Archive of Our Own ^beta

She was used to pain, she promised she was. But there was a difference between the constant, familiar ache of her fractured bones and the sharp pain of a gunshot wound. And blood-loss would catch up with her before too long, she hadn’t done anything to stop it.

Daisy stumbled up the stairs to the well cared for hallway, filled with doors that had cheery welcome mats and personalized door decorations. Hopefully she could get to the security footage before anyone connected her to the apartment she’d chosen for Jemma and Fitz. Wouldn’t want them to face trouble from the landlord before they even moved in because she’d been caught stumbling through in her heavily injured, raccoon-eyed state. 

She fumbled with the handle and pushed through the door, shutting it behind her as quietly as she could given how bad of shape she was in. Light from the bay window hit her eyes and she squinted before looking up at the space. She expected to see Jemma’s startled gaze staring back at her, but was faced with a stranger. A stranger with her hand raised in Daisy’s direction.

She instinctively attacked, but the woman moved her hand in front of her and the vibrations dissipated against some transparent shield. It felt off to Daisy’s powers, but she didn’t have the presence of mind to register more than a sense of strangeness.

Just the single attack had sent further lances of pain through Daisy’s arm, and she was breathing heavily. She still wouldn’t be an easy target, but if this stranger wanted to hurt her, now was the time to get it done.

The two women assessed each other, a tense, still moment giving the a moment to properly see each other. Daisy knew she didn’t present an image of strength, but she suspected it was an image of danger, something that was confirmed when the woman readjusted her stance minutely but didn’t relax her vigilance. Daisy’s vision was a little fuzzy, but she could tell the woman was upper 30s with bushy brown hair. She wore an alarmed and suspicious look on her face. 

They stared at each other for another moment, both with a hand outstretched. Daisy’s palm faced front, ready to let forth another wave of vibrations if needed. The woman’s had was also empty, no gun, with her palm tilted slightly inward, her fingers loose. Having seen her dispel the earlier vibrations, Daisy figured she had some sort of power as well. “Who the devil are you?”

The woman didn’t move, just answered in a posh, British voice. “I’m a friend,”

Daisy laughed in derision. “You think that will work?”

Eyes closing briefly, the woman rolled her neck to the side. “I know. I hope you understand the danger of me telling you this: I’m Jemma Simmons sister. My name is Hermione.”

“Never heard of you. I’m her—I’m—”

She paused. She wanted to say best friend, or even sister as well, to lay claim to some sort of importance like this woman, but after everything, hurting people Jemma cared about, disappearing for months, she didn’t think she deserved it. 

“I know her. If you really know her, prove it. I’ll trust you enough not to kill you if you can prove you know Simmons.”

“Only if you will do the same, though I’ve kept up with Jemma’s life enough to know who you are, I think.”

Daisy nodded, and Hermione spoke.

“Jemma’s favorite animal is cuttlefish, she discovered they existed as a kid and promptly started scientific inquiry into how they worked.”

Daisy lowered her hand and finally relaxed, her legs buckling slightly before she leaned back against the door to support her. “Alright. When she was at SHIELD academy, Jemma was the only student to successfully prank Agent Weaver, but no one knows it was her.”

Hermione raised an eyebrow and lowered her hand, tension dropping from her shoulders as well. “Well you clearly do.”

Daisy slid to the floor, backpack dropping to the side as her strength finally gave out. “Yeah, well, insider knowledge,” she said with a strained voice.

Suspicion finally falling from her face in favor of concern, Hermione rushed forward to Daisy’s side. “Merlin’s beard, you really aren’t doing well.”

Daisy let out a short, dry laugh. “That’s why I was trying to get a hold of Jemma. She’s patched me up before, figured even if she didn’t want to see me again, she wouldn’t let me bleed out.” Hermione helped her into the middle of the room and Daisy could see the blood smear she’d left on the door, despite her short time leaning there. “Guess I’ll just have to figure it out, unless you’re an MD.”

Hermione raised an eyebrow, asking for permission, and when Daisy nodded she rolled up her sleeves and pulled Daisy’s shirt away from the gunshot wound in her shoulder. On the inside of one forearm as Hermione looked at her Daisy could see a stick of wood snapped into a holster of some sort, and on the other old but deep scars that spelled out some word, the significance lost on her. “I’m not a doctor, no, at least not a medical one. I can take care of this though, if you’ll trust me.”

 Daisy snorted. “If I didn’t trust you somewhat I would have left already, you never would have gotten close.”

