TW: self harm, torture, implied/referenced child abuse, depression, etc.
The vibrations all across the bridge were haphazard and overwhelming, like a flock of spooked seagulls flapping their wings wildly against stormy winds – then, suddenly, muted in the background by the ringing in her ears and the fire that erupted first on her thigh, then on her shoulder.
Somewhere behind her, a small child screamed.
(And fuck it hurts it hurts it hurts-)
The world went upside down then sideways, spinning around and around as she sank further and further in on herself, burying her head in her arms and trying desperately to not feed into the flames eating at her limbs. The words compliant and submit and when I'm done with you broke through the whirling and then get up, godfuckingdammit stand up and she could barely process the words before the electric bite ripped through her and shit please stop please make it stop please-
Somewhere within her vicinity a buttery voice murmured ethical and she's already down and something pricked her unwounded shoulder and took her by surprise, and she lifted her head and the world was growing hazy and the spinning grew more intense and why were her cheeks wet why did her eyes burn what was on her hands oh God her hands were soaked and sticky and it's blood isn't it, oh God there's so much of it-
And Whitehall, Whitehall, Whitehall, compliant and when I'm done with you, property, property and make your life a living hell-
And maybe they'd let her die this time-
Maybe she was finally dying-
Please-
Please, make it stop, please-
Just as the rushing and whirling in her head started to take over, she turned her eyes up to the sky, but she only caught a quick glimpse of the glittery speckles above her before the darkness consumed her again.
May's breath snagged in her throat as Coulson squeezed her hand reassuringly, promising to keep the girl safe, before letting go and heading over towards Raina.
The frantic drumming of her heart rendered her frozen in place for just a moment before she quickly regained control of her breathing. She had a job to do. Panic did her no good. She knew better than to let it control her.
She took in a deep breath. Held it for a count of three. Then let it out.
And she grounded herself in reality again, counting to ten in her mind to keep herself steady as she jumped back into action.
One.
Ace leapt into his father's arms. Mike hugged him tight, squeezing his eyes shut, before turning back to look over his shoulder as Coulson approached Raina.
Two.
Raina drew a syringe and jabbed it into Coulson's arms. May's heart thudded in her chest – she turned her attention back towards the van, where Fitz-Simmons were stepping out, their eyes huge and fearful; two kids who'd just watched their world turn upside down.
Three.
"What happened? They took Coulson!"
Ward's voice edged on frantic in her ears. Behind her, Mike approached Fitz and Simmons, crouching down to comfort his son.
Four.
"I have a clear shot."
"Do not engage – they'll kill Coulson!" Fear drummed in May's chest as that reality set in; she closed her eyes and drew another breath. They won't kill Coulson, she told herself over and over. He won't go down without a fight.
Trust Coulson.
"May, I can end this right now-"
"Do not engage. I'll contact HQ. Stand down, Agent Ward."
Five.
"SHIELD HQ, this is SHIELD RG-422, we need immediate satellite support-"
Mike Peterson whirled around and ran at top speed past her.
"Mike!"
Six.
A loud boom exploded on the other side of the bridge – May stumbled backwards, her arm up to shield herself from the flames that erupted from the Centipede vehicles. Horrified screeches cut through the air behind her; she turned for a moment to see Fitz clinging to Simmons, his face twisted in sheer terror, and Ace in Simmons' arms as she held on to him like a lifeline.
Mike was nowhere to be found.
Seven.
"Where's Coulson?" Ward demanded over the comms. May froze up, blood roaring in her ears as she stared, misty-eyed, across the bridge, searching for any sign of her old partner.
The last car exploded.
Eight.
A sickening silence settled across the team. May's shallow breaths reverberated in her ears, loud and ragged and deafening.
Her chest ripped open with a hole she hadn't felt since Bahrain.
To stop the sequence of thoughts threatening to utter their terrible truths, she let his name slip off her tongue; an incredulous, horrified plea begging to reverse time.
"Coulson…"
A helicopter took off from below the bridge. She peeled her eyes off of the fire and felt herself let out a breath she didn't register she was holding as she realized that they'd gotten away – that Phil was alive, at the very least.
Nine.
A string of curse words and threats sounded over the comms.
Her voice sounded hollow in her ears as she reminded Ward to stand down. His voice crackled in again, full of confusion and anger and spite. A promise to shoot their helicopter out of the sky.
