She — wh — [ daisy stumbles, trying to play mental catch-up while marcos continues to stop and start his explanation, deftly skipping over names that might provide a more obvious clue.
but then he talks about holding her, and something in his voice catches, and daisy knows. she knows without him having to say anything else, because she can feel the desperation in the words. it feels like cal talking about the day she was born, about losing her, about watching shield agents take her away. it feels like the loss of possibility, the death of a relationship before it could even begin, and daisy's heart aches for it. ]
I'm so sorry. [ it's not enough. it'll never be enough. no amount of apologies can ever cure this kind of heartache, but she'll try. ] It's not you, baby, I promise. It's not.
[ her hands curl around his upper arms, tugging him up; she has to steady him as they rise, letting him lean his weight into hers, but she manages. ]
[ his legs feel like jello, like noodles and he stumbles a bit but eventually rights himself enough that she doesn't have to bodily carry him into her apartment. he's been in here before, several times, but he still looks around like it's the first time.
like he's lost.
he waits for her just inside the door, a hand braced against the wall to keep him upright. ]
I didn't know where else to go.
[ he'd just known being alone probably wouldn't have been a good idea. not with how out of control and uncontrolled his powers had been feeling. ]
You don't have to apologize. [ or stand there, either, looking like he's never been inside her apartment before, like the furniture will crumble to dust under his weight if he so much as breathes on it without permission. ] Just ... come here, okay?
[ she debates a bit between locations, but finally decides on taking his hand, pulling him bodily past the couch and into her own bedroom. mostly because it's easier to lay down next to him on a bed that's meant for sprawling than her own small couch, and also partly because she likes the idea of being able to close the door in case he needs that little bit of privacy.
and, okay, maybe just a little bit because there are better memories in here than out in the living room. they've fought out there before. they don't usually fight in here. ]
I'm sorry she took her. I'm sorry you didn't get to be the dad you wanted to be. [ sorry for a million things, and angry for them too, but angry on his behalf. ] I know that doesn't make it any better, but I am.
[ he'd gotten nothing. he'd done everything he could for lorna while she'd been pregnant and then she'd left. she'd left and their relationship had ended and he'd moved on. he'd found someone else unexpectedly all the while still trying to get lorna to come back because he cared and because there would always be a connection there.
and because he didn't want to be his father but that's exactly what he was now, wasn't he? his child didn't have a father. she wouldn't know him. ]
I don't know what I did wrong. [ it had all started with that plane. he hadn't been able to talk lorna down and then she'd left. just – she'd been able to just leave him like that. ]
I don't think I'm going to see her again. [ he doesn't know where she is. lorna does. and lorna's not talking. he stares up at the ceiling and then covers his face with his hand, still trying to force back even more tears. ]
I don't think you did anything wrong, babe. I think... [ oh, it's dangerous water to tread, isn't it. but she dives in anyway. she has to. ] I think Lorna's scared. People do stupid things when they're afraid.
[ sometimes, things just... don't work out. sometimes, you get hurt. daisy knows that pain all too well. you can try and fight and struggle, but sometimes, it just doesn't work out the way you want it to. sometimes you just suffer.
but she doesn't want him to suffer alone. it's with a gentle insistence that daisy pulls him onto the bed with her, lays him down; she cradles the back of his head against his chest and lets her arms wrap around him, snug and sure, her hands dragging up and down wherever they can reach. ]
You will. [ it had taken cal twenty-eight years, but he'd met his daughter. if daisy could do anything about it, she'd make sure it wouldn't take that long. ] We'll figure it out. I promise.
[ he's always liked her bed. it's soft and warm, a far cry from what he can offer her at their rundown apartments in westlake. he knows she doesn't mind but it's still not an ideal place to take someone you cared about.
she gets him down on the bed and moves to follow quickly enough and he has a thought that he might be getting dirt on her sheets because he hadn't taken his boots off. he even looks down to check on that but he can't see anything. ]
I said I'd never be like him. I'd never be my father and now I am.
