Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

A lot of that day is a blur. Being in a coma for four years will do that to you.

She remembers their faces, though. She remembers their names. And she remembers his face when he pulled the trigger.

Chapter One: The Bride

She jolts awake, eyes wide and body tense. It’s cold - the hospital cot and gown probably have something to do with that. Her ears are still ringing with that gunshot, and she reaches up to cover them as if to block the echoes from her head-

The left side of her face feels wrong.

She gently, carefully runs her fingertips over her face, feeling more and more rough scar tissue spread across the left side. A loud keening noise makes her jump, before she realizes it came from her.

She barely has time to process the dimly lit hotel room when she hears voices coming, and in a panic she lays down and shuts her eyes.

The door opens. Two male voices, both accented - Scottish? - banter with each other. “I can’t believe you thought that would work,” says one, higher-pitched. “I told you, I ran all the numbers twice. Of course you couldn’t shut off the optic nerves without causing serious damage!”

“Yes, yes,” says the other, rougher voice. “Tell me all about how you’re so much better than me. Need I remind you who is closer to actual success, out of the two of us?’

“No,” grunts the first one. There’s a thump on the table next to her bed, and then a rustling noise, like he’s looking for something. “Anyhow. What are we to do with our Sleeping Beauty here? You think it’s time for us to have a peek at that brain of hers?”

“Not like we have anything else to do,” his companion replies with a laugh. “And just imagine, if we’re able to pull this off, the impact it would have on the medical community!”

“I’m sure your interest has nothing to do with the credit you’d get for it, either.” She feels one of them lean over her, rest a finger on her neck. “Pulse is strong. Breathing’s steady. I say we start.”

She waits until she feels one of their hands on her head before she sits up and headbutts him, screaming. He yelps in surprise and grabs his head, screeching, “What the-”

Whatever he was about to say is interrupted by a shriek as Kara sits up, grabs the scalpel from his hand and drives it into his eye.

When he staggers back, holding his face, she takes the opportunity to grab another tool out of the bag and drive it into the ear of the second guy, who seems too startled to move. The first guy falls to the ground, cursing, but she was precise with that scalpel and pretty soon he’s not making any noise anymore. The second guy, she uses as leverage to drag herself off the bed and sends them both sprawling toward the door. “Where’s Grant Ward?” she screams in his face.

“What?” he whimpers.”I don’t…”

“Where is he?” She slams the door on his head, just hard enough to rattle his brains around, not quite kill him.

“I don’t know any Ward!” says the guy, crying. “Please, just- we were just-”

She slams the door on his head again. “How did I get here?” she hisses.

“I don’t know,” he wails. “I’ve only been here for about six months. My mate and I, we heard there was a girl here who’d been in a coma for four years and we wanted to run some experiments-”

“Useless!” she spits, and this time doesn’t bother to slow the door before it smashes his head.

Once both men have gone quiet, she steals the smaller one’s clothes and the keys from the taller one’s pocket. Her legs won’t cooperate, so she drags herself until she finds a wheelchair and then slowly makes her way to the parking garage.

She’s gonna have to learn to walk again, but it’ll be worth it to see these bastards dead.

Chapter Two: Warship

She makes a list. She knows the names by heart, of course, but it’s satisfying to think about crossing them off one by one.

1. SUNIL BAKSHI
2. DAISY JOHNSON
3. JOHN GARRETT
4. MELINDA MAY
5. GRANT WARD

Bakshi is first, because he’ll be the easiest to find. She remembers the stupid octopus patch he wore on his jacket, the way he’d speak of his boss - Whitehall? - as if he were a god. Bakshi might have taken marching orders from Grant, but if Whitehall had told him to rip Grant’s heart from his chest and bring it to him, Bakshi would have. He was always cagey about what, exactly, Hydra’s business was - and the lies he told involved investment banking - but she’s pieced together the truth over time.

She’d never claim to be innocent - but at least she’s never been part of a Nazi gang. Oh, it’s shrouded in prettier words, but strip it all away and that’s what Hydra is.

Of course, at first she doesn’t have anything but the clothes on her back and the car, but what kind of secret assassin would she be if she didn’t have secret accounts? The ones Grant knew about are cleaned out, of course, but there’s one that was just hers, and there’s more than enough there to get her a gun and a gorgeous long knife with silver designs in the hilt. (It’s almost a sword, but a sword would be too far even for her.)

Tracking down Hydra’s whereabouts isn’t hard. Nazi gangs are anything but subtle. And, of course, Bakshi’s still Daniel Whitehall’s right hand. Whitehall pretends he’s an investor, and he does come from old money so it’s not completely unbelievable, but he’s never been photographed without that revolting octopus lapel pin on his coat. She finds pictures of him and Bakshi at public events, and they turn her stomach. Always smirking, always preening. Bakshi was wearing a similar smug look when he put a knife in her gut.

She can’t wait to watch it fade as she slits his throat.

Hydra Financial’s headquarters, ridiculously lavish, distinguishes itself from the sea of other nondescript office buildings with the gigantic octopus logo that greets you when you enter the front doors. She wrinkles her nose in disgust.

The receptionist is polite but puzzled at her request to see Whitehall. “Mr. Whitehall’s in a meeting right now,” she says, frowning. “Did you have an appointment?”

“Of sorts, but not an official one.” She smiles saccharinely at the girl. “Daniel-” she’s amazed she doesn’t choke on the word “-likes it when I surprise him.”

At that, the girl looks downright skeptical. “Mr. Whitehall is very precise about his scheduling-”

But the girl stops talking when she sees the glint of light on the blade she slips out of her boot. Just enough to frighten her - she doesn’t really want to hurt this girl. “I think you’ll find things will go much better for you if you let me in to see him.”

The girl squeaks, nods, and sends her on without another word to her. She almost feels bad for frightening her...but if that’s the worst thing that happens to that girl today, she should count herself lucky.

As it turns out, “in a meeting” means Whitehall and a hundred or so of his fellow Hydra flunkies and bodyguards are partying on the top floor. She gets into the elevator and only runs into one person during the ride, a nervous-looking young man with curly hair who is wearing a dress shirt that doesn’t properly fit him. He stammers a hello and she gives him a terse nod back. He gets off at floor seventeen, and she’s a little relieved. Killing someone in an elevator wouldn’t be quiet or inconspicuous.

Finally, the doors ping open and she steps onto the fortieth floor, which is just a long hallway with an enormous door at the end of it. There are two guards posted in front of the door, who both seem bored until they see her walking toward them. “What are you-”

Neither of them get very far in the questioning process.

When it proves too difficult to pull up the limp body of one of them to scan his fingerprint and open the door, she opts to slice off the finger instead. The door slides open and she enters, clutching her knife.

The men inside all turn to look at her, but she stares right into the eyes of Sunil Bakshi. Bakshi freezes, mouth falling open. Whitehall, next to him, chuckles. “And who might you be?”

“He knows who I am,” she says, not breaking eye contact with Bakshi, “and he knows why I’m here.”

“Oh wait,” says Whitehall, stepping forward and rubbing his chin with his hand. “Yes, I remember now. You were that girl from the Two Pines massacre. Such a shame.”

“For you,” she replies, and pulls out her knife.

Whitehall laughs again. “Do you really think that knife will do anything?”

He’s barely finished with his sentence when she’s whipped the gun out of her other boot and shot a man standing not three feet to his right in the head. Bakshi flinches. Whitehall doesn’t, even though the man’s body drops to the ground with a dull thud. “Take care of her,” he says, waving his hand at his surrounding bodyguards. “I tire of this.”

They might outnumber her, dozens against one, but she knows exactly what angle to fire a bullet at so it will pass through one man’s head and hit another between the eyes. And when more step forward, her knife is ready for them. Blood splatters across the lovely marble floor. One man’s hand goes flying, gun still clutched in it.

She doesn’t get out of this entirely unscathed. She’s bleeding in several places, she’s sore all over, and her heart is beating so fast that she thinks it might explode. But she keeps fighting, keeps going until finally every man in the place has either fallen or fled. Every man except Whitehall and Bakshi, that is.

Bakshi is shaking. He looks like he wants to leave. “H-how did you find me?”

“It wasn’t hard,” she scoffs. “I know you’d still be complying with his every request.” She nods at Whitehall.

“You are quite impressive,” Whitehall murmurs. “I don’t suppose you’d be interested in work, now that you’re back in the, what is it, land of the living?” The corners of his mouth turn up ever so slightly. “I could use a girl with your abilities. Your compliance will be rewarded.”

“Never,” she spits. “I’m here for him. I’ll kill you too, if necessary.”

“Oh, I don’t think it will be,” Whitehall replies, and in the blink of an eye he’s pulled out a pistol and fired a shot directly at her chest.

She, of course, was prepared for it and leaps out of the way, laughing. “So it’s necessary,” she says, putting her own shot right between his eyes.

Bakshi is reaching for his own gun when she leaps forward to wrestle it away from him, then holds her own gun to his head. “Don’t struggle,” she says, smiling despite herself. “You brought this on yourself.”

“What will you do to me?” Bakshi asks, voice trembling only a little.

“Oh, I haven’t decided quite yet,” she says, using her other hand to slowly run the knife up and down his neck and cheeks. “I could just shoot you in the head like you and Grant did to me, but that seems so dull. I could cut off your fingers one by one. I could slice a couple of your veins and see how long it takes you to bleed out. There are so many possibilities.”

Bakshi swallows. It’s strangely loud - they’re the only two living beings in this room. “What will you do once I’m dead?”

“Once you’re dead I’ll go after the others, of course,” she purrs. “But first, I’ll need you to do a little something for me.”

“What’s that?”

“I want Grant to know I’m coming. Get out your phone.”

“Why?”

She slices his cheek and he shrieks. “Because every time you refuse, I use this.” She waves the knife in front of his face, smirking. “C’mon. Get out your phone.”

“I’m not-augh!” He’s interrupted by another, nearly identical slash down his other cheek.

“Look, I can keep this up all day,” she says. “It’s up to you how much pain you cause yourself.”

He growls, but flinches when she runs the blade along his neck lightly. “What do you want me to do with it?”

“Oh, you think I’m gonna tell you now?” she asks, laughing. “No. Get it out first.”

When he hesitates again, she moves the knife down to slash his upper arm. He yelps and grabs at it, and she says, “Now, I can keep this up all day. I don’t think you have that much blood in your body. Might be fun to see though, hm?”