She repeated herself more firmly.
Ten.
Take care of the team.
They need you.
"May… What now?"
Fitz's voice shook uncontrollably. May turned around to face the scientists, who had approached her cautiously; Ace clung to Simmons like she would disappear if he didn't.
Simmons drew a shuddery breath. "May I- you're- are… are you okay?"
May hadn't realized that she had tears streaming down her face until she'd pointed it out. She took in another deep breath, wiping her soaked cheeks. "We're going to get Coulson back," she promised, keeping her voice as steady as she could make it. She cleared her throat, taking all of what she felt and locking it away again.
The team needs you.
Coulson will be okay.
The last thing Coulson remembered was the prick of a needle and the drugs hitting his system.
His eyes fluttered open and as he took in his surroundings. The whirring of helicopter blades and the rushing, whipping of the wind drowned his ears. Next to him sat Raina, who eyed him curiously, and on his other side, a lump he realized was the unconscious, curled up form of the girl. He shook his head, trying to clear out some of the grogginess.
"Morning Coulson," Raina murmured, her voice silken and smooth as if she hadn't just drugged and kidnapped him. He shot her a glare, but then snapped his attention back to the girl as she stirred. "She's not waking up anytime soon, trust me." Coulson tore his eyes off the injured girl and shifted his gaze back over to Raina. "The drugs hit her a little heavier than they hit you."
"Why?" Coulson accused. "Because she's starving?"
Raina raised an eyebrow. "Why, where on earth would you get that idea?"
Coulson glanced back over at the girl – her tiny, skeletal frame told him all he needed to know. "What will you do with her?" he uttered, his eyelids still heavy and his head still a bit fuzzy from whatever Raina had drugged him with.
Raina shrugged. "Her handler will see that she will never misbehave again." She lowered her voice, glancing quickly up front to the driver's seat of the helicopter. "There was talk of a much worse fate. I've managed to prolong the inevitable for now at least."
Coulson narrowed his eyes. "How generous."
Raina stole a quick glance up front before letting her gaze land on the girl, who'd stilled again. Her breaths rasped in her throat; the rise and fall of her chest was so faint, Coulson was worried he was imagining it. "She's been where they're taking her before. It's not a punishment I'd ever wish on anybody," she murmured, her voice barely audible. "I have no doubts your team will come for you, they always do."
Coulson nodded. "I know. And I'm not leaving without her."
The ghost of a smirk played on her lips for just a fraction of a second. "I had no doubts about that either."
A cacophony of wind and helicopter blades and murmurings somewhere in her vicinity punctuated the lucid moments before she retreated back to her drug-induced sleep, wary of returning to the real world.
(And maybe she'd hoped that it would last; succumbing would be so much easier than what awaited her when she woke. But of course, they would never let it happen, they'll never let her die, please, please, please just make it stop-)
But after an indeterminable amount of time, the pandemonium started to clear up and make sense again. Unwillingly, she opened her eyes, but immediately squeezed them shut again, flinching away at the light – throbbing, burning pain crept back through her system at the sudden movement, and she was reminded all over again that her superior had shot her. Twice.
"Don't move," a gentle male voice told her. "You don't want those to reopen."
Though her senses were dull, she focused in on the vibrations to orient herself – she detected that she was in the helicopter again, her superior piloting, with the bald man next to him. In the back with her she felt Raina and the calm vibrations she'd come to recognize as belonging to Coulson.
(And maybe she was a little relieved to feel him next to her, though she knew that if he was with them then he was in danger-)
"We're gonna get out of here together, okay?" Coulson's voice was barely audible as he whispered to her, and without really processing the consequences she gave a little nod – just that tiny movement sent sharp pains down her injured arm, and she bit the inside of her cheek. She tried blinking her eyes open again, and the blurred figures started coming into focus. Coulson gave her a friendly little smile. "Just hold out for a little, okay?"
She was certain she didn't have a choice. No matter how much she wanted to let go, they wouldn't let her.
"Any idea where they're taking us?" Coulson asked, thankfully keeping his voice a low murmur. Hopefully her superior wouldn't hear – she'd pay for it later if he could. Gritting her teeth and bracing herself for the pain, she shifted her gaze and craned her neck to look out the window, dismayed to realize that she had no idea where they were being taken. Dull golden sand and dead grass stretched as far as she could see.