[ he's told her a little about his past, about his father, his time on the street, the cartel but it's not something he talks about frequently. he doesn't like to go back there but one thing he'd been desperate about was that he would not a abandon any child of his.
and now he had. ]
I just wanted a chance. [ the words are watery and he clenches his eyes closed, feeling a sob slip out anyway. dammit. ]
You're not. [ that much she knows without any shadow of a doubt, without any hesitation or questioning. for all the time she's known him, he's never turned his back on anyone he's cared about, even when it put him in the crosshairs. he's thrown himself in front of one too many bullets for her to ever question that. ] You're not your father.
[ her hands smooth down over his hair, brushing down along the line of his cheeks and jaw, careful and soft and reassuring. ]
You could never be your father, okay? Your father, he … [ and it's here that daisy falters, emotions getting the better of her. for all she'd raged and cried and fought to find out about her parents, she'd always thought they'd abandoned her. she'd been wrong. jiaying and cal had had her ripped away from them — admittedly for the better, given how they'd turned out — but they'd never walked away. marcos' father had. he'd turned his back on his son for something he couldn't even control. ] Your father was an asshole.
[ there, she's said it, and she feels better for it. ]
He let you go, because he was afraid. You didn't. Lorna … Lorna took her, you didn't let her go.
[ she'd love to rain hell down on lorna right now, she really would. good intentions or not, that baby deserved to know her parents. she deserved to be loved. ]
[ logically, he knows she's right. he knows that if he'd been given the chance, he would have been right there to do anything for his kid. absolutely anything. he hadn't done what his father had done to him. but, it still feels like a failure somehow and he doesn't know how long it's going to take for him to really realize that. ]
He was.
[ and marcos hates the man. he hates him with everything he has. he'd blamed himself at first because of what he could do but come to find out, his father had just been an asshole. ]
I just – [ he'd wanted a chance. a shot. to be better and he'd just had it taken away from him. ripped away from him. completely unable to stop it. he'd held his daughter in his arms and whispered soft words to her, told her he told her but would she remember that?
could she?
he clenches his hands together, feeling the heat of his ability trying to pour through. he digs his fingers in, unable to prevent anger from boiling up, hot and awful, and trying to pour out of him again.
god. maybe coming here hadn't been a good idea. maybe he should have been alone so he didn't potentially set something on fire. ]
[ she knows, to some extent, what he's trying to say. he's had something irreplacable ripped away from him, something he never planned on having but had thrust in his lap. she hadn't been there for lorna's pregnancy — obviously — but she knows him well enough now to know the kind of man he'd been when he'd known. she knows he would have done anything in his power to bring that baby into a world where it would be loved and cherished, and she knew from knowing him now just how heartbroken he'd been when lorna had left.
that's how she'd found him. sad and miserable and self-loathing, unable to see the good in himself even when the light was coming from his own hands. it had taken months to crack that shell, to pull out the good in him, to remind him what he was worth and to show him how much he meant to her.
now, this many months later, lorna was doing it all over again. showing up with dawn again, only to take her away, presumably for good? how could marcos do anything but break? ]
I know. [ she sighs, shifting to let his head lay against the pillows, to lay next to him instead of having his head cradled in her lap. it takes a moment, but daisy manages; her body pulls into his, curling up flush against his side. ] It's okay.
[ not that his situation was okay. but that feeling was okay. that being upset and afraid and angry was okay, and that she didn't want to stop him from working through it. ]
[ it takes a minute of breathing hard and focusing on the points where she could feel her pressed against him but he eventually fights the anger back, watching the light disappear from his hands.
he opens his hands and stares at them, at the lines and the dirt and the scratches from work and living. from the type of life he led. he'd just been holding his kid with those hands a few hours ago.
his last memory of her? that's what it felt like. so final, so utterly done. ]
I don't know what to do.
[ his hands fall uselessly to his sides and he turns towards her slightly, shaking his head and grabbing a handful of her shirt with his fingers. ]
I can't – I'm so angry at her right now. For what she's done, for leaving, for taking Dawn, for turning her back on everything. I'm so angry.
[ and it's not a feeling he particularly likes. ]
I don't know what to do. [ helpless. hopeless. he thought he'd felt bad when lorna had left him but he'd gotten back up and he'd come out of it stronger.
[ she wants to staple the words to his forehead, a reminder for every time he looks in the mirror. it's okay to be angry, it's okay to grieve, it's okay to not be okay. she wants to whisper the words against his skin until they're branded there, until every time he takes a breath he hears that reassurance that they're only human, that it's okay to break when the world gets too hard, when that weight on their shoulders makes them buckle underneath. ]
But this isn't it, okay? We'll — I don't know what we'll do, but we'll figure this out. We always do, right? [ between his team and hers, they had brains. they had power. they had access and capable hands and passion, they could do this. ] I promise.