When she runs the knife down his other arm, he hisses “Fine” and eases his phone out of his pocket. “Here it is,” he says, holding it up. “Now what do you want, psycho bitch?”

“Now I want you to start a new text message.” The words would be ludicrous, but she keeps the gun pressed against his head, so he does as she asks. “Write ‘Kara Palamas is alive. She’s coming for you.’” Then send it to Ward.”

“Ward?” Bakshi scoffs. “What makes you think I still-”

“You have his number,” she says. “And you’ll send that to him. Or-” and she pauses to slice a shallow cut into the other side of his arm “-we’ll keep on like this until you do.”

Bakshi growls, but he types the message and then shows it to her. “Satisfied?” he spits.

“Yes. Now send it to him. Hold it so I can see you’re doing it.”

He does, grimacing the whole way. Once it’s sent, he asks, “And now what?”

“Now,” she says, “you’re going to tell me where to find the others. If you cooperate, I might leave you alive to limp out of here. Maybe.”

He spits in her face. “And why would I do that?”

She sighs and, in one fluid motion, slices off his ear. “You’re really determined to suffer, aren’t you?”

So it goes, until he’s down several fingers and bleeding profusely (but never in essential places) and is swaying a bit. But he has been giving her information - not as much as she wanted, but enough. Finally, when he bites his tongue and refuses to say any more and she’s grown bored, she says “Your compliance will be rewarded” and slits his throat. He’s barely able to get out a gurgle of protest before he sinks to his knees, then onto the floor.

She turns to go, stepping over the bodies with a toss of her hair. Next target, Daisy Johnson.

Chapter Three: Quake

If she had a favorite amongst Ward’s lackeys before Two Pines, Daisy might have been it. Daisy was the youngest, with a murky past she didn’t ever talk about, but she was clever, snarky, and incredible with computers. Daisy had managed to earn her respect, if somewhat grudgingly. But Daisy was at Two Pines, which means she’s on the list.

When she rings the doorbell of the cute but slightly run-down one story house, she’s not really expecting Daisy to answer. None of the others have been easy to find, but Daisy’s name turned up a list of a dozen possible addresses. Smart; the girl's covered her tracks well. This house, in a sleepy Jersey town, is only the first address she’s trying. So it’s all the more surprise when the door opens and Daisy’s standing there.

The minute Daisy meets her eyes, she drops into a defensive stance automatically, one hand still resting on the door. “Kara,” she says, eyes narrowing.

Kara nods, then leaps at Daisy fists first.

One of her fists connects with Daisy’s eye, but before she can get in another good hit she’s on her back, Daisy on top and trying to hold her down. She knees Daisy in the crotch, then slides out from under her and rolls away so she can jump to her feet.

Daisy’s right behind her, grabbing onto her legs and swinging her body towards the coffee table. Kara manages to catch herself and flip over, kicking Daisy’s arms away and staggering to her feet. Daisy gets up instantly and the two face off, fists in the air. Daisy takes a swing at her and she leans out of the way, then tries to kick her in the crotch again, but Daisy’s turned to run away, toward the-

Kara’s right on her heels, meeting the frying pan Daisy’s grabbed with her knife in mid-swing. They thrust and parry, a strange parody of fencing. Kara gets in a lucky cut on Daisy’s arm, but Daisy manages to force her into the kitchen counter’s sharp corner. It stings, but Kara ignores it.

They dance back into the living room, still trading blows. Kara gets Daisy pinned against a shelf, but Daisy manages to roll away and send it crashing down on top of her. Once Kara’s up, she takes a swipe at Daisy’s legs and manages to graze her. It’s better than nothing.

Then they’re both interrupted by the sound of the doorknob turning.

“Shit,” mutters Daisy, glancing outside to see a bright yellow school bus in front of the house. She glances at Kara frantically, and something in Kara makes her drop her defensive stance and hide the bloody knife behind her back.

A little boy, maybe eight or nine, comes in. “Hey, Ace,” says Daisy, smiling as she carefully hides the frying pan behind her back. “‘Sup?”

“Not much,” says Ace, raising an eyebrow. “Why’s the bookshelf on the floor? And you’re bleeding.” He nods at where a bloodstain is growing on Daisy’s shin. “And who’s she?” He narrows his eyes distrustfully at Kara.

Daisy coughs. “Um, this is Kara, she’s an old friend of mine.”

Kara waves. “Hi, kid.”

Ace nods hello and then asks, “The bookshelf?”

“The bookshelf was...the damn cat got in here and was running around and acting crazy, so I was trying to catch him and he got on top of it and knocked it over. And then he scratched me,” says Daisy.

“Tony’s not big enough to do all that,” says Ace, raising an eyebrow. “This is one of those things I’m not allowed to know about, right? Like from before you came to live with us?”

Nodding, Daisy says, “Listen, your dad’s gonna be home from work in an hour or two. Go to your room and stay in there till you hear him get in, okay? Don’t come out till then, no matter what. I’ll be okay,” she adds, when Ace makes the kind of skeptical expression only children can achieve. “Go do your homework or something. Kara and I are gonna have an adult talk for a while.”

“Okay, if you say so, Daisy,” says Ace, giving her one last suspicious look before he leaves.

Kara slides the knife from behind her back, but just holds it ready. “He’s not yours.” It’s a statement, not a question.

Daisy has the frying pan ready too, but at that, she laughs. “God, no. After...after Two Pines everything I did with Grant got to me. I left him, and I came looking for my old friend Mike. Well, Mike had gotten mixed up in some pretty bad shit too, but he had this little boy. And he said, ‘I wanna get out of this, I wanna have a normal life with Ace.’ So, the three of us found our way out together, and now here we are.”

“Cute,” says Kara, not bothering to hide the sneer in her voice. “So he doesn’t know his stepmom used to murder people?”

“Ace doesn’t know anything about my past,” says Daisy quickly. “And I’m not his stepmom. Mike and I, he’s like my brother, we’re family. And he’s gonna give me hell for fucking up that bookcase,” she adds.

“Not if you’re dead,” Kara points out. She’s not in the mood to mince words.

“Listen,” Daisy says, “if you want to kill me right here, well...I’ll give you a hell of a fight first ‘cause I’d rather not die. But will you just hear me out about what happened after Two Pines? I never picked up another gun after that day. I’ve spent the last four years trying to make up for all the shit I did when I was with Ward. Let’s talk over one cup of coffee, and then if you still wanna kill me, I probably deserve it. But just one cup?”

Kara narrows her eyes. “Do you think I’m stupid? You’re gonna drug it.”

Daisy sets down the frying pan and holds up both empty hands. “I won’t. You can come watch me make it if you want. We’ll drink from the same pot. I know you could throw that knife and hit me in the chest,” she adds, eyes flicking to the way Kara’s holding her knife, “but I don’t think you will.”

Kara’s fingers tighten on the knife handle. She absolutely could. But Daisy’s right, she won’t stab her in the chest. At least, not right now. “I’ll walk behind you,” she says warily. “One wrong move and you get this in your gut.”

“Agreed,” says Daisy, keeping her hands up as she heads for the kitchen. Kara walks close behind her, resting the knife point carefully against her back. “Am I allowed to get a bandage for my leg?” Daisy adds, sounding like she’s maybe gonna laugh.

“Yes,” Kara says. “But don’t bandage it until we sit down.”

Daisy nods. She and Kara make their way into the kitchen, where she prepares a pot of coffee, then says, “Is going down the hall to the bathroom okay?”

“Sure,” Kara says, poking her back with the knife just slightly so Daisy knows she’ll be coming too. They make their way down the hall into the bathroom, where Daisy grabs the first aid kit. Eventually they’re back in the living room, Kara holding a hot cup of coffee and eyeing Daisy while she bandages her leg.

“So,” Daisy says, almost too casually, “I always kind of liked you.”

Kara frowns. That wasn’t at all what she expected. “What do you mean?”

“Well, I thought I was jealous. You were Grant’s favorite, you were the one he sent on the best missions. You were the one he was with most of the time, you were his girl. I had such a shitty life before I met Grant, and I guess, I guess I thought he’d take care of me if I was as good as you.” Daisy takes a sip of her coffee. “You were so good at everything, it was insane! No wonder you were the best. And then, after you left...I got my wish, I was his favorite for awhile. And I actually hated it. I hated every time he’d touch me or kiss me, but I played along ‘cause I thought maybe it’d get better or I’d get used to it or something. Then he said we were going after you, and I didn’t want to, but…” She stares at her cup. “So I left right after that. I never really liked killing, but after that I just couldn’t. He tried giving me a couple missions and I turned them down. I snuck out of the house in the middle of the night, went off the grid. I’ve worked in a dozen nonprofits, soup kitchens, homeless shelters. Trying to take care of people, hoping maybe that’ll make up for all the bad shit I did. I know that’s not how it works, but I don’t know what else to do. He hasn’t found me yet, but I’m not surprised you did.”

All Kara can do is say, “Huh.”

“I know that sounds so stupid and crazy. Like, oh, the assassin grew a conscience right after her last victim shows up on her doorstep to murder her. That’s convenient.” Daisy rolls her eyes and grins. “I won’t blame you if you don’t believe me. Hell, I won’t blame you if you wanna just stab me right here. But please know that I’m sorry for what we did to you, and if I can, I wanna make it right.”

The craziest thing about it is that Kara doesn’t feel like stabbing Daisy anymore. Sure, maybe Daisy’s lying. But she hasn’t tried to poison Kara, or shoot her, or harm her in any way. It really seems like she wanted to just...talk.

Kara eyes Daisy warily. “What were you thinking? About making it up to me, I mean?”

“You’re going after each of us,” says Daisy. “Was I the first?”

Kara hesitates, then decides it can’t hurt to tell her. “Bakshi was.”

“Really. Why?”

Kara shrugs. “Easiest to find.”

“Fuck, you mean I was the second-easiest to find? Gonna have to blow up this house and move again. That’s the third time this year.” Daisy sighs, but then she grins. Like maybe she was making a friendly joke? When Kara doesn’t grin back (because she’s not sure how to respond) Daisy continues, “So, your plan was to kill all four of us and then Grant, right? Why don’t I help you with that?”

“Uh,” says Kara. She’s about to list a hundred reasons why that’s a bad idea. She’s about to tell Daisy to fuck off. Except - she doesn’t have a hundred reasons and she doesn’t want her to fuck off.

