A/N: Wassup my dudes! Yeah, sorry I never post, but I'M BACK! So please enjoy and drop a review! Thanks to my wonderful new editor, Sarah!

Disclaimer: I own nothing but my own self hate for taking so long to post things.

Chapter 11: What Now?

SHIELD Helicarrier, above New York City. Wednesday, September 17th, 2042. 11:30 am.

The sun shines brighter than it has the past two days. The light hits the soft curves of pale gray clouds, casting a silver reflection on her observation windows. The reflection highlights the silhouettes of tall buildings as the clouds move and shift in shape. Every shift in the clouds break to give the Director a view of the bay below from her towering office windows. The waves peak and shimmer like a diamond meeting light for the first time. The scene is calm, ordinary, unaffected by the bustle of the city. The peacefulness of nature is enough to ease Daisy's migraine for a moment. Her eyes scan towards the inner city of Long Island and the news helicopters buzzing around the scene of destruction near Stark Tower brings her back to reality. The outside world is invited back in, along with the problems she has yet to face.

Her office is a sanctuary from the countless interviewers, national addresses and government officials calling for her head. The stress of the situation has caused her numerous tremors, shaking the Helicarrier and her agents. It's made them all aware of the toll this is taking on their fearless leader. Tony Stark visited earlier and put some of her worries to ease over the cost of damage stacking up for the city, a cost SHIELD never budgeted for. Mr. Stark assured her his charities and insurance would cover most of it. Still, the Mayor's screeching voice echoes in her ears over busted concrete and personal property damage. How dare he speak to me as an ignorant child when the fate of the future rests on what I do next, which is way more important than sidewalk repairs. The pressing issue of today is just that—What am I going to do next? She turns away from the windows and seats herself at her desk, her thoughts running wild with fear of what could be next.

Daisy Johnson is no stranger to the unknown. Working with Fury in the field came with a whole set of uncertainties, especially when it came to their work in secret to uncover Skrulls. It was a constant, but things are different when it's you and your superior out there on your own. It's different when you don't have thousands of agents and an entire network of spies on the line who could directly suffer from your mistakes. It's different when your actions only affect you and not the millions of people under your protection, people you swore to safeguard. It's different when your fears are about what's hiding around the corner instead of if the organization you were appointed to will crumble.

Daisy recalls a time when she wasn't a friend of worry and a constant companion of anxiety. When she was young and on her own, she acted on instinct because Fury trusted her instinct. The bureaucracy of the World Security Council doesn't allow for instinct—only calculated steps with calculated risks. Those calculations are what has her stuck in this situation. They never calculated this threat she'd told them about for months would be dangerous. Daisy's trapped and bound by procedure and formalities, chased by fear and burdened with an image she's failing to keep up. Not because she's incapable, no. The leash around her throat keeps dragging her backwards.

Her thoughts overtake her. I can't do this.

She's played this game too long, masquerading as a leader but simply a puppet in the Council's hands. She's pretended too long the overwhelming burden of living up to the Council's demands isn't suffocating her. Pretended to be the kind of Director they wanted, and not the Director she wanted to be—the kind of Director Fury told her she could be. She's tired of fighting. Tired of being a fearful and anxiety-riddled person she doesn't recognize. This is not her. This is not the Daisy that signed on all those years ago to lead SHIELD into the future.

I can't do this.

Her hands slam against the desk as she rises from her chair. Her voice, surging with anger breaks through the silence in the room with a command to the computer. She asks for a new voice message. The computer responds to her requests with a little blue holographic microphone hovering above her desk.

"When you're ready, Director," the computer says. She takes a deep breath, knowing this is what she's been forced to do. This is what the Council has left her with. This is the only option left, and she's going to force their hand to get what she wants, one way or another.

"This Director Johnson leaving a message for the World Security Council. I'm calling a meeting as soon as possible to talk about a matter of utmost importance. All members should be present since this will concern the future of SHIELD and the position of Directorship. Please contact Agent Phillips to schedule a meeting and do it fast. I don't have much time to waste. Thank you." With the message closed and sent, she flops back in her chair, a heavy sigh escaping her lips. I sure hope that scares them, she thinks. She traces her fingers across her forehead, her headache slowly subsiding. Daisy has threatened the Council before, but not to quit.

The more she thinks about it, the more her hands start to shake with an oncoming tremor. What if she does step down? She'd be cut off from SHIELD's resources—blackballed, like the Council did Maria Hill after she walked away. What if they let her quit? What then?

"What then…" she says. Her voice trails as she explores all the possibilities of being on her own again. Doing things her way, finding truth in her own time, and leading a team with her own rules. No longer would she be forced to do things by the book—trapped by procedure―but she would have the freedom to chase down this crazy good-for-nothing attacking in broad daylight and turning people into monsters. She could do it. And it could work. It could work…

A smile for the first time in two days spreads across her face. She could be free again. No more pressure from the Council making her a nervous wreck, no more bowing to the bureaucracy. It could be her and a select few of her trusted agents out there saving the world. And maybe the kids too…

A chime sounds at her door as someone on the other side waits for her acknowledgment. The Director straightens her posture before she voices a welcome. The office door slides open, and Agent Philips walks through.

"Johnson, I have a message from Dr. Lang. She called about five minutes ago," he says, reviewing his notes on his holowatch.

"What did she want?"

"She didn't want anything, sir. Just to alert you she'd be out for the afternoon and if you needed anything from Agent Relations, to talk to Agent Washington."

Daisy purses her lips as she eyes young Phillips. "Did she say why she was leaving?" Cass never mentioned anything to me about taking off today.

Agent Philips scrolls through notes floating above his wrist, shaking his head. "No sir, she just said she was going out to run some errands."

"Errands, huh? Thank you, Ian. You're dismissed." The young Agent nods and takes his leave but stops in the doorway.