[ his hands tug on her shirt, and daisy lets him pull her in, close enough that her breath skims over his face. the exhales push aside moisture that's collected on his lashes, sends the droplets skittering over his cheeks to get lost in the thick crop of his beard. ]
I love you, okay? I'm always gonna be on your team.
[ for a second, all he can do is nod because he has his face pressed so tight against her that anything he tried to say would be muffled anyway. but, he needs it in this moment. he needs to really feel that someone's there, that he's not alone. despite literally being able to set things on fire, he'd felt cold until she'd settled him on her bed and laid down beside him.
when he's pretty sure he's not going to start sobbing again, he moves so he can see her. he's so close that his nose nudges against hers and he close his eyes, bowing his head forward to rest against hers. ]
I love you too.
[ talk about another thing he hadn't counted on happening after lorna had left. falling in love again. finding someone who could deal with who he was and what he did.]
I don't want you to leave. [ he knows how that sounds. sad, pathetic, desperate and something she can't promise. maybe he needs to be lied to in the moment. he doesn't know. he just — he doesn't know if he'd be able to recover again. ]
I'm not going to. [ it's not a lie. it's a promise daisy means with every fiber of her being. maybe it's not a promise she should be making, but she does; she knows, without having to think about it, that there's nothing she wouldn't do to stay right here with him. ] I'm not going anywhere.
[ her head tips to brush a kiss against the tip of his nose, the corners of his mouth, anywhere soft and reassuring she can reach with a shift of her weight. ]
I'm right here, babe. You don't have to worry about that.
[ honestly? she'd sooner quake a hole through someone's ribcage than risk leaving him behind. ]
[good, he wants to say. perfect and thank you. but the words don't exactly come. he shudders at her answer and leans closer, clutching at her and breathing hard even though he hasn't exerted himself at all. he just hurts everywhere and every single time he moves, he remembers that. but, if he gets close enough to her, that hurt eases for a fraction of a second and he can breathe again. ]
I'm sorry I didn't call before just — before just showing up. [ not that that's a requirement of this whole thing but it is courteous. he does remember courtesy. ]
I just — I needed you. [ dangerous to admit out loud? yes. does he care? no. she's told him there's nothing wrong with him but that's not exactly easy to accept so maybe he's trying to tell her all the things that he's thought but never said.
including the fact that she's become so important that he needs her. ]
[ she doesn't know what to say to that. she's never been wanted with that kind of visceral need, more emotional than physical, never felt like an anchor to someone else's swaying ship at sea. she's needed other people — hell, there's been times daisy's texted him to come over when he can, feeling like the world was spinning out from under her feet after a bad mission and just wanting to feel close to someone for a night. she's needed him, his presence, his warmth.
but she's never had someone tell her that they need her, and the simplicity of it leaves her breathless, floundering for words. instead, daisy buries the intimacy into touch, her mouth pressing to his with an urgency usually reserved for much more seductive situations, hands snaking up to cup his face.
when they part, just barely moving, she finally manages to cull together something in response. ]
I'm yours. [ simple, but ... overwhelmingly honest, too. she exhales, a shuddering sound that tugs her in, and kisses the corner of his mouth. ] Whatever you need.
[ he finally feels like maybe he's done crying. maybe he's done so much of it already that he's cried himself out and that she's managed to help him get over that first obstacle in getting over this. he still feels raw and gutted but the edge is off just the tiniest bit. he can take a deep breath.
when she kisses him, he turns fully onto his side, lining his body up with hers and sliding closer until he's breathing her air and her hair tickles his face when one of them moves. ]
Thank you. [ is that the right response? he doesn't know but he's not exactly thinking clearly. he just knows that hearing that helps. it helps to know that he's not completely alone even if she'd done everything in her power up until the words to tell him that was the case. sometimes you just needed to hear words. ]
I'm yours too. [ he swallows and meets her eyes, nodding slightly. ] If you need it. I'll drop everything.