“Look, you don’t have to take me up on it,” says Daisy. “I just wanted to offer. I don’t have any love for Grant and I want him to suffer as much as you do.”

Kara tilts her head, considering. There’s always the possibility that Daisy is offering to go along with her so that she can warn Grant in some way, or that she thinks she can get the upper hand or overpower Kara once they’re alone. (She can’t, but maybe she thinks she could.) But since Grant already knows she’s coming…

“How do I know you won’t shank me in my sleep?”

“You kinda don’t,” says Daisy, shrugging. “You only have my word that I won’t. I don’t intend to hurt you, Kara.”

Interesting. “So,” Kara says, “you come with me, help me kill Garrett and May and then Grant, and then, what, you just come back here? Come live a normal life?”

“I guess so, yeah,” replies Daisy. “I like it here. It’s quiet. I don’t need to sleep with a gun under my pillow.”

“Sounds nice,” says Kara. “Alright...deal.” She slips her knife back into her boot and offers the hand that had held it. “When can you leave?”

“Where are we heading?”

“Garrett’s in Chicago, May and Grant are in California. I think San Francisco and LA.”

“Well, I should leave rent for-” Daisy’s interrupted by the sound of a key in the lock. A tall man with a scarred face and kind eyes walks in. “Hey, Mike,” she says with a smile.

“Uh, hey.” Mike looks at Kara, clearly puzzled. “Who’s this?” Then he notices the debris from the fallen bookshelf and sighs. “Dammit, again?”

“This is Kara. She’s from, you know, before.” Daisy coughs. “Long story. And, uh, we knocked over the bookshelf. Sorry about that.”

“Dammit, Daisy.” Mike sighs. “Well, help me put it back upright.” He smiles at Kara, though it’s a nervous smile. “I’m Mike, if you hadn’t guessed.”

“Hi,” Kara says. She’s not sure what else to do, so she just stays put while Mike and Daisy right the shelf and pick up its contents as best they can.

“So,” Daisy says once they’re all sitting down. “Kara and I are gonna get out of here for a little while. I don’t know how long. I’m just gonna leave three months’ rent and call that good.”

Mike frowns. “Does this have to do with-”

Daisy cuts him off. “Yeah. Like I said, long story. I don’t wanna tell you too much right now in case shit goes sideways. What you need to know is that we’re gonna go try to make something right.” She stands up. “I guess I better say goodbye to Ace too.”

“Oh, are you guys leaving like, now?”

“Pretty soon, yeah.” Daisy glances at Kara. “I’m guessing that’s cool with you?” Kara nods. “Sorry to cut out before dinner. I know you guys’ll have a hard time without me around to make mac and cheese and ramen.” She smiles at him, though it doesn’t quite reach her eyes.

“You’re coming back, right?” Mike asks.

“I hope so. If not…” Daisy pauses and then gives him a sudden, crushing hug. “Thanks for everything, Mike.”

Mike, seeming a bit taken aback, wraps his arms around her too. “Of course. Um, do I ever get to know what this is about?”

“If I come back, I’ll tell you every damn detail,” Daisy promises, finally letting go of him. “Alright, now I’ll go do the worst part. Kara, you can chill there if you want.”

“What’s the worst part?”

Daisy and Mike both jump at the voice. “Oh, jeez, Ace,” says Daisy, “how long have you been there?”

Ace shrugs. “Not long. I heard Dad come in and you were talking so I thought it was okay to come out, like you said.” He eyes Kara. “Is she gonna stay for dinner?”

“No, pal, we actually have to leave for a little while.” Daisy kneels down so she’s at his eye level. “It’s a super complicated story that I can’t even tell your dad about right now, so don’t bug him about it, okay? Kara and I have to go take care of something, we might be gone for a few months. Or we might not come back. I don’t think that’ll happen, but I don’t want to lie to you or treat you like a dumb little kid.”

Ace looks like he’s trying not to cry, blinking a lot. “You’re...leaving?” he whimpers. “For good?”

“Hopefully not. I want to come back, and I’m gonna do my best to come back, but something really bad might happen to me while I’m gone.” Daisy reaches out and gently brushes away the one tear that fell down Ace’s cheek. “Hey, hey, you know me. I’m a badass, right? Like in your superhero comics. I’m gonna do my best to come back, Ace, I promise.”

Ace nods and throws his arms around Daisy, managing to choke out, “I’m gonna miss you.”

“Yeah, me too, buddy,” says Daisy, hugging him back. “I wouldn’t leave you if it wasn’t super important. You know that, right?” She feels him nod and rubs his back a little. “It’s okay to be sad that I’m leaving, but I don’t want you to worry about me all the time, okay? Maybe I’ll send you guys a postcard from the road.”

Ace sniffles. “Okay, Daisy.” He finally steps back, rubbing his eye with one hand. “Can I have a tissue, Dad?”

Mike hands him the box. “Want a hug?” Ace nods stumbles over to him, falling against him. “Daisy’s gonna come back to us. She’s tough and smart and she can get solve any problem.” He gives Daisy a stern look, like he’s expecting her to agree.

Daisy nods immediately. “Yeah, like I said, I’m pretty sure I’ll be back.” She glances at Kara and mouths “sorry.”

Unsure how to respond, Kara just shrugs. She’s never been great when faced with emotional displays, and she can’t imagine having someone reacting this way to her leaving them. (Then again, maybe Grant’s reaction skews the data a bit. Maybe “tearful hugs” would be better than “murder spree.”)

Once they’re outside, Daisy takes one look at Kara’s car and asks, “How long you been driving that?”

“Uh, dunno. A few days? Since I woke up at the hospital.”

“We’re gonna need to ditch it. We can’t be tied to just one car. Get in, we’ll drive a ways down the road and then find one to take.”

Kara does as she’s told, pulling over at a rest stop once they’re about an hour down the highway. By that point, it’s starting to get dark, and Daisy grins. “I haven’t had to steal a car in awhile,” she says, looking at the parking lot. There are maybe a dozen cars here. “Okay, grab all your stuff, then get out and go pee.”

Kara wrinkles her nose. “Why?”

“So you’re ready to jump in the other car once I’ve got it going,” says Daisy, as if it’s obvious. “C’mon, we don’t have that long.” Before Kara can answer, she gets out of the car and slams the door before ambling over toward a dark blue Honda Accord further down the row.

Rolling her eyes, Kara goes to the bathroom as instructed. When she gets back, glancing around carefully before walking to the Accord, the engine’s purring and Daisy’s in the front seat. “Alright, time to go!” she says, shifting into reverse almost before Kara’s fastened her seatbelt. “Gonna have to get off at the next exit and get somebody else’s plates, but that’s way easier.”

Kara raises an eyebrow. “Sounds like you’ve done this before.”

Daisy shrugs. “Like I said earlier. My life before Grant wasn’t great.”

“Oh.” That shouldn’t matter. Why does it make Kara sort of sad? She shakes her head. “Well...thanks. It’s kind of...cool that you know how to do that.”

Daisy grins over at her. “It is one of my more appealing skills. Really brings the ladies running.”

Kara rolls her eyes and says, “As if you needed the help,” and then wonders where the hell that came from.

But Daisy just laughs and says, “You have vastly overestimated my relationship skills.”

Once Daisy’s pulled over and switched the plates, they just drive without stopping. It’s only around midnight that Daisy starts yawning, and she pulls over at a small motel whose VACANCY sign is half-burned out. “I’m gonna try something,” she says as she gets out. “Whatever I tell you in front of the guy, just roll with it.”

“Okay,” says Kara warily.

They head inside, and Daisy flirts with the guy, whose cigarette is clenched between his teeth. She tells him they’re girlfriends on a roadtrip, and grabs Kara’s hand for just long enough that Kara figures out what kind of girlfriends she means, and a peck on Kara's cheek gets them a discounted rate on the room. The guy leers at them, but Kara feels better once they’re in the room, every lock on the door bolted.

“Sorry,” Daisy says. “Old trick. Guys on duty this late, they’re all pervs. I flash cleavage if it’s just me, but the girlfriend trick gets a bigger discount.”

Kara shrugs. “Whatever.” She glances at the bed, which has seen better days. “I’ll take the left side.”

“Bossy,” teases Daisy, but she shucks off her shirt and pants. “I sleep in my underwear, that cool with you?”

“Sure,” says Kara. Her eyes flick up and down Daisy’s body. It’s a nice body. “I don’t snuggle,” she adds with a smirk. “And I’ll kick you if you try.”

Daisy laughs. “I won’t,” she promises, tossing back the covers and sliding in. Kara joins her and once the light is out, it’s quiet for a while. Then, just as Kara thinks maybe Daisy’s asleep, Daisy whispers, “Thanks.”

“For what?” Kara asks.

“For reminding me how much I wanna punch Grant in the mouth.”

Kara snorts. “You’re welcome. I think.” Daisy doesn’t say anything more after that, so Kara shuts her eyes.

Chapter Text

She loves him. He loves her back - she’s pretty sure. He calls her “baby” and kisses her every morning and lets her live in his beautiful house with him and looks so proud every time she comes home from a mission, and isn’t that love?

She likes killing. It’s easy for her, and she’s good at it, and it makes him beam at her and put his arms around her and kiss her no matter how much blood is on her face. She’s lost track of how many she’s killed in the time she’s been with him. It must be dozens by now. She doesn’t ask why they’re his targets, just follows his orders. She’s happy to please him.

He gives her a routine assignment one morning, an address and instructions to kill the senator who lives there, as well as his wife and anyone else she needs to to get the job done. Then burn down the house, make it look like either an accident or an arson job. It’s a four-hour drive, so she can probably be home by nightfall. She puts the radio on full blast once she hits the highway and idly drums her fingers on the steering wheel along with the music.

When she arrives, she parks the car far enough away to not attract suspicion and takes a stroll down the street that leads to the house. It’s enormous, with a fence around it to deter nosy neighbors and (of course) security guards and hidden cameras monitoring the grounds. This isn’t her first government official job; she knows how this goes. The first task is to take out at least one of the guards so she has a uniform to blend in better.

She’s in luck - the first guard she comes across is a woman. She’s able to slip inside the house with no issues. She knows, from the briefing, that the senator and his wife planned to spend the day here, at their vacation home. This should be simple.

Sure enough, he’s lounging in the living room, watching football on a TV that takes up an entire wall. It’s almost comically easy to put a bullet in the back of his skull.