She shook her head, unable to mute the hiss of pain that escaped through her teeth as she slumped back down into her seat.
"I think we're about to find out," Coulson murmured. "Just hang on, I promise, my team's coming to get us."
Us.
This man was going to make her a traitor.
(She was already a traitor, she was defiant, she disobeyed orders-)
You know what we do with traitors-
The vibrations abruptly shifted to a sturdier frequency, pulling her out of her tumultuous thoughts as they landed. Concern shadowed Coulson's face as he regarded her. "You're gonna be okay," he told her softly. "I promise. I don't know what they're gonna do to either of us, but we'll hold out for each other, okay?"
That sounded like a promise she wasn't ready to keep.
She was sick of fighting.
And if there was a chance to let go…
She was going to take it.
Thirty-nine hours, fifty-four minutes, thirteen seconds.
Fourteen seconds.
Fifteen seconds.
May let a shaky breath pass through her lungs and out her lips.
She hated having so many extra agents crammed on her plane. It was understandable why they were all here – though she wasn't certain Agent Hand's focus was on Coulson like it should be. But she'd already had to give her signature "don't-you-fucking-dare" glare at a few bold men who'd been admiring the cherry red Corvette in the cargo hold. Not to mention, she'd heard Fitz in passing complaining to Simmons about how there was no room in the lab anymore, and even Ward seemed frustrated at having all the extra bodies to navigate around.
Thirty-nine hours, fifty-five minutes, twenty-two seconds.
It wouldn't be such a problem if they could still operate the way they were used to. May hadn't realized just how much more lenient they'd been able to be under Coulson's rules. Now they could barely breathe without having to follow protocol.
Hand's agents couldn't get Vanchat to speak. Ward resorted to other measures.
Hand was… displeased.
Thirty-seven seconds.
Fitz had suggested to Hand that maybe if they could track Vanchat's financial history, it would lead them right to Coulson. Begrudgingly, she'd let him and a few other agents explore that avenue, though she emphasized its importance towards pinpointing Centipede, rather than Coulson's whereabouts.
May gritted her teeth.
Fifty-six minutes, eleven seconds.
Every second that ticks by could be Coulson's last.
Stop that. Trust Coulson.
Nineteen seconds.
Twenty seconds.
She let herself wonder for a second if the girl was still alive.
Twenty-three seconds.
She considered what they'd want with Coulson. What value he had for them. What information they could gain.
Twenty-six seconds.
But he doesn't know about-
She shook her head. Twenty-eight seconds.
They'd find him soon enough. Even if Hand decided to follow her own investigation, May resolved that she would, without a doubt, find Phil Coulson.
Thirty-nine hours, fifty-six minutes, fifty-eight seconds.
They'd knocked Coulson out again before he could mentally catalogue where he was.
Dreams of white sands and serene, crystal blue ocean waves danced in his head – a beautiful woman massaging him, a man bringing him all the drinks he could want. The sun was warm and the breeze was crisp and cool, but not cold, and for the first time since joining SHIELD, he was totally, completely, entirely relaxed.
Then he woke up.
The room was dark and dirty; beams of light filtered through the blinds, casting a strange green glow in the room. The first figure he laid eyes on was a strange mannequin in the corner, then a Centipede soldier standing watch nearby.
And what was this strange machine they had him in-
His eyes landed on Edison Po, sitting across from him, casually sipping on a glass of water.
Po asked him what he saw.
Coulson asked him where the girl was.
And after refusing over and over to give Po the information he was looking for – of which he wasn't even quite sure of himself – Po resorted to other measures.
Property of HYDRA-
Your life isn't yours-
Whitehall, Whitehall, Whitehall-
Don't ever misbehave again-
She lost track of how many times he'd hit her at this point.
His fist connected with her jaw once more, and with all the power he'd put in his swing she was thrown to the ground, landing and letting a gasp escape her lips, spitting blood out of her mouth and letting it splatter and stain the floor.
Her whole body felt like it was on fire as he stood over her, his fists clenched. She slumped lifelessly on the ground, focusing on inflating and deflating her lungs – and the burning that came with every breath. "What are you?" he asked her coolly. When she didn't respond, his boot collided with her side, knocking the wind out of her. "What are you?"
