Chapter Text
"You're quite mad, do you know that?" Fitz glares at his wife, incredulously.
"It's a perfectly reasonable…" Jemma endeavors to keep her voice even, her go-to defensive position in the face of her husband's quickly-ascending dander.
"Reasonable?!" he rebuts, voice dripping with sarcasm. "You think THIS is reasonable?!" He holds the offending item up at her, and she crosses her arms with a heavy sigh.
"I don't think it's inappropriate…"
"Inapp…" he scoffs, unable to even finish. "No….no, I'm putting my foot down."
"Which foot would that be?" she says with mock sweetness.
"The one that bloody well isn't about to let my only child galavant around in that...thing."
"...and by 'thing', you mean the adorable miniature football jersey that Hunter and Bobbi sent for her birthday?"
"Just say 'shirt', you sound like a damn American."
"Fine. Shirt. And she loves it, so it stays."
"But it's Liverpool, for God's sake. It's...no. Just no."
"You're just angry because she never plays with that ball you gave her."
"I'm not, because she's not supposed to play with it. It's a signed ball."
"Well then I don't see why you're complaining."
"Hunter just gave it to her to get under my skin."
"Well, silly him, since you're handling it so calmly, hmm?"
"All right, enough." He groans, slamming his eyes shut and placing his hands on his hips. "Whatever, fine, let her sleep in the damn thing, I don't care."
"No, clearly not."
"Oh, ha ha…" he rolls his eyes, turning toward the living room. "Where is that little monkey, anyway? It's eerily quiet in this house."
"Yeah, that's never a good sign, is it?" Jemma concurs, glancing about in search of her offspring.
"Mummy!" they hear, as if on cue, from their Perthshire front yard.
"Oh good, she's unlocking the front door without telling us now. That's fun," Fitz grumps, moving to look out their bay window.
"Now I know where Deke got his, uh, adventurous spirit...let's say…"
"Yeah, from you."
"Me?!"
"Oh, don't get all offended. It's not like she's...wh...what the…" he stops, transfixed by the sight of three people standing on his lawn.
From her spot behind their empty birdbath, Daisy waves, clutching the child's hand with one of her gauntleted arms. Sousa, for his part, just stands there with his hands in his pockets, wearing his patented Sousa-esque smile they've come to know so well.
"I'll go put the tea kettle on," Jemma sighs.
********
"This thing, it's…" Sousa struggles for a word that fits, so he turns his head expectantly at his better half, as they sip Earl Grey around the Fitzsimmons kitchen table.
"...It's like nothing we've ever seen. Which, you know, is saying a lot." Daisy shrugs, her ostensible confidence belying the fact that her stomach has been doing backflips since she first laid eyes on the footage of this...whatever it was. At least, she assumes that's the reason.
"All you can really see is a...like a shadow, kinda," Sousa explains. "But...a human shadow."
Daisy nods. "Except normal shadows don't kill every living thing in their path. I mean normal shadows...don't really have a path of their own. Being shadows and all."
"Whatever it was, it could pass through solid objects. Then...crumble them into dust. Not to mention wither every plant, turn every animal in its wake into a dried up husk." Sousa shudders at the thought.
"It was terrifying. We don't know what the hell it is, where it came from, what it wants, or how the hell to stop it. It's just this...thing that comes and goes wherever, and destroys everything in its wake."
She hands the tablet over to Fitz, and he stares at the images playing over the screen. The phantom moving down a street, pedestrians wilting left and right as it passes. Another shot of it in a hotel corridor, wallpaper blackening at its approach. Then the strangest one of all, a ballet performance, tutued dancers running about at the sight of it, only to be swallowed by its dark aura.
"This... doesn't remind you of anything?" Fitz quirks an eyebrow at his friends.
"Should it?" Daisy asks.
"Russia," he gestures at her with one hand while flopping the tablet down onto the tablecloth. "That General. He could summon those…Darkforce beings. They looked just like that. Shadows."