"Sir, Doctor Lang did want me to remind you to check on Banner in the GEU. Rumors have spread that one of the monsters is awake," he says, turning to leave his superior's office.

Daisy sinks back into her chair, tugging at her quake-suppressing gloves. She hadn't forgotten about the two doped up monsters sleeping three floors under Queens at the Gamma Emergency Unit—or the agent she left in charge. She had prepared herself for Agent Ellis to call, saying they'd escaped but he never did. Maybe I should sneak out and see what they're up to down there.

G.E.U. Secure SHIELD Medical Facility, Queens. 12:03 pm.

The harsh buzzing of fluorescent lights overhead is the only sound accompanying Director Johnson as she walks. Daisy strides down long stretches of empty hallways in search of an elevator to take her down to level three of the Gamma Emergency Unit. The GEU, for short, is a secure medical facility three floors beneath the surface, designed with the help of Dr. Banner solely for offering medical care for those with Gamma mutations. Daisy knows the facilities have been collecting dust for years due to the decrease in Gamma activity. The GEU has always been a fallback in an emergency exactly like the one they're facing now. She's glad she remembered to keep the light bill paid.

After a few minutes of figuring her way around, Daisy finds an elevator. She hops in, the doors lurching shut behind her as she descends to floor three, the GEU. The elevator creaks and buzzes, making all the noises you'd expect from a horror film. The Queens facility hasn't been used since Banner's meltdown in '25, and that thought alone makes Daisy wonder about the integrity of the cables supporting her. But as the elevator slows, she realizes it's not the elevator making her nervous. It's what she'll find on the other side that's making her fingers tremble. The doors slide open and she quickly exits, not wanting her tremors to make the elevator any less stable. It's got enough problems of its own in its old age. She turns away from the doors, eyeing two heavily armored guards on either side. She salutes them and is met by a friendly face at a nurses' station a few feet away.

A young agent rises to her feet, saluting her superior. "Good afternoon, Director," she says. The freckled young girl taps at a glass screen inset in the raised counter, showing her Director where to sign in.

Daisy signs her name and the date with a stylus, the screen approving her visitation with a big, green checkmark. "Is Agent Ellis here?"

"Looking for me, Sir?"

Daisy's head follows the voice, facing her trusted friend and ally. "Elliot, what have you got for me?"

Agent Elliot Ellis—security and intelligence coordinator for all of Daisy's sensitive internal affairs—smirks through his furry upper lip. "Walk with me, Director. I've got a lot to show you."

The man, bald yet average in every physical way save for his extravagant strawberry-blonde facial hair, motions for Daisy to follow him. She trails behind him as he leads her down a bleak, white hallway peppered with jail cell-favoring entrances. Each room's door is fashioned with a tiny window, large automated locks, a digital access pad made for a handprint, and an armed guard. Great for keeping unwanted visitor's out, and patients in.

"Where's Banner?" Daisy asks.

"Right here in three o' two," Ellis says. He leads her to the room of the same number, letting her peek in through the little window. She notices that Blake's room is lacking a watchman then pushes herself up on her tiptoes to look in, catching a view that makes her wish she hadn't. It's Bruce, his head hanging down and pressing on his chest. He's asleep in a chair, as close as he can get to the hospital bed his son lays on. His head shoots up for a moment, then slowly slouches back to its previous position. The Director rests her feet level on the floor, sending a concerned look to Elliot.

Elliot, sensing she didn't want to interrupt quiets her concerns. "He's been expecting you, so it's okay to go in."

She looks at him and nods, stepping back for Ellis to unlock the door. He presses his hand to the access pad and the locks click and snap as the door cracks open. She runs a nervous hand through her jet hair, hoping Bruce has good news on the other side. Elliot steps back and motions he'll be in the hall. With a nod, Daisy opens the door fully, knocking on the frame before entering. The light sound of her gloves bumping against the concrete frame makes Bruce jolt awake. He blinks the tiredness from his honey colored eyes, focusing on the woman before him.

"Director Johnson, I didn't know you were coming today," he says. He pushes his chair back and stands to greet her. Their hands meet and shake, a slight tremble lingering in hers. Bruce notices, drawing his hand back and rubbing it. Daisy pulls her hand back, crossing her arms over her chest.

"So, how is he?" she asks. Their eyes in unison land on the unconscious teenager. She examines the tubes, wires, and IV's going to and from the kid. He's hooked up to more machines than she can count. But her piercing blues fall on the restraining straps attached to the bed's sides. Blake's thin arms rest beside them, but not in them.

"He's stable, but his internal temperature keeps fluctuating. He's gone from 98 normal, to 103. It drops back down, then goes back up."

Daisy focuses her gaze back on the tired father. The stress wrinkles on his forehead have visibly deepened since she saw him at their last meeting with her advisors. She didn't think the dark circles on Bruce's eyes could get any darker, but she was wrong. Of course, watching your son be attacked would make anyone lose sleep.

"His body will go into shock if that doesn't stop."

"I know," he says, his eyes still fixated on Blake. "The other doctors and I had some ice packs on him earlier to regulate his fever, and it seemed to help…"

He trails off, Daisy picking up where he leaves off. "But?"

Bruce covers his face with his hands, rubbing the sleep away. "So far…his body isn't showing any signs of mutation."

Daisy narrows her eyes, confusion furrowing her brow. "What?"

"I know it sounds crazy, but I have run every test I can think of to run. Every scan, every type of blood and radiation test. His DNA is the same…but his body is treating the injected serum like a virus. His immune system is attacking it like foreign bacteria, which explains the fever."

"But his body shouldn't be reacting like this, it should be changing him on the cellular level," she says. "How is it even possible for his immune system to fight?"

Bruce scratches the stubble on his chin. "Professionally speaking, I have no idea. And that's what concerns me. I asked for some new equipment to be brought in so I can make sure this isn't some instrumental error."

"But if all the tests say the same thing?"

