A/N: Based on Carlie Dream's video Until the Night is Over on YouTube- go check it out, it's absolutely incredible!
Planning on a multi-chapter fic, so hang with me here! And enjoy this first chapter!
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August 11th, 2019
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Daisy Johnson clutched her radio in a shaking, sweaty hand. Around her, the wind whipped violently, trying to tug her away from her fate. Just one more mile, she reminded herself over and over again. She could hear screaming in the distance, and she cursed her weak, bruised body for how agonizingly slow it was moving.
He had to be close.
Sand found its way down into her boots, up to scratch her knees, and it circled her neck like a vise. Her eyes burned.
The air seemed to split suddenly around her. She threw herself to the ground, burying her head in her arms. Gunshots tore the sand dunes apart. Rocks flew.
Daisy curled herself up as tight as she could.
Shouting echoed around the entire valley, and when the gunshots let up for a few seconds, she strained to triangulate the sound. It was close.
Scrambling to her feet, she pressed the button on her radio. "I have Daniel's twenty. This is Agent Johnson. I repeat, I have his twenty."
The sand in her boots felt like tiny spears. Dust settled into her mouth and seemed to pierce her lungs. She couldn't see the path, but she pressed on, hurtling over rocks and sand with a vigor she hadn't felt since her first day in the field. Her legs numbly hurled themselves forward, and her arms shook with pent-up rage.
Sounds of struggling finally became clearer and clearer, and with a shocking suddenness, Daisy's hair stayed still. The wind gave up. Her breath caught in her mouth. She almost stumbled to her knees, but sheer force of will kept her upright . . . just in time to see Daniel double over, surrounded by three men, teetering dangerously close to a steep cliff.
The sound Sousa made shook Daisy to her core.
With one last burst of speed, she hurled herself toward the group of men.
Shrieking, "No!" she tackled the nearest thug. They went down in a cloud of dust, Daisy's fists meeting his jaw over and over . . . Even after his eyes closed and her fist met no resistance.
A pair of hands gripped her upper arms, and someone clutched her eyes. She screamed and fought and clawed, but they were too strong.
Too strong . . . She was too weak to save Daniel . . . She was too weak to get there in time, and now . . . now . . . He was dead.
She caught a glimpse of open eyes, stark red sand, a twisted leg. Her ears stopped hearing things. Her forehead was numb. All she knew was to scream and to scream and that he was dead.
Backup wasn't coming. She was alone.
She was alone, and he was dead. And it was her fault.
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July 23rd, 2014
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Daniel Sousa had seen some strange things in his life.
After two tours in Iraq, he had seen his fair share of combat. He had seen superstition running rampage in his barracks. He had seen the inside of a field hospital. He had seen soldiers go mentally insane. And after he returned home, the weirdness just kept coming.
His first year out of active service, he was hired by none other than Phillip Coulson to head up all combat training for a brand new under-the-radar organization.
"Never heard of SHIELD," Daniel had admitted.
Coulson rested his arms on the table. "That's because it barely exists yet. We're joining with the SSR as a single organization. SHIELD will focus on field work, large scale weapons and , and the SSR can keep supporting us through science and technology."
"What's the purpose? Wouldn't the military be enough to keep America safe?" Daniel glanced up from the thick folder.
"SHIELD is more of a . . ." Coulson wrinkled his eyebrows, ". . . supernatural protection force. We aim not just for America, but to keep the whole world safe. Think of it as the FBI or CIA, with really big weapons. This world is getting smaller, Mr. Sousa. We don't know what types of threats are waiting, from space, from underground, even from different worlds. We need you to help us prepare for any world-wide, nation-wide, or even city-wide catastrophe that could appear."
"By catastrophe, you mean . . . like what happened in New York?"
Coulson nodded. "Exactly like that."
He browsed through the files for a few minutes. "Okay." Daniel looked up. "Let's do it."
They shook hands, and Sousa's life was forever changed.
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He was shipped out to the base on Area 51 almost immediately, complete with a small troop of about fifty. Four scientists joined him, as well as two current SSR agents.
For a long time, his life was almost perfect. He trained his squad day in and day out, going for twenty-mile runs as often as time would allow, teaching them the basics of gun handling, hand-to-hand combat, emergency procedures, and everything else under the sun.
As was natural for Area 51, he heard some strange stories. Aliens, Martians, slithering snake creatures that measured a hundred feet, masked men that shot lasers out of their eyes . . . he had heard it all. At least one recruit usually went insane during one of their runs and claimed to have been haunted. But it was nothing that a little cold water in the face and a boxing session in the base couldn't fix.
Sousa respected his team, and they respected him. They went from calling him "Chief" with formality, to it sounding more like a term of endearment. He knew all of their names, ages, backgrounds, favorite foods, and he had had more than one heart-to-heart with all of them at some point.
Most of them were at least ten years younger than himself, and Daniel felt a sort of paternal duty to them, to see to their wellbeing. So even though they were stuck underground for the majority of the three-year training program, they felt like a family. A healthy, strong, well-oiled machine of a family.
