Summary: Directions: Take 1 Tablet every 6-8 hours for relief of moderate to severe pain. Daisy takes 2 tablets every 4 hours. She tries to fill the void that has settled in the center of her chest.
Notes: This is a pretty heavy one guys. Daisy was not well at the beginning of season 4, and this one-shot revolves around her trying to fill the void inside through the wrong process.
Warnings for: suicidal thoughts, drug and alcohol use/abuse, self abuse and sex (actually the first sex scene I've ever written? Man I hope it doesn't suck).
Everything has completely fallen apart around her, and Daisy does not know how much longer she can hold steady.
There is a void somewhere within her, and when she thinks about it, it reminds her of the Temple in San Juan, with thick walls meant to keep people in, or to keep people out. And in the center, the heart of the void, the memories of someone who sacrificed themselves for her.
So Daisy tries to fill the void, like Jemma did to the temple with the ocean.
She begins the process with pulling everything she has from her bank account, and running away, running as far away from the Playground as she can get, and then she buys a shitty van.
Daisy finds some comfort in the van, it brings back memories of when days were simpler, when it was just her, her van, her laptop, and the network of hackers of the Rising Tide.
But she isn't that person anymore. She isn't the naive young hacktivist that lived in a rickety old van, releasing classified information in hopes to change the world. (Even though she has changed the world now, more than once).
She isn't Skye anymore. She isn't even sure that she's Daisy anymore at this point. She feels bare and stripped to the bones, with a void hollowed out somewhere where her heart and lungs once were.
One particularly painful afternoon, on an impulse, Daisy buys a 6-pack (FitzSimmons favorite) while she fuels up the van. She ends up drinking all 6 bottles. Her tolerance is so low, and her stomach so empty, that she ends up more drunk that she thought that she would be.
Daisy notices that the buzz from the alcohol makes the withdrawal symptoms less severe and dulls her self-hatred to an annoying murmur in the back of her head. She understands why Lincoln was so drawn to the stuff.
She spends the better part of a month searching at the bottom of different bottles for the floor of the seemingly endless void inside of her chest. She searches in plastic vodka bottles found in convenience stores, and in the bottoms of empty shot glasses in seedy bars in Southern California.
One night, 5 or 6 weeks after she leaves the playground, she follows her search to a sketchy dive bar somewhere near the border of California and Mexico.
Daisy is buzzed on cheap tequila, (and possibly something else slightly less legal that someone was passing out between the restrooms) when another woman seems to take more interest in Daisy than she's used to receiving as of late. She's tall, taller than Daisy that is, with long light brown hair and kind green eyes, and a laugh that starts a warm pool of feelings in Daisy's belly.
The woman laughs at Daisy's self-deprecating humor, and her long fingers brush Daisy's hand as she buys her another shot, or two, or three, Daisy loses count.
She isn't bothered by the attention and the extra drinks. The liquid fire she drinks burns her throat, it dulls the emotional pain she feels so strongly. The attention gives her a moment to focus on something other than the crushing feelings of loneliness and guilt in her chest.
It isn't much longer into the night when the suitor has Daisy pressed against the wall of the disgusting bathroom, hands pinned beside her head and a mouth hungrily seeking entrance to her lips or nipping at her pulse point
"Do you want to get out of here?" The woman whispers between kisses.
Daisy does want to, but there is the issue of the van, and Daisy doesn't think that she can walk much further than the parking lot a street or two over where she left the van.
"I live in a van!" Daisy drunkenly confesses. The woman, Mallory she remembers, breathes seductively in Daisy's ear, "I know, I don't mind."
Daisy is a goner from that point. Her rational mind is not operating, doesn't see why this should be against her better judgement, or she just doesn't care. She stumbles out the front door of the bar, leaning heavily on the taller woman in order to walk a straight line. Mallory has an arm wrapped around the back of her hips, a thumb through the belt loop, and is holding Daisy right up against her body. It isn't in a forceful way, but in a protective and supportive way, like she doesn't want Daisy to worry that she will fall, or stumble.
Mallory is different from the others Daisy has been with. She has Miles's intelligence, but not his defiance. She has Ward's strength, but nothing else from that (thankfully). And she has Lincoln's kindness. But she is not any of them. Honestly, she reminds Daisy more of Simmons, and a pang of emptiness echoes through her body.
Mallory helps the stumbling Daisy into the red van, closing the sliding door shut behind them. Her lips return to Daisy's with a renewed fervor, pulling the other woman toward the pile of blankets that has become Daisy's sleeping quarters. She pushes Daisy back against the wall of the van and straddles her hips with her legs.
Daisy takes the affection gratefully, thankful that the emptiness is being filled with fire and longing instead.
Malory's hands slide up Daisy's sides, fingers barely grazing the surface of her skin and leaving goose flesh behind. Daisy lets out a loan moan, causing Malory to chuckle softly.