Daisy's remark weighs on Bruce's expression. His face scrunches into a scowl, the pain of unanswered questions straining his features. There's so much about this that isn't adding up. Why was Blake attacked in the first place? Even more puzzling, he was attacked after and after the other two. The other two…she remembers.

"Bruce, come with me," she says. He pauses, taking a long look at Blake before sighing and following Daisy out into the hall. "I know you're worried about Blake; I am too. But until you get the new equipment, you can't do much for him other than wait and watch. So, I have a proposition," she says.

"I'm listening."

"I've got two other patients to visit while I'm here, and I could use your help. Since you know Rick Jones well, I was wondering if you could talk to him? See what he remembers from the attack."

"Of course, I'll do what I can to help," he says. Daisy offers a reassuring smile as she invites Agent Ellis over. Elliot, leaning against the wall across from them straightens and joins them. Bruce and the agent acknowledge each other with a nod.

"Agent Ellis, Bruce is going to help us by talking to Jones. What's his situation?"

Ellis taps on his holowatch, reviewing Jones file hovering above his wrist. "He's doing well. That serum of Stark's turned him back to his human form and he's been that way ever since. But he complained about a lot of pain in his back—probably because of the overgrown spikes—so he's been on heavy meds. He's been in and out of consciousness and I can't promise you'll get a coherent sentence from him."

"Will you still try?" she asks Bruce. "If anyone can get information from him, it'll be you."

Bruce nods, hesitation furrowing his brow. "I'll see what I can do."

The three take a few steps down the hall before they reach Rick Jones' room. Ellis nods to the stiff guard and unlocks the door with his handprint on the access pad. The door opens and Bruce steps in. Rick, lying in bed battered and bruised, raises his head and smiles wide.

"Brucie! My buddy, where have you been? Have I got something funny to tell you, I had this crazy dream I was a big armadillo! Crazy, right?" The auburn-haired patient's words slur and drawl, dazed from the pain medication. Bruce looks back to Daisy and Elliot, raising a brow and shrugging before he closes the door behind him. Ellis and Johnson share a similar wide-eyed glance. Bruce probably won't get much information out of Jones in this state. At least he's not big, blue and scaly anymore.

"So, what about our suspect?" Daisy asks. Ellis stops their pace down the hall. The expression on his face isn't making her feel any better.

"His story's a little different. Physically, his situation is worse than expected. However, I have been able to identify him, and you're not gonna like it."

"Why won't I like it?" Daisy asks, her curiosity peaking.

"Because his name is Matthew Talbot."

Daisy pauses, blinking hard. "Talbot? As in Colonel Glenn Talbot who's sitting in prison after he was dishonorably discharged for conspiring with Ross years ago? That Talbot?"

Elliot nods. "Matthew is his nephew. He's former military, fought in China. Plus, he has a wife and two small kids. I have no idea how he's involved. I haven't been able to interrogate him. He's been sedated since the attack because his body didn't react the same way Jones' did to the Stark's serum…" he pauses, twisting the hairs of his mustache. "He's not doing well."

Daisy nods, imagining what state he must be in to be sedated for so long. "We can still try."

"Whatever you say, Director." Agent Ellis leads the way to the last room in the hall. When they reach the end of the hall, Daisy reads a lighted sign overhead. MAXIMUM SECURITY. Her eyes fall back down to meet not one, but two guards watching the door. They raise their hands to their heads, flat palms resting against their foreheads. She acknowledges them with a salute then presses a button near the access pad, paging the doctor on duty inside. The button blinks red until they hear a buzz over a small speaker beside the button.

"Hello?" The voice, deep yet feminine, carries exhaustion in their tone.

"Dr. Edwards?" Daisy asks.

"Speaking."

Daisy smiles. "It's Director Johnson, is the patient well enough to speak to us?" She and Ellis exchange a baited glance before the doctor's voice carries back over the speaker.

"He's stable right now, and I can wake him up. But I must warn you, Director. He looks worse than he is."

Daisy raises a brow as Ellis shrugs. This time, the door unlocks from the inside, and they're met on the other side by Dr. Edwards. The middle-aged woman looks as tired as she sounded, but still greets the Director with a smile and a handshake.

"Welcome to the Maxsy. The most secure room in the GEU for our least stable guests," she says, gesturing to the room.

Bustling with five—no, six other doctors, the inside looks ten times bigger than one might think from the doorway. The dark gray room's rows of lights are down as dim as they'll go and the space is filled with machines upon machines, blipping and beeping. The bed in the center of all the madness is wider than normal to accommodate the abnormal patient. Talbot's trunk is human enough from his feet to his head, but his arms branch off the bed in slings hanging from a metal frame above the bed. They hold tattered wings, partly human arms but with pluming feathers extending from underneath and six-inch talons where fingers should be. If Daisy hadn't seen worse in her life, the site might make her stomach turn. She looks over at Ellis who looks like his stomach is turning.

"You can wait over here while I talk to him," she says. Ellis nods, silently thanking her. He follows her to the scene in the center but stops just shy of the bed, turning his face away. The doctor rests her hand on Talbot's shoulder, giving him a gentle shake.

"Matthew, you have visitors." The young man squints and shifts, trying to focus on the room around him. His dark brown hair is buzzed down to his skull, and old scars on his face tell Daisy he's been through much more than this accident. The doctor's low, soothing voice stirs the sleeping birdman. His eyes open, startling Daisy. The left iris is as brown as his hair and the pupil large and dilated. But his right eye is golden and alert, visibly zooming in on Daisy's face.

"Wha…what?" His voice is raspy and dry, cracking from sleep.

"Hi Matthew, my name is Daisy Johnson—"

"I know you…you're the SHIELD Director," he says. "Fearless Johnson, we called you in China when the war started."

"You fought in China?" Daisy, taken aback, gently sits at the end of his bed. "Matt—can I call you Matt?" The young man nods. "Matt, I know it might be hard, but right now I need you to tell me what happened the day of the attack. Do you remember what happened?"

