseeching as he extended a hand towards Daisy. "Please, I know this must be difficult for you, and so does Director Coulson. That's why he sent only me until his arrival. We understand you must be hurting but deep down you know that S.H.I.E.L.D. is making a good call on this one... The right call."

Daisy's hands dropped to her sides and she slowly shook her head, sadness evident in the sudden slump of her shoulders.

Softly, she replied, "You and Coulson understand shit."

The imploring expression fell away from the male agent's face at an almost comical rate as Daisy spun forward and executed a perfect roundhouse kick. Her foot connected with the centre of his chest and he fell backwards against the closed door, the handle digging into his lower back. Daisy raised her hands again, this time in a strictly defensive fighting pose, and glared pointedly at her opponent.

"You were right on one thing; I wouldn't risk the lives of hundreds of innocents by using my powers here," she snarled, aiming a deft punch at the agent as he regrouped and lunged at her. The blow struck his lower jaw and he staggered backwards far enough to allow Daisy to add, "But I was trained by the Cavalry. My powers are just a nice bonus."

"Dumb bitch..." the agent growled, touching his aching face gingerly with his fingertips. "Coulson will have your head for this."

Daisy shrugged unconcernedly, leaning backwards in order to dodge the elbow the agent directed at her nose. She seized his arm and twisted it upwards then around, enjoying the pained cry the man released as she did so. A further tug on her part and there was an audible pop as his shoulder slipped out of the socket. However, this seemed only to enrage the man rather than deter him, and he grabbed a fistful of Daisy's hair in his uninjured hand before using it to slam her head down into the metal rail of the hospital bed. Daisy grunted, seeing stars as she stumbled backwards.

"That's if I don't put you down first," he added with a snarl, using Daisy's temporary distraction to his advantage. He reached inside his jacket, his fingers closing around the handgun, which he tugged free of the holster in one smooth move. He leveled the weapon at Daisy, who simply shook her head, a half hysterical giggle bubbling from her lips.

"Didn't have time to read my file, did you?" she queried, cocking her head and surveying the agent with obvious amusement. She merely waved her hand and the weapon he clutched emitted a loud series of clicks before completely disassembling itself. The pieces clattered to the floor in a harmless pile and Daisy seized the opportunity to snatch up the bedpan from her side and, praying that it wasn't in fact full, she brought it down heavily on the agent's head. The first blow seemed only to disorientate the man but the second had greater effect, whilst the third brought him to the brink of unconsciousness, just as she had intended.

He groaned as he surveyed his adversary from his position on the floor, his eyelids already beginning to close as the darkness pulled him under.

"Tell Coulson I..." she began, the prepared apology dying on her lips as she shot a glance at her father, who seemed so small and vulnerable in that moment that she was filled with something else entirely that didn't resemble remorse in the slightest.

"Tell him he won't have my father," Daisy spat, her tone growing colder as the fury in her eyes ignited further. The agent didn't respond, already having succumbed to unconsciousness with his dislocated arm spread out at an odd angle at his side. For a brief moment Daisy considered tying the agent up but she dismissed the idea quickly, knowing that it would be a waste of precious time that she could not afford to spare.

She returned her attention to Cal, who had remained frozen throughout the entire ordeal, his hands still laid in his lap and his eyes fixed onto the parking lot.

"Cal, I don't know if you can hear me but it's Daisy," she said, gentleness creeping into her tone to replace urgency, "I'm going to get you out of here. I'll keep you safe until I can figure this whole mess out, I swear."

Cal only blinked, a small and insignificant gesture, but Daisy elected to latch onto it nonetheless as the only confirmation she needed. Tentatively, she reached out a hand and stroked a strand of soft, dark hair away from his forehead.

Her voice broke as she hissed, "Just hold on, Daddy."