evite | ✈ open post 2kforever

[ 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?

She's back.

[ he nods once, blinking at her slowly. ] I don't know how. I didn't get a chance to ask her before she took John and Lorna through a portal. I assume they'll be back in awhile depending on what she's showing them.

[ he's remarkably calm for having watched his best friend and his — Lorna disappear through a portal to parts unknown. maybe he just trusts clarice to get them back. ]

Esme came back. Found us and she's been helping out here and there. [ yeah, he knows. it's amazing to put those words in the same sentence. ] Lorna vouches for her.

[ daisy's favorite. ]

[ well. clarice coming back is a spot of good news that daisy didn't expect, but it's quickly swept away by the too-calm explanation marcos gives to justify esme's supposed presence in the underground. esme. the girl that brainwashed lorna into leaving them in the first place, who manipulated and tricked them all, who (along with her sisters) mindcontrolled lauren and andy into using their powers together and risked killing them or worse in the process. that esme? ]

Lorna vouches for her. [ there is absolutely no mistaking the deadpan tone for what it is — carefully controlled disapproval, hurt, anger. after all that lorna did, after all that her disappearance nearly destroyed marcos, for her to just waltz back in like everything was fine and then drag mindgame barbie along for the ride?

daisy can't accept it. won't. she doesn't understand how he can, either. ]

Wow. [ whatever appetite she had before is lost. ] You and Lorna, too, then?

[ she doesn't know why the words come out. why she wants to twist that knife in her own gut so much. ]

[ tread carefully, daisy. ]

Me and Lorna what?

[ if he was calm before, he's not anymore. he sits up, not sure he likes the accusation that he thinks is edging her words. ]

What are you implying?

[ out with it. ]

[ she doesn't answer. at least not right away. her mouth presses tightly together, a thin line that holds back all the words she's not ready to say; she shakes her head, just slightly. as if sensing the tension, zingo climbs down, wandering off, presumably to go lay in bed and wait for john to come home.

alone, daisy shivers, free hand wrapping around her upper arm. ]

Forget it. [ she should have kept her mouth shut. ] I'm happy for you.

You don't know what you're talking about.

[ he shakes his head and scoffs, disbelief settling over his expression. first the whole thing with him being on a pedestal in her eyes and now this. ]

We're not together if that's what you're thinking. [ they would always have something that connected them in their kid but he wasn't going to cross that line again. ]

But it's nice to know that you think I would. [ no no, it wasn't nice at all. ] Thanks.

That's not — [ but the way his expression changes, the way his jaw hardens, something flashing in his eyes... daisy stops short, exhaling, guilt twisting something sharp in her stomach. ] I just want you to be happy, Marcos.

[ she has her own problems with lorna after what she'd done, problems that could likely fill a novel's worth of angry, hurt, bitter speeches. but those were her problems, her own opinion, and if being with lorna again for whatever reason (happiness, the good of their kid, common comfort, delusion?) was what made marcos happy, she sure as hell wasn't anyone to stop him. what right did she have to try and dictate his decision on that?

the silence that follows is uncomfortable. heavy, painful; it makes her want to walk away the same way he had before, only she doesn't have anywhere to go. ]

It doesn't matter what I think, anyway.

We're not together.

[ this is getting tiring and more than that, it was getting frustrating. he doesn't know why she's doing this, making everything about his safety, his comfort, his happiness with little to no regard for herself. it can't be a death wish because no one's trying to kill her but he doesn't know why she's doing this to either of them. ]

Would you stop acting like this? Acting like you're nothing. Stop it.

[ the words come out sharp, cutting and he glares at her because he needs her to stop this. he doesn't want to hear defeat and fatalism in her voice anymore. no, she's more than that, she's better than that. and he's done listening to her think of herself this way. ]

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