She winced. “Yes, well, this goes a bit beyond that. I can’t stitch the wound, really. I’m a magic practitioner. I’d use a spell to close it.”

Daisy’s eyebrows shot up, but she just sighed. “Why not? After meeting Asgardians, magic honestly doesn’t surprise me.”

Hermione smirked and flicked her wrist, the stick of wood flying out of its place and into her hand. “Good to know, still not planning on revealing myself to the world, however.”

She lifted her wand—for that was clearly what it was—over Daisy’s shoulder and the vigilante could actually feel the wound closing, stitching back together. It was a very uncomfortable feeling, but she didn’t move.

Once she was done, Hermione settled on the ground next to Daisy, who rolled her now better than ever shoulder, still covered in blood but free of the gaping bullet hole. “Does Simmons know about magic? She doesn’t have that skill herself, I assume.”

Hermione looked down, hair falling in front of her face. “She does not. She did once, but I—“ she sighed deeply. “You may not trust me after this. I was fighting in a war between magic users, and I was on the run from the government, so I erased myself from my family’s memories, changed their name, gave them new identities. That’s why she’s never mentioned me, I had to leave to keep them safe, and was too scared to tell them what I’d done once I was safe.”

They sat in silence. 

Daisy’s immediate reaction was anger, that this stranger had just erased a part of Jemma’s life, that it was so easy. That she’d made herself a stranger against her family’s will. 

But she understood as well. She understood on such a personal level. She couldn’t erase herself from the lives of her fami—her team, but she was running as well. And every time she thought of going back, fear of what she’d done and shame for how she handled it kept her away. Knowing they would be angry and disappointed at her and every day she was gone those feelings would increase, so every day she both wanted to return but knew more than ever that she couldn’t.

“How old were you? How old was she?”

“I was almost 18. She was almost 9.”

Daisy stared at her. “It’s been 20 years.”

“I know.”

“Do you miss her?”

“So much I can’t even express it. It’s physically painful every day. But she’s happy without me, I would just make her life more complicated.” Hermione sighed bitterly. “And what do I say after this long?”

“Not sure it could be more complicated, but I understand.” Daisy shifted and hissed as her arms hurt, but that pain was so constant she barely noticed. “Question though: if she doesn’t know you exist, how are you here in her place?”

Hermione’s focus had shifted, however, and her answer was distracted as she examined Daisy’s arms.

“I’ve been keeping pretty close tabs on her since SHIELD fell, she got spooked by how fast this place went on the market and thought it was a trap. I can heal your arms too, if you’d like, but it will hurt a lot more. Hairline fractures, right?”

Daisy looked down at her arms, the mottled bruises standing out starkly against her paler-than-usual, clammy skin. “For someone who’s not a medical doctor you sure know your stuff.”

A dark look crossed Hermione’s face, one so different from what she’d looked like a moment before, but so at home there that Daisy could guess what her response would be before she spoke. “Benefits of experience. It’s been a long 25 years.”

Hermione pointed her wand at Daisy’s arms. “May I?”

She nodded and held them out. “Sure, I mean it can’t be any worse than breaking them in the first pl—“

She broke off and swore loudly as Hermione stabbed her wand forward and all her bones snapped back together. Once the immediate pain was gone she could feel the buzzing vibrations under her skin settle, more at ease than they’d been since she’d left her gauntlets behind at the Playground. The meds Elena got her were definitely better than nothing, but this was incredible. “Damn, you should bottle that.”

Hermione snorted. “They have, but it tastes awful.”

They watched together as the bruises faded, and then with another flick of Hermione’s wand, disappeared completely. They sat in silence for a while before Daisy hummed in contemplation. “I did actually rent this place out for Fitzsimmons, not sure how I’ll get the info to her now.”

Hermione smiled. “Guess you’ll just have to go back and see her in person.”

Daisy laughed, only slightly bitter. “Yeah, you first. I’ll just have Yo-yo explain the situation.”

Hermione shrugged, seemingly expecting the answer, before standing and moving toward the door. “Magic and tech don’t really mix so there’s no easy way for you to get in contact with me, but I’ll be keeping an eye out for you. If you need help, I’ll know.”

Daisy stood as well, and watched as Hermione vanished the blood off the door and ground before smiling at her and disappearing in thin air with a crack.

She stared for a moment before leaving, making sure she was avoiding cameras and any potential tails as she navigated the way back to her van.

Twenty years. Daisy really didn’t want to go twenty years without seeing her people.

Maybe she should deliver Jemma the papers in person after all.