"Property of HYDRA," she sputtered. The way her voice rattled in her throat as she wheezed caused her body to convulse into a fit of coughs. Crimson droplets spattered on the ground next to her, and as she dug her fingertips into the blood-smeared floor to try and steady herself, her hands slipped, and she collapsed into herself.
He wasn't going to let her die.
Her superior knelt down next to her, so close she could feel his hot breath against her skin. "Look at me."
In the hopes that if she complied, he wouldn't hit her again, she lifted her head, her muscles screaming in agony with every little movement.
"Disgusting fucking animal," he spat. He looked down at his fist, his upper lip curling, before slowly wiping his knuckles across her cheek, leaving behind a smeared trail of her own blood on her skin. Drawing his gun, he tilted her head up with the barrel, muzzle pressed firmly at her throat, his eyes narrowed as he surveyed the marks he'd left. "Fucking shame you make me do this. You could very well be a pretty little thing if you were better."
Too exhausted to be afraid anymore, she closed her eyes and rested her chin on the barrel, wishing he'd have the decency to pull the trigger.
Instead, he pushed her back down with it, the corners of his lips twitching sadistically. "Tch. Pathetic."
She slumped back down on the ground, her breaths wheezing and burning in her lungs. Her superior studied her through narrowed eyes. "Are you ready to comply? Or is there still some defiance left?" She could almost hear the smirk on his face as he added; "I've got all day to beat it out of you."
The only response she could muster was a shaky exhale.
Somehow, that seemed to satisfy him. He took a step back, folding his arms, his gun still casually held in his hand as a reminder. "Get up."
She couldn't bring herself to move.
He aimed his gun at her again. "Get up."
Knowing he wouldn't shoot to kill – and reluctant to take on any more pain than she already was in – she mustered all the energy she could, her whole body trembling with effort, as she tried in vain to push herself back up. Her superior clicked his tongue in frustration, sliding his gun back in his holster and grabbing her by the arm to get her back on her feet.
She wobbled, immediately shifting her weight off of her injured leg; shaking uncontrollably, she had to lean on her superior to stay up.
He sighed in annoyance, practically dragging her to the door.
"Before we head out, I thought it might be fun for you to watch the man you've been so conveniently letting slip away suffer."
Forty hours, thirty-six minutes, twenty-two seconds.
Ward joined May in the cockpit – her quiet place – and he brought his disgruntled muttering and bad attitude with him.
"Is there a problem?" she was obligated to ask.
"Victoria Hand," he grumbled. "We don't exactly see eye-to-eye."
"So I hear."
Ward set his jaw, keeping his narrowed gaze out the window.
Thirty-seven minutes, sixteen seconds.
May bit back a sigh. "I'm sure she is utilizing all of SHIELD's resources to find Coulson."
The nagging voice in the back of her mind told her that if she was, they would have found him by now.
Nineteen seconds.
Twenty seconds.
"How are you not more upset?" Ward asked. "Aren't you and Coulson…?"
May shot him a steely glare. He put his hands up in mock-surrender.
"I'm just speculating," he defended. "It just seems like there's something there."
"There's. Not."
"Okay!" Ward crossed his arms, averting his gaze back out the window.
May sighed. "I'm pissed," she admitted reluctantly. "But being mad won't do anything."
Ward nodded.
Thirty-eight minutes, two seconds.
Three seconds.
Four seconds.
Victoria Hand's voice crackled in; "Agent May. Change of plans. Sending new coordinates now."
Her heart skipped a beat.
"We found their helicopter at a laboratory outside the Mojave Desert."
"Copy that." She fought to conceal the spark of excitement in her voice. "Coordinates received."
Ward offered her a hopeful smile. She quickly dropped her gaze back to the controls. "Hold onto something."
Hang on Coulson. We're coming for you.
Coulson definitely hadn't expected to watch Po die today, but then again, he hadn't really anticipated any of the events that had transpired within his time here – apart from being tortured, of course, that was par for the course.
However, being stuck in this room with Raina somehow made him more uneasy.
"The people you work for are just as capable of using cruel means to reach a justified end," she was explaining to him, turning her back.
"SHIELD would never put a bomb in someone's head," he defended. "Or torture an enhanced the way you did with Chan Ho Yin."
"We didn't torture him," Raina said simply – though offered no further explanation.
"And what about Quake?" Coulson prodded. "What kind of cruel means to you use with her?"
