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Summary
Daisy's finally out of the time loop, and she has to confront all the feelings it stirred up, especially when it comes to one Daniel Sousa.
Post-7x09 speculation.
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Bookmark Notes:
Sousa leans back in his chair, and without seeing it, Daisy knows he’s rubbing his thigh. It’s a tic of his that she picked up on rather quickly while in the loop. The reminder makes her heart clench.
“I just wanted to,” Sousa starts to say, then stops. Tries again. “You said something to me. Earlier. I want to know what you meant by it.”
Daisy takes a sip of her tea to stall for time. She’s not going to insult him by asking what he’s talking about. They both know what it is. After all, it’s one of the biggest reasons why she willingly went back to her bunk when everything was said and done.
The thing is, Daisy spent months and months inside that loop, reliving the same day over and over again. And while the chaos of everything made it hard to get any down time, there were still moments. Moments where Daisy found herself alone with Sousa, whether they were repairing something or patching up that stupid cut Daisy always seemed to get on her upper arm. Moments where they could talk, and she could actually get to know him a little better.
And inch by inch, Daisy got a better picture of who Daniel Sousa was, which only made it harder when she had to watch him die. Of course, it wasn’t always Sousa who died, but at a certain point, his death was the one that reminded her the most of those final moments with Lincoln, before his quinjet blew.
During that final loop, the one that broke it, the one the entire team can finally remember, Daisy had grabbed Sousa before he walked off to his death and said, with wrenching honesty, “Please don’t go. I can’t lose you again.”
And Sousa had listened, and the plan finally fell into place, and now Daisy can finally live out the next day. Which does come as a relief, she can admit that. But now she has to confront those words and the inconvenient feelings they carry. She could ignore them before. She can't now.
“I don’t know what you want me to say,” Daisy says after the silence has stretched a bit too long. “They were spur of the moment words. I was tired of losing everyone at that point.”
“Right,” Sousa says. “Sure. Except, you didn’t say it to anyone else. Or did I just miss that?”
Daisy could lie here, she knows. It would be an easy way out, but also Sousa has a scary way of seeing through all her bullshit. She doesn’t actually think it would work.
“I’ve lost a lot of people,” Daisy says instead. “Family, friends, and… otherwise. I was feeling a lot in that moment. I was scared.” She keeps her face composed, a skill she learned after hours of watching May. “Scared people say all kinds of things.”
“I guess I just don’t understand what you were scared of,” says Sousa. “I’m the new guy. We haven’t known each other that long.”
“I’ve spent months with you,” Daisy snaps before she can stop herself. Not a very May-like move. She presses her lips together. “It’s just different for me,” she finishes lamely.
Sousa’s eyes dart across her face like he’s piecing something together. Slowly, he says, “In this loop, did we… were we…?”
She fills in the blanks and shakes her head. “God, no. We were too busy for anything like that.” Well, he was. Things flowed a little differently for her, hence why she’s in this mess at all.
“But you said –”
“I know what I said,” Daisy grits out. “And it was caused by stress and panic and meant nothing.”
She stands, the sound of her chair skidding back coming harsh and loud. She makes to leave, but a warm, calloused hand wraps around her wrist before she can get far.
That hand on her shoulder, holding her steady while he cleans the wound on her arm. That hand pulling her close, pulling her way from falling debris. That hand –
“Daisy,” Sousa says, and though she’s heard him say her name so many times, it’s different now. This one will stick.
Daisy closes her eyes against hot tears. She whispers, “The last guy I – he died. He sacrificed himself for me. I didn’t – I kept getting déjà vu. I needed it to stop, I needed you to just…” A tear slips down her cheek. “Stay.”
She can’t look at him, she can’t, and she waits for the moment when his hand will leave her wrist. That comes a moment later, but it doesn’t leave entirely. It moves to her palm, his fingers sliding between hers. A sob wrenches itself from her throat.
Daisy barely registers being pulled into his arms, doesn’t even fully realize he’s stood up. She just cries. Cries for Lincoln, cries for her mother. Cries for all the times her friends – her family – died in front of her.
Eventually her tears subside. Sousa pulls back just enough so she can look into his eyes. He wipes away a stray droplet with his thumb.