Her hands slide across the surface of Daisy's stomach, dipping lower and lower with each pass. Her hands pause at the waistband of Daisy's jeans, and she pulls away from the kiss. Daisy looks at Mallory's face as the other woman removes one hand from the button of her jeans and places her hand on Daisy's cheek.
"Is this okay?" She asks, voice soft and filled with gentle energy.
Daisy nods, unable to speak. She may be drunk, she may be messed up, but she does want this. She wants to feel anything else than the pain.
Their touches are filled with fire and lust, and Daisy catches the feelings of longing shared in Mallory's eyes as she uses her deft fingers to bring Daisy to her end, her back arching as she cries out.
Daisy awakens the next morning with a splitting headache and her body wrapped another the other woman. Her bare chest is pushed against the smooth skin of Malory's back, nose pushed into her shoulder and her toes brushing up against the taller woman's calf muscles. Daisy panics for a moment.
Her memory of the night before is a little spotty. She remembers getting to the van, and what happened after, but the rest of the night is a tad fuzzy.
Daisy remembers the woman being incredibly kind and gentle, much more than Daisy deserved. She even held her afterwards and rubbed her back in soothing circles. It was nice.
She doesn't deserve this, but not wanting to wake Mallory, she allows herself to enjoy the warmth of another body next to her.
A little while later, Mallory takes a deep breath, and rolls over to face Daisy.
"Hey there," she says with a smile, looking into Daisy's eyes. She looks so genuinely happy to see Daisy, that Daisy's stomach plummets. The poor woman has no idea the minefield that she's stumbled into.
"Hey," Daisy whispers back. Mallory pushes a lock of Daisy's hair out of her face. Daisy looks away, up towards the roof of the van. Mallory's stomach rumbles, and even Daisy can't keep herself from smirking.
"You hungry? I'm buying," Mallory asks, laughing at herself.
Daisy hesitates for a moment. She is quite hungry, she's not sure when the last time she ate was, and she's sure that a good meal would do wonders for the hangover that she's working on, but taking advantage of this woman's kindness doesn't seem right.
"I don't know…" Daisy trails off.
"No, I insist, you let me stay over last night," Mallory says. And there's that smile again, Daisy is finding it impossible to resist this smile.
"Okay, but just something cheap, like McDonalds or something."
They don't go somewhere like McDonalds. Instead, Daisy finds herself sitting across a booth from Mallory, sipping on one of the best cups of coffee that she's had in a long time.
Malory doesn't push Daisy to talk much, but asks her small things, what her favorite color is (black), what her favorite breakfast food is (pancakes!), and if she'd seen any good movies lately. Daisy is actually enjoying herself, smiling a little bit in between bites of pancakes. It makes her chest hurt.
As Daisy is taking the last few sips of her coffee, Malory reaches across the table and catches Daisy's hand, causing Daisy to look up from her coffee.
"I would really like to see you again," Malory says softly, her eyes soft and almost pleading.
Daisy's stomach drops into her feet, her heart jumps up into her throat. This is what she was afraid of. This woman, this Malory, was too kind, to wonderful to be with a person like her. Where Daisy went, Death followed.
Daisy shakes her head, "No, I'm really sorry. I'm just not good for you. I am a walking disaster."
Malory's face falls, and Daisy's heart breaks, guilt filling her body. "There's nothing I can say to convince you otherwise, is there?"
Daisy shakes her head again, looking down at her coffee, "No, I'm really sorry though. Last night was, really nice."
Mallory nods. She pulls out her wallet and lays out some money for the bill.
She also pulls out a pen and scribbles a number on a napkin, "Well, if you change your mind, go ahead and text me."
And with one last smile, she's gone.
Daisy groans and drops her head to the table. Drunk Daisy is going to get sober Daisy in more trouble than she's worth.
Daisy tucks the napkin in her bag anyway.
It only takes another week and Daisy waking up after a night of heavy drinking with the van in a place that she didn't remember parking it before she started drinking, to swear off the alcohol.
"This group is calling itself the 'Watchdogs'. They have taken responsibility for the attacks on the Inhumans in the area. We received a statement from them, and I quote, that they are "Riding the Earth of this inhuman plague,'" The radio report fills the van.
Daisy clenches her fist, guilt washing over her. Instead of protecting her people, she had been hiding and licking her wounds, indulging in selfish coping mechanisms. Daisy decides she's going to do what she should have been doing all along. she's going to do something about the Watchdogs.
She gets a police scanner for the van, and she starts listening at all times, no matter where she is. She sits in McDonald's parking lots during the day and motels during the night for the wifi, and watches the internet, social media, Reddit, Facebook, for any snippets of information that would lead her to the Watchdogs.
And then, after a few frustratingly empty days and long, empty nights, Daisy hits a break through.