Raina whirled around, catching him off guard with the strange expression on her face – a mixture of shock and maybe hurt, like what he'd said offended her. "I have nothing to do with her," she snapped, before closing her eyes and taking in a deep breath. She turned around again. "We all have to do things we might not want to do to reach our goals."
"What are your goals, then?" he asked. "Who do you work for? The Clairvoyant?"
She turned to face him again, a soft smile settling on her face. "Yes."
"Who is he?"
"I don't know," she murmured. "Today is the first time I personally made contact." Her smile grew wider as she took another deep breath. "My heart's still racing."
"He has you building super soldiers," Coulson commented.
"The Clairvoyant gives us guidance," Raina explained. "Formulas."
"For what?"
She looked at him like he was crazy for asking. "The changing world. The world your organization brought upon us. We're new to the business that you've been doing for decades."
"Seems you've added some unconventional business practices," Coulson added. She shrugged, but the sound of a door opening cut her off from responding.
They both looked over – Coulson's stomach churned at the sight.
"So nice of you to join us." Raina's buttery voice just barely masked the horrified undertone that Coulson was able to detect.
The man pushed the girl to the ground, and as she hit the concrete her breath escaped her lungs in a shallow wheeze.
Coulson's stomach lurched.
"I don't think she'll have any more issues being compliant," the man growled. "She seems to have a fascination with this one." He nodded at Coulson.
"Could you take care of Po's body?" Raina asked the man, gesturing over to where Po was slumped in the corner. "I can't work in such gruesome conditions."
The man raised an eyebrow. "You serious?"
Raina batted her eyelashes. "We're so close to getting what we need," she told him. "I would hate to jeopardize our success with my own weak stomach."
The man sighed. "Sure," he muttered.
As he started towards Po's body, Raina added; "Oh, also, I had something I needed to discuss with you-"
"Make it quick," the man growled. As Raina ushered him out of the room, she cast a quick, worried glance over her shoulder at the girl before sweeping it back up to Coulson – then, she shut the door behind her.
"Hey," he called across the room, his stomach twisting the longer he stared at her unmoving form. "Hey, hold out for me, okay? My team's coming soon, I'm sure of it."
His heart skipped a beat when she didn't respond.
"Quake?"
The floor rocked beneath him ever-so-slightly. It wasn't a lot, but it was enough to know she was still holding on.
"Okay… okay good. Okay. Just try not to move, yeah? Focus on your breathing, and don't move unless you have to," he told her gently. "We're gonna get out of here. I promise, I'm not leaving you behind."
The door swung open, and in came Raina and the girl's superior, who shot Coulson a dirty look before dragging Po's body out of the room. Raina turned to face him, her placid smile back on her face. "Shall we begin?"
"Coulson's somewhere here," May said, her voice full of sound resolve. "We need to find him."
They stepped out of the SHIELD van, taking in the scenery – golden sand, abandoned shacks, strange mannequins set up everywhere.
"We should split up," Fitz offered. "Cover more ground."
"Or run." Simmons' voice rose. "We've got company."
May spun around just as a Centipede soldier broke into a run after them. She widened her stance, ready to fight, but Ward beat her to it – taking off towards the Centipede soldier.
"Fan out," May instructed. "Leave no shack unchecked. Coulson is here."
Fitz and Simmons nodded, spinning around to take off in their own directions. May broke off on her own path, taking out a few stray Centipede soldiers on her way.
The sound of screaming stopped May in her tracks.
Coulson.
She spun on her heel and took off in the direction the sound had come from. One shack, with a porch and a rocking chair, sitting off to the side among the rest. Her hand hovered over the Night-Night Pistol at her side as she approached the door, took a deep breath, and kicked it open.
Her stomach lurched as she laid eyes on the scene in front of her.
"Please, just let me die, please, please, let me die please-"
Coulson's begging echoed in the room, his voice desperate and breathy as he fought against the machine they had him in. Raina sat next to him but whirled around to face her as she entered. "It's for his own good-"
Before she could finish, a shockwave sent her across the room. She hit her head against the wall and slumped down.
May snapped her attention over to the source – there was the girl, curled on the ground, covered in so much blood May couldn't even fathom how she was still conscious. She collapsed back down, letting out a little cry as she pulled her shaky arm back into herself. After a quick scan of her surroundings, May located the plug that powered the machine, rushing over to pull it out.
