“Something’s wrong with your collective girlfriend, and she’s not talking to me about it,” May tells them as she passes them outside the lab.
Fitz sighs and takes Jemma’s hand. “I told you, we knew she’s been having trouble -”
“Since that last mission went a bit awry, yeah. Did she tell you what’s been happening, May?” Jemma wants to know, her eyes wide and concerned.
May scoffs, but it’s softer than she’d ever admit to. “Nobody comes to me with their feelings.”
“Well, yeah, that - ow, Jemma!”
Jemma pulls a face like she didn’t just elbow Fitz in the ribs. “Daisy’s been known to share her feelings with you, May, hasn’t she?”
“I won’t confirm or deny those rumors. Just…” May’s face opens, and her voice does that thing it does when she’s worried about the young woman who is all but her child. “Just look after her, alright? She won’t want it, but she needs it. She needs you two.”
She walks away without waiting for more, and Fitz and Jemma gulp as they look at one another.
“You’re braver than me,” Fitz tries, but Jemma shakes her head.
“We’ll try together.”
Fitz nods, and they set off for the armory.
It seems it’s the only place Daisy’s been spending free time, anymore.
Mack is there - of course Mack is there - holding up a wall like it’s his job. Like if he tries hard enough, he can keep it - along with her panic, her pain, her sense of uselessness after watching one of their own die in the field - from collapsing in on Daisy.
He nods when he sees FitzSimmons. “All she’s been doing is shooting. She asked for - well, more like demanded - a sparring partner a while ago, and May and I both tried, but it wasn’t enough for her.”
“Mack, you’re basically a small tank -”
“And May’s practically unbeatable, even for Daisy -”
“How could that possibly not have been enough for her?”
“You know I can hear you all.” Daisy doesn’t turn around, but she does pause her target practice. “These are designed to block the boom boom sounds, not the chatter in the background.”
“Ah, yes, the headphones I designed to let agents have target practice without completely eliminating one of their key senses -”
“Not the time, husband.”
“Right. Right you are. Um. Daisy. Do you want to finish up your practice and come upstairs with Jemma and me? We were gonna watch one of those old westerns you love to hate, and the bed’s lonely without you. Uh. Sorry Mack.”
“I’m basically a small tank, I can take it.” He winks at Jemma and crosses over to Daisy, covering her shoulder with his hand gently. “Take it easy, Tremors. And let the people who love you help you. Alright?”
“I don’t need help.” But it comes out sharp, too sharp, and even Daisy flinches at her own tone as she holsters her icer and tugs her headphones down to her collarbones. “Sorry. I’m fine. I’m fine. I just have a lot of training to do -”
“All of which will go much more efficiently if you let your body get some rest, darling.”
It’s Jemma’s use of the term of endearment when she’d expected her name - it’s that, more than anything, that crumbles Daisy’s defenses like paper.
She lets herself - finally, finally - lean into Mack’s chest and stay there, limp and broken and the ghosts of panic and self-loathing swarming in her eyes.
Mack doesn’t miss a beat. He wraps his arms around her and kisses the top of her head. “I’m gonna get a big pot of your favorite chili ready, Tremors, okay? The three of you come back down to eat whenever you’re ready. Yeah?”
He smiles for her and he knows beyond a shadow of a doubt that his partner will never stop loving him like she does right now, even through her agony.
He passes her gently into Jemma’s arms, and Fitz holds the door for all three of them as Mack heads to the mess and he, Jemma, and Daisy head to their quarters.
“You’re an idiot, you know that?” Jemma says once they’ve gotten Daisy to bed, resting against Fitz’s chest, the door and the rest of the world closed to them.
Daisy blinks. “Way to be comforting, Simmons.” Her voice is cracked from screaming on her own and bottled tears, but a smirk is working its way onto her face, which is exactly what Jemma intended.
Jemma sighs and kneels in front of her people, shaking her head as she takes both of Daisy’s hands into her own, kissing each knuckle in turn.
“You know how much we love you, Daisy,” Fitz tells her as Jemma works on her hands - still stiff and swollen - and he kisses his way down from her ear to her shoulder. “But you’ve gotta let us be here for you. Us, but also the team.”
“I failed the team.”
“You did no such thing.” Jemma’s voice is stern, and Daisy gulps. She exchanges a solidarity glance with Fitz, who’s also been on the receiving end of the stern Jemma voice. “You are brave and you’re an excellent leader, Daisy, and sometimes, agents lay down our lives in the field. It’s horrible, and it’s not right, but it’s the lives we lead. It’s not your fault. May was there, and Mack. And they’d level with you, if you’d done anything wrong. But you didn’t.”
“Yeah, and even if you had, it’s not like I haven’t made even worse mistakes. Intentionally.” His voice is small, and his body, even smaller in that moment. His voice hasn’t cracked like this since he’d gone through his second puberty, but somehow, right now, it feels appropriate, and he doesn’t mind. “And you both still, somehow, find it in you to love me. Because that’s what we do, isn’t it? The three of us. Love each other. Even when one of us is being an absolute idiot and not asking for help when she needs it.”
Daisy scowls but snuggles closer into Fitz as she pulls Jemma off her knees onto the bed with them.
“Fine. But you asked for it.”
“No,” Fitz groans.
“Yes,” Jemma giggles.
“It’s a terrible show!”
“It’s what I want.”
“It’s completely objectifying and contrived!”
“It’s my comfort jam.”
“We could have actual jam instead!”
“We’re watching Desperate Housewives, Leopold, and that’s the end of it.” Jemma is giggling and fumbling for the remote while Daisy gives Fitz her best combination puppy and bedroom eyes.
He sighs and he smiles and he puts his arms around her, because this, right now?
This is all any of them need.