Disclaimer: All rights belong to Disney, Marvel, and all the men and women that created the Agents of SHIELD TV shows, and comics. I take no credit, and I do not mean to break any copyright rules. This is simply a work of fiction made for enjoyment. No money is being made.

Rating: T for dark themes, graphic violence, mentions of torture, drug abuse, supernatural violence, major character death, and minor language

Chapter 21: Injections and Interjections

When the headaches return and her mouth becomes dry beyond repair, Daisy decides it's time for another dosage of the drug. She spent the first few days alone constantly injecting more, but she soon realized that her supply was extremely limited.

Now after several days - she isn't sure exactly how many, she hasn't been paying attention - she forces herself to wait until the symptoms of withdrawal start before she injects herself again.

The hallucinations aren't pleasant in any way. Sometimes she sees herself again, stubborn and mocking as usual, and other times she sees different things. Flashbacks and warped versions of reality are quite popular.

She's at the point where she regrets getting re-addicted to the drug, but she's in too far to stop by herself. And right now, herself is all she has.

The apartment is so empty. Pictures of her family and her and Lincoln still cover the walls and furniture still sits, but the faces in the photos seem blank and the furniture is just collecting dust. She can't stand to see her life so dismal, so she confines herself to just the living room.

The good thing about the drug is that it eliminates any need for food and almost all need for drink. It helps fill the holes in her, and it helps keep her from dwelling on the past.

But Daisy comes to a startling discovery today she reaches into the container for another syringe and her fingers grasp nothing.

It's empty.

She's used up all the supply.

She weakly hits the floor with her fist as she slumps off the couch. She has no energy to do anything, not even to stand up and walk to her bedroom.

Defeat seems imminent. How can she go on without the one thing that keeps her going?

She needs to get more, but how? It's not like they just sell it at a drug store.

Except…

Her mind races, running at a feverish and mad pace, and she finds inspiration in her desperation. The gangs sell it in old warehouses or in dark alleys at night, she remembers from one of her and Robbie's missions. She just needs to know where to go to get some.

The thought of getting more spurs her into action. She climbs up off her living room floor and limps to her bedroom, where she scavenges for fresh clothes.

Her hands are trembling too much to put on makeup, but she hopes no one will notice how pale and sickly she looks. The dark bags under her eyes are unavoidable, though.

Her reflection gives her pause. She looks so skinny. And not in a healthy way. She must have lost a lot of weight just from the past week or however long she's been here. All her clothes seem baggy on her, and even in her face her cheekbones are much more prominent than before.

Look what you're doing to yourself, the small voice of reason inside her head says. You're killing yourself.

She ignores the voice and heads out the door, fumbling around for her keys. Her fingers are shaking so hard she can barely keep a hold of the small objects.

It's night out, the air crisp and chilly. The dim streetlamps barely touch the darkness. Daisy turns on her car and starts driving around, hoping to come across some dealers.

The headlights of other cars sear her eyes. She's seen only darkness for so long that everything makes her eyes hurt.

Luckily the places where the dealers work are dark. She peers in every black corner, looking for signs of movement.

As she creeps through the ghettos, she suddenly hears a wailing siren. Blue and red lights whirl behind her. She curses and slowly pulls over, half of her panicking, the other half too far gone to care.

The police officer shines his lights in her face. She winces and turns, blinking the spots away blearily. It's too much all at once.

"Have you been drinking?" the officer asks gruffly. Daisy inwardly sighs, relieved that he isn't asking anything about drugs.

"No, sir," she replies, still looking away. Eventually he drops the flashlight beams and she can look over his way.

"Doesn't smell like it," he murmurs, half to himself. "I'm going to need to take a breathalyzer test."

She agrees to it, knowing full well she has no alcohol in her system. The test results come back clean.

"I'm sorry to inconvenience you," he says once he sees the results. "But you were swerving back and forth all over your lane."

"I'm just really tired, sir."

He stares at her or a long minute. "No kidding. You look exhausted. How far is your destination?"

"Just a couple minutes. I'll be home soon." Daisy hopes he buys her cover story, despite knowing that she's far from her apartment.

"Okay. Drive safer. Try and stay awake. If you need to, pull over for a bit and rest your eyes." He glances around, then leans closer. "But I would recommend getting out of this area as soon as you can. It gets dangerous at night."

"Dangerous?"

"There are gangs," he warns. "They kidnap or shoot people. And there's another guy, too. Have you heard of the Ghost Rider?"

Daisy's eyes widen, but not in fear. She suddenly has an idea. "Yeah, I have."

The officer shakes his head. "He's a scary guy. Sometimes we can't even I.D. his victims because there isn't enough of them left once he's finished with 'em. Stay clear."

She nods, then watches him head back to his car. She waits until the officer has left before heading towards a more familiar area.

Her idea is genius. Robbie always finds the bad guys, and where the bad guys are, the drugs are, also. So she just has to find him and then ask him for help.

It's so easy she can't believe she hadn't thought of it before.

But as she starts driving again, she realizes she can't quite remember where he lives. It's like there's a big blank in her memory.