"Phil," she breathed, going right back to his side, her stomach twisting at all the blood on his face. She grabbed his hand, squeezing it tight, and held her breath as she waited for him to come back.
"Mel…"
A sigh of relief escaped her lips. "Phil," she murmured again as he squeezed her hand back.
He grunted, shaking a bit with effort as he sat up straight. "Where are Fitz-Simmons and Ward?"
"We spread out," May told him. "To cover more ground." He nodded, pushing himself off the table. "Careful."
But he'd already turned his attention to the girl, and she followed suit as he crouched down next to her. "Told you my team was coming," he chuckled. "Thanks for the help back there."
She eyed them warily, almost like she was waiting for one of them to hurt her.
May's chest tightened.
"I'm going to have to carry you out," Coulson told her gently. "Is that okay?"
She didn't say anything. She didn't even acknowledge him.
With one last little heave of energy, she started pushing herself back up. Coulson reached out. "Hey, hey, take it easy, you really shouldn't-"
In one swift motion, before anyone could react, she grabbed the Night-Night Pistol off of May's hip and took her shot.
Falling and falling and falling and falling and falling and your life is not yours to take and falling and falling and falling and see what happens and falling and next time you hesitate and falling and falling and falling and falling and don't ever stop until I tell you to and falling and falling and nod hello to Tongueless Thompson and falling and falling and you owe us your life and falling and turn you over to Whitehall and drain you and falling and nothing left and falling and Daisy Daisy Daisy and falling and falling and hail HYDRA and don't show weakness and lift your chin and falling and shoulders back and falling and don't ever let them see you falter and falling and disrespectful shit and falling and property of HYDRA property of HYDRA property of HYDRA property of-
And the operating table and the man with a white lab coat and perfectly round glasses murmuring that three-word phrase she still couldn't quite decipher and-
Kalmowitz and Hannah Hutchins and Scorch and Mindy and blood and blood and killer killer killer-
And murder is the worst sin, they'd said, and murderers don't see God and God will punish and punishment and penance and sin and Hell and children singing God is love and women in black hoods and crosses and bad kid bad kid punishment and stained-glass windows painting colorful shapes on the ground and rows of beds and and shiny metal cross-
And a knife pointed straight at her and hazy white bleeding into forest green and a scruffy, young man with dark hair poking out of a red baseball cap came at her but his eyes were still soft and young and he hesitated and she felt bad and fell back and don't show weakness and falling-
And blood and blood and blood and-
Crying and what did he do why do I have to kill him why please don't make me and-
Electrical shock crackling in her neck and-
Open your mouth one more time and I will personally rip your larynx out of your throat and hang you with it-
And falling and spinning and-
Overhead in her cell the rusty pipes creaked and groaned and if only she had some rope and some leverage, the way out was cruelly hanging above her head just out of reach-
And falling and falling and the metal cuffs on her wrist and grinding them against her tender skin and spinning and spinning and white and light and bright and-
Drowning and drowning and burning in her lungs and she couldn't breathe she couldn't breathe and her sopping wet hair soaked her back as she was dragged back up and-
Property of HYDRA and-
Experimentation and animal and property and-
The man with the scalpel and the round glasses and the bright light above her head as somewhere on her lower abdomen the blade pierced her skin and set fire to her stomach and the world grew hazy around her and discovery and property and-
Falling and falling and-
Bees in her skin buzzing just below the surface and why is everything shaking oh God what have they done to me I'm a monster you're a monster-
And don't stop, don't ever stop, take down that pillar, that weak spot, bring this building down, snap her neck, Aunt Hutchins Agent Scorch-
And blood and blood and blood killer-
And what an interesting fate-
Daisy Daisy Daisy-
Flowers and dresses and your father-
Your father-
Daisy Daisy Daisy-
Your father-
And falling and falling and landing on the concrete and cars passing by and turning the corner to the apartment complex and the man with dark hair standing by the door and hello my Daisy, it's lovely to finally meet you-
And fists on her back and bad kid bad kid and broken and stinging burning alcohol smell and bad kid broken kid not a good fit-
And how are they treating you Daisy-
Not Daisy not Daisy not Daisy-
And hungry and lost and scared and stupid kid bad kid ungrateful brat disrespectful little shit-
