The jet jumped sending its passengers slightly up and back down only because of the extreme straps that held them in place. Lightening flashes lit the cockpit and spread to the body of the plane casting a yellow mask across the two men seated closest to the front.
Mack leaned his head back against the cool leather headrest, silently praying for a safe path through the storm and for the courage to see it through, but mostly to accept whatever the outcome. The man's size and strength did nothing to build his confidence in flying, even after all this time he still did it with silent trepidation.
Coulson seemed lost in meditation, eyes closed yet deep in concentration. The man was not deep in prayer but deep in thought, lost in worry and anxious to return to base. Before boarding a few hours earlier he had received a cryptic message from his second in command. 'Storm is increasing', was all the text read. He understood her need to send such a message. They'd developed their own system of code through the years they'd worked together. 'Storm' was code that an agent was down; referencing it gave the condition of that agent. In this case he understood that the agent was badly injured…critical. She'd sent him another message early that same morning.
'Tide's come in, heading for the beach.'
And he knew she'd been found.
After searching for almost eight months…after dead ends and worthless tips…after brief sightings and almost misses…May had found her. No, someone else found her and knew to contact May and only May.
He'd kept it quiet, not even alerting Mack…waiting for word…waiting for a location…where to find them both. And then the second message…someone was hurt…badly. He took a deep breath and let it out shakily. The men around him merely took it as anxiety that they shared as the plane was jarred again by the ferocious storm. He swallowed hard. Who…who was hurt? May? Sk…Daisy? How? Was there violence? Did Daisy resist? Did May retaliate…take her by force? Did…Daisy…did she use her power to escape…to beat…to hurt…no, the girl would not hurt her mentor. Would she?
Coulson dug his nails into his seat as the plane bounced again. He was anxious but it had nothing to do with the bouncing, the lightening or the thunder that crashed around the vehicle. His anxiety grew from the fact that this storm was slowing their progress. It was putting them behind schedule and preventing him from contacting May. A stronger storm was brewing inside and it had already put one of his girls in jeopardy. Not knowing which one was chewing a hole through his gut.
"Hey," Mack's voice broke through his thoughts. "Never knew you to be skittish in bad weather." There was almost a hint of laughter there in his deep voice.
Coulson blinked a few times and smiled a half-hearted grin. "Tired, I guess," he lied. The large man stared down at him for a beat before pursing his lips and giving a quick nod. He knew Coulson was holding back.
He wasn't keeping anything from Mack. There were just too many agents…too many of Mace's 'ears' around for him to share this info and he wasn't exactly sure what that information was. He pulled back his sleeve and glanced at his watch…a little after ten…almost seven hours since May's message…three hours until they touched down at the base…but that was only if they were on schedule and that last crack of lightening was certainly evidence that they were not. Sitting here, buckled into the seat like a toddler in the back of the family van was more restricting than usual. He needed to move…needed to pace…to walk off the anxiety that right now felt like armies of fire ants crawling under his skin…over his skin…through his skin. He closed his eyes and imagined himself jumping in circles and slapping the offensive insects away. It almost brought him to nervous laughter.
"Storm's getting too rough," the co-pilot announced from the cockpit. "We're gonna have to put down and wait it out. Might be a rough landing."
Everyone checked their restraints as a rumble of comments spread across the fuselage. Coulson remained still, quiet in comparison to the rest.
"Bout time," Mack commented, mostly to himself having given up on trying to make conversation with his abnormally silent partner.
Coulson wrestled with his reaction to the announcement. Anger welled up at the fact that getting home would now be later and there was no way to tell how much later…relief because once on the ground there was a much better chance of contacting May even if he had to somehow locate a landline.
Forty minutes later the plane had bounced to a sloppy landing at a small airport outside of a small town somewhere in rural Pennsylvania. Another hour and they had made their way to a motel hidden on a back road used mostly by truckers stopping for a well deserved night's rest. The storm was wicked but as luck would have it the place had just enough vacancies for the agents to pair up and share rooms without overcrowding.