She shakes the odd feeling away. It doesn't matter. She'll just drive around until she finds him.

Daisy shows up exactly six days later. Robbie watches her car pull off the road and into the driveway next to the Dodge. Her parking is uncharacteristically terrible.

He watches as the door hesitantly opens and she stumbles out. Something about the whole thing is odd; Daisy has never been the most graceful of people, but she is far from clumsy. And there's something else, something he can't put his finger on yet.

She staggers over his direction, and as she nears he can see how pale she has become. The bags under her eyes are startling, as if she hasn't slept in weeks.

"Robbie, thank God," she exclaims, her voice hoarse as she limps to him. "I need your help."

She looks like crap. Her hair's all messy and her clothes are wrinkled and her eyes aren't focusing. He feels bad for kicking her out. Obviously she's taken a turn for the worse.

As she reaches him she starts to half fall. He catches her, and when he wraps his arms around her he notices how skinny she is. And not in a normal way; even through her clothes he can feel her bony joints and bones.

"Have you eaten since you left?" he asks, hauling her up gently. He's worried her frame is going to shatter.

"Haven't needed to," she replies, and he's surprised at her lack of concern.

He helps her up the steps to the apartment. "That's not normal, Daisy. People need food to function."

"Not me." She looks at him, and her eyes shine with desire. "Not since I started taking this drug."

Crap. What has she gotten herself into? "What drug?"

"The one they gave me when I was kidnapped. The hallucinogen." Her whole face brightens as she talks about it. "It fills up all the emptiness inside you. I don't need to eat or drink as long as I have it. But I ran out and I need your help to get more."

She must be deep into addiction. Why had he made her leave? He could have helped prevent this. "I'm not helping you get more drugs."

She lurches forward, her eyes burning. For a moment, he's scared of her. "Why not? You're the only person I have left!"

"Look at yourself!" he yells, his patience wearing thin, both from his mistakes and hers. "You're killing yourself!"

She tries to feebly push past him. "Fine. I'll just go get some myself."

He grabs her shoulders firmly. "No. You're staying here."

She punches him, but she's so feeble it doesn't even affect him. "You were the one who kicked me out in the first place! You have no right to keep me here."

He takes hold of her hands in one of his, preventing her from further abuse. They feel like skeletal hands, only a tiny layer of flesh covering the bones.

"You aren't taking care of yourself, Daisy. That drug is poisoning you, and you're just letting it. I can't let you do that."

Although she weakly fights him for every step, he manages to wrestle her away from the door to the living room. He forcefully but gently pushes her on the couch.

"If you leave, I'll know it," he warns her.

She looks up at him with pure, seething hatred. "You can't stop me. I know my rights."

Robbie looks at her with pity. "You won't call the police. I'll just tell them you're a drug addict, and they'll whip you off to a rehab center. And I know that's the last thing you want."

"Then I'll sneak out."

"Good luck with that." Robbie turns and heads out, confident that she doesn't have the energy or resolve to do any such thing.

He returns to his work, not saying anything to Manuel, Francisco, or the new guy, Ignacio. They wisely don't ask.

Daisy doesn't try anything for the next few hours. When the shop closes and Gabe gets home, Robbie pulls his younger brother aside.

"Can you stay at a friend's house for the next few days?" he requests.

Gabe gives him a suspicious glance. "What's going on?"

Robbie sighs. "A lot. But can you?"

Gabe crosses his arms. "Tell me why, first."

"You're just as stubborn as she is," Robbie complains, rubbing his forehead.

"Daisy's here?"

Well, Gabe doesn't miss anything. Robbie might as well tell him the truth. "Remember when she was kidnapped? Her kidnappers repeatedly injected her with a powerful and super addictive hallucinogen."

"I remember. It was weird because hallucinogens aren't injected, they're smoked or snorted," Gabe recalls.

"Normally, but not this one. It's some new kind of thing. Anyways, she's addicted to it now and she can't stop taking it herself, so I'm going to help her get through the worst of it. But she doesn't need an audience, so if you can stay elsewhere for a little while it would be nice."

Gabe frowns, probably still stuck on the scientific part of the drug but finally he nods. "Okay. But why can't she just go to a drug rehab?"

"You know how she is about hospitals. I think she'd rather die than end up in one."

Gabe gets a troubled expression on his face at that information, but he doesn't press. "Has she mentioned anything about Lincoln?"

The sound of that name physically hurts Robbie, but he makes sure to show no reaction. "No. But I am going to make her tell me."

"What you're doing for her is good," Gabe says. "It shows you're a good person. But good people are the ones who get hurt the worst in the end. Be careful."

Gabe keeps saying that to him, and Robbie doesn't understand what he means. He's not in any danger from Daisy.

Not that it matters, anyway. He's not the good person Gabe thinks he is. If anything hurts him, it's that fact.

"Thanks for doing this," Robbie says, putting a hand on his brother's shoulder. "I really appreciate it."

Gabe nods. "Thanks for telling me the truth."

Now, that hurts like a punch to the face. Robbie knows how much his little brother wants the truth, but he can never know some things. And although he wants to tell him everything, he can't.

What a complex life.