And I can take you from here and you can be safe again, you can be strong again, no one will ever touch you again-
And safe safe safe you're safe-
And falling and the sky and wispy pink clouds and freedom and vast everlasting sky stretching further than she could possibly imagine and the silvery white crescent glowing overhead and magical white speckles dotting the darkening purple sky and sky and sky and freedom and flying and sky sky sky-
And safe you're safe hey it's okay you're okay-
And purple bleeding to black and darkness and falling falling falling-
And rusty cell, iron cell, dark cell, metal and cuffs and blood and shouting and trapped trapped trapped-
And bees in her skin and blades piercing her stomach and discovery and property and electricity and animal and pet and shock collar and hang you shoot you rip out your tongue and your life isn't yours to take and blood and blood and killer killer killer and falling and falling and falling-
And wake up, hey wake up-
And safe you're safe-
Wake up-
Falling and falling and-
Wake up-
"Hey, hey, wake up, hey, you're safe-"
The light burned as she blinked open her eyes, and her head whirled as she struggled to adjust to her surroundings. For a moment, all she could feel was warmth and something soft beneath her, and it was almost sort of comforting-
But suddenly every muscle in her screamed wrong, and she snapped her eyes open to see two strangers sitting on the ground in front of her. She looked around frantically, trying to understand this strange room and how she got here and she sat straight up and her muscles felt like they were on fire, everything burned and stung and her lungs felt tight and she inched backwards to put space between her and the strange people and her back hit the wall and-
"Hey, hey, take it easy, you've had a rough few days."
"You're not quite ready to be moving around so much."
"Take a deep breath, you're alright."
As her vision cleared up a bit, she realized that these people weren't strangers. She didn't know the Asian woman's name, but as her eyes landed on the man, she felt herself let out a breath she didn't realize she was holding.
Phil Coulson.
"Hey," he said again, his voice soft and friendly. "You okay?"
Was she?
Her whole body felt like it was on fire yet her skin was ice and she couldn't stop shivering, everything ached and stung and, quite frankly, she felt like she got hit by a bus.
"You might feel a little groggy. Your fever hasn't quite broken yet, you did hit yourself with .1 microliters of dendrotoxin, and then Simmons kept you under for a bit longer so she could patch you up," he explained gently. Her face must have twisted to betray her confusion, because he clarified; "When we escaped, you shot yourself with a Night-Night Pistol, not an actual gun. We don't shoot to kill, not usually."
Oh.
Right.
She'd done that.
Coulson, thankfully, didn't ask any questions about why she'd tried to shoot herself. She wasn't certain he'd want to hear the answer.
"You lost a lot of blood. Those wounds got infected. Simmons removed the bullets, stitched you up, and gave you a blood transfusion," the woman supplemented.
"It's a good thing Fitz is a universal donor," Coulson joked.
She had no idea what any of that meant besides that whatever they'd done had kept her alive, and she was starting to grow tired of people doing that. HYDRA would never let her die because she had value to them – because they could mold her into their perfect weapon. These people had always seemed so genuinely good, but a nagging voice in the back of her mind sneered that they were two sides of the same coin.
What government agency wouldn't want a walking natural disaster at their disposal?
Her throat felt dry and sore, and she lifted her arm to her mouth to cough a few times, sending ripples of pain throughout her abdomen. The woman glanced over at Coulson, who nodded encouragingly, and she passed over a mug that she hadn't even noticed had been on the ground next to her. She shrank back, eyeing it cautiously.
"Green tea," the woman explained gently, "with some honey for your throat."
She didn't move a muscle, instead just stared at the pale green mug on the floor.
"I promise, it's just tea," the woman told her, her voice maintaining its even tone. She snapped her attention back up to her, regarding her warily – the woman's eyes held the tiniest flicker of grief, which made her stomach churn sickeningly.
"Take a sip," Coulson urged. "You'll feel better if you do."
Deciding that she didn't quite feel up for learning what they did to defiance around here (although the image of an anguished Coulson kneeling over Kalmowitz's body flashed in her mind, reminding her that these might not be the same sort of people), she obediently reached out a shaky arm and curled her fingers around the handle of the mug. Trembling with effort – and spilling a bit of the drink on her lap as a result of her unsteady hands – she brought the mug up to her cracked, bloody lips and took a tiny sip.