The room is quiet for a moment as all eyes fall on the Director and Matthew. He tries to move his arms, but when he realizes he can't because of the slings, he focuses on Daisy.

"I was sent to attack the Banner kid. I was told to shoot him, turn him into some kinda monster. They made me watch him…I watched and listened for a week."

"Why?" Daisy asks, Matthew's half-golden stare unnerving her.

He blinks, taking a minute to process her question. "They wanted me to find the right time to strike. Said they wanted it to be in a crowded place."

Daisy ponders on her next words, wanting to get as much information as she can from this meeting before her only lead is put under again. "So, the people that sent you, they had you monitoring him?"

"Yeah," he says. He clears his throat. "I was bored out of my mind listening to them…so much science."

Matthew doesn't offer much else. Daisy realizes she'll be doing most of the talking in this interrogation. "Going back to the people that sent you, did they say why they were targeting Blake? Why did they want a crowded space?"

Matthew's talons curl as he adjusts his arms. "All they told me was to shoot him. I—I couldn't do it, though. I just…I couldn't."

"Couldn't do what, shoot him?" she asks. Matthew nods, his eyes drifting around the room. He's losing his focus. Maybe it's pain or he's still foggy from the meds. "So, are you saying you didn't take the shots?"

Talbot's golden and brown stare comes back around to Daisy, blinking one eye at a time. "No."

The Director glances over at Dr. Edwards, then back at Ellis. "Then who did?" she asks.

Talbot rolls his shoulders, his legs becoming restless. "They knew I couldn't do it…so my handler did. He followed me all the way to New York because they knew I couldn't do it…"

"Who was your handler? Did he have a codename or rank you can remember?" she asks, pressing for information before he becomes too antsy.

"I don't know." His body won't stay still while his eyes stir aimlessly around the room. "He was German—I think. I don't know who was over him…but she was insistent I finish the job."

Daisy raises a brow. "She?"

"Director Johnson," Edwards says. She points to the vital monitor beside the bed. Daisy hadn't noticed Matthew's blood pressure slowly rising, or his heart rate picking up. If she's going to ask him anything else, she must do it now or she'll lose her chance of finding out who's behind this.

"Why did they recruit you? What did they have over you?"

Matthew makes strained grunts under his breath. He's in pain, but he tries to focus his attention on the Director. "My handler told me I owed a debt of Uncle Glenn's. Money…resources, stuff he was connected to," he pauses, drawing a rattling breath. "They said I was the only surviving member of the Talbot's that could—that could pay. I had to pay, or she said my family would."

"They used your wife and kids against you?" she asks. Talbot's body is struggling to stay still now.

"They found them; I don't know how. We live in the country, far out. My wife…my kids. They would've killed them…" His voice comes to a sudden halt and he leans as close to Daisy as his restraints allow. He locks eyes with her, his stare dead and glassy.

"She threatened my family. I had to do what she wanted, but I couldn't... I couldn't ruin that kid's life. The German—he shot him, and the guy that got in the way, too. He…he did this to me."

He falls back, slamming his back against the bed. This mutation has affected more than his physical state. It's done something to his mind, traumatized him. Even if he's able to overcome this in his body, there's no way he'll ever be the same person. He writhes in pain, his legs kicking and body shaking. Daisy hops up before she gets kicked.

The only thing he's guilty of is being a Talbot. She watches his eyes open and close, one eye at a time. "Is there anything else you can tell me about the one in charge, or the German?"

"Director, his body is beginning to seize, we need to sedate him, or it could do permanent damage to his brain," Edwards says. She ushers' doctors to gather around and hold down his body and limbs. Edwards steps away to prepare a shot of something for his IV.

"Matthew, please. I can't help your family if I don't know who sent you." Matthew's eyes blink rapidly, but one of his talons beckons the Director to come closer, as if he remembered something. Daisy steps closer to him, ignoring the warnings from Dr. Edwards beside her. The doc has already connected the shot to his IV. Daisy has only seconds to hear what he has to say before he's out. She leans her head down to Matthew, her ear close enough to feel him breath. His voice is softer than a whisper, but she can hear him drifting away as he speaks the name of his handler.

"Director, he's gone. I kept him awake longer than I should have. I may not be able to wake him up for several weeks," Edwards says. "Johnson?"

Daisy remains still, watching as Matthew falls into sedation. When his eyes finally close, she straightens up and folds her hands behind her back. Her piercing eyes widened, struck by what Matthew said to her. She turns to Ellis, who stops the recording hovering above his watch. He has the whole conversation logged on his holowatch.

"I think we have everything we need for now. Thank you, Dr. Edwards."

They shake hands before she and Agent Ellis turn towards the door, leaving the doctors behind them to tend to Talbot. Once the door shuts behind them, locks cracking shut, Daisy stops midway down the hall, just out of earshot of all the guards.

"You got everything on the recording?" she asks Ellis.

He nods, his brow furrowed. "Everything but that last part."

Daisy looks away from Ellis, her eyes moving from each security camera lining the ceiling to the guards at each room's door. Her hands begin to quiver thinking about what the ramifications of this discovery could be. This information can't fall into the wrong hands. She looks back to Ellis and their eyes lock. His dark brown eyes communicate the deep concern he must be feeling. Of all people, she wants to trust Elliot. They've been through a lot together as agents, as soldiers. She also knows that SHIELD loyalties are split, and there's no telling who the Council has under their thumb.

"Daisy, what is it?" Ellis says, confusion in his tone. She searches his eyes, looking from something, anything to tip her to where he stands.

"Elliot, can you keep a secret?"

Elliot blinks, visibly shaken by her question. "Permission to speak freely, sir?"

"Granted."

"Do you really have to ask after South America?" he says.