"I thought of that, but...those things were tied to one inhuman, and we haven't been able to find any connection at all between these locations or the victims. No motive at all, it's just...random. Plus...you know, this thing is like...a cloud of death with a chewy humanoid center. Not a figure that manifests so it can punch you."
"Maybe not," Fitz elaborates. "But…even without having a chance to do any analysis in the field or run any simulations, I still think this is probably Darkforce at work. The apparition nature of the thing, its transience, and look…you see those lines emanating from around the specter? The black smoky ones? They look an awful lot like the ones that came out of Marcus Daniels."
"That...that sounds familiar," Daisy tilts her head, trying to place it.
"It was the Fridge escapee who went after Coulson's ex. The cellist, in Portland." He looks up at them. "I mean the ex was a cellist, not the madman after her."
"We gathered that, darling," Jemma pats his arm lovingly.
Daisy takes a deep breath, taking back the tablet and gazing at the carousel of images. "Right. I wasn't there, I was busy finding out the guy I'd just gotten involved with was a psycho murderer slash traitor. Good times."
"You mean that Ward guy?" Sousa raises an eyebrow, recalling his lengthy debrief with Mack and Coulson to catch him up with SHIELD history since 1955. The virtual tour included some unfortunate security videos of a certain traitor Hydra operative and his disturbing fixation on Daisy…Sousa shakes off the uncomfortable thought, before rage starts to build in him. After all, the man is long dead.
Still...
"Tell you what, that guy's damn lucky I died before he was born...and then was dead before I stopped being dead." He crosses his arms as the others stare at him. "You all know what I mean."
"Yes we do, babe." Daisy leans over with a smile and pecks him on the cheek. "Although for what it's worth, I do hope Deke in that alternate universe does some early intervention for little boy Ward and his kid brother. Their family life sounded way worse than any of my crappy foster homes. Which is saying something."
Ire draining from him, Sousa squeezes her hand and gazes at her with admiration, earning him a shy smile. Even after all she's been though, all the universe and everyone in it has put her through, compassion is still her first impulse.
Girls like her sure don't come around every day, do they? he muses to himself. Maybe once or twice in a lifetime, if you're lucky.
And boy, did I get lucky.
"So...what exactly is Darkforce?" Sousa asks, coming out of his reverie.
"Right," Fitz rubs his head. "You would have known it as Zero Matter. It's extra dimensional energy…"
"...Yeah, I uh...I remember." his voice is solemn. He recalls his encounters with the substance. What it can do. How it can kill. That girl in the frozen lake. What happened to Dr. Wilkes. The Rift…he shudders at the thought.
"We had a case…" he starts.
"...The Whitney Frost incident, right," Jemma chimes in. "I recall from those old SSR files. In fact, you might be the resident expert here. You've come across Zero Matter more than any of us."
Sousa frowns. "I don't know if expert is the right term, but I've seen the stuff in action. Up close. A little too close, frankly. So if it's involved in what's happening, we might be in real trouble."
"How'd you stop it back then?" Daisy wonders.
"Uh, we shoved the core of a gamma cannon into the rift."
"How'd you avoid getting sucked in yourself?" Fitz wonders.
"Howard had his own version of Lola."
"Wow," Daisy snarks. "Don't tell Coulson, he might go into mourning."
Her husband chuckles amiably. "So...if this thing is some form of Zero Matter, we can just use gamma rays to neutralize it, then, right?" Sousa looks expectantly at his friends. "I mean I'm sure you have some high tech gamma….whozits, don't you?"
"We do," Jemma glances at her husband. "But we don't have a way to track it, or predict where it will pop up next."
"Yeah, and the range...it's bizarre," Daisy says, picking the tablet back up. "Most of the sightings have been in southern California, but there were also a couple in New York, for some reason. We don't know if it's random or if this thing is picking specific targets. If only…" she trails off.
"What?" Sousa asks, tilting his head.