The tea was earthy and sort of grassy, but subtly sweet and certainly not unpleasant. She let the warm liquid glide down her scratchy throat.
It was… sort of nice.
"I never got to introduce myself," Coulson said. "I'm Agent Phil Coulson. This is Agent Melinda May. We've bumped into each other a few times, namely Hong Kong and Peru."
Though she didn't fully trust them, she allowed herself to relax a bit, letting her eyes wander around the room but always keeping them in her peripheral. The room was dimly lit and sparsely furnished. The walls and floor were composed of the same material, which, she noted curiously, bounced her vibrations back to her when she ran her fingertips along the surface – something she'd decided was simultaneously perplexing and entertaining. They'd put a mattress in the corner where she sat, and a few pillows and blankets were piled up next to her.
A quick vibrational scan told her there were about three others in the building – and that this wasn't a building at all. She could tell, even in this strangely insulated room, that the vibrations outside were loud and roaring, unstably ripping by like a storm-stirred sea.
Or a plane.
"You must be hungry," the woman – May – noted. "Simmons said your digestive system will need a few days to adjust to solid food again, but I can get you some soup."
You didn't earn it, echoed the voice of an angry superior. You earn everything in this life.
Funny, in five minutes she'd been introduced to these new superiors, but in all the years with HYDRA, she never learned her old superiors' names.
Her body convulsed into another fit of coughs, but as she opened her eyes and pulled her arm away from her mouth, she was surprised to find that her sleeve was gray rather than the usual black. Confused, she noticed that she was in completely different clothes – a pair of soft, black, baggy joggers and a large gray sweatshirt that, upon pulling at the hem to look at the front, she noticed had a huge Captain America shield printed on it.
"Your clothes were stuck to you, so in order to operate Simmons had to cut them off of you," May explained. "Like we said, there was… a lot of blood."
"May gave you her extra pair of SHIELD joggers," Coulson added. "And that's my old Cap hoodie."
As she felt another tickle rising in her throat, she brought the mug back up to her lips and took another sip, not missing the little nod Coulson made towards May, or the subtle rearrangement of May's features for just a moment in response. The way they communicated was intriguing – she noted that they felt like a single unit, one entity split in two.
She wondered what that was like.
"What's your name?" Coulson asked as she placed the mug back down on the floor. "I assume you have a name other than 'Quake.'"
She froze.
She'd had a name at one point - actually she'd had a few, that much she knew for a fact. A vast number of labels had tagged her at one point or another, though now they were smearing and smudging away.
They'd called her Quake, but she wasn't Quake. They'd stripped her of any identity she might have had and marked her with a word that defined only what she could do for them; it wasn't who she was.
Daisy Daisy Daisy-
Your father misses you Daisy-
She didn't recognize that word as belonging to her, either. Maybe at some point it might have, maybe somewhere in the dark corners of her mind where she'd boxed away old lives, sealed them up and pushed them away, she had been a Daisy.
But that wasn't her.
One name, one four letter word, burned long and bright, tucked away where they could never take it from her. One thing she still owned. One thing that was still hers.
One name she'd never let them have, so no matter what they could never take it away from her.
But Coulson and May…
Her eyes flitted between the two of them, searching for the catch, the gotcha, almost hoping to find any trace of animosity, because then she'd know for sure where she stood. At least that was familiar, at least she'd know how to act to please them – if she wouldn't be allowed to die, then at least she'd obey the rules and bide her time as painlessly as they'd let her.
She couldn't find any.
All she saw there was a certain type of softness she wasn't sure she'd ever encountered before – if she had, it had been fleeting, and locked away so she wouldn't dwell on it.
And while every instinct screamed at her that this was all a trick, this was too good to be true, they were giving her false hope just to take it away from her again…
She took a deep breath.
"Skye."
Her whole body trembled uncontrollably as she loosened her grip on the one last thing she had that was truly hers, presenting it to these strangers and hoping they didn't rip it from her grasp and tear it apart right in front of her. But the agents' eyes were warm, and they smiled at her with such kindness that her chest was starting to feel a bit lighter.
"That's a beautiful name," May murmured. "Did you choose that yourself?"
She nodded shyly, her cheeks burning as she ducked her head.
"Skye," Coulson echoed. His grin stretched from ear to ear. "It's so lovely to meet you, Skye."
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