I know. [ she has no reason to doubt it, but she has no reason to ask him to do that for her, either. they fight their own battles — similar, but not quite the same, both still important in their own ways. she doesn't want to ask him to abandon his life for hers. but she'd do it for him. perhaps they share that selflessness without realizing it. ] I know you would.
[ she tries to tell him without saying it how much that means, her hands warm against his skin, fingertips skimming over his cheek in reassuring sweeps, brushing aside moisture and grit and the dried salt from tears shed before.she doesn't want to pull away or leave. this is too important. ]
Will you stay for a little while?
[ she knows he has things he has to do. he can't stay forever. but selfishly, she doesn't want him to go right now. doesn't think he should be alone, either, but it's mostly for her own sake. she wants to hold him. it feels good to hold him like this. ]
Mm hm. [ he doesn't really know if he could get up and go back there right now if he tried. he'll do it in a little while, maybe tomorrow, but he can't do it right now. it's still fresh, the wound still ragged and ripped open, and he needs the space. he'd texted john on the way over here so no one's going to send out a search party.
he's quiet for awhile, breathing in, breathing out while her fingers brush over his face. he keeps his eyes closed the entirety of the time, letting her touch and soothe him until his eyes flutter open and he focuses on her again. ]
I really do love you. [ and he knows that it might be weird for him to show up here, messed up and miserable over a child he'd had with someone else. but she'd never not handled that aspect of his life with anything less than respect. ]
Sorry I ruined your dinner. [ it's coming back to him, the bag that she'd thrown away when she'd found him earlier. he'd shown up and interrupted inner. ]
My dinner? [ she huffs out a laugh. ] Babe, I love you more than a dollar menu quesadilla from Taco Bell. It's fine, we can order something in.
[ she was not heartbroken about her dinner. honestly, he probably did her a favor. she'd only made the stop because it was conveniently located and very, very fast — which, when you considered what they were purporting to make, probably meant it wasn't very good for her.
but daisy alone is a daisy who eats cheese puffs and microwave ramen, not a daisy who's particular about her dietary needs. anything hot is an improvement. ]
[ those two words sounds suspiciously like he's scoffing and trying hard not to shake his head. he won't lie and say he's never eaten there (because he has) but there are so many better places to get tacos or burritos or quesadillas in this area than from a place that is so far from authentic that it's laughable. ]
If you want an actual quesadilla, I can tell you which places to go and none of them are Taco Bell. [ nothing was going to be as accurate as when he was in colombia but they did a good job of trying. when something said hot, it was actually going to make your eyes water. ]
And yes, I am a snob about this. [ he sniffs, wiping at his eyes to clear away any lingering tears and giving her the barest hint of a smile. ]
[ listen, her choices were perfectly serviceable when dinner for one very not-picky person was on the menu. she wouldn't have suggested dollar menu tacos for him, anyway. ]
Maybe I just wanted a cheap chalupa, okay. [ but she returns that smile all the same, her thumb tapping gently against the tip of his nose. ] But if you want to pick somewhere for dinner, I think we can make that happen.
[ they'll have to either order something in or actually leave, though, and she's hoping he'll agree that the former is definitely the better of the two options. she really doesn't want to get up if she doesn't have to. ]
[ sometimes things like taco bell were the only things close by when you were hungry after a long night. he might have been a snob but he'd also lived on the streets long enough to appreciate cheap food. ]
I know a place that might be a little easier on your stomach than Taco Bell. [ and he was pretty sure they'd deliver too. only... ]
Can I use your phone? [ he's got his in his pocket but — it's still showing the picture of dawn that he assumes lorna had sent and he just can't bear to do anything else with it right now.
he does pull it out of his back pocket and passes it towards her, eyes averted so he doesn't break down in fresh tears. possibly the last time he'd ever see his kid right there and it was a photograph on his phone.
he hates it but he treasures it at the same time. ]
Yeah. [ she blinks, but then he hands over his phone, and daisy can't help but peek down at the screen. it makes a hell of a lot more sense then. ] Yeah, babe, of course.
[ since daisy patently refuses to carry a purse, her phone is also in her back pocket, currently being squished by her position on the bed. good thing marcos won't complain too much if she sprawls against him to fish it out — you know, since once she does, it winds up in his hands for the taking. ]
You wanna give them a ring while I grab something to drink?
