#daisyquakes

“Did you travel with SHIELD at all?” It wasn’t the kind of travel she meant, he knew, just like the traveling he’d done with the X-Men didn’t exactly qualify for what they were talking about now. But... Scott often felt as though he didn’t quite know her, and he wanted to. He wanted to make up for lost time, wanted to build back what was taken from them when they were both stolen away from the childhood they might have been able to have together. 

It was something far easier said than done.

Scott tapped his fingers against his thighs, humming thoughtfully. “You know, uh... The X-Men have a jet. And I know how to fly it. If you want to travel the world... Maybe we could go on some trips together, sometimes. You could bring your...” He trailed off, uncertain, before settling on “Reyes. I could bring Jean. We could go to a beach somewhere.” It seemed like a pipe dream, the idea of him and Jean leaving Genosha and relaxing somewhere, even if it was only a temporary thing. But... It was a nice thought. A nice concept. Even if Scott wasn’t sure it would ever be real.

She was familiar. It took a second for it to click for Jason before he realized just who it was. Daisy, Steph and apparently Babs’ friend. She was a constant annoyance, decided to pop up here and there and text him after their first interaction where she apparently decided to come to Steph’s aid. (Steph deserved good friends like that, not that he’d ever breathe a word of that to her or any of her friends—or god forbid Tim.) She was an utter jackass usually, quick to try to poke fun at him or find any of his buttons she didn’t know where exactly he had but jab as soon as she found him.

But right now? She looked...different. Like there was a cartoon dark cloud hanging over her head and pouring down rain everywhere she stepped. 

“You look like you’ve been hit by a train then rolled down a hill into a landfill and crawled your way out,” Jason said instead of any sort of normal greeting. “What’s gotta you so down in the dumps? Literally.” Probably not the best way to approach someone who looked like they had a shitty day (he knew it wasn’t) but he didn’t know how to approach this. Even with someone he’s known for years it was always one wrong wire cut from it blowing up in his face. Nine out of ten times it was the wrong wire. 

Some days never left you. They settled into your bones and stayed there, took up residence in your bloodstream. You carried them on your back and knew they’d sit upon your shoulders forever, knew the weight would probably kill you someday even if there was no way knowing that could help you find a place to set them down. 

The day SHIELD fell was one of those days.

Sam had nearly died a hundred times over that day, had seen nearly as much death and destruction in a city he loved as he had in a warzone. He’d watched Steve fall from a hellicarrier in the sky, felt paralyzed with fear because this time, this time he didn’t even get to watch from the sky. This time, he was grounded and helpless and watching was still all he could do. 

He’d met people, in the time between his wings being ripped off and the hauntingly familiar picture of a blonde man falling from the sky. Some of them made it out, some didn’t. Sam’s goal had been to help as many as he could, no matter how many times he nearly got his own head taken off in the process. And he hadn’t been the only one risking it all to save who he could save --- heroism, his father always said, was more common than people thought.

So, when he landed in the middle of a firefight to find Skye shooting some kind of vibration blast at the gunmen, he wasn’t exactly surprised.

“You leveled up,” he said with a grin, bringing his shield up to block a few stray bullets. “I did, too. Been a while.” Belatedly, he remembered this version of her might not know him at all. He hoped she did --- if not, this could be awkward.

Could something be considered ‘unexpected’ if a person was ten levels of fucking weird? It was something Simon wondered more and more every time he spoke to Daisy Johnson. Every word out of her mouth bordered on batshit, and that was coming from a guy who had a magic ring that let him make tangible constructs by thinking hard enough. So, when she spoke about an obelisk... Well, Simon wasn’t really concerned. He wasn’t even surprised. It was more of, just. A general confusion.

“Is that ---” He groaned, letting his head fall back. “Is that some kind of a cult thing? ‘Cause I’ve dealt with space cults, you know, and they’re a lot less fun than you’d think. One of them wanted to either worship me or sacrifice me. Or maybe both? Now that I’m thinking about it, I really think it might’ve been both. But I don’t...” He trailed off, shaking his head. “It’s a no. On the obelisk. A hard no. I’m not making constructs just so you can be weird. That’s totally not my job here.”