The question asked is more like a statement. He's right. He saved her life in Brazil. They're squad faced insurmountable odds on that mission, but she knew she could trust the members of that team no matter what. The memories of that mission remind her of a code system they developed for the occasion.

She nods, a small smile tugging at her lips. "You're right. You remember that mission well?" He raises a brow, nodding. "Do you remember code green?"

Elliot's eyes open wide and he glances down the hall at the guards, looking them up and down. He looks above at the cameras before his eyes fall back on the Director.

"Understood sir." Without another word, he starts tapping away at his watch, and one by one, Daisy notices the little red lights on the security cameras fade out. They move to an empty part of the hallway, away from the guards and agent at the front desk.

"Area secure," he whispers, standing close to Daisy. "Now what did Talbot say?"

Daisy's gaze falls away from Elliot, still contemplating telling him. "Matthew said his handler's name was…he said it was Zemo."

Ellis' dark eyes widen, looking back at the guards. "You can't be serious," he says. His voice drops low, barely speaking loud enough for Daisy to hear. "Zemo, as in Captain America's nemesis, Masters of Evil, the guy who died in prison ten years ago…that Zemo?"

"There's no way he meant Baron Zemo."

"Then, maybe he was confused? He was pumped full of sedatives."

"No," Daisy says, "he sounded so sure about it. He called him German multiple times."

"A lot of Germans were involved with Hydra and would totally do something like this, so maybe it's someone else?" Elliot says.

Daisy purses her lips, her eyes narrowing as she considers the possibilities. "Or maybe it is Zemo, just not the Zemo we're thinking of. Ellis, find out what you can about Zemo's past, a family he may have left behind in the forties. We have to explore every possible avenue."

"I'll see what I can come up with, but people like that leave behind bodies, not families."

"Just let me know what you find. And transcribe everything you recorded from the interrogation. I want it on paper...leave no digital trace of what was said in there."

Elliot nods. "I'll delete the recording and security audio as soon as I transfer it all. Leave no trace." With a wink and a smile, he escorts the Director back to the elevator. He holds the door for her, and she steps on, offering him a nod to thank him. "Don't worry, Daisy, we'll figure this out."

I sure hope so, she thinks, before it's too late.

West Side, 1:15pm.

Daisy leans back in the backseat of her transport. She didn't want to be driven today, but she'd rather be driven by an assigned guard than come up with a reason for commuting alone. Her thoughts travel back to the eeriness of standing in the GEU hallway, cameras rotating to catch her every move. For the first time in this whole mess, she's realized how many eyes are on her, how many people are waiting on her next move—those waiting for a solution, and those waiting for her to screw up. She looks forward to her driver and studies his face in the rearview mirror, wondering if he's with the latter.

The Director quickly turns her attention to her passenger window as Manhattan's cityscape passes by. Thousands of people walk by on the sidewalks, all on some individual mission to get where they're going. Daisy wonders if they even worry about what happened Monday, if they even care that two one-ton monsters tore through midtown. She wonders if they still assume the Avengers will come and save them—like they always have. I wish that were still the case, she thinks. Truthfully, she wishes the Avengers would swoop in right now and fix everything. She wishes she could hand it all over to them. The evidence of an evil organization plotting, the problem of loyalties within SHIELD, even the investigative efforts no one seems to take seriously would be no problem for them. Tony would already have a plan, Steve would be leading the charge, and the others would fill in the blanks Daisy has yet to fill. The Avengers would know what to do if they were here.

But they're not.

Daisy had held out hope for six months that she could bring their kids into the fold. She planned everything out, had scripted just about everything she wanted to say to young adults when she finally asked for their help. She'd taken every precaution, listened to everything the original Avengers' had to say, followed their advice to the letter. Yet, every bit of her preparation was dashed the moment of the attack. I waited too late, she thinks. Lord knows the Council didn't want to hear anything I had to say. Now no one wants to listen to me. I think I'm even tired of listening to myself.

"Sir, we've arrived at the address," the driver says.

Daisy looks over at the Barber Shop they've parked by. The classic red and white spiral is lit and spinning, while the open sign blinks blue.

"Wait for me here. I'll only be a few minutes." She opens the car door and looks up and down the sidewalk before closing it behind her. She walks inside and hopes the driver won't question why she's there.

A bell dings overhead as she enters. The place is empty, except for a middle-aged man wiping counters down with a bright yellow cloth. He shifts his attention toward Daisy and approaches the front counter.

"Can I help you?" he asks, slinging the towel over his shoulder.

"Yes," she pulls her SHIELD I.D. from her pocket, "I have an appointment."

He takes the little plastic card from her and examines it. He quickly hands it back to her. "My father isn't here."

"I just need to make sure my shipment is in the basement."

Silence takes over for a moment and Daisy and the man exchange looks. His dark eyes seem to hold a void of feelingless thought, contemplation clearly on his face. She raises a brow, hoping that will intimidate him into giving an answer. He huffs a sigh and signals her to follow him. The dark-skinned man guides her to a back room with shelves full of shampoos and other hair products. There's a fridge covered with pictures of kids with their parents captioned "First Haircut". She looks closely at some of the faces and recognizes one that stands out from the rest. An elderly man has his arm wrapped around a younger Nick Fury's shoulder. They're standing next to a barber chair, but there is no child present.

"Hey." The man calls for Daisy's attention to a door straight ahead. "You coming or not?"

She nods and follows him. The door in front of them splits open and reveals a cramped elevator. They step it, standing as far from each other as possible. He presses a button and they slowly drop down to the basement three floors down. As the elevator stops, the door opens and reveals what looks to be an underground storage space. There are boxes stacked up next to a cot, men's street clothes hanging on a clothes rack, and a tiny room in the corner with a toilet and standing shower. It's small and almost claustrophobic, but safe and fully stocked. Daisy steps out and looks around.

