evite | ✈ open post 2kforever

I'm pretty sure she didn't say I had to get lectured within the first five minutes of consciousness, Marcos, [ but she takes the water regardless, brows lifting in his direction even as she tips the glass back. she's thirstier than she thought; draining it takes only a second or two and then she's setting the empty glass on the table.

zingo whines at the jostle. ] Sorry, girl. [ a few scratches behind the ear seems to settle her, though, much to daisy's relief. she can handle marcos being snippy, but the dog needs to be calm. ]

Are you going to sit with me, or just stand there and look vaguely disapproving all day?

Edited (i was not !!! done !!!) 2019-02-28 04:21 (UTC)

I was considering the latter option since you're taking up most of the couch. [ he had, in fact, been about to retake his spot in the chair. but, if she wants some company, he can do that. what he isn't going to tell her is how relief blooms hot in his chest when she makes the remark. if she's throwing back biting comments at him, she's a lot more okay than she had been earlier today. ]

Lift your feet.

[ he reaches down to help her before sliding underneath her legs and then settling them down on his lap. they were all friends here, right? this was fine. this was just fine. marcos drapes an arm along the back of the couch and peers over at her. ]

This doesn't change the fact that I'm still mad about what you did.

You're always mad at what somebody's doing.

[ mad at lorna for leaving. mad at clarice for talking to the morlocks, for defecting to them. mad at reed for keeping secrets, mad at john for going behind his back. marcos runs hot, emotions right on his sleeve; there's hardly a day that goes by where he doesn't have a fervent opinion about something.

they clash more often than they agree, but what they do agree on runs deep. they're both loyal to the underground, to the people in it; they both believe in the goodness of their mission, in why it matters, and they both refuse to go back to the people they were before.

they both agree that, sometimes, the methods don't always match up to their contentious moral codes. sometimes, you have to do what you have to do to protect the people you loved. daisy doesn't regret rushing in. it had been the only way. ]

But you would have done the same thing for me.

[ so why was it okay when he does reckless and stupid things for the underground, but unforgivable when she does? ]

I think, most of the time, I have a reason to be mad. Are you saying I don't?

[ that he shouldn't be mad at lorna for treating him like she had, that he shouldn't be mad at clarice for hurting his friend, at john for lying to him, at reed for keeping secrets, at daisy for nearly sacrificing herself when she could have been more careful, stayed back, stayed out of harms way. ]

I am not always mad though. [ god, that made it sound like he was just stomping around, constantly angry. like some monster whose own rage had taken over. ]

You make it sound like that's all I can be. [ and while he was somewhat mad right now, he was also relieved. so, so relieved for so many reasons. ]

I'm saying you can't be mad at me for doing the things you would do too.

[ he can't be mad at clarice for talking to erg when he'd gone behind everyone's backs to talk to wire or the cartel. he can't be mad at her for rushing head first into danger when he did it all the time.

she huffs, nudging his lap a bit with her ankle as she adjusts her position, trying to pull one of the couch cushions under her back to support herself into sitting up a little more. mostly so that she can level him with a disbelieving stare. ]

You and John both do this garbage double standards thing. It's fine for you guys to rush into danger, but when I do it — when any of us do it — you act like we're all delicate flowers who can't handle the heat.

[ case in point: this. ]

I hit my head, I'm not dead. I'm fine.

You didn't hit your head, Daisy. You were thrown backwards by an explosion. You hit a car and then you hit the ground. I thought you were dead.

[ and the hadn't been able to get to her immediately because of the heat, because of the chaos. no, the first person who'd gotten to her had been lorna, of all people. he's not going to tell daisy that considering their relationship is...less than good. ]

I haven't done anything like that.

[ if you looked up the word liar in the dictionary, his face would be right there, front and center. ]

You've never done anything like that?

[ danger, will robinson. that look of disbelief and mild exasperation shifts into outrage, mouth pursing into a tight line as her mind spins with memories. ]

I'm not dead, but you showing up with your arm burned half off, you sure could have been. Or what about going out to confront Max based on Lorna's half-baked attempts at playing Mission Impossible, and coming back with the sun spilling out of your stomach? Those weren't "like that"?

[ and that's just in the last, like, month. funny how those are the first things that come to mind. ]

You think I like seeing you hurt like that? [ "i", not we. huh. ] I did what I had to do, Marcos.