[ which is to say, give her a minute to duck out of the room and leave him to the ordering. she's not gone for very long — just enough time to boot up her laptop and plug his phone in, pulling the message file and the photo included. she won't do it tonight, but later ... well, daisy will trace the photo itself, find the exif data, and track it. she has a feeling it's not from lorna, but if she can find out who sent it, maybe she can keep an eye on dawn in the interim.
he deserves that, at least. somebody to watch over his kid while lorna won't let him do it.
once her tech sleuth detour's completed, daisy does actually grab two bottles of water from the drawer in the fridge — yes, the vegetable drawer, but does she eat vegetables by herself? no — before heading back in. she leaves his phone face-down on the dresser, and comes back to the bed to join him. ]
[ he takes her phone with a grateful nod and doesn't even think twice about letting her have his. there's nothing on there that he wouldn't want her to see even if he doesn't think she'll go snooping. so, he lets her have it while he rolls onto his back and navigates to her browser. he finds the place that he likes, scrolling through and ordering a bunch of stuff that he puts on a credit card that the underground had sage set up before she'd defected. still works so she hasn't shut it down.
probably doesn't even remember. once that's down, he glances over at the door and seeing she wasn't back yet, sent her a few text messages to her self with stupid, silly little declarations of love and appreciation. he has no idea how long it'll take her to see them but he hopes she does when she's off with her team and needs a little pick me up.
that done, he drops her phone on her chest and waits for her to get back. which she does a ew minutes later. ]
[ it's more food than either of them are likely to eat in a single sitting — or in multiple sittings, for that matter. it's excessive, but she can't deny the fact that the generosity will be appreciated when she brings it back to base. probably not quite as much as the people in the underground would appreciate it, though — a realization that hits her a moment or so later. ]
You should too. [ maybe he was already planning on it. he did say 'some'. ] But I'm calling the tacos.
[ the banter comes easy, like sliding back into a worn-in pair of jeans; settling next to him again on the bed is easy, too. her phone is swept aside, dropped to the floor where she'll still be able to hear it ring in the case of a delivery emergency, in favor of resting her head against his chest, her arm draping loosely over his stomach. it's a comfortable, familiar position, and from it, she can hear the thump of his heartbeat echoing in time with her own. ]
I'm glad you came, [ she says after a long interlude of companionable quiet, murmuring the words into the fabric of his shirt. ] I hope you weren't waiting out there too long, though.
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no subject
but then he talks about holding her, and something in his voice catches, and daisy knows. she knows without him having to say anything else, because she can feel the desperation in the words. it feels like cal talking about the day she was born, about losing her, about watching shield agents take her away. it feels like the loss of possibility, the death of a relationship before it could even begin, and daisy's heart aches for it. ]
I'm so sorry. [ it's not enough. it'll never be enough. no amount of apologies can ever cure this kind of heartache, but she'll try. ] It's not you, baby, I promise. It's not.
[ her hands curl around his upper arms, tugging him up; she has to steady him as they rise, letting him lean his weight into hers, but she manages. ]
Come on, come inside.
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like he's lost.
he waits for her just inside the door, a hand braced against the wall to keep him upright. ]
I didn't know where else to go.
[ he'd just known being alone probably wouldn't have been a good idea. not with how out of control and uncontrolled his powers had been feeling. ]
Sorry. [ for crashing her taco night. ]
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[ she debates a bit between locations, but finally decides on taking his hand, pulling him bodily past the couch and into her own bedroom. mostly because it's easier to lay down next to him on a bed that's meant for sprawling than her own small couch, and also partly because she likes the idea of being able to close the door in case he needs that little bit of privacy.
and, okay, maybe just a little bit because there are better memories in here than out in the living room. they've fought out there before. they don't usually fight in here. ]
I'm sorry she took her. I'm sorry you didn't get to be the dad you wanted to be. [ sorry for a million things, and angry for them too, but angry on his behalf. ] I know that doesn't make it any better, but I am.