She's reading a coroner's report (one that she stumbles across on a shady conspiracy subreddit on a fluke) that shows a picture of a watchdog mask tattoo on the man's left hand.
Daisy is in. She has his name now, she can trace his involvements through her dark net contacts.
It only takes her a few more days until she uncovers part of a network of the Watchdogs, and what she finds makes her sick to her stomach.
The Watchdogs. Are. Everywhere.
Daisy sits on the bed at a shabby motel in rural Wyoming, her right arm is bound to her chest with a makeshift sling, still throbbing in pain from the last display of power somewhere near Fargo, North Dakota the day before. She can still hear the crack of her bones echoing in her head as she tried to escape the advancing line of watchdog soldiers.
She can almost hear the voice of Jemma Simmons scolding her for not wearing her gauntlets, but they aren't exactly conducive to the low profile she had been trying to hold as she moved through the city. A wave of guilt washes over her.
She reaches into her bag and pulls out a white pharmacy bottle with OxyIR 5mg written on the side in black sharpie. It took her a little while to hunt down a prescription drug dealer in the area, but she managed to use some contacts online to track down a guy that was selling the pills that she was seeking.
Daisy had taken oxycodone a few times for various injuries she had sustained in the line of duty, and found that she could function pretty well while taking the medicines lower doses. It always gave her a weird rush of energy, but Jemma said that was normal. (Of course, every time she had been given the medication, she was coming off of morphine, Jemma and Lincoln's secret "keep Daisy in bed" weapon, which would knock Daisy out for hours at a time, so anything less than that felt like a whole new level of energy).
Daisy pushes the memories away, and pops 2 pills in her mouth, dry swallowing them and grimacing at the taste (she fights off the urge to wash them down with a swallow of vodka from a bottle that sits at the bottom of her bag, knowing the path that would lead to).
It takes 20 minutes, but a feeling of heaviness starts in her stomach, and the intense pain is finally lessened in arms and hands. Her eyelids get a little heavier.
The physical pain isn't the only thing that is lessened, the medicine brings the emotional pain down to a manageable level as well. Daisy lets out a breath that she had no idea that she had been holding. Muscles in her back and neck relax, and she melts into the bed.
She can find the edges of the void that have hardened over the past 4 months. The edges of what she's been trying to fill with alcohol, penance, and self destruction.
The last 4 months have been hell. She's robbed banks, brought down bridges, and created a vigilante hellion to drown the pain and the guilt.
Now all she wants is this quiet. She aimed to just take the edge off of the pain in her arms, just so that she could continue the fight. It seems that she overshot a pills make everything quiet, the pills make her feel okay again. It makes Daisy want to swallow the entire bottle and just drift away…
Daisy drifts to sleep, and doesn't open her eyes until 1:30 the next afternoon. She swears and picks up her things quickly. She wanted to be back in California by now, following up on some leads.
Maybe she should call Elena and take her up on her help after all. She's sure that SHIELD would have a medication that would get her back into the fight without the massive fatigue.
(And possibly something that let her feel the pain, but didn't stop her from fighting)
Being back at SHIELD, it hurt. It hurt worse than her badly broken arm, it hurt worse than the healing gunshot wound in her shoulder. It just hurt.
Fitz only spoke to her when he was required to, which stung even more than the words that he had yelled at her only a few days before.
May had yet to even give her a glance, at least, not until she was on the other side of the locked cafeteria door in the prison.
She is not going to let anyone else die, especially not when she could take their place.
After May and Coulson save her, Daisy finally lets herself realize what she was trying to do to herself by locking herself in that room. She feels slightly disconnected from the world around her for the remainder of the time that they're in the prison, often having to rely on May's firm grip on her elbow to steer her where she's going.
The adrenaline finally wears off when she's walking up the ramp onto the Zephyr and her knees decide to drop out from under her.
"Whoa, hey there," Robbie says, wrapping his arm around her waist and pulling her arm over his shoulder.
Coulson is yelling for a medic, but Daisy is shaking her head. She doesn't need anything, just an ice pack and some sleep. She just needs to slip away into the darkness.
Robbie mutters something to her in Spanish, and Daisy only catches every other word. She tries to piece together what he said, and someone comes up on her other side and lifts her arm, her broken arm, over their shoulder.
"Hey there Daisy, I've got ya," Daisy recognizes the voice as Fitz, and she slumps a little further down into the two men. Fitz makes a startled noise and he and Robbie change tactics to get Daisy sitting down on a crate just inside the cargo bay.
Her throat burns when she breathes, her breaths are coming in ragged gasps, and her head is starting to throb. Maybe a medic wouldn't be a bad idea.
Two SHIELD medics come into the cargo bay pushing a gurney clearly meant for Daisy and she groans. Why can't they just let her be?