His wife comes running in from another room, and barely gets half a scream out before another bullet hits her square in the head too. Simple. Easy. The screaming will attract attention, but she can get out before-

“Mommy? Mom?”

A little boy, maybe four or five, appears in the doorway behind his mother’s body, eyes huge and mouth open. Her training kicks in, she steps toward him, and he runs. Dammit. Not as easy as she thought.

He’s fast, but luckily she can guess where he’s heading: his bedroom. There’s heavy breathing coming from the closet; it sounds like he’s trying not to cry, but he’s hyperventilating. She opens the closet door and aims the gun-

-and yet, somehow, she can’t do it.

It’s not as if she could miss the shot. He’s pressed his back into the corner, shaking and sobbing and covering his eyes like maybe she’s a monster who will go away if he can’t see her. And something about that makes her stop dead.

She puts the gun down. “I’m sorry,” she says, and means it. “You shouldn’t have seen that.”

He’s crying so hard he’s probably barely hearing her. She sighs. “Look, I’m going to burn down your daddy’s house now. You know how to get outside, right? Right?” She waits until she sees what is for sure a nod, then says, “Okay. Do that. Get outside, and don’t come back in no matter what. I killed your mommy and daddy, and if I see you back in here I’ll have to kill you too, but I don’t really want to do that.” She stands up and steps away from the closet. “Go on,” she says, pointing to his open bedroom door. When he still doesn’t move, she yells “Get out!” loudly enough to frighten him into running out at full speed, still crying.

She waits a minute and then goes downstairs. The kid is nowhere to be seen. Good. Hopefully he’s long-gone. She pulls out the pack of matches Grant gave her and idly lights one, then tosses it at the giant kitchen table. Once she’s sure it’s burning well, she ducks out the back door, careful to keep her head down.

When she comes home, Grant kisses her like normal. “Well done,” he says proudly. “But why did you let the kid live? The report I heard earlier mentioned that he escaped the house and alerted neighbors.”

“I didn’t know there was a kid,” she says. It’s the first time she lies to him.

Chapter Four: Aquarius

Daisy doesn’t ask her about why she left until after lunch, when they’re both feeling kind of lazy. “You don’t have to say,” she adds. “I was just wondering.”

The weird thing is, Kara wants to tell her. She’s never told anyone that story. “After that...I don’t know, it didn’t feel right anymore,” she says quietly, once it’s all out. “Grant gave me a couple more missions, and I did them, but I was sick afterwards. I guess we’re not that different,” she adds, glancing at Daisy with a half-smile.

“Jesus,” says Daisy. “I can’t blame you for leaving, after that. What happened?”

Kara shrugs. “I got out some money before he froze all the accounts he knew about, got on a bus, and ended up in Texas. Didn’t really have much of a plan. Ended up working in a record store, started dating the owner, Lance. You outta know, you’re the one who shot him,” she adds, narrowing her eyes at Daisy.

Daisy doesn’t look her in the eye. “Yeah,” she says. “I’m sorry about that.”

“I didn’t love him,” Kara adds, because that suddenly feels important to say. “He was nice to me, but he also took a lot of stupid risks, and bitched about his hellish ex a lot. But he would’ve taken care of me, I think.”

“I almost didn’t shoot him,” says Daisy. “I hesitated and...and Grant screamed at me to do it.”

Now that Daisy says that, Kara vaguely remembers hearing Grant yell “Daisy, shoot him!” Of course, she might be lying. But if she isn’t… “We’ve both done shitty things we aren’t proud of,” she says, tossing her hair. “Whatever.”

“Yeah,” agrees Daisy, visibly relaxing. Had she been worried about it? Did she think her confession would make Kara leap at her fists first? Or maybe that Kara would bide her time, waiting until Daisy was asleep before she attacked? It’s smart to wonder, considering their former line of work, but it makes Kara feel kind of weird. Bad?

“I’m not gonna stab you in your sleep,” she says, glancing over at Daisy again. “Just so you know.”

“Well, thanks,” says Daisy with a little laugh. “That’s, uh, comforting?”

Kara smirks at her. “Good.”

They’re quiet for awhile, then Daisy says, “So, uh, I’m kind of shit at conversation, sorry. And I can’t even ask you if you’ve seen any good movies lately, so.” She laughs awkwardly. It’s sort of cute. (Weird thing to find cute, but there you go.)

Kara snorts. “Any recommendations?”

“There’s a couple new Star Wars movies out. Maybe after we’re all done with this…” Daisy pauses and shakes her head. “No, that’s stupid.”

“What?”

“Oh, I was gonna suggest that after it’s over you could come like, hang out with me and we could watch them. But you probably don’t want anything to do with me once Grant’s dead, so.” Daisy shrugs. “Forget about it.”

Kara pauses. What will she do once Grant is dead? “I mean...I don’t really have friends anymore,” she says carefully. “Or a job. I was living with Lance four years ago when - you know - so that apartment’s probably long-gone. No reason to go back. Hell, I’ll have nothing better to do than watch Star Wars with you.”

“Really? Okay, cool.” Daisy grins over at her. “I’m sure Mike won’t care if you wanna crash with us. It’s not actually that bad, for Jersey.”

“Thanks.” Kara’s chest feels kind of warm. She tries to ignore it.

“I can talk to my boss and see if she’s got any jobs you can do, too,” Daisy offers. “Pay wouldn’t be stellar, but it’d probably cover you for a bit till you find something better.”

“What do you do, anyway?”

“I do like, outreach and social media stuff for a women’s shelter. Basically I run the Facebook and Twitter pages and like, answer the phones a few days a week. They don’t pay me ‘cause I mean, I don’t need it, they can use the money for better things. But they do sometimes like to let some of their clients do odd jobs for cash. I bet I could work out something for you.”

“Thank you.” Kara smiles. It feels a little strange. “I...appreciate it.”

They chat casually off and on during the drive, which takes the better part of the day. By the time they arrive in Chicago, the moon is rising and the last glimmer of sunlight is quickly disappearing. “Guess we better find somewhere to stay for the night,” says Daisy, “and we’ll start checking addresses tomorrow.”

Kara nods. “I can pay tonight,” she says.

“Cool.” Daisy grins. “So, four-star Hilton it is!”

“Fuck you,” says Kara, grinning back.

Kara’s been able to find two fake names Garrett uses - Jacob Coolidge and Ken Wind - and they each trace to at least one address in the Chicago area along with “John Garrett,” which has at least two listings, so it won’t be an easy process. Daisy does her best to search for recent pictures, but comes up pretty empty. “He wasn’t the type to use Instagram,” she says with a shrug, “but it was worth a shot.”

The first place they check is a pretty little blue house in the middle of suburbia, which they stake out for several hours. A floppy-haired teen comes out around ten AM and shoots hoops with his friends in the street for awhile until his mother yells “Kenny, I need you to come watch your sister while I run to the store!” Kara glances over at Daisy, who shrugs and starts the car. One down, three to go.

The second place is a run-down house in a less-than-stellar neighborhood, hidden at the top of a hill away from all the other houses. Daisy raises an eyebrow as they drive closer. “Maybe he’s really laying low.”

They ditch the car nearby, in case Garrett gets any ideas about disabling or stealing it. “So how are we doing this?” Kara asks. “One goes in and starts fucking with him and then the other comes as reserves, or what?”

“I was thinking two on one,” says Daisy with a shrug. “He’s not gonna go easy on us, either way.”

“Right.” Kara nods. “Anything you can tell me about him?”

“He doesn’t fight fair. Bastard will absolutely do anything he feels like in a fight.” Daisy glances at her. “I think we can take him down, but it’s not gonna be easy.”

“I didn’t think it would be.”

They creep up to the house, slithering at angles on their bellies and elbows so as not to be seen through the (papered over but possibly still operational) windows. Kara’s knife is tucked in her boot and Daisy’s clutching her gun. Finally, they crouch in front of the door, weapons ready. Kara looks at Daisy, who nods, then kicks down the door.

The barrel of a revolver fires directly at them, hitting Daisy square in the chest, and she goes flying back several feet.

“Fuck!” hisses Kara, dropping to the ground and rolling out of the way of another blast.

Garrett laughs. “Oh, you thought I hadn’t heard you were coming? Grant filled me in. Always could count on that boy to have my back.”

Daisy makes a noise that’s halfway between a moan and a gasp, and Kara darts forward to grab the rifle and try to wrench it away from him. He aims it at her face; she manages to turn the barrel away just as he fires it. The shot makes her ears ring, but it fires harmlessly off to the side.

He says something, but she can’t hear it. Then he shoves her down and steps on her chest, pulling something out of his pocket. The fall knocked the wind out of her, but she’s doing her best to cry out, to call for help-

Daisy’s weak whimpers are the last thing she hears before there’s a pinprick in her thigh and everything goes back.

---

She blinks awake, and the first thing she absorbs is that everything hurts.

“Kara?” asks a faint voice.

Kara takes stock of her surroundings. She’s in a dimly-lit room - maybe a basement? The only light is what’s coming in from behind her, where there has to be a window or something. She’s held in place by sturdy rope that’s tied her to a sturdy wooden chair. And across the room, perfectly in her eyeline, is a bomb, complete with a countdown. At the moment, it’s at nine minutes, forty two seconds.

“Fuck,” Kara breathes.

“Oh my god, are you awake?” It’s Daisy’s voice. She sounds hoarse, like maybe she’s been yelling. Kara can’t turn her head much (it hurts) but she thinks maybe Daisy is on a chair directly behind her. “I was yelling so loud for help and you weren’t doing anything, I thought maybe you weren’t gonna wake up at all!”

Kara coughs. “I’m here,” she says, and her throat feels raw. “What happened?”

“Well, he drugged you, and then he gloated about his grand plan at me for five minutes and then drugged me too. After shooting me in the chest with rock salt.” Daisy grunts. “My chest hurts like a bitch, but that’s not the worst part. Guessing you’ve noticed the bomb.”

“Pretty hard to miss.”

“Yeah. He was all gloating about that, and the fucker took my phone so I wouldn’t, as he said, ‘get smart’ and hack my way to freedom.” Daisy makes a noise that sounds like spitting. “Bastard.”

“Well, fuck,” says Kara. “So now what?” She eyes the timer uneasily. It’s just crossed eight minutes.