"Dad hasn't moved anything since Fury asked for this safe house. He refreshed the rations in case another SHIELD person wanted to use it, I guess that was good on his part. 'Course I don't like the idea of harboring people in the basement, but Dad seems to have some loyalties to y'all or something."

Daisy looks back at the man and sighs. "Tell your father I appreciate his loyalty. I may be taking advantage of it soon." Depending on how this Council meeting goes. She walks back to the elevator, taking one last look around before stepping on.

"Of course, I'll need some of my own clothes."

The man rolls his eyes and sighs deeply. "You SHIELD people, always running from someone."

Rogers' House, Brooklyn. 4:47pm.

Cassandra puts her car in park and sits for a moment. She's across the street from James Rogers' house. At this point, she's wondering if she should've come at all. James has been a difficult one ever since he got home from China. She's afraid to scare him away, but it's imperative that she speak with him. Today. I'll tell him I came to talk to him about his missed appointment, she thinks. Yeah, that's totally…not gonna work. She flops her forehead on her steering wheel. Of all the people she's talked to today, she dreads this last stop most. Cassandra knew the moment she left this morning, her self-appointed mission today would be difficult. Director Johnson didn't ask her to talk to the kids, but she knew she had to. Daisy spoke to her in confidence many times about the importance of a team she could trust. She needed an unordinary team she could use to investigate the strange occurrences. And when Daisy called her after the attack Monday—a grown woman on the brink of tears—Cassandra knew she had to do something. Considering she was the one who suggested asking them in the first place, she felt it her responsibility to talk to them one more time. Try to convince them, change their minds—something. She couldn't let this be the end.

Her first conversation went well. Markus Danvers looked a little shocked Cassandra came all the way to his job, she figured he was more shocked she knew where he worked. Once his nervousness subsided, he seemed excited to talk to her. She's not sure how Clint's daughter took finding Cassandra's business card outside her door. She knew her mother was visiting and didn't want to interrupt. Her most interesting conversation was with Tony Stark, unfortunately his son wasn't there, but they both agree she should try again to convince him. Since he was so staunchly against the team, he might take some extra work, but Cassandra believes the conversation will be worth it. She's convinced they're all open to changing their minds. However, James is still the missing piece to this puzzle.

After much contemplation, Cassandra exits the vehicle and walks towards the house. The front of the brick home is wrapped in bushes of a variety of flowers—roses, gardenias, azaleas—all blooming their last round of the season. Hidden in shade trees, the front yard is cut short by concrete sidewalks. She's led to the bright red front door by a pathway of inset stones. It forks to the left where a wrought iron gate separates the backyard with a tall privacy fence. Cassandra peeks through the gate in the back to find basketball and soccer goals, although the nets are worn and frayed. Looks normal enough, she thinks. She didn't know what to expect, it being Captain America and the Black Widow's house. There could've been a shooting range in their backyard for all she knew. She climbs the little brick steps to the front door, wondering what kind of welcome she'll get. Cassandra raises her fist to knock but decides to ring the doorbell instead. The sounds of church bells ring behind the door and footsteps approach the door. Four to five different locks begin to click open and the door cracks.

Cassandra is somewhat surprised to find Natasha in the doorway, wearing normal clothes, with her dark red hair in a ponytail. I don't know why I expected her to be in a uniform. "Hello Mrs. Rogers, I'm—"

"Dr. Cassandra Lang, I know you. You've certainly grown up." Natasha smiles and opens the door wide, inviting her in. "Let me guess, James had an appointment this morning, didn't he?"

Cassandra looks around the front room of the house, surprised at the normality of it all. My father was a hero—I'm a hero and have a normal house. "Yes 'mam. I thought I'd drop by and speak to him. My front office says they've had trouble contacting him."

Natasha sighs heavily and rests her hands on her hips. "I'm sorry about him. He's been having a hard time, especially after Monday…"

"I heard he was on ground level of the attack. News channels caught him using a shield. Everyone thought he was Captain America," Cass chuckles. Natasha doesn't. Cassandra clears her throat and quickly changes the subject. "So, where is James?"

"He's in the garage, but I have to warn you, he's not in a good mood today." The red head motions for Cassandra to follow her down the hallway, passing the kitchen and bedrooms and many paintings hung on the walls. She noticed more in the living room when she first walked in. Paintings of all shapes and sizes, abstract and landscapes, all with similar color palettes and all with a hint of red. At the end of the hall is a back door, but they turn just before into a laundry room. Natasha opens a door on the back wall that must lead to the garage.

"If he doesn't talk to you, don't take it personally. He doesn't like SHIELD. If you don't get anywhere, come to the kitchen and I'll make you some coffee. You can tell me how your father's doing." With that, Natasha walks out of the laundry room and leaves Cassandra to her work…if it will work.

She steps down the concrete stairs and looks around the room for James. A black mustang with red double stripes down the center is parked in the space, an old motorcycle standing not far from her. There are tables and tool drawers lining the walls of the garage, and a metal rolling shelf full of plastic storage containers…but no James. She walks to the back of the mustang and notices a pair of boots sticking out from under the car on the other side.

"James?" she calls. A rolling sound shuffles against the concrete at the back of the car. A blonde head pops up and looks around, spotting Cassandra.

"Dr. Lang?"

"Hi, Mr. Rogers." She waits, a shade of shock washing over his face. He stands and wipes his hands off on an old towel more black than its original white. They stretch their hands across the trunk to shake in the middle.

"What are you doing here?" The question comes across a little more aggressive than either were expecting. "I mean, I didn't know you were coming."

"You missed your appointment this morning," Cass says, pausing for his reaction. The young man drops his head and continues to absently wipe his hands. "I'm sure your schedule has been a little off since Monday's attack."

James starts to stiffen at the mention of the attack. He slings the towel over his shoulder and grabs a wrench from the worktable. "I've been busy."

Cassandra decides to push a little and see what happens. "I was glad to hear you and the others weren't injured—"

"That green lightning bug got hit pretty hard…I'm surprised that monster didn't kill him," he trails off.

