Daisy smiles at Anna as she walks into the kitchen and extends the coffee pot in her direction. "Here for your approved once-a-day cup of coffee?"
Anna takes the coffee pot and slams it down on the counter. Thankfully, it doesn't shatter and spray glass and hot liquid everywhere—she didn't entirely think this one through—but it has its intended effect. Daisy's eyes grow wide, and Anna catches how the young woman's fingers flex in preparation of an attack. "You have to stop this shit," Anna warns.
"What are you talking about?" Daisy demands.
"This 'I think I'm in charge so I'm going to do whatever the hell I want, teammate safety be damned' act."
Daisy looks at her feet. "I didn't mean for Mack to get hurt. Those idiots should've gone after me—"
"But they didn't, and whose fault is that?" Anna asks hotly.
Daisy's head snaps up, and Anna can tell she's trying to control her guilt-ridden temper. "I'm pretty sure you don't have any authority to tell me what to do."
"Officially? No. But let me tell you what'll happen if you don't grow up: Phil won't leave." She pauses a moment to let those three words sink in. "He'll see that he's put someone in charge who isn't ready for it, so he'll stick around until you act like the leader you're supposed to be. And until that moment? He's going to be here and treating every mistake you make as his own." Anna pauses again to get her own temper in check since she's starting to feel her own pulse in her temples, and that's probably not a good thing. "I need him," she admits hoarsely, her fingers spreading out to cover her bump and protect daughter. "I need him more than you do. I'm not going to raise her on my own. Don't take her father from her, and don't you dare deprive him of his child. Not when he's fought this long and hard to get her."
Anna's obnoxious hormones begin to flare and she can feel hot tears falling down her cheeks without permission. She quickly snags an apple and a protein bar and retreats to her quarters. Sniffling while eating her breakfast, she tries to calm herself. The baby flutters a few times, and she strives to memorize every sensation.
Anna spends her next few hours practicing her cello. She works through some of her memorized repertoire, focusing on her technique. While she could cut it as a high level instructor, she's too out of practice to make it into a symphony—or at least, one that's worth the paycheck. And if Phil truly walks away from all of this, someone is going to have to put food on the table. She indulges herself for a moment and imagines Phil as a stay-at-home dad: cooking his simple yet delicious meals, impeccably folding laundry, fussing over messes. It will drive him crazy, she knows. But there will be a tiny girl—dark curls, small stature, quiet yet mischievous. He'll chase her around, make her laugh, tend to her bruises, and love her so much it makes Anna's chest hurt.
She jumps when the door opens and breaks her out of her daydream. "Just me," Phil says. "You okay?"
"Hormonal mess, but otherwise fine. You?"
"Thought I was going to have to either dress down Daisy or guilt trip her. Imagine my surprise when someone had already beaten me to both of those punches."
"I'm not going to apologize," Anna warns.
The corner of Phil's mouth pulls up into a smile. "I wasn't expecting you to." He pauses to sit beside her and kiss her temple. "You wanna talk about it?"
"Since I've already cried once today? No. How's Mack?"
"Jemma just released him," Phil answers. "Fitz is hovering like a mother hen. And Mack is growling at everyone since he found out that Fitz was shot in the neck with a bomb."
"It's not a fun position to be in," Anna reminds him.
"Sorry," Phil murmurs. "How can I make it up to you?"
"Find me apple pie to appease your daughter."