“We’re not totally fucked yet,” says Daisy. “But I was getting kinda worried since you weren’t waking up. Look, I need you to reach into my pants and grab out my pocketknife.”

“Uh...alright,” says Kara, moving her hands around to get a feel of where exactly Daisy is talking about. “Where, exactly?”

“Don’t act like you’re not enjoying the chance to grope my ass,” Daisy says cheerfully. “It’s a little hidden pocket on the inside of the left ass cheek, I sewed it in there myself.”

“Gross,” says Kara, leaning backward as best she can and feeling around. “Why did you do this?”

“Hey, don’t bitch about it, I’m about to save your life!” Daisy goes quiet while Kara feels around for a second, then says, “Over. Over. Just a little - yeah, there you go!”

Sure enough, Kara can feel the tiny knife now. “How small is this thing?” she grunts.

“It’s like three inches, it’s pretty damn small. But I think I can cut us free, anyway. C’mon, hurry up!”

Finally, Kara’s able to ease it out and pass it to Daisy very carefully, who flips it open (after a couple trial-and-error sessions) and starts sawing at the ropes. “Stupid Garrett,” she gloats, once she has one hand free. “Who doesn’t have a secret pocket knife and a second phone?”

“A second phone?” Kara asks, because it’s easier to focus on that than on the rapidly declining countdown. (Four minutes thirty two seconds.)

“Yeah.” Daisy manages to get her other hand free and then, after a couple of grunts, she says “Aha!”

“How exactly will your phone help us?” Kara’s  trying not to sound testy, but it’s more than a little unnerving to be less than five minutes from death.

“Just shush a minute.” There’s some quiet tapping - during which Kara almost asks is that phone from another decade? but manages to refrain at the last second - and it’s only when the countdown gets truly harrowing at two minutes that Kara decides to say something.

“Uh, Daisy? What the fuck are you doing?”

“Saving our asses, turning off the power in this house which’ll turn off the switch to the bomb. Duh.” Then more tapping. Kara chews her lip and hopes to god Daisy is as good as she says.

Finally, finally, there’s a flickering noise from somewhere above them and the clock shuts off just as it’s about to turn to fifty two seconds. Daisy lets out a loud breath and whoops. “I did it!”

Kara’s still processing having been less than a minute from fiery death, so all she can say is “Okay, I’m glad I didn’t kill you.”

“Damn right,” says Daisy. “I told you, I got skills. Here, lemme get my legs untied and then I’ll work on you, alright?”

“Sure, whatever,” Kara says. She’s still coming off the adrenaline from nearly dying, so her heart’s beating really fast and she’s having a hard time not taking “work on you” as a euphemism, for some reason. Which is fucking weird and now is not the time for sex jokes. She bites her tongue and concentrates on breathing.

Finally Daisy groans and Kara feels the other chair move slightly, like Daisy stood up. “Goddamn, I have no idea how long we were out, but I’m stiff as hell.” Daisy comes around in front of Kara, albeit moving a bit slower than usual. “Sorry, my legs are like, holy fuck, we’re so sore,” she says, and it sounds like she’s grinning. She rests her hand on Kara’s shoulder and uses it as leverage to push herself forward, limping slightly. “Sorry,” she says again.

Kara shakes her head. “It’s fine.” She’s trying to ignore how Daisy’s touch makes something inside her tingle. Goddammit, this is really not the time to be randomly horny.

Daisy carefully moves so she’s sitting on the floor, grimacing as she goes down. “You’re probably gonna need help getting up,” she says. “Anyway.” She starts cutting the rope around Kara’s hands, holding onto Kara’s arm in order to keep it steady. “This okay?”

Kara realizes she’s been biting her lip...which looks weird and suspicious. “Fine,” she says quickly. “It’s fine.”

It feels like an eternity, but finally Daisy says, “Okay, you should be able to get your hands out now.” Sure enough, Kara’s able to disentangle her hands from the strands of rope and bring them in front of her, rubbing her sore wrists gently. “I guess he was a Boy Scout,” jokes Daisy. “These knots are killer.”

“No kidding,” Kara says as Daisy moves to work on the ropes around her legs next. “So it’s not gonna like, reactivate when the power comes back on?”

“I mean. It might?” Daisy shrugs. “Which is why we gotta get out of here ASAP.”

Kara snorts. “Great.” It’s easier to snark, because it keeps her mind off of the way that Daisy’s touching her legs so gently to cut the ropes. Goddammit. It’s just because she hasn’t gotten laid in awhile, that’s all it is.

After a couple minutes, Daisy says, “Okay, I think you’re good. You want a hand up?”

Even though she knows it’s not a good idea, Kara takes Daisy’s hand and lets her help her to her feet. It’s difficult - her joints are screaming at her after god knows how long sitting - but finally she’s able to stand on her own. “Jesus,” she winces, rubbing at her thighs. “Do you know how long we’ve been in here?”

“No, but judging by the light outside it’s gonna get dark soon. So…” Daisy goes over to the basement door and fiddles with the lock using her knife. “Amateur,” she says, unlocking it after a minute. “C’mon, let’s get out of here. He’ll be long-gone.”

“Wait,” says Kara, and when Daisy pauses to turn back to her Kara leans forward to kiss her. It’s not gentle or romantic, it’s fast and slightly desperate and Kara’s way of saying thank you because actually saying “thank you” feels weird and inadequate somehow. Thanks for not letting us get killed! That’d be stupid. This feels better.

Daisy makes a shocked little noise against Kara’s lips, and when Kara pulls back, cheeks burning, she says, “Well, uh, that took an interesting turn. You mind if we continue that once we’re like, not still in potential danger of exploding?”

“Yeah, of course,” says Kara, tossing her head overly casually. Maybe she can just play it off like it never happened.

They get in the car and drive a ways down the road, and she’s starting to think maybe that’s where Daisy is going with this, when Daisy turns and parks in a mostly deserted parking lot. “What are you doing?” Kara asks, furrowing her brow.

No sooner has she asked that then suddenly Daisy’s leaning across the car to kiss her, just as hungrily. Kara’s a little surprised, but kisses her back. Daisy reaches over to cup her cheek with one hand - the scarred cheek, which startles Kara into pulling back, but Daisy just grins and says “It’s okay, don’t worry about it” before gently pulling her into another kiss.

They don’t stop kissing until they’re out of breath, and then they stop and stare at each other. “This is weird, isn’t it?” asks Kara, suddenly self-conscious.

“Nah,” says Daisy. “Why would it be weird? I mean, sure, you were planning on killing me a few days ago, but I’ve had weirder starts to relationships.”

Kara makes a face. “I don’t know if - I can’t tell if I just need to get laid or if it’s just ‘cause you’re really hot, or what.”

Daisy laughs. “Let’s go with ‘I’m really hot.’ But yeah, that was a bad choice of words, this doesn’t have to be like, a thing. If you wanna just make out with me or whatever and then never talk about it again, I’m cool with that. I haven’t gotten laid in awhile either, or made out with a cute girl.”

Snorting, Kara shakes her head and tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. “You have a weird definition of cute.”

“Hey, I’m trying to flirt with you, will you just take the damn compliment?” Daisy teases.

“Fine. Thank you.” Kara leans over to kiss her again, slipping her tongue in Daisy’s mouth. Daisy hums and puts her hands on Kara’s shoulders, pulling her closer. When they break apart this time, Kara adds, “Once we take out Garrett, I think we should find a shitty motel and take care of that whole ‘not getting laid’ thing.”

Daisy grins at her and nods. “That sounds awesome.”

Chapter Five: The Cavalry

Melinda’s phone rings at 1:25 PM. She’s not expecting a call, and certainly not from Garrett of all people. She curls her lip and answers. “Yes?”

“Mel, glad I caught you.” There it is, that smug-bastard voice she knows and hates. “I have a little proposition for you.”

“Don’t call me Mel, Garrett. What do you want?” There’s no reason to pretend to be cordial. She hasn’t spoken to him in over three years, and for good reason.

He laughs. “I see you’re feisty as ever. Listen, I have something that I think you’ll be interested in. It’s a knife, and I’m fairly sure a William Henry knife at that. A nice big one too.”

Melinda scoffs. “He only does pocket knives.”

“Well, I’m holding one that’s got about a two-foot blade on it right here in my hand. What, you want a picture? Proof?”

“Sure.”

She almost drops the phone when she gets the picture he texts a minute later. “Where did you get that?” she asks, voice less controlled than she’d like.

“Oh, I think I’m allowed my secrets,” he purrs. “Anyway, I’m guessing if I said I’m selling it, you’d be interested.”

She grits her teeth. She’d rather not see Garrett ever again, but that knife… “How much?”

“I’d say a half-mil is fair, wouldn’t you?” His smugness makes her want to gag. “Be here by tomorrow morning with the cash, and we can discuss it.”

“Fine. You still in Chicago, that run-down shack?”

“Please, Melinda. I just came from there, it’s a crater. Literally.” Garrett laughs at his own joke. Melinda wants to kill him. “I’ll text you the address. Be there at nine AM sharp, alright?” He hangs up before she can respond.

She stares at her phone for a second, then rolls her eyes. Good thing she knows someone at the airport.

---

She rings the doorbell of the extravagant house at exactly nine AM. The last-minute flight hadn’t exactly been easy to secure, but she’d gotten here around eleven PM the night before and taken a taxi to a hotel that was a short walk from Garrett’s house. It’s been a ridiculous sixteen hours, but she wants that knife.

“Melinda!” Garrett says when he opens the door. “So good to see you. Come in, sit down. We’ll talk business.”

Inside, the house is meticulously cleaned, the walls decorated with pleasantly generic art. In the hallway, there’s a katana with the inscription TO JOHN GARRETT - THE ONLY MAN I’VE EVER LOVED. Melinda rolls her eyes. “Must we?”

He laughs. “Oh, Mel, always getting right to the point! Let me make you some coffee, you must be tired from the flight.”

She purses her lips and follows him inside. He gestures to a leather couch, then while she pretends to get comfortable, he strolls into his ridiculously large kitchen and starts a pot of coffee. He chatters on and on and asks her how she’s been, what she’s been up to, has she heard from any of the others. She answers as vaguely as possible. When he returns with two steaming cups, she tolerates a few more minutes of his chatter before asking, “The knife?” in as pleasant a tone as she can muster.

