Chapter 2
When Daisy wakes up, she’s attached to an IV and a monitor and the cuts on her arms have been bandaged and she almost cries because why didn’t May let her go.
May is the only one in the room, and when she looks up Daisy can see the bags underneath her eyes and the dried tracks of tears on her cheeks.
“Hey.” May’s voice is hoarse, as if sore from a lot of yelling, and the words ring softly through the air.
Daisy doesn’t respond for a long moment. She picks underneath her nails and ignores the way her arms flare in pain when she so much as twitches. She looks out the window. Glances towards the clock. It’s morning.
Daisy looks back at May. She opts not to say anything, because she doesn’t think she can, she just stares.
May says nothing else, turns her head to the side, and suddenly Daisy’s angry, more furious than she’s ever been. The whiplash of emotions has her choking on the words lodged in her throat and she can’t get them out, she can’t-
May hands her a glass of water, and Daisy just barely refrains from quaking it apart.
____
“Coulson, what are we supposed to do?” May asks, the barest hint of emotion in her voice.
“I don’t- I don’t know.” He’s just as helpless as her, just as lost, confused, afraid .
May is so, so afraid.
Her face remains expressionless.
“I don’t know how to help her, but she needs help, she needs something, I just-” She cuts herself off when she starts to feel that familiar sting behind her eyes. She can’t cry again, she can’t . She has to be strong she has to- to-
Coulson tilts his head at her, says “ May” in that soft way of his, and May is shaking, sobbing into his shoulder- his own body trembling against hers- and she hopes it’s okay that she can’t be okay this time.
____
“I used to be different.” May started, sighing as remembered something Daisy couldn’t see. “I was different, before Bahrain. I was…”
Daisy watches as she searches for the right words. “I was light.” May looks back at her, searching for something, and Daisy understands.
There was a time, before everything, before pain and hurt hurt hurt . There was a time, where she was light and fun and sarcastic and secretly enjoyed letting herself be the butt of a joke. Daisy understands cutting off those pieces of yourself, stowing away the parts that are far too soft to be left in the open. She understands hiding away the delicate parts of yourself because they are far too fragile, because you don’t want to get broken again. They bury those pieces until there is only chipped edges and empty eyes and bitter smiles with far too many teeth. (They hide them away so that they don’t get broken and they pretend that they aren’t already falling apart.)
“I was almost… maternal, and then Bahrain took it from me. But you- you brought it back.” May almost cringes, Daisy can see. She’s never been comfortable sharing her emotions, never been comfortable with the bare vulnerability it requires. Daisy loves her all the more for it.
“Losing you…” May starts, blows out a puff of air, shakes her head. “Losing you would be losing a part of myself. I wouldn’t- I couldn’t recover.” May sighs, again, and Daisy’s lost count over how many times she’s done that in the last five minutes.
“I’m not telling you to stay alive because I love you, Daisy. I’m telling you to hold on, anchor yourself to my love until you can stay alive for yourself.”
May reaches forward, brushes away a stray strand of hair, smooths her thumb over the crease on Daisy’s forehead. The gesture is gentle, maternal, and Daisy almost cries.
“Give me some time Dais. Just stay alive, please.”
Daisy looks up at May, and she sort of wants to scream. She wants to scream and cry and beg and ask her why she was asking her to do this, why was she being so selfish- can’t May see that she just wants to let go . But she’s not angry really, and she understands.
The trouble of it all is always understanding.
She wants to say no, but she thinks of May, gentle hands on foreheads, soft words, bare vulnerability, love.
Daisy tilts her head, barely, and nods.
She'll try.