[ so, maybe marcos shouldn't have actually sat down with her on this sofa. her legs are on his lap which means she could literally kick him in the chin if she so desires. he hopes she doesn't because that would hurt and he needs all his teeth but he's put himself within striking distance of someone who's shown to be impatient at times. ]

Those were different.

[ don't ask him why, they just were. he hadn't known what reeva payge could do to him with her voice when he'd gotten his arm burned. and max just had to go. funny how getting shot in the stomach was actually the better part of that whole situation. ]

And you had to run head first at them instead of staying back and, I don't know, doing whatever needed to be done there? It had to be from right in their faces?

[ seems fake. seems REAL fake. ]

How are they different?

[ bull! shit! rushing headfirst into danger because it's "the right thing to do" was dangerous no matter who did it, and he knew it. he'd done it anyway because he had to — he had to go after lorna, he had to go after max, he was always doing what had to be done when nobody else (in his mind) could handle the task.

she'd given him shit for max. she hadn't been face-to-face with lorna, but if she had been, daisy might have given her shit too for the absolutely reckless way she obtained the information. marcos shouldn't have gone in alone, and lorna should have never compromised sage's access just to find out where the dude was going. they could have had someone posted in the garage to watch him leave, and gone after him as a team.

but too little, too late — and now, daisy was getting criticised for her mission plan the same way she'd criticised marcos'. fair play, apparently. ]

If I had stayed back, they would have just sent the bombs to us, Marcos.

[ to him. they would have both been in harms' way. after losing clarice, after seeing what that had done to john, she hadn't been willing to risk it. she was newer, more disposable — but john and marcos were inseparable, and the loss of one likely would have crushed the other.

and there was dawn to think about, too. daisy wasn't a big fan of lorna after her flouncing from the underground to join fashion barbie and co, but that didn't mean she wasn't family. dawn deserved a dad, and if daisy could step up to make sure that happened, she would.

she still would. she knew what it was like to grow up without a family. ]

I was protecting you.

[ admitted somewhat begrudgingly, her gaze tearing from its hold on his face to stare into the kitchen as if summoning a portal to take her anywhere else. but with clarice gone... well, good luck. ]

[ caitlin was going to kill him if he started an argument with someone who had a concussion but that was the last thing on his mind right now. he's been holding this in since she went down and apparently it's just all going to spill out now, five minutes after she'd come to and realized that she wasn't dead. seems like the perfect time for a conversation to him.

how many times could they say they were truly alone? no one else was here. it was quiet. they were relatively safe. it's strange but it's happening. ]

I went after Max because I know how to make people talk.

[ a callback to his past that he doesn't like but can't deny is there. it had been a talent of his with the cartel. people liked to give up everything and anything when his hands were inches for their faces. he knew how to work people and though he hadn't accounted for the gun, he'd still gotten max in the end. ]

You don't need to protect me. [ he shakes his head, staring at her profile while she looks anywhere but at him. ] I can take care of myself.

[ sometimes. ]

You're not the only person who's capable of scaring someone shitless, Eclipse.

[ the word comes out spitting hot, a brand in the conversation that sears the still air between them. she never uses anyone's mutant tagline — even dreamer. daisy always called her sonya, because that was her name. what she could do was just part of her.

but using his hands to frighten someone into talking, relying on that instead of who he was? daisy hated it. not for the cartel connection — she had shameful secrets of her own, things she'd confessed only once she'd found her space, a confession only clarice had understood at first. they both knew what it was like to have done things that scarred parts of themselves. she hated it because it made him bitter, angry; she hated the way the guilt rolled around him for hours afterwards, how he held himself away from everyone else while he made himself forget.

he hadn't had that luxury this time, because he'd been bleeding glowstick juice all over the kitchen floor. maybe that's why he was so bitchy now. ]

If that bomb had hit you, it would have taken you out. You would have died. [ the energy in his blood would have mixed with the heat of the bomb, and ka-blam. ] You needed to come home.

[ to the underground. to john. to dawn. ]

[ his expression hardens at the use of his code name, so rare and almost surprising. no one uses it save for jokingly or when anonymity is really needed. where some people get full named when they're in trouble, apparently marcos was going to get code named. he looks away, jaw working back and forth in an attempt to not get angry. it feels like it's right there though, that anger. he could just grab at it and throw it back in her face. ]

That's not your decision to make.