Slowly walking around closer to James, Cassandra watches him fiddle with the wrench in his hand before he puts it down and picks up a smaller one. He's trying to distract himself from the topic, she thinks. He doesn't want to talk about his part in it. "Well, it's a good thing you were there to pull him to safety. I watched the news that day…you seemed to be on top of the whole situation."

"It's not like I wanted to be," James mumbles. "Listen Dr. Lang, I appreciate you coming down here to check on me, but I promise I'll be at the next appointment. There's no need to come down here."

Changing the subject and trying to get rid of me in one sentence. "Of course, I just wanted to make sure you kids were all right. I'm sure Monday was traumatic for all involved. Especially since we haven't seen an attack like this since your parents were Avengers." Cassandra jumps as James suddenly kicks his dolly under the car. Avengers is a trigger word, noted.

"Dr. Lang, you can see I'm perfectly healthy. No bruises—not even a scratch. So, if that's all, I have some work to do on mom's car."

She backs up a little, giving James some space. "Right. I'll get out of your way then. There is however, one more thing I wanted to talk to you about, if you'll give me the time?"

James yanks the towel off his shoulder, wiping down the wrench in his hand. He nods as if to give her the go-ahead.

"My friend, Director Johnson, told me she spoke to you and the others about a mission or something."

"A team," James says.

"Right, a team. She wondered why all of you said no, she understood but was still curious. As was I. She didn't send me, but I wanted to ask, from a non-biased, third party's perspective." Cassandra waits, wondering how he'll respond. He's quiet for a moment, staring intently at the wrench in his hands. After a minute, his dark blue eyes meet Cassandra's steely blues.

"I told her no because I don't want to. I just got back from China. You wouldn't believe the things I saw over there…the things I had to do. I'm home now and I'm safe. I don't even know who I am anymore, and I have no intention of stepping into another of SHIELD's private wars—I don't care if they draft me or ask me politely," he pauses. "In short, Dr. Lang, Director Johnson can figure it out herself. She doesn't need a so-called team of 'Avengers' to figure it out for her. She needs to get her head out of the clouds and forget about me and the rest of us. I'll come to my appointments on time, but otherwise, don't come to my house, don't call me, and don't ask me anymore questions outside of our appointments. Goodnight, Ms. Lang."

James kneels beside the car and pulls the dolly back out. He lays on his back and disappears under the mustang. Cassandra sighs and walks towards the door that leads back into the house. No matter how he's treated her, she intends to say goodbye to Natasha before she leaves. She turns towards the car, wondering how she'll tell Daisy about this. Maybe James is right, maybe they should give up on the kids…but that's not what the others said.

"Goodnight, Mr. Rogers," she says to herself.

SHIELD Helicarrier. 5:31pm.

Daisy walks down an empty corridor, rubbing her stiff neck. She's been running from one end of Manhattan to the other, taking care of errand after errand, setting up her get away if she must go into hiding. Of course, that's the worst-case scenario. Best-case scenario, the Council agrees to hear her out and she keeps her Directorship with all its resources. However, like a good SHIELD agent, she's prepared for all scenarios.

She walks up to the sliding glass doors that open to the main hub platform. Agents are sparse but the few still there are busy at work. Daisy cracks a small smile before she heads to her office across the hall. It's not her first choice to leave. She likes her agents—the one's she can trust anyway. The thought of leaving them isn't something she's fully processed. She's prepared to leave behind the manpower, the resources, even her office chair. What she isn't prepared for is giving up her inner circle. Phillips, Rogers, Lang, Quartermain…even Hill. Daisy isn't sure she could do without them.

"Director!" a voice calls. Daisy turns around just before stepping into her office. Agent Phillips speed walks towards her from the hub and starts rambling. Nothing out of the ordinary. Except this time, he's going on about a strange man in her office.

"He arrived earlier and said he needed to speak to you. I told him you were out, but he just went into your office without even asking!"

"Well what does he look like, did he tell you his name?" she asks.

"He's kinda old, tall, British…sir, he's been waiting in your office for three hours." Ian's frantic expression causes a pang of concern in Daisy's mind. She turns to back to her door and as it opens, there is indeed a man waiting for her. He's tall, slender, and wears a full, three-piece, brown tweed suit. He checks a pocket watch that hangs from a tiny pocket on the front of his vest. She steps in, fists gripped and ready to shake this man right off the Helicarrier if she must. She clears her throat to get his attention. He turns around and smiles, tucking his watch away. As soon as his face meets hers, she dismisses Phillips.

"But sir, are you sure?"

"Go ahead, Ian," she pauses, turning towards her young assistant. "I think he's a Councillor," she whispers. Ian darts his eyes from the man at the windows, and back to Daisy.

"Yes sir." He doesn't sound convinced, and Daisy isn't quite convinced either, but she doesn't have a choice. He walks out and the door slides closed behind him.

They stand in silence for a moment. The Councilman doesn't move from his stance by the windows, but Daisy moves closer.

"You gave us quite a fright, Ms. Johnson. Your message this afternoon was…unexpected."

"I wasn't given much choice. The Council didn't give me much choice. Sir." Daisy stops at her desk, just across from him. The man's gaze turns back to the sun hanging low in the clouds. He continues to stare out at the bay beneath, but Daisy doesn't release her grip. She's never met a Council member in person before. She's pretty sure this is General Pennington, from England, but it could be someone impersonating him.

"So, what brings you to the Helicarrier, sir?"

"I have a U.N. meeting in the morning, but thought I'd drop by to tell you my intelligence people intercepted your message," he says.

The Council hasn't heard it yet? "I thought…I thought you said the other Council members heard it?"

He laughs, finally walking away from the windows and sits down in her chair. Her chair. "No, I heard it, and I am the Council. I wanted to talk to you before the others listened to it and fired you. Although I'm not sure how you feel about us, contrary to popular opinion, there are some of us who do support you."