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[ he'd gotten nothing. he'd done everything he could for lorna while she'd been pregnant and then she'd left. she'd left and their relationship had ended and he'd moved on. he'd found someone else unexpectedly all the while still trying to get lorna to come back because he cared and because there would always be a connection there.
and because he didn't want to be his father but that's exactly what he was now, wasn't he? his child didn't have a father. she wouldn't know him. ]
I don't know what I did wrong. [ it had all started with that plane. he hadn't been able to talk lorna down and then she'd left. just – she'd been able to just leave him like that. ]
I don't think I'm going to see her again. [ he doesn't know where she is. lorna does. and lorna's not talking. he stares up at the ceiling and then covers his face with his hand, still trying to force back even more tears. ]
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[ sometimes, things just... don't work out. sometimes, you get hurt. daisy knows that pain all too well. you can try and fight and struggle, but sometimes, it just doesn't work out the way you want it to. sometimes you just suffer.
but she doesn't want him to suffer alone. it's with a gentle insistence that daisy pulls him onto the bed with her, lays him down; she cradles the back of his head against his chest and lets her arms wrap around him, snug and sure, her hands dragging up and down wherever they can reach. ]
You will. [ it had taken cal twenty-eight years, but he'd met his daughter. if daisy could do anything about it, she'd make sure it wouldn't take that long. ] We'll figure it out. I promise.
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she gets him down on the bed and moves to follow quickly enough and he has a thought that he might be getting dirt on her sheets because he hadn't taken his boots off. he even looks down to check on that but he can't see anything. ]
I said I'd never be like him. I'd never be my father and now I am.
[ he's told her a little about his past, about his father, his time on the street, the cartel but it's not something he talks about frequently. he doesn't like to go back there but one thing he'd been desperate about was that he would not a abandon any child of his.
and now he had. ]
I just wanted a chance. [ the words are watery and he clenches his eyes closed, feeling a sob slip out anyway. dammit. ]
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[ her hands smooth down over his hair, brushing down along the line of his cheeks and jaw, careful and soft and reassuring. ]
You could never be your father, okay? Your father, he … [ and it's here that daisy falters, emotions getting the better of her. for all she'd raged and cried and fought to find out about her parents, she'd always thought they'd abandoned her. she'd been wrong. jiaying and cal had had her ripped away from them — admittedly for the better, given how they'd turned out — but they'd never walked away. marcos' father had. he'd turned his back on his son for something he couldn't even control. ] Your father was an asshole.
[ there, she's said it, and she feels better for it. ]
He let you go, because he was afraid. You didn't. Lorna … Lorna took her, you didn't let her go.
[ she'd love to rain hell down on lorna right now, she really would. good intentions or not, that baby deserved to know her parents. she deserved to be loved. ]
Don't forget that, okay?
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He was.
[ and marcos hates the man. he hates him with everything he has. he'd blamed himself at first because of what he could do but come to find out, his father had just been an asshole. ]
I just – [ he'd wanted a chance. a shot. to be better and he'd just had it taken away from him. ripped away from him. completely unable to stop it. he'd held his daughter in his arms and whispered soft words to her, told her he told her but would she remember that?
could she?
he clenches his hands together, feeling the heat of his ability trying to pour through. he digs his fingers in, unable to prevent anger from boiling up, hot and awful, and trying to pour out of him again.
god. maybe coming here hadn't been a good idea. maybe he should have been alone so he didn't potentially set something on fire. ]
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that's how she'd found him. sad and miserable and self-loathing, unable to see the good in himself even when the light was coming from his own hands. it had taken months to crack that shell, to pull out the good in him, to remind him what he was worth and to show him how much he meant to her.
now, this many months later, lorna was doing it all over again. showing up with dawn again, only to take her away, presumably for good? how could marcos do anything but break? ]
I know. [ she sighs, shifting to let his head lay against the pillows, to lay next to him instead of having his head cradled in her lap. it takes a moment, but daisy manages; her body pulls into his, curling up flush against his side. ] It's okay.
[ not that his situation was okay. but that feeling was okay. that being upset and afraid and angry was okay, and that she didn't want to stop him from working through it. ]
I'm not going anywhere, okay?
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he opens his hands and stares at them, at the lines and the dirt and the scratches from work and living. from the type of life he led. he'd just been holding his kid with those hands a few hours ago.
his last memory of her? that's what it felt like. so final, so utterly done. ]
I don't know what to do.
[ his hands fall uselessly to his sides and he turns towards her slightly, shaking his head and grabbing a handful of her shirt with his fingers. ]
I can't – I'm so angry at her right now. For what she's done, for leaving, for taking Dawn, for turning her back on everything. I'm so angry.