“Oh, of course. Just a moment.” He gets up - and leaves his coffee cup, just as she knew he would. From there, it’s simple to drop in the pill and stir it in.

When he comes back, he’s cradling the knife in his hands, and Melinda can see that he wasn’t lying. It’s definitely one of Henry’s knives. The intricate silver looping in the hilt gives it away. “Well,” she breathes. “You weren’t lying.”

“You haven’t changed,” chuckles Garrett, setting the knife on the coffee table gently before sitting down and grabbing his coffee cup. “So, I see you’ve brought something with you.”

Melinda nods and grabs the silver case she’s got. (There’s nowhere near five hundred grand in it. She’s not a moron.) As she opens it, she sees Garrett take a long drink of his coffee. “Here,” she says, setting the open case down on the table. There isn’t five hundred grand in it, but there’s enough to throw him off the scent for a minute. A minute is all she needs.

“Ooh, I do love that sight.” Garrett grabs a wad of bills and holds it up to his nose, inhaling. God, she hates him. “You’ll pardon me if I count it?”

“Go ahead,” replies Melinda. Forty five seconds.

He flips through that stack of bills, then picks up the next. “You know what I like about you, Melinda?” he asks. “It’s how you say so much with so little. You can glare at somebody and it’ll be ten times scarier than anybody else yelling nonstop at everyone for twenty minutes. It’s so effective. How do you do it?”

Thirty seconds. She shrugs. “Just one of those faces, I guess.”

“And so humble. I can’t believe Grant let you get away, you know? I thought I taught that boy better than that. But he was so...enamored of that Palamas girl, and then Daisy. I guess love makes fools of us all sometimes.” Garrett grabs a new stack to count. Fifteen seconds.

Melinda nods. “Suppose it does.” She smiles. Garrett will think it’s in reference to his half-joke. It’s not.

While thumbing through this stack, Garrett coughs. He looks startled, then shakes his head and continues. But then he coughs again, more urgently, and then he collapses against the couch, the money falling to the ground. He squirms ineffectually, limbs unresponsive, and he groans “What-”

“Coffee, Garrett, really?” chides Melinda, rolling her eyes. “I didn’t think you’d honestly be that stupid.” She leans over to grab the knife off the table, running her finger over the sheath. “Poison was never my favorite method, but it certainly does the job quickly.”

Garrett makes a gasping noise that sounds like maybe he’s trying to protest.

“Right now, it’s your arms and legs that are paralyzed,” Melinda says. “Within five minutes, that will spread to your lungs and heart. Sounds like it might already be.” She smirks. “I tolerated Grant because he paid me. You, not so much.”

Garrett spits out something that might be bitch.

“I know,” Melinda says, slipping the knife out to admire it. “I still want to know where you got this, but not bad enough to keep you alive for it.” She reaches down to grab the wad of bills he dropped. “You brought this on yourself.”

She packs the money back into the case, ignoring his increasingly weak whimpers, until finally he stops moving and making noise altogether. She nods, satisfied, and slips the knife into her boot before standing up with the case.

Just then there’s a knock at the door.

---

“You ready?” Daisy asks, as they down the street toward Garrett’s (apparently) real house. The car (a new one, their third on this trip) is parked a block away - close enough to get to easily, but not right in front of the house.

“I was born ready,” growls Kara.

Daisy snorts. “Wow. Cheesy much?”

“Fuck you,” Kara says, smirking.

“Well, not out here in the open! But yeah, later.” Daisy winks at her. It does something stupid to Kara’s insides. What the fuck. “We’re getting close though. Better stay quiet.”

Daisy knocks on the door, making sure to have her gun hidden behind her back as she does. Garrett will look through the peephole, see them, and either try to retreat or meet them with his own weapon. They’re prepared for either option - Daisy’s kicked in a door before.

They’re not prepared for Melinda May to throw open the door and swipe at both of them with Kara’s long knife.

“What the fuck,” yelps Daisy, leaping out of the way.

“Bitch!” screeches Kara, diving and managing to knock into Melinda with enough force to send her sprawling. “Give me back my knife!”

When Melinda fell, the knife slid across the floor. Melinda tries to roll over and crawl after it. Kara growls and puts all her weight into keeping her pinned down. Melinda sneers, aiming a punch at Kara’s face. She cuffs her on the ear and Kara yelps, caught off-guard enough for Melinda to squirm away. She grabs the knife and turns back just as Kara grabs Garrett’s katana off the wall. The two weapons crash together once, twice, Kara gets in a swipe on Melinda’s arm, then-

There’s a crack, loud enough to startle both of them into covering their ears. Daisy’s standing outside, gun pointed at the ground. “Melinda,” she says carefully. “Kara. I think we have better things to do than fight over knives.”

“Do we?” growls Kara, looking back at Melinda warily. Melinda meets her gaze, but doesn’t move otherwise.

“I’m coming inside,” says Daisy, glancing over her shoulder. “I shouldn’t have fired that shot, but it was the only way you assholes were gonna listen to me.”

Kara huffs, but keeps an eye on Melinda while Daisy enters the house and locks the door behind her. “Now,” she says, glaring at both of them. “If you two can avoid killing each other for two seconds, we should talk.”

“About what?” Melinda asks. She runs her finger over the hilt of Kara’s knife. Kara bites her lip so hard she tastes blood. “Why are you here, Daisy?”

“Long story,” sighs Daisy. “Is Garrett here? Or did you already off him?”

Melinda raises an eyebrow. “How’d you know?”

“You never liked him,” Daisy points out. “So when he offered to sell you Kara’s knife, you came and offed him and were gonna just take it. Right?”

Melinda snorts. “You always were too smart for your own good.”

“You killed Garrett?” asks Kara, gritting her teeth. “He was supposed to be mine!”

“Didn’t know you’d earmarked him,” says Melinda with the tiniest of shrugs.

Kara looks like she might jump at Melinda again, so Daisy steps between them. “Look,” she says, “let’s all go sit down and talk about this, okay? I’m not saying we have to have a sleepover and paint our nails or anything, but Kara and I were here for…” She looks over at Kara before continuing, “I’d better let her tell you.”

They end up in the study, because none of them really want to sit in the same room as Garrett’s dead body. Kara and Melinda sit facing each other, their backs tight against the chairs. Daisy rolls her eyes. “Okay, so, Kara came to my house a few days ago...” She looks at Kara as if prompting her.

Kara narrows her eyes, but finally says, “Well, so after I woke up from my four-year coma and figured out what the fuck was going on, I broke out of the hospital and decided to kill every one of you bastards who put me there. I got Bakshi.”

“But not her,” Melinda says, nodding at Daisy. “Not like you to get soft.”

“Not soft!” protests Kara, clenching her fist. “I...needed her.”

“Basically, we decided the two of us were more pissed at Grant than at each other, so we’re going after him together now.” Daisy shrugs. “Well, Garrett first. Then...uh…” She looks sheepish. “Well, Kara wanted to go after you too.”

“Figured as much,” says Melinda. “It’s what I’d do.”

“I still might,” Kara replies, glaring.

Melinda shrugs. “I probably deserve it. But it’d be stupid. He taught you how to fight, didn’t he?”

“Maybe.” Kara gives the answer through gritted teeth.

“Then he’ll know exactly how to beat you. You need to learn some better moves. I can teach you.”

“Why should I believe you?” Kara asks. “You murdered Garrett and you were gonna steal my knife!”

“I don’t have anything against you,” Melinda says, rolling her eyes. “I wanted the knife, and I hated Garrett. It made sense. I have something against Grant, and I know exactly how to beat him.”

“Then why don’t you?” Kara asks, an edge to her voice.

“Too much trouble on my own. But if you’re going...well, you could take him down. But you’ll need my help.” Melinda smirks. “How about it?”

“Can I get in on this too?” Daisy asks.

“Sure. But your girlfriend’s still thinking about it.”

“Don’t call me that,” growls Kara. “And...fine. I’ll let you teach me. And I won’t kill you. Yet.”

Melinda snorts. “Sounds good. I think we’d better get out of here. I’ll need a more open space to train you, and we don’t want to be here when the police come.”

---

They end up at a park halfway across town. Melinda insists on them walking a ways into the park. “Don’t want to be spotted from the street,” she says.

Daisy raises an eyebrow. “Okay…?”

“Somebody might wonder why three grown-ass women are sparring in a park,” Kara points out.

“Exactly.” Melinda finally stops once they’ve passed the baseball diamond. It’s nice enough that there are a few people around, but nobody seems likely to bother them. “Okay, come at me,” she says, dropping into a defensive stance. “You first.” She nods at Kara.

Kara steps forward, and they circle each other for a minute before Kara reaches out to whack at Melinda’s arm. She touches her, but Melinda takes the opportunity to aim a blow at Kara’s face, which she barely ducks out of the way of in time. Kara hisses and kicks at her, but before she can connect it Melinda grabs her leg and pulls, sending her flying onto her back with a thud. “Fuck!” growls Kara. “That hurt!”

“Yeah?” Melinda looks down at her. “Good. If I hurt you now, there’s a better chance Grant won’t later.”

Daisy frowns. “I mean, it’ll be two on one-” At May’s glare, she quickly adds, “Three? Three on one?”

“Oh, I’m coming,” says Melinda. “You’re both fools, but I’m not letting you go up against him with just the two of you.”

“Okay, so three on one,” replies Daisy. “Those are pretty good odds.”

“Better odds than it would be with just her,” Melinda says curtly, nodding at Kara.

“Oh, fuck you,” mutters Kara, picking herself off the ground. “Alright, show me these magic moves of yours or whatever.”

“Not magic,” corrects Melinda. “You use Grant’s ego against him. You make him think he’s winning and then unbalance him. Watch me. Daisy, put me in a headlock.”

Daisy does, but she seems hesitant. “No,” scolds Melinda, “it won’t work if you don’t commit. Grab me tighter.”

Daisy obliges, and then Melinda squirms just enough to be able to elbow her in the ribs, which sends Daisy lurching forward and she lets go of Melinda. “See? That’s what you do if he gets ahold of you,” says Melinda, tossing her head. “Now, Kara, c’mere, try it on me.”

They spar for maybe an hour before Melinda says, “There’s one more thing I need to teach you. Grant doesn’t know this move, and it’s the one you should only use when you want to end everything.”

“That’s...dramatic,” says Kara.

“It’s called the Five-Point-Palm Exploding-Heart-Technique,” Melinda says with a smirk. “It’s not subtle.”