"I find that hard to believe. Especially when my requests get shot down at every turn."

"Ms. Johnson, please sit down, I can feel your nervous vibrating from here," he says. Daisy loosens her fists and sits in one of the guest chairs.

"Sir forgive me for being cautious, but I don't know who you are. None of the Council has ever shown themselves to me on screen, much less in person," she says. The man digs a little slip of paper out of his inner coat pocket and hands it across the desk. Daisy reaches out hesitantly but takes the card anyway. It's a black business card with shiny gold lettering spelling out the man's name, rank, job title and location. Not surprising, but no phone number or email address.

"General Avery Pennington, Chief of Defense in Her Majesty's Government, Great-grandfather of five and a voting member of the World Security Council. Now that we're acquainted, does that calm your worry, Ms. Johnson?" Pennington says.

Daisy cuts her eyes at him, reading his business card over and over. He works for the English government, of course. It makes sense that he would be here, but why randomly drop in? Why intercept her communication if he doesn't have an ulterior motive?

"So why didn't you let the other Council members hear my message?" She tosses the card on the desk and leans back, never taking her eyes off him.

"Because I came to talk you out of whatever it is you're planning to do. I have information that may suggest you intend to walk away. Of course, you and I both know that would be unwise," he says.

"How so?"

Pennington sighs and props his elbows on her desk, leaning in closer. "Daisy, you're not stupid, you know you need SHIELD to take care of this little…problem. You can't save the world on your own."

"Excuse me, sir, but it's not my fault that you and the Council won't let me use the resources you entrusted me with to begin with because you don't believe me about this threat. Now because we've had an attack, you finally want to listen to me?" Fired up, Daisy stands and starts pacing.

"Ms. Johnson, I agree wholeheartedly. And I'm not the only one on the Council that agrees something is happening here, but our numbers are split down the middle. As you know, there are seven voting members, and only three support you. We're outnumbered by majority vote, I'm afraid," he says. His explanation makes sense, but Daisy is too ticked to listen.

She pauses her pacing and meets his eyes. "If a handful of you are so supportive of me and my decisions as Director, then why don't you do something?"

The General pauses for a moment and leans back, intertwining his fingers in his lap. "And now we come full circle, Ms. Johnson, because that is exactly why I'm here before the others know. I have come to offer my help."

Daisy blinks. I was not expecting that.

"I agree we have a problem here, Ms. Johnson. There is a threat that is making itself known—we can see that from their stirring gang crime in the shadows and their bold attack Monday afternoon. I don't intend to let whomever they are get away with the damage they've caused and the peace of mind they've robbed from New York's citizens. That is something that I will not stand for when SHIELD's job is to prevent these things."

That's what I've been trying to say the past six months, she thinks. Daisy starts to rub her neck again as the aching returns. "So, where does that put us?"

Pennington thinks for a moment. "Well, we can't rely on the whole Council for support."

"We?"

"Yes, Ms. Johnson, we. You are not alone in this. As Chief of Defense, I have quite a few resources at my disposal—resources I can gladly offer you without the Council's knowledge," he says. "And, I can assure you, there is a way around the rejection of your request to form a team."

Daisy laughs. "Well that would've been nice to know before I talked to my prospectives for the team. They want no part of it."

"Oh…well, that's unfortunate. But it's not the end of the world. I have several agents under me I could recommend to you and I'm sure you have agents of your own that would be more than qualified for what you need."

"You're right, I do. I just don't know who I can trust anymore," she says. She finally sits down again. This is more information than she ever expected to get from a Council member. She also wasn't expecting one to be in her office tonight either, yet, here he is, completely changing all her plans.

"General, over the past six months, I've noticed the more I investigate this potential threat, the less information I get. I've had more than ten of my agents get reassignments from above me. I've had resources suddenly disappear due to 'lack of funding,' and I've had more breaches in security in the past six months than I have in the past six years. Sir, honestly, I just don't know what to do. What good am I as the Director of SHIELD if I can't even direct SHIELD? I don't even know if I can trust all my agents anymore because of the Council."

"I understand your concerns, Ms. Johnson. And I share them. I don't want to cast blame or cause more mistrust, but I fear a powershift is underway among the Council. Some are more…outspoken than others, which is causing unnecessary tension and divided loyalties. But one thing I can assure you with the utmost certainty is myself, Ambassador T'Shan and Ms. St. Germaine are all behind you. We'll do whatever we must to support you."

Daisy shakes her head and sighs. Where was this when she needed it months ago? Where was this support when she needed it before talking to the kids? Where was this two days ago when she had everyone and their mama hounding her for answers after the attack?

"I appreciate the sentiment, really. I don't want to seem ungrateful—you have no idea how much it means to know I can trust you—it's just, this all seems too little too late," she says. "Sir, I don't really see a point in staying now."

Pennington stands from Daisy's chair and walks around the desk. "Ms. Johnson, whatever you need, you'll get it. But the decision is up to you. I will hold onto the message until you've made your choice. Until then, I must go back to my hotel. I have a long morning of talks ahead of me. I'm trying to form my own SHIELD for Europe."

The man places his hand on Daisy's shoulder as he passes by her, offering her a goodnight. He reaches the door, but Daisy stands and calls for him before he leaves.

"General…" she pauses, unsure of what to say. "Thank you. I'll contact you with my decision."

He chuckles. "No need, I'll already know." He winks at her and leaves her office. As he exits, he nods to Cassandra Lang as she enters. She lets the door close behind her before addressing her commander.

"Hey Daisy, who was that?"

"Not important," she says. "Where have you been all day?"

The blonde smiles. "Everywhere, and do I have some good news for you."

A/N: So? Where is all this headed? What's gonna happen next? Why is James so flippin' angry? These are the hard questions! Can you answer them?

Up Next: Now or Never...