But a not-unwelcome wrench was thrown into his plans one day.
It was the middle of the hottest summer they had seen in a long time. He had run into road block after emergency after hiccup. He was almost done with the day—almost ready to turn in for the night . . . when another thing threw him off.
And Sousa never expected to be so thrown off by just one person.
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"Who the hell are you?"
The woman didn't look up from the desk. Her eyebrows raised slightly, and she brought a gloved hand to her glasses. "Who I am is on a need-to-know basis."
He did not have time for this. His bad foot had been acting up all day, he had had to walk around with that god-forsaken cane, and half his team had contracted some type of flu simultaneously. Their training exercises were delayed, and his meeting and progress demonstration with Coulson would have to be rescheduled again.
"I need to know," he said, frustration and impatience rising off of him like the heat waves outside.
The woman pasted a smile onto her face and finally glanced up. "No, you don't, because I don't exist, and we never met." She gestured toward him. "Now, will you shut the door please?"
That didn't answer his question, nor did it give him a clue as to why she was nonchalantly sitting in the office of a high-ranking SHIELD official.
"Not until you produce some credentials," he pressed.
Sighing, the woman stood up. "Coulson had said you were a little more welcoming to visitors."
He raised an eyebrow. "Not when they're sitting in my personal office and don't identify themselves."
"Fair," she said, and handed him a card.
It read, Agent Daisy Johnson – Level Six – SHIELD, Washington, D.C. Consultant for Field Operations.
Daniel relaxed and let out a breath. He smiled. "Agent Johnson."
She returned the grin. "Mr. Sousa. A pleasure to finally meet you."
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August 11th, 2017
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"Attention, cadets."
The room echoed with the sound of sixty boots stomping the floor at the same time.
Daisy Johnson strolled around the group, each new recruit looking more and more uncomfortable the longer she paced.
"You have been selected," she finally said, "to be a part of SHIELD's newest field training program. It will not be easy. It will break you. It will make you want to crawl into a hole and never—"
"At ease," Sousa interrupted, as the door behind him shut with a clang.
Daisy spun on her heel to face him.
He smirked. "Stop scaring the poor recruits, please."
Daniel clasped his hands behind his back, feet spread a comfortable distance apart. "Here's the deal: You will not be broken," he addressed the thirty nervous cadets. "You will be built from the ground up. We know you have skills, that is why you were selected. We will work to hone those skills. We have a fine-tuned training program, which turns you all into a team. By the end of three years, you should be working, talking, and fighting like a team. And as soon as we have the go-ahead from the Director to begin field work, you will have to be a team."
His eyes darted between the rookies. Some looked terrified, some had stone-cold demeanors that he stared down. "Agent Johnson here will try to push you beyond your limits, but I am here to help you find those limits. Agent Johnson will be in charge of all hand-to-hand combat training, so you have my permission stay a healthy distance away if you don't want to have your teeth knocked out."
A nervous chuckle rippled through the group.
"All you need to know," he continued, "is that we expect your very best. You all have strengths and weaknesses, but we need you to harness them both. We want you to be the best agents of SHIELD that you can be. Now . . ." he checked his watch, ". . . I believe it's time for lunch. Dismissed."
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"They really respect you, you know" Daisy said. She jogged a couple steps to keep up with his long strides, then slowed again. "You could really make this base into something great. I think—"
"I'm requesting a new assignment."
Daisy stopped. A light flickered in the hallway.
"Sorry, what?"
Sousa beckoned her into the office with him. The door clicked shut, and he breathed a sigh. "Don't get me wrong: I love what I do, and I love the people I train. But Davis is more than ready to take over, and to be honest with you . . . it's hard to train people for the field when I know I won't be out there myself. I want more than just a . . ." he rested a fist on the table, ". . . a desk job."
She didn't know what to say.
Thankfully, Daniel continued. "I have a meeting with the Director in a couple weeks, and I'm going to request a change. I want to bring the first squad I trained out into the field. You know the plane that Fitz designed?"
Daisy nodded.
"I'm going to ask to use that as a mobile command center. There are more and more threats popping up all over the place, and the military can only do so much. With Fitzsimmons, we'd be equipped to contain and handle anything. I think it's time we stopped hiding in these underground . . . bomb shelters."
Taking a deep breath, Daisy leaned against the door. "Okay. Sure." She tried to collect her thoughts, but a hundred questions tried to escape her mouth at once. "Uh."
Daniel sat on the edge of his desk, facing her. "Actually, I wanted to see if . . . If maybe, you would come with me?"
"Partners?" Her eyes lit up. "Me, you, Fitzsimmons?"
Sousa nodded. "Maybe Rodriguez or Hunter."
Finally, Daisy smiled. She pulled off her gloves and flapped them around. "Sounds like the dream team." Pulling herself away from the door, she extended her hand to Daniel. "Let's do it."
They shook on it.
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