Chapter Six: Grant Ward

They leave that afternoon for LA. The GPS chirps that it will take them just over thirty hours, and Daisy’s plan is to drive until she’s exhausted and then let Kara take over, then Melinda. Once they’re on the interstate Melinda, in the backseat, asks, “So, you two seem close.”

Kara stiffens a bit. Daisy clutches the steering wheel a little tighter. “And?”

“Just seems a bit strange, that’s all.” Melinda shrugs. “Wouldn’t have guessed.”

“You ride in a car with anybody for hours, you’ll get pretty close to them,” Daisy says with a shrug.

“Uh huh.” Melinda’s clearly smirking, but she doesn’t say anything else.

They’re all quite for awhile, until Daisy, sick of the silence, says, “Okay, Kara’s been in a coma for four years so she has that excuse, but you don’t, May. You seen any good movies?”

Melinda snorts. “Is this really the time?”

“We’ve got like thirty hours,” Daisy points out. “It’s either stupid conversation topics or I blast the radio and sing along, and I kinda think you don’t want that.”

“Fine.” Melinda sighs. “I liked John Wick 2. And Hidden Figures.”

“Really? I wouldn’t have pegged you for liking inspirational based-on-a-true-story type movies.” Daisy hums. “See, we’re already learning stuff about each other!”

“Goodie,” snarks Melinda. “What’s next, hair-braiding?”

“No,” scoffs Daisy, “unless you guys feel like doing some major acrobatics to reach each other…”

“Nope,” Melinda and Kara say at the exact same time.

They manage the trip without too much awkwardness, all things considered, and arrive in Grant’s Santa Monica neighborhood in the early evening. Grant, of course, is still in the same lavish house that he had both Kara and Daisy stay in - “he doesn’t like change” snarks Kara - and that’s easy enough to find. It’s at the end of a ridiculous driveway, with a huge iron gate and a video security system. “Was your plan just to waltz back in?” Melinda snarks. “Thinking he’d welcome you, open-armed?”

“I was thinking I’d find another way in,” snaps Kara.

“Guys, guys, I know what to do,” Daisy says, rolling her eyes. “Kara, duck down in the seat so the cameras can’t see you. I’ll be the decoy.”

“I’ll hide too,” Melinda mutters. “No reason for me to be tagging along on a booty call.”

Daisy snorts, but she doesn’t argue. Once they’re both out of sight, she drives up to the gate.

“Mr. Ward is unavailable today,” says the blond security guard on the monitor. “Please call to make an appointment.”

“Lincoln, it’s me,” Daisy says, rolling her eyes. “I’m...I was hoping I could see him today.”

The guard blinks. “You...he isn’t expecting you, Ms. Johnson, I don’t-”

“Are you sure?” she asks in a syrupy-sweet voice. “I think if you ask him you’ll find he’ll be happy to see me.”

Lincoln swallows. “Well, I’m happy to see you, but he’s very busy-”

“Please?” Daisy pouts and leans forward out of the car - just enough to give Lincoln an eyeful of cleavage, Kara realizes. It annoys her for reasons she can’t articulate.

Lincoln swallows again, nods, and says “I’ll ask him” before switching off the video. It takes him long enough to return that, for a minute, Kara considers just slipping out of the car and trying to find a way inside by herself. But then he returns and says, “You’re cleared for entry. Park your car and come to the door alone, no bags or weapons.”

“I know, I know,” says Daisy sweetly, blowing a kiss at him. “Thank you.” As soon as the video feed cuts out, she makes a face at it. She revs the engine and turns to wink at Kara, crouched in the front seat. “And that’s how it’s done.”

“Yeah, yeah,” mutters Kara. “Grant’s just so stupid he’s thinking with his dick.”

“What, you jealous?”

“I don’t get jealous,” Kara replies, too quickly.

“So the idea of me maybe having to kiss him isn’t bothering you at all?”

“Oh,” says Melinda. “So that’s how you two are. I thought so.”

“We’re not anything,” growls Kara. “And shut up!”

“Jeeeeealooouuuussss,” Daisy sing-songs as she parks the car. “Okay, so are we all just going up there at once, or what?”

“Guess so,” says Kara. “That guy didn’t seem too bright.”

“He’s not,” Daisy says with a snort. “I dunno why Grant still has him. He hired him right after you died and right before I split, and I always got the idea he was checking me out.”

“Gross,” says Kara, curling her lip. “Want me to get him?”

“Be my guest.”

Once they’re at the door, Lincoln’s barely gotten the door open before Kara’s knife is in his throat. He wheezes once before collapsing. Kara yanks it out, spitting in his face for good measure before she stands up. “Overkill,” murmurs Melinda.

“I don’t like him,” grunts Kara.

“Jealous,” teases Daisy. “C’mon, let’s-”

But then someone claps from the top of the ridiculous staircase, and they all look up to see Grant standing there, applauding. “Impressive,” he says, smiling at them. “Certainly not what I expected to see at the bottom of these stairs, but not necessarily disappointing, either.”

“Grant,” Kara calls, tightening her grip on her knife. “Bakshi sent my message. You know why I’m here.”

“Oh, and I received it,” he replies, starting to descend the stairs. “I merely assumed that you would be acting alone. I didn’t realize you’d bring backup dancers with you. It’s charming, really. Melinda, how have you been?”

“Been better,” says Melinda through gritted teeth, hand on her gun. “When I wasn’t talking to you.”

He puts his hand over his heart and makes a wounded face. “Blunt, as always. And Daisy? I suppose it’s too much to hope for a kiss hello?”

“Yeah, no kisses for you, jackass,” Daisy says.

“Kara?” He’s about halfway down now. “What do you say we kiss and make up? I think this has all just been a big misunderstanding, baby.”

Kara narrows her eyes. “What about you shooting me in the face was a misunderstanding?”

Grant chuckles. “You’re overreacting, I think. Have you come to ask for your job back? I don’t do that so much anymore, but I’d be willing to make an exception for you. You were my best, after all.”

Snorting, Kara spits, “Never. I wouldn’t work for you if my life depended on it.”

“Ah, so dramatic,” sighs Grant. Finally he’s on the same level as them, and he reaches out as if to touch Kara’s cheek. “They really did do a marvelous job,” he muses. “Still so beautiful…”

Before he can touch her, Kara’s knife flashes and there’s a shallow cut across his palm. “Oh, come now, that wasn’t necessary,” he says, pulling out a handkerchief to wrap his bleeding hand in. “You must know I would never hurt you, Kara.”

She scoffs. “That’s rich. Look, I’d just as soon get this over with. Are we going to fight or what?”

“Fight? So hot-blooded.” Grant shakes his head, but he’s still smiling. “I’d like my housekeeper to look at this, and then how about we all sit down for supper? Kebo’s almost finished preparing it.”

“Wow, that’s not at all suspicious,” snarks Daisy. “Do you keep the bottle of poison in the kitchen or is that too risky?”

Grant laughs again. “Why so suspicious? I just want to share a meal with my girl and my old coworkers. We can catch up. It has been awhile.”

“I’d really rather not,” Kara says, but then they hear the sound of toenails clicking and a soft bark from upstairs.

Turning to smile up in the direction of the bark, Grant calls, “Buddy! Buddy, c’mere boy, there’s someone here who wants to see you.”

After a minute, a chocolate lab comes trotting down the stairs, tail waving, and trots up to Kara. Kara’s eyes go wide and she stares at the dog, offering her hand for him to sniff as if in a trance. “Oh my god,” she murmurs, reaching up to him behind the ears. He nuzzles at her arm, whimpering. She carefully moves the bloody knife out of his reach.

“Hey there,” Daisy says, reaching out for the dog when he comes to greet her as well. “I haven’t seen you in forever, pal.”

Melinda doesn’t even look at the dog. “One meal,” she says to Grant. “Then we’ll see.”

“Excellent,” he says with a nod. “Will any of you need a few minutes to freshen up? It’s just down that hall.” He waves a hand vaguely through a nearby doorway.

Kara’s biting her lip and clenching her knife, especially when Grant snaps his fingers and Buddy trots back over to him obediently. Daisy gently puts her hand on Kara’s arm, guiding her the way Grant pointed without saying a word. Melinda watches as Grant turns to go into the other room, then follows them once he’s out of her sight.

They enter the absurdly large bathroom and shut the door. Kara sets her knife down on the counter and puts her head in her hands. “I didn’t realize he’d still have the dog,” she murmurs. “I forgot…”

Daisy puts her hand on Kara’s shoulders, a bit unsure, but Kara’s shoulders relax under her touch so she keeps it there. “I’m shocked that dog hasn’t run away by now,” she snarks. “He was always way too sweet for Grant.”

“Did he put his head in your lap?” Kara asks, sounding sad for the first time all day. “He used to do that to me when I was sitting down.”

“Not a lot, but he liked to lean on me,” Daisy says, smiling.

“Don’t go getting soft,” warns Melinda. “Don’t let Grant see that. He will take advantage of that, he will get inside your head and try to undo all your anger. Don’t let him. Make sure he knows that you hate him.”

Kara squares her shoulders and nods. “Okay,” she says. “I wasn’t expecting - but I can do that. I’m okay.”

After Kara cleans off her knife as best she can (not feeling remotely bad about ruining some of Grant’s towels), they leave the bathroom and go into the room that Grant entered earlier. They find him sitting at his ridiculous dining table, serving dishes full of food covering the table. “So good to see you ladies,” he says. “Please, sit. Kebo will serve you.”

A tall, bald man nods at them, and gestures to the seats nearest Grant. Glaring, Kara takes a seat several seats away from him, and Daisy and Melinda sit on her other side. Grant pouts a bit but glances at Kebo and says, “Go ahead.”

Kebo obediently serves them portions of the veal marsala and roasted potatoes. It smells good, but Kara keeps her face neutral. “Please, eat,” Grant says, picking up his fork. “There’s no foul play here.” He takes a bite of each dish and then nods to Kebo to do the same.

Daisy is the first to start eating, though she still looks suspicious. Once Kara and Melinda see that nothing bad has happened to her, they start eating too, careful not to take their eyes off Grant for more than a second.

Grant seems to find it more amusing than anything, asking them all questions about their lives (which Daisy and Melinda answer in as few words as possible). Kara eats only as much as she needs to, and doesn’t let herself enjoy it.