Coulson and Mack shared the last room at the end of the strip. It was small and smelled musty, but the beds were clean and even better, the bathroom was spotless. Mack entered the room first, dropped his bag and flopped onto the first bed. A flash of lightening lit up the room in red before Phil flipped on the light and Mack draped his hand over his eyes.
Coulson dropped his bag on the second bed and let out a long breath before turning to his roommate. "May's got her." He remarked quietly, without making eye contact.
Mack stopped rubbing his eyes and pushed himself up on one elbow. "How…when?" He sat up and waited for an answer.
"I'm not sure. I got a quick message this morning, only that she'd been found and May was bringing her in." He waited for Mack's reaction. When there was none he continued, "got a second just before we took off. Someone's hurt."
"Who?" Mack's concern showed in that one word.
"I'm not sure, but it's serious." Phil answered taking out his cell and checking for service. He walked across the room closer to the window and held the phone up to check again.
"We're in the middle of nowhere in the storm of the century…doubt there'll be any service." Mack shook his head and pulled out his own phone. He shook his head as he pushed it back into his pocket.
Phil dropped his hand to his side. "That sat-phone still in the SUV?" He asked without turning around.
"It's there, but soon as you use it Mace will know everything." Mack warned. "Is it worth putting them in that situation? May's probably got her stashed somewhere. Once Mace gets her he'll lock her up…put her in stasis…who knows what that slimy bastard might have planned."
"Mace is a pansy-ass…but a necessary pansy-ass." Phil breathed out, sounding defeated. The gradually increasing tapping of hail outside the window meant the storm was not winding down. They could be there til morning. It would be a long night, a long sleepless night.
Just before 4 a.m. Coulson checked his phone (for what seemed like the thousandth time) and found a strong service band. He paused for a moment and listening to the rain…no longer pounding…just simple rain. He finger punched May's private cell number in before taking a second breath. She answered before the second ring.
"Phil"
There was worry in her voice, worry but not hurt. She was okay…physically.
"She's hurt Phil. They beat her…I don't know how, but they did."
Her voice caught and his heart ached knowing he could not hold her, comfort and support her.
"Simmons is doing what she can. Where are you?"
"The storm grounded us about two hours out. I'll be there midmorning. It's letting up." He tried to sound confident.
"She's in and out, talking nonsense and in a lot of pain. Martinelli found her in Hartford."
Phil let out a soft snort. "Nice of our girl to get herself in trouble close to a former agent."
"Angie's got a friend with some powers of his own. He found her. Watchdogs, Phil…they ambushed her. I've only seen her this hurt once before…"
May left the comment unfinished but not before he pictured Daisy…Skye lying in her own blood on that cold basement floor and thinking she was gone before he dropped to her side. The hours…days that followed twisted everything and his mouth went dry remembering how it felt to almost lose her. He never wanted that feeling again.
"Phil?"
"I'm here."
"I've got to get back before she wakes up again. We're here…at the base."
"The base?" He was surprised May would take the chance on taking her there.
"The hell with Mace," May growled. "She needs the best care and this is the only place she'll get it. We'll deal with the rest when this is over." He could here Simmons speaking in the background. "Get here as soon as possible."
She hung up before he could answer.
The Quinjet was in the air by sunrise and carefully maneuvering into the Playground's hanger by 10 a.m. Phil walked past a stone-faced director without a word and made his way to medical. He stepped through the double doors and looked across the lab to the glass wall that outlined the treatment area. He could make out the forms of techs moving inside the wall, the numerous machines blinking and beeping their vital information, IV poles and infusers and the dark hair that was May. She had her back to him.
He didn't remember walking across the room or opening the glass door that sealed the medical treatment area and he was standing behind her blinking away the moisture in his eyes as he took in the full scene.
"Okay, that's enough. Simmons?" May commanded and Daisy jumped a bit as Jemma injected her with a quick jab then moved to her side injecting a second solution into the IV.
"A bit of morphine for the pain, you really need to rest." She smiled as she noticed the former director enter the room. "You'll sleep for a bit." She nodded toward him and May turned to look over her shoulder briefly loosening her grip on Daisy's hand.
"Don't go…" Daisy's voice was small and weak, barely more that a soft whine.
