ii.

As far as life-threatening experiences go, Daniel's been through worse – war, torture, plenty of fights he wasn't sure he'd win – and the thought of dying here on the train is certainly a blow to his pride, but he'll admit that it's not looking good for him, the way things currently stand. He's outnumbered, and in these close quarters, that might be enough to do him in.

In retrospect, it was probably a mistake coming here to the bar car alone, but he's been feeling like things were out of his control ever since those three showed up at the base, and he could really use a moment alone to get his head on straight. And a drink. He could really use a drink.

Of course, he barely gets in one sip before it all goes to hell.

For a while, he's able to hold his own, but at the end of the day, it's a numbers game, and one on three just aren't good odds. Soon enough, he's crashing into the wall as a cord slips around his neck, and he's thinking he might really be a goner when he hears a familiar voice behind him. She sounds as confident as ever, with a punch that knocks the other woman to the floor, and, god, if she didn't already have his attention from their first meeting, she certainly has it now.

The pressure around his neck loosens, and he gets in another jab before sagging backward against the wall, looking up at her in disbelief. She doesn't have a hair out of place, hasn't even broken a sweat, and he's not sure he wants to know anymore what terrible thing he's landed himself in the middle of, but maybe it's worth it if he gets to cross paths with someone like her.

He still doesn't know anything about this woman – in fact, he's pretty sure he actually knows less now – but somehow, she's here and she's saved his life and he thinks that might just be good enough for today.

You again, he gasps as she knocks out one of the two men without missing a beat.

What he means is, it's good to see you again.

…

There are a lot of other things Daisy could – probably should – be doing right now, but it feels just as important, maybe even more so, to sit with him in this moment as he tries to make sense of everything they've just told him.

She's been there before, felt that pit in her stomach at the realization that the evil they'd been fighting had been beside them all along. It's still one of the worst things she's ever felt. The years haven't erased that pain, but she was lucky, she had friends and allies beside her to help her through it. Sousa should have someone there too, even if it's just a near-stranger who has lied to him and saved his life in equal measure.

He deserves that much.

He deserves so much more.

Of course she knows the sacrifice that's asked of them in their line of work. It's what they all signed up for, willingly, having carefully weighed the risks. That doesn't make it any easier when one of their own ends up paying the ultimate price for the cause. It's a hard pill to swallow. It goes down bitter every single time.

His shock soon gives way to frustration, and she knows that feeling too, remembering the same frustrations she had felt a few days and some twenty odd years earlier. It's hard, being this powerless, but she knows it's for the greater good, they don't have a choice, so it has to be this way, doesn't it?

Does it?

He tells her what he's lost, how far he's willing to go, how much more he has left to give, and she has to bite her tongue to keep from saying something that will change everything. The difficulty of letting a young Wilfred Malick walk away all those years ago is nothing compared to the guilt she feels now, knowing that they have to deliver Daniel Sousa to his death.

It echoes in her ears, his insistence that he'd give his life for this fight. In my world, she wants to tell him, you already have.

What she means is, I wish it could be different.