“You know, I have to thank you, Kara,” Grant says, startling her. “For disposing of Lincoln earlier.”

Kara snorts. “Why?”

“His performance had been slipping lately. He’d been getting...sloppy. Forgetting things occasionally, not patrolling as thoroughly. I was just going to fire him, but this is much simpler.” Grant dabs at his mouth with his napkin. “You needn’t feel guilty, he had no family.”

“I didn’t,” snaps Kara. “Like I said, he annoyed me.”

“Interesting,” murmurs Ward. “And why is that?”

“Just did.”

Finally they all seem to have eaten enough to satisfy them, and he herds them into another room and directs them to a huge soft couch while he takes a leather armchair. Then he instructs Kebo to pour them all glasses of brandy. “It’s Hennessy,” he says, and waits for them to react to that. None of them do.

“I’m not gonna drink that,” Daisy says.

“Nonsense,” Grant says. “We could all stand to relax a little. It’s good drink, try it.”

Daisy, maintaining eye contact with Grant the entire time, picks up the glass and slowly pours the brandy out of it onto the floor. Then she sets it back down and tosses her head.

“Very well,” replies Grant. “Suit yourself. Kara, just what has brought you here exactly?”

“Definitely not your fancy dinners and brandy,” scoffs Kara. “My plan is to kill you.”

“Interesting,” Grant says, taking a sip of brandy. “And what makes you think you’re capable of doing that?”

“Because I’ve already killed Sunil Bakshi and Daniel Whitehall and ninety nine of his goons,” Kara says icily. “And the only reason I didn’t kill John Garrett was that she got to him first.” She nods at Melinda.

For the first time, it seems like something she said affects Grant. He’s mid-sip and he swallows loudly and then sets the glass down. “So, Bakshi and Garrett are dead,” he muses. “Shame, that. But not entirely surprising. Bakshi was always a sycophant, with me and then with Whitehall. And Garrett...I loved him, wholeheartedly, but he was an unrepentant bastard. I certainly don’t blame you. But I confess, I have some questions. If it’s not too presumptuous, I assume you were targeting the four who I took with me when we attacked you. Yet you came in with two of them. Why is that?”

Kara glares. “I don’t see how any of that is your concern.”

“True, it isn’t,” says Ward with a shrug. “Just my own curiosity.”

“Daisy and Melinda have been helpful,” Kara says, keeping her voice steady. “That’s all you need to know.”

Grant nods slowly, then whistles, and Buddy trots in again. He goes to Grant first, and Grant gives Kara a sickly smile as he scratches the dog’s ears. “I noticed earlier you seemed surprised when he came over to you,” he says. “Did you think I wouldn’t still have him? Didn’t you miss him?”

Kara bites her lip. Daisy reaches over and grabs her hand, squeezing it gently. They’re not sitting especially close, but Kara shifts her weight to lean against her slightly in a non-verbal show of thanks.

Grant raises an eyebrow. “Oh my,” he says, smirking. “That’s certainly an interesting development. I had no idea you had...those interests, either of you. How charming.”

“Fuck off,” hisses Kara. “You know nothing about me or what I like.”

“Don’t I?” he asks. “I know enough. I’m sure I know more about what you like than she does.” He nods at Daisy. “Of course, if I’d known you were up for it, I would have suggested we bring her into the bedroom years ago. That could’ve been fun. I don’t suppose I could convince you to let me watch now?”

The words are barely out of his mouth before a glass hits him and shatters in his face. “You asshole!” yells Daisy. “You complete shitstain, you’re not getting anywhere near me or her ever again!”

Grant hisses, covering his face with both hands. Daisy and Melinda both get to their feet, ready to jump him once he moves. He has a large cut on his forehead and several glass shards in his cheek and beard. “Fuck,” he mutters. “Should’ve known you’d fight dirty, you little bitch.” Finally he stands up and grabs the bottle of brandy, still wiping his eyes. “I tried to be civil, I invited you into my home, I fed you, and you repay me with this insolence!” He swings the bottle at his nearest target, Melinda, who easily ducks out of the way. The cut on his forehead is bleeding - it runs into his eye, even as he tries to rub it away.

Daisy darts forward to punch his abdomen. She barely avoids getting hit on the head with the bottle, but that just makes her laugh. “C’mon, Grant, is that all you got?”

He growls and lunges for her, managing to graze her arm with the bottle. It’s not more than a bruise, and all she does is grunt and spin away. “Ooh, so close!”

“You can’t beat me!” Grant roars. “Daisy, Kara, I taught you two everything you know! I’m stronger and smarter than you! There’s nothing you know that I don’t!”

Melinda steps forward and punches him in the shoulder, taking the bottle to her own shoulder for her troubles. She yelps and throws a punch at his side, which he manages to avoid. They circle around each other. Daisy comes at him from the other side, getting in a few punches. Before he knows what’s going on, Melinda slips behind him and grabs the arm holding the brandy, twisting and squeezing the hand until he screeches and lets it go. Then she grabs his other arm and twists them both behind his back. “Kara!” she yells. “Now!”

Grant squirms and screams obscenities, trying to get free. Kara steps forward and jabs her hand into his chest. Once, twice, three times. The fourth time she twists her hand, and then she jabs it into him again. His body jerks, and blood trickles from his mouth. Grant looks down at his chest, then back at her. “Melinda...taught you the Five-Point-Palm Exploding-Heart-Technique?”

Kara smiles at him. “Yep.”

“Damn right I did,” Melinda says.

Grant laughs a little bit, staggering backwards a few steps. “Well, this is an interesting twist. I can’t say I don’t deserve this.” He looks at Kara. “It was nice to see you one last time, baby.”

“Fuck you,” she replies, and then he collapses into the chair and doesn’t move again.

Buddy, who had hidden behind the couch when the fighting started, pads back into view, whining. Kara offers him her hand to lick, almost absently. “Huh,” she says. “I thought it’d feel different.”

“Things don’t usually feel like you think they will,” Melinda says with a smirk. “But it’s done now.”

---

Kebo seems puzzled but indifferent to the situation, especially after Melinda slips him a stack of bills and asks him to be discreet. He shrugs and leaves. Daisy asks, “What now?”

Melinda sighs. “Well, we’d better get cleaned up, wipe our prints off the glasses, and then get out of here. No doubt someone’ll get suspicious, come sniffing around.”

Kara grabs Buddy’s collar. “We’re taking him too.”

“Must we?”

“Yes.” Kara rests a hand on his back. “He’s innocent in all this. I’m not leaving him behind.”

“You can have shotgun, Melinda,” says Daisy quickly. “Kara and Buddy can have the back.” When Kara glares, Daisy adds, “Hey, it’s practical!”

“Fine,” says Melinda. “C’mon, we don’t have long.”

Daisy pokes around in Grant’s security system for a few minutes to get the gate open, but then they’re able to drive away with no issues. It’s just before eight PM and the sun is setting. Daisy has Melinda google the nearest Walmart for emergency supplies. It’s forty minutes away, but Daisy argues that will be better. “If we went to a store down the street, it’d be weird,” she reasons. “Nobody’s gonna ask questions if we’re almost an hour away.”

They’re all disheveled and Daisy and Melinda have torn and stained clothes, so the priority is new outfits. Kara also insists on getting Buddy a bag of food, a gallon of water, and some plastic bowls. “We can’t not feed him,” she points out when Melinda rolls her eyes.

Once they’re back in the car, Daisy pulls up directions to a hotel. “We’ll take you home in the morning,” she says to Melinda, “but I gotta sleep in a real bed or I’m gonna die.”

“We’re getting two rooms,” says Melinda. “I’ll pay. I don’t want to hear what you two get up to.”

“I mean, okay.” Daisy grins. “I won’t say no.”

---

Later, they stop at a mediocre chain hotel and Melinda requests a room down the hall from theirs. This seems like overkill to Kara. “I’m not that loud,” she mutters.

“Just precautions,” says Melinda.

“Well, that sounds like a challenge,” Daisy quips, startling the hell out of the perfectly coiffed front desk guy.

Much later, Daisy and Kara are sprawled out naked on the enormous hotel bed, Kara idly running her fingers along Daisy’s back. Buddy is curled up on the chair in the corner, snoring. “Don’t get used to this,” Kara says, sounding less harsh than she means to. “I told you, I don’t snuggle.”

Daisy laughs. “Yeah, yeah, I know. You’re damn good with those hands of yours though.”

“Thanks,” says Kara smugly. “You think Melinda heard us?”

“I mean, judging by the person next door banging on the wall, they definitely heard us.”

“Cool.” Kara’s quiet a minute, and then she says, “So, I guess we’ll head back to your place once we drop off Melinda? I mean, if you’re cool with me tagging along.” She tries to sound nonchalant. If Daisy wants her to find her own way, she will.

“Of course I am,” scoffs Daisy, like she can’t believe Kara would think otherwise. It’ll take awhile for Kara to get used to that. “And don’t worry about bringing Buddy. I’ll text Mike, he’ll understand. Ace’ll shit his pants. Kid’s been begging for a dog since he could talk. We got him a kitten for his last birthday, and he loves that stupid furball, but he’ll love Buddy too.”

Kara chuckles. “Okay. Yeah. That sounds...nice.”

Daisy rolls over to kiss her. “You doing okay?” she asks. “I mean after, y’know. Fulfilling your life’s goal and all.”

“I’m fine,” snorts Kara. “I’m great. That bastard’s dead and I have a hot girl in bed with me, why wouldn’t I be fine?”

“Good point,” says Daisy, and she seems about to say something else but interrupts herself with a yawn. “Mind if I pass out?”

“Go ahead.” Then, impulsively, Kara adds, “Hey...thanks. For, um, everything.”

“Sure?” Daisy laughs. “Thanks for not killing me. I appreciate that.”

“Yeah, I think I made a good call there,” Kara says, nestling into the bed. “Probably.”

Daisy reaches over to shove her playfully, saying “Probably? I could get up and go knock on Melinda’s door, y’know.”

“Yeah, but you won’t.” Kara smirks. “You like me.”

“No shit, Sherlock, how’d you figure that out?” Daisy lays back down, burrowing into the bed. “Anyway, I’m gonna crash now, see you in the morning, asshole.”

“Night,” says Kara, leaning over to plant a mostly sarcastic kiss on Daisy’s shoulder. Daisy swats at her with her eyes closed and Kara laughs. She feels lighter than she has since before she woke up.