[ he doesn't want to die. that's not what his statement's about. he has no deathwish. they live in a dangerous world and death is a possibility at every turn but he's not trying to throw himself on his own sword.

but if he dies so this cause can live on, he will.

does he realize that that's exactly what he sometimes does to others? no. the incident with reeva had been about dawn, about saving dawn's life. max had been about information. the other wounds had just been chance. he hadn't done anything so bad as throw himself in front of a bomb.

not in his opinion, at least. ]

And that's not my name. But, I'll do what I have to do to make this work and if that means making someone talk, so be it. If that means getting shot, fine. If that means a bomb exploding near me, I'll deal with it.

[ deal with a bomb explosion, yeah. ]

How are you going to deal with a bomb exploding? [ does he hear himself? does he understand the concept that he's talking about? he has been present every time he's made something else explode, right? she's annoyed, but more importantly, she's exasperated by his pigheadedness, his refusal to see the facts in order to be right. (so weird how he could be mad at her for the same thing.) ] You can't deal with shit, you'd be dead!

[ her legs are still in his lap, his hands still curved around her ankles as if holding them down. she's still propped up on the couch after waking up from a concussion. it doesn't matter, though; they're going to hash this out, they're going to argue, and nobody's around to stop them. ]

You'd be dead, and I'd have to come back here and explain to John and Lorna how I let you die trying to play the hero, and then what? Who has to explain that to —

[ but the words don't come. they get caught in her throat, tangled up in emotions she's trying to swallow down, all that fear that had gotten lost in her unconscious mind swimming back up to the surface. ]

You're such an idiot.

[ that, she can say. ]

You don't know that! [ she'd survived a bomb explosion, hadn't she? granted, she hadn't been on top of the bomb and hadn't been blown to pieces, a fact he really glad for because he's not sure he would have survived seeing that happen right in front of him. ]

But, here's the thing, if something like that had happened to me, it wouldn't be on you. You are not personally responsible for me and my life! They wouldn't blame you. We accept the danger we're going to get into when we joined up. You can't take that guilt on you if it ever happens. You can't.

[ he's not going to let her. ] You are not more important than I am so stop implying that!

[ you idiot. ]

Dumbass.

I'm not the one with a kid!

[ there. she said it. she didn't want to say it, wanted to stuff that shit back down into darkness where it can live with the rest of the garbage emotions daisy doesn't let herself think about, but she did. he snapped at her, and she snapped back.

can't get much more honest than that. ]

If it's between you and me, Marcos, I'm always going to pick you. [ fierce, unapologetic. ] Even if you are a hard-headed jackass full of chauvinistic bullshit, you're her dad. I'm not taking that away from her. I won't.

[ why are men so fucking stupid and why don't they ever listen? a two part story by daisy johnson, written every day of her life. ]

[ he almost snaps the words 'why not, everyone else seems to be fine with taking things away from me?' but cuts that off before it reaches his lips. that's not her fault. that's not anything she'd done to him. she hadn't taken his kid or his friends or anything. she'd been nothing but supportive.

and annoying. so incredibly infuriating and frustrating. ]

You are not my bodyguard, Daisy. And I am not your responsibility to keep alive. I don't want you diving in front of bullets and bombs for me!

[ did anyone really want that from someone else? ]

If it's between you and me and you don't pick yourself, I'm going to make that choice for you, if I can. Your life is not expendable because you think you need to save me for my future. Stop it.

It's not about what you want.

[ at least not when it comes to this. he's not going to change her mind. she doesn't have a kid who's waiting for her to come home, she doesn't have someone who loves her waiting for her, she doesn't have anyone who needs her on the other end of the line. whether or not marcos wants to admit it, she's far more disposable than he is.

so she'll make that sacrifice, just like she had in the garage, if it comes down to it. she doesn't want to — she's not atoning for sins or trying to make up for bad decisions — but if she has to, she will. ]

Don't be stupid. [ quieter, but still sharp; a fruitless attempt to try and still the argument that's likely already brewing in his head. ] If something happened to you and I could have prevented it … I can't do that. I can't.

[ she'd never be able to forgive herself. ]

Don't ask me to.

It's not about what I want. Do you hear what you're saying?

[ he shakes his head, rubbing at his face with the hand that's not gripping her ankles like his life depends on it. ]

Ridiculous. This is ridiculous. [ that she's basically telling him that she's disposal. that she's willing to let her life end because she thinks she's somehow more important. he doesn't understand how she can think that when she's...when she's her.

when she's so important to so many people. his having a kid should not put him on a pedestal. ]

I'm asking you to. [ it won't work. he knows that. ]

I can't.