"This just...feels like the kind of thing Robbie maybe could help with."
"Robbie Reyes?" Jemma wonders.
"It makes sense," Fitz pipes in. "He's connected to the Darkforce through that...thing."
Jemma sighs. "But he might be difficult to contact, given…"
"That he lives in a hell dimension?" Daisy finishes.
"Wait...what? What thing? What hell dimension?" Sousa looks at his wife with mild horror.
"He's a good guy. But he's sorta possessed by this…flaming skull demon whatever." Daisy gestures nonchalantly.
"Don't you hate when that happens?" Sousa deadpans at his wife.
"Cute," she snarks back. "Now come on, I think I have an idea.
********
The screen door clatters open slightly when Daisy bangs on it, the clasp failing to catch properly in the latch.
"Damn. I meant to get that fixed last time I was here," Daisy castigates herself.
"Do you stop by often?" Sousa wonders.
"It's been too long," she sighs. "We were away, and we've been busy. I know Mack sends an agent over once in a while to check in, but I...I should be doing a better job of making time. I promised Robbie I'd look after him but...you know. The superhero life and all..."
"You're only one person, Daisy," he rubs the shoulder of her leather jacket tenderly, eliciting a small smile.
"I'm coming," they hear from within. "Just give me a second."
"Take your time, Gabriel," she says through the door. When it finally opens, the proprietor of the estate smiles warmly.
"Sup, Quake. Long time no see."
"I know. I'm sorry. How are you?"
"Can't complain," the wheelchair-bound young man shrugs as he ushers them inside and points them toward seats at the kitchen table. "Though my Physics professor is a real hardass. Or he was, until someone told him who my Uncle was. Changed his tune real quick."
"I'll bet." Daisy chuckles. "Hey listen, I wish I could say this is just a social visit, but…"
"Let me guess. Robbie?"
"We need his help. Me and my, uh, husband here. Daniel."
Gabriel smiles and side-eyes Sousa, who waves sheepishly. "Husband, huh? Is he as dorky as he looks?" the young man mutters, nodding in Daniel's direction.
"Much more so," Daisy stifles a grin.
"You two know I can hear you, right?" Sousa raises an eyebrow.
Daisy winks at him, then turns back to the younger Reyes brother. "So listen...can I borrow the keys to the Charger?"
Gabriel's eyes widen, but he points to the key hook on the far wall. "Your funeral," he shrugs.
********
"It's fine, don't worry," Daisy gives Sousa a quick peck on the lips before opening the shiny metal door and sliding into the driver's seat.
"You sure I shouldn't come with?" he says with trepidation. "I may still be figuring out all your fancy SHIELD tech, but I do know how to drive a car."
"Something tells me I won't be going far," Daisy smiles at him. "Just stay put."
"Wait, wait...in case you're about to do what I'm very much afraid you're about to do...does this beast have those...air bag things?"
"Nope! Bye, babe!" The engine roars to life, and Daisy peels out down the driveway. To both men's shock, however, she fails to turn either left or right onto the main road, but instead zooms ahead toward an alley across the way.
An alley that terminates within a few hundred feet in a dead end.
A dead end and a thick concrete wall.
Daniel stops breathing as she approaches the point of no return, bracing for the inevitable impact and fumbling for the fancy cell phone she gave him that he rarely uses except for emergencies. Like the one that's about to happen.
Suddenly, there's a flash of light, the screech of tires, and the odor of burnt rubber. Along with burnt...other things.
Just as she'd described, a figure with a flaming skull and a matching fiery chain stands in front of the still-running but now stationary vehicle.
After a moment, while Sousa gawks at the sight of his wife emerging unscathed from what should have been a pile of flaming wreckage to casually chat with this...whatever in God's name he is…the flames sputter out, leaving behind a man with short dark hair and an even darker look on his face.
"Damn, woman," the pissed-off mystery man says. "Who in the hell taught you to drive?"