Chapter 1
She wonders if it will ever stop; the pain.
It’s always been a part of her life, it’s nothing new. Over time, she’s learned to embrace it , let it become a part of who she was. She’s learned to ignore it as if it wasn’t even there, how to pretend everything on the inside wasn’t screaming .
Then again, she has never felt anything like this before.
This is a new type of pain, worse than fresh scars on her back and scraped knees from being shoved down, over and over again. Worse than raw cuts on her arms and concussions from slamming her head into a wall.
If you think about it, Nathaniel didn’t really torture her.
If you think about it, neither did Fitz.
No, Malick only took out everything that made her, her, and drained her of almost everything that kept her alive. He cut open her skin and took power out of it and he might as well have cut out her heart, at least then the pain would have been over. He didn’t torture her, he gave her no permanent scars or lasting ailments from the process. If anything, he was like a doctor, careful and precise because he didn’t want his goods too damaged. Careful and precise because he viewed her as a doll: delicate, weak, and his .
Fitz was only trying to save the world, so what does it matter if every time she sees that vacant look in his eye she flinches. It was the only solution, and that’s far more important than the way she has to hide her reaction every time he manages to enter a room without her noticing. It wasn’t torture, he was only saving the world. She shouldn’t have struggled, it was the only way, it was the right thing to do, it was .
Daisy still can’t touch her neck without twitching away from her own hands, the phantom pain making her feel as if she was suffocating.
She was awake when Nathaniel and his goons performed the surgery.
She can’t remember most of it- the drugs pumping through her body leaving her pliant and unfocused and consumed by the carefully buried trauma drudging itself to the forefront of her mind, flashbacks whipping around her head uncontrollably as she found herself begging, throat growing hoarse.
She sees an IV being wheeled up in the corner of her eyes and a sharp needle entering her upper arm before they’re carving into her skin and there’s blood everywhere and- “Please, Fitz why are you doing this.” -she’s trapped they’re holding her down and she can’t breath because everything is on fire-
Daisy shakes her head violently, nails digging into the palm of her hands hard enough to draw blood as she tries to ground herself into the present. She presses herself further into the corner of the wall, eyes trained on the door even though she knows no one could really sneak up on her anyways, not with the way all her senses are flaring, high on alert, stuck in panic mode.
She’s not there anymore. She tells herself, yet there are spots in her vision just like before and the room is getting darker and there is blood on her hands, in her mouth, and there’s water in her lungs and she still can’t-
Daisy takes several gasping breaths, chest heaving up and down as the spots in her vision finally clear out. She was holding her breath then- nothing new, really. It happens every once in a while, as if she doesn’t consciously make the decision to breathe in and out, then she’ll just- stop.
It’s been over a year now, but now that her life is no longer in constant danger, now that the world isn’t ending, now that there’s nothing left to distract her from insistent thoughts; now all the trauma and grief and pain is catching up to her, and it hurts .
So yes, she doesn’t think she has ever felt this way before.
She doesn’t tell May about the scars on her arms when she stops by earth. When she visits, she tells herself, ‘This time, this time’ . She visits, and she says nothing. She glares longingly at her mother figure and pretends she’s only imagining May’s inquisitive gaze in return.
It’s one of those visits when the pain hits harder than usual.
May’s got herself a nice little apartment by the academy instead of a dorm in the facility itself, and for that, Daisy is grateful. May is out, so she can break down without interruption.
It’s a morbid idea, that it’s the only positive thought she has lately. ‘At least no one is around to hear her shatter’.
She flicks her pocket knife open and stares at it for a long while. Then, she flings it across the room and into the wall where it lodges itself to the hilt.
She doesn’t cry anymore. Her eyes have no more tears left to shed for the past that refuses to be forgotten. She still does her best though- to forget. She carves lines into her skin to remind her of the pain not in her mind and she bangs her head against walls to try and clear it.
And it does, clear everything- if only for a single moment. It helps her breathe, if only for one more day. Afterwards, she’ll run her fingers over the scars on her skin and use the sting to remind herself that she is still alive, even if she doesn’t think she still wants to be.
Daisy gets up from the couch and yanks the knife out from the plaster.
‘May won’t mind’, she thinks as she views the whole on the wall.
‘May won’t mind’, the blade meets her skin.
‘May won’t mind’, and droplets of her blood drip onto the couch.
_______
When Melinda May opens the door to her apartment, the first thing she smells is blood. She’s well acquainted with the smell, tears and pain and death are all the same to her and blood is what connects them all.
Before anything, she pulls out her gun, but it drops to the floor as soon as she sees Daisy’s figure lying still on the furniture.
Her hand is already checking for a pulse even as the other one fishes for her phone. The pulse is slow, sporadic, but the blood is still fresh, so she tries to let hope suppress the dawning fear.
She presses her first emergency number because it’s faster than calling the police and she knows she can trust him.
“Mack, Mack get an ambulance over here, now!”
“May? May what’s going-”
“Now Mack!” May screams it into the phone before hanging up and dropping it, leaving it to lay forgotten on the floor.
May sees the knife by her side and her bloody sleeves and already knows what has happened.
It’s only then that she realizes Daisy is still awake. Bleary eyes blink up at her and she immediately wraps the small girl in her arms.
“Stay awake for me, ok Daisy? You’re gonna be okay.” May brushes Daisy's hair back and pretends she isn’t just reassuring herself.
“M-May?”
“Yes baby, it’s me, it’s May. Just stay awake.”
Daisy shakes her head and tries to wriggle away when May uses her jacket to staunch the blood still pouring from her wrist, but the blood loss is making her weak.
“May you have to- you have to stop. I’m- I” Daisy doesn’t finish her sentence before she’s closing her eyes again and May’s heart stops .
She presses her hands to her pulse once more and gently shakes Daisy, trying to get her to wake up. A moment later her eyes open again and May forgoes any semblance of calm and sobs in relief, the tears in her eyes momentarily blurring her vision.
“May, let me go, you have to- I don't- I can’t do this anymore, you-”
“No, no Daisy you can’t-” May cuts herself off and presses her fingers once more to her pulse, trying to center herself to the dull beat.
There are tears in Daisy’s eyes the next time she looks and May tries not to let the sigh break her. Daisy’s voice has turned desperate this time. “I’m so tired May, please- please .” She’s sobbing by the end of the sentence but her body doesn’t have enough energy left for the action so her breaths are just coming in short pants as she tries to speak. “ Let me go, please just let me go, May ,”
May can hear the sirens in the distance and inside she’s begging too, ‘Please hurry, please hurry, please, please, please-’ .
On the outside she does nothing but cling to Daisy’s limp figure tighter as she prays for her not to let go.
Daisy’s voice is soft this time, and May has to turn her ear towards the girl's mouth to hear. “I- I don’t want to live like this anymore. It hurts, there is so much pain. Please, May, let me go .”
Out loud, May says ‘No’ , and she thinks it’s the most selfish thing she’s ever done.
Daisy’s eyes roll upwards as doctors and nurses rush in, and May lets her body go.
_______
“She needs help , Phil!”
“You think I don’t see that!”
May sighs in frustration, hands in her hair, tugging at her scalp for the millionth time as she paces outside the med bay.
“I don't know, I- all I know is that my baby has been dying for years , and now she’s in that room, and we don’t know if she’ll make it and- and you- you didn’t see this!” May glares at him furiously, a mask of cold fury covering her aching fear, before collapsing into a chair. “Phil, why didn’t you see this, why didn’t I see this, why- ”
She’s crying before she slumps to the ground and Coulson rushes forward and hugs her close, trying to hold together the pieces of her broken heart.