[ and it's not a feeling he particularly likes. ]
I don't know what to do. [ helpless. hopeless. he thought he'd felt bad when lorna had left him but he'd gotten back up and he'd come out of it stronger.
how did someone get back up from this? ]
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[ she wants to staple the words to his forehead, a reminder for every time he looks in the mirror. it's okay to be angry, it's okay to grieve, it's okay to not be okay. she wants to whisper the words against his skin until they're branded there, until every time he takes a breath he hears that reassurance that they're only human, that it's okay to break when the world gets too hard, when that weight on their shoulders makes them buckle underneath. ]
But this isn't it, okay? We'll — I don't know what we'll do, but we'll figure this out. We always do, right? [ between his team and hers, they had brains. they had power. they had access and capable hands and passion, they could do this. ] I promise.
[ his hands tug on her shirt, and daisy lets him pull her in, close enough that her breath skims over his face. the exhales push aside moisture that's collected on his lashes, sends the droplets skittering over his cheeks to get lost in the thick crop of his beard. ]
I love you, okay? I'm always gonna be on your team.
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when he's pretty sure he's not going to start sobbing again, he moves so he can see her. he's so close that his nose nudges against hers and he close his eyes, bowing his head forward to rest against hers. ]
I love you too.
[ talk about another thing he hadn't counted on happening after lorna had left. falling in love again. finding someone who could deal with who he was and what he did.]
I don't want you to leave. [ he knows how that sounds. sad, pathetic, desperate and something she can't promise. maybe he needs to be lied to in the moment. he doesn't know. he just — he doesn't know if he'd be able to recover again. ]
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[ her head tips to brush a kiss against the tip of his nose, the corners of his mouth, anywhere soft and reassuring she can reach with a shift of her weight. ]
I'm right here, babe. You don't have to worry about that.
[ honestly? she'd sooner quake a hole through someone's ribcage than risk leaving him behind. ]
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I'm sorry I didn't call before just — before just showing up. [ not that that's a requirement of this whole thing but it is courteous. he does remember courtesy. ]
I just — I needed you. [ dangerous to admit out loud? yes. does he care? no. she's told him there's nothing wrong with him but that's not exactly easy to accept so maybe he's trying to tell her all the things that he's thought but never said.
including the fact that she's become so important that he needs her. ]
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but she's never had someone tell her that they need her, and the simplicity of it leaves her breathless, floundering for words. instead, daisy buries the intimacy into touch, her mouth pressing to his with an urgency usually reserved for much more seductive situations, hands snaking up to cup his face.
when they part, just barely moving, she finally manages to cull together something in response. ]
I'm yours. [ simple, but ... overwhelmingly honest, too. she exhales, a shuddering sound that tugs her in, and kisses the corner of his mouth. ] Whatever you need.
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when she kisses him, he turns fully onto his side, lining his body up with hers and sliding closer until he's breathing her air and her hair tickles his face when one of them moves. ]
Thank you. [ is that the right response? he doesn't know but he's not exactly thinking clearly. he just knows that hearing that helps. it helps to know that he's not completely alone even if she'd done everything in her power up until the words to tell him that was the case. sometimes you just needed to hear words. ]
I'm yours too. [ he swallows and meets her eyes, nodding slightly. ] If you need it. I'll drop everything.
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[ she tries to tell him without saying it how much that means, her hands warm against his skin, fingertips skimming over his cheek in reassuring sweeps, brushing aside moisture and grit and the dried salt from tears shed before.she doesn't want to pull away or leave. this is too important. ]
Will you stay for a little while?
[ she knows he has things he has to do. he can't stay forever. but selfishly, she doesn't want him to go right now. doesn't think he should be alone, either, but it's mostly for her own sake. she wants to hold him. it feels good to hold him like this. ]
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he's quiet for awhile, breathing in, breathing out while her fingers brush over his face. he keeps his eyes closed the entirety of the time, letting her touch and soothe him until his eyes flutter open and he focuses on her again. ]
I really do love you. [ and he knows that it might be weird for him to show up here, messed up and miserable over a child he'd had with someone else. but she'd never not handled that aspect of his life with anything less than respect. ]
Sorry I ruined your dinner. [ it's coming back to him, the bag that she'd thrown away when she'd found him earlier. he'd shown up and interrupted inner. ]
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[ she was not heartbroken about her dinner. honestly, he probably did her a favor. she'd only made the stop because it was conveniently located and very, very fast — which, when you considered what they were purporting to make, probably meant it wasn't very good for her.
but daisy alone is a daisy who eats cheese puffs and microwave ramen, not a daisy who's particular about her dietary needs. anything hot is an improvement. ]
You don't have anything to apologize for.