[ her voice breaks, gaze falling into her lap; the anger and righteous indignation flows out like the tide, leaving her floundering in its absence, uncertain where to go or what to say.

so she doesn't say anything. she sits in silence for a moment, fighting back the moisture that threatens to well up in her eyes, hating that weakness more every second. eventually, though, she sniffs, a hand lifting to drag under her eyes. ]

If not for you, I'd do it for her. For all those kids in mutant foster homes who will never know their parents, because Sentinel Services or the Purifiers or whoever thought they were dangerous. I'd do it a hundred times over if it meant Dawn got to grow up with a dad who loves her.

[ because she didn't. because she didn't, and she didn't get a choice, and nobody ever cared enough to be that for her either. ]

Nothing I do could ever be more important than that.

[ though he hears the way her voice cracks, he doesn't try and comfort her because he's still — he can't believe that he's listening to her say this about herself. it's ridiculous and untrue and he hates how it makes him feel. he hates that he's going to expect her to dive in front of him or push him out of the way or something just so she can take a blow meant for him. ]

Don't move. I'm going to get you something to eat.

[ he doesn't give her a chance to answer before he's moving her legs and getting up. he has to get away from this conversation for a few moments or he's going to scream at her and that's not going to help her injuries.

so, he's going to walk away, leave her with zingo and disappear into the kitchen to try and scrounge for food that would be easy on her stomach. ]

[ she doesn't want anything to eat, but it's pointless to try and argue with him when he's already storming off, pulling a classic 'man with complicated emotions' punch card and closing off before they can actually have a conversation. refusing to see the reality of the situation because it makes him vulnerable or needy.

the loss of his weight on the couch tips the scales, leaving her feeling off-balance yet again, and daisy has to adjust; she pulls herself completely upright, legs curled under her hips as she leans against the side of the couch, one elbow propped on the armrest keeping her head up, her eye covered by her palm.

zingo, bless her unnaturally patient soul, simply waits for her to settle before curling up next to daisy's legs, her back pressed snuggly into the crook of her knees. daisy's other hand moves, too, absentmindedly playing with the fur at the nape of her neck.

she doesn't want food, but she doesn't ignore marcos outright when he comes back in, even if he ignored her in favor of leaving the room. being the bigger (more tired) person, even if it kills her. ]

Have you eaten?

[ if she had to guess? no. ]

[ he passes her a half sleeve of some saltine crackers before he sits back down in the chair he'd been sitting in when she'd first woken up. he sighs, exhaustion easing its way into his body. he stretches his legs out in front of him and stares down at his lap. ]

I had something when we got back.

[ he had some water. so, technically he's not lying. ]

Eat. Get your strength back.

I'm not hungry. [ she is, but she knows he probably is too, and he just doesn't want to admit it. so she leans forward to toss half the sleeve back at him, keeping half for herself. as it to appease him, she puts just one in her mouth and chews. ] Share with me.

[ they need to go on a supply run. they gave up everything they had when the morlocks got pushed out of the sewers, even though what they had was barely anything at all. but she knows marcos won't let her get up, not until caitlin comes back to give her a once-over, even if she swears she's fine.

she's probably not fine, but she wants to be. she wants to be useful. ]

Where is everybody?

[ it's unusual for the apartment to be so empty this early in the day. she'd expect to at least have seen john staring at the computer, scouring news articles for information, but he's nowhere to be seen.

a thought hits her, and she realizes she hasn't seen anyone since before they split up. before they went to the inner circle. before she got hurt. her stomach twists. ]

Where's John, Marcos?

I don't know exactly.

[ propping up his elbow on the armrest, he leans his cheek against his hand and shakes his head. ]

Clarice came back. Came out of a portal and said we needed to come with her. John and Lorna both went. I stayed back with you. She's alive but I don't have any details.

[ he figures john'll get the information while he's with her and relay it to him later. ]

Andy and Lauren are with their mom. I don't know exactly what Esme's doing. [ but that's why they were alone. ]

Wait. [ that's news. ] Clarice came — she's back?

[ they'd assumed she was gone. they'd assumed that if whatever gunshot wound she'd suffered when jace had shot her didn't kill her, getting sucked into an errant portal and disappearing involuntarily would have. they'd mourned her, bore the loss of her, cried. it buoys something in daisy's chest to think that's not true. that she's alive.

something else lifts, too, at the thought that marcos chose to stay behind with her. he didn't have to do that. she tries not to think about it, though.

he mentions esme, though, and daisy's eyes narrow. talk about emotional whiplash. ]

Why would you care what Esme's doing?

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