One medic immediately starts checking Daisy over, shining a flashlight in her eyes, unsnapping her gauntlet to find a pulse. The second man starts dropping the gurney down to load Daisy up.
Daisy starts to protest when they begin to move her towards the gurney, but one look at Fitz, with his eyes wide with concern and fear, and the protests die in her sore throat. However, she doesn't hide her annoyance when the medics strap her to the gurney.
Robbie watches her until she's pushed around the corner leading to the medical pods, but Fitz is barely a step behind the medics.
Things start to move very quickly around her in the medical pod. Fitz stands off to her left, watching the three medics assigned to the Zephyr quickly get Daisy hooked up to monitoring equipment. Her pulse is very high, and her blood pressure low. The medics get an oxygen mask on her face, and Daisy brings her unbroken hand up to push the mask away.
Fitz grabs her hand before she can reach it.
"No, Daisy, you gotta leave it on, just for a few minutes. It'll get you out of here faster," he says, holding her hand in his own, smiling at her.
Daisy locks eyes with Fitz, and nods slightly. She takes a deep breath, the cooler oxygen filling her lungs, and helping her feel more calm.
Fitz continues to hold her hand until he gets called over the loudspeaker, calling him into the lab.
He squeezes Daisy's hand one last time, and disappears around the corner.
It's probably for the better.
Daisy barely makes it into the cargo bay before her body decides to stop supporting her and to let her drop. She props herself up against the outside of the containment module, her chest heaving with every breath, her hands trembling slightly with the effects of exhaustion. She hadn't realized how much it had exhausted her to continually trigger an explosion in Shockley.
Fitz and Simmons pass off their entrapment sphere to the lab technicians, and come to sit down on both sides of her. Fitz puts his arm around her and kisses the crown of her head.
"You did great, Daisy," he murmurs, "We couldn't have have caught him without you"
Jemma presses a cold water bottle into Daisy's hands. "Are you feeling alright?" She asks, concerned.
Daisy nods, despite the shaking, and takes a long drink from the water. She's exhausted.
Fitz helps her take off her gauntlets, Simmons presses two fingers to her bare wrist to take her pulse.
"Daisy, are you sure you're alright? Your pulse is really fast"
Daisy shakes her head, "I'm tired," she mutters, dropping her head down to Jemma's shoulder. Jemma glances at Fitz from around Daisy, he nods and pulls himself away from the two women. Daisy whines a little as he pulls away.
"It's okay, Daisy, I'm going to go get the first aid kit. Simmons is going to check you over right here," Fitz says softly, crouching in front of Daisy again and placing his hand on her cheek. She nods in response, not opening her eyes,
Jemma carefully checks Daisy over, trying not to disturb her dozing friend. She ends up clipping a pulse monitor on Daisy's finger and watches her closely on the flight back, Daisy's head never leaving her shoulder.
When the plane lands, FitzSimmons gently rouse their friend and stand on both sides of her, pulling her arms over their shoulders, grabbing her around the waist and personally escort her back to her bunk.
FitzSimmons gently help her settle into a sitting position on the edge of her bed. Fitz slips over to her dresser, setting her gauntlets on top and opens her top drawer, trying to find some suitable pajamas while Simmons unties her boots and pulls them off. Daisy hums in thanks.
Fitz returns to the girls with a pair of soft pants and a plain gray t-shirt. He runs his fingers through Daisy's hair, "Daisy, do you want to take a shower before you go back to sleep?"
Daisy shakes her head, she can barely stay awake as it is. "I'm too tired," she mutters.
Jemma smiles and helps Daisy unzip her jacket, slipping it off and dropping it into a pile on the ground. Fitz comes up beside her and he and Jemma help Daisy stand, he looks away as Jemma helps Daisy drop her pants and step into the sweats that Fitz brought her. He sets her back on the bed and turns his back as Jemma helps Daisy remove her tank top and bra and puts on the t-shirt. They pull back the covers and tuck Daisy into the bed.
Daisy settles in on her back and opens one eye, "Please stay? Just for a bit?"
Fitz glances at Jemma, who nods. Fitz removes his jacket and his shoes, as Jemma slips off her shoes. Daisy smiles and turns on her side. Fitz settles in behind her, and Jemma slides in front of her. It's a tight squeeze, but it's not like they haven't done it before. Fitz slides his arm up under Daisy's head and reaches over her body to hold Jemma's hand.
Spooned between her two best friends in the world, Daisy is overwhelmed with emotions. It's been a long time since she's felt this safe, and this whole.
It turns out, after all of the searching and pain, that the thing that she really needed to fill the void was Jemma and Fitz, was her family.
Daisy Johnson slips away into sleep listening to the even breathing of her best friends.
(The next morning, she finally finds the strength to text Malory that next morning, apologizing and asking her how she is. They have a dinner lined up, date to be determined.)