May turned back and bent down kissed both the girl's eyes and then her head. Daisy struggled for a moment but her eyes remained closed as she surrendered to the medications. She gently squeezed the hand holding her own and breathed, "Mom."
"Sleep tiānkōng …I'll be here when you wake up."
May held her hand with both of her own, patting gently until she knew the girl had once again drifted into the blackness of morphine induced sleep. She easily slid her hand free and turned to the man standing behind falling into his embrace not caring who could see or what might be said.
Phil held her, felt her trembling with relief as he stared at the young inhuman in the bed before him. Why did people always look so much smaller…so much younger in those beds? Again he shook away the memories of the same girl slipping away only a few years ago. For a moment he didn't even realize that he was holding someone and that someone was Melinda May.
He wasn't sure what he expected. He had no idea what kind of injuries Daisy had received. He stared at the turban of bandage around her head, her swollen purple eyes and deep bruises along her jaw and collar bone. A gash on her lower lip was sutured giving it that comical image of a tiny insect setting near her mouth. Her nose flattened and wide on her face made her almost unrecognizable. He almost wanted to ask if anyone had checked to be sure it was truly their Daisy.
"She's improving slowly." Jemma stated bringing both of them back to the present.
"I want those bastards." May hissed through clenched teeth loud enough that only Coulson heard.
He held her at arms length and nodded. "Together," he nodded.
Jemma rested a hand on May's shoulder and gave a gentle squeeze. "Perhaps you should get something to eat…" The woman shook her head. "Just a cup of tea then," the doctor smiled. "You've been here all night and Daisy's going to be out for a while. I'll call you if there are any changes." She squeezed her shoulder again.
"Come on," Phil wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "We'll get the tea and come back here." He did not want to be away any more than May did.
Jemma smiled but shook her head slightly. "I'll have another chair brought in, sir."
"There's not a lot to tell," May began as she forced herself to sip hot tea. Phil wanted answers and she had very few. "Angie's friend, Mario, didn't have much to say."
In any other situation Phil would have found the humor in May's saying anyone was reluctant to converse, now he just let it pass.
"He didn't see anything; just found her behind a dumpster in some alley. He'd been following her but lost track for an hour or so then spent another two searching. Guess his 'skills' include some kind of tracking." She was careful not to say too much, still helping to protect inhuman from the harsh standards of The Accords. She didn't quite agree with them, but kept that to herself. Besides, no one was going to do that to her kid…director or not.
"All that matters is he did find her," Phil thought out loud.
"Martinelli contacted me when she realized how seriously she was injured." May was quiet for a moment, imagining what Daisy had endured. "They could have killed her, Phil and we'd never know what happened to her."
Coulson knew she was right. If the Watchdogs had eliminated Quake she would have simply vanished leaving both he and May with an emptiness that could never be filled. This was a feeling reserved for parents…those who have lost a child leaving a void that grew ever expanding rather than healing. He couldn't imagine that pain. It chilled him, left him paralyzed both physically and emotionally. The only feeling that ran through his being was rage…white, blind rage at the so called men who did this. He understood May's wrath, her need for vengeance.
"She'll tell us more when she wakes up…when she's well." May had been speaking as he thought but he only heard this last comment and couldn't help but laugh. She narrowed her gaze and stopped the cup halfway to her lips.
"She's too much like you to share much, if anything at all." He explained. May relaxed and the corners of her eyes crinkled with an invisible smile.
She set down her cup and pushed her chair from the table. "I want to get back. I promised. You know how she is about promises."
He nodded and stood as well, picking up both mugs and taking them to the sink. They walked back to Daisy's room together. May took her chair gently petting Daisy's hand before she sat down. Phil pulled his chair close enough to May that she could rest against his shoulder.
Daisy whimpered without waking, lost again in some drugged pain induced dream. May took her hand. Phil rested his on top of hers. The girl tensed for a moment then slowly relaxed.'
"Shhhhh," They hushed together
The shush was different, yet familiar…comforting…safe.
Phil's large hand folded over May's and Daisy's. He squeezed gently. He had no intention of letting go…ever again.