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[ those two words sounds suspiciously like he's scoffing and trying hard not to shake his head. he won't lie and say he's never eaten there (because he has) but there are so many better places to get tacos or burritos or quesadillas in this area than from a place that is so far from authentic that it's laughable. ]
If you want an actual quesadilla, I can tell you which places to go and none of them are Taco Bell. [ nothing was going to be as accurate as when he was in colombia but they did a good job of trying. when something said hot, it was actually going to make your eyes water. ]
And yes, I am a snob about this. [ he sniffs, wiping at his eyes to clear away any lingering tears and giving her the barest hint of a smile. ]
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Maybe I just wanted a cheap chalupa, okay. [ but she returns that smile all the same, her thumb tapping gently against the tip of his nose. ] But if you want to pick somewhere for dinner, I think we can make that happen.
[ they'll have to either order something in or actually leave, though, and she's hoping he'll agree that the former is definitely the better of the two options. she really doesn't want to get up if she doesn't have to. ]
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[ sometimes things like taco bell were the only things close by when you were hungry after a long night. he might have been a snob but he'd also lived on the streets long enough to appreciate cheap food. ]
I know a place that might be a little easier on your stomach than Taco Bell. [ and he was pretty sure they'd deliver too. only... ]
Can I use your phone? [ he's got his in his pocket but — it's still showing the picture of dawn that he assumes lorna had sent and he just can't bear to do anything else with it right now.
he does pull it out of his back pocket and passes it towards her, eyes averted so he doesn't break down in fresh tears. possibly the last time he'd ever see his kid right there and it was a photograph on his phone.
he hates it but he treasures it at the same time. ]
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[ since daisy patently refuses to carry a purse, her phone is also in her back pocket, currently being squished by her position on the bed. good thing marcos won't complain too much if she sprawls against him to fish it out — you know, since once she does, it winds up in his hands for the taking. ]
You wanna give them a ring while I grab something to drink?
[ which is to say, give her a minute to duck out of the room and leave him to the ordering. she's not gone for very long — just enough time to boot up her laptop and plug his phone in, pulling the message file and the photo included. she won't do it tonight, but later ... well, daisy will trace the photo itself, find the exif data, and track it. she has a feeling it's not from lorna, but if she can find out who sent it, maybe she can keep an eye on dawn in the interim.
he deserves that, at least. somebody to watch over his kid while lorna won't let him do it.
once her tech sleuth detour's completed, daisy does actually grab two bottles of water from the drawer in the fridge — yes, the vegetable drawer, but does she eat vegetables by herself? no — before heading back in. she leaves his phone face-down on the dresser, and comes back to the bed to join him. ]
What'd you get me?
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probably doesn't even remember. once that's down, he glances over at the door and seeing she wasn't back yet, sent her a few text messages to her self with stupid, silly little declarations of love and appreciation. he has no idea how long it'll take her to see them but he hopes she does when she's off with her team and needs a little pick me up.
that done, he drops her phone on her chest and waits for her to get back. which she does a ew minutes later. ]
Real tacos. Fajitas. Nachos. Tamales.
[ a lot of food basically. ]
You can take some leftovers to your friends.
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You should too. [ maybe he was already planning on it. he did say 'some'. ] But I'm calling the tacos.
[ the banter comes easy, like sliding back into a worn-in pair of jeans; settling next to him again on the bed is easy, too. her phone is swept aside, dropped to the floor where she'll still be able to hear it ring in the case of a delivery emergency, in favor of resting her head against his chest, her arm draping loosely over his stomach. it's a comfortable, familiar position, and from it, she can hear the thump of his heartbeat echoing in time with her own. ]
I'm glad you came, [ she says after a long interlude of companionable quiet, murmuring the words into the fabric of his shirt. ] I hope you weren't waiting out there too long, though.
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