Chapter 1: Fractured

The dimly lit debriefing room was eerily silent, the only sound the soft hum of the fluorescent lights overhead. The air was thick with tension as Daisy Johnson, codename Quake, sat slumped in her chair, her eyes fixed on some invisible point on the floor. The team had just finished reviewing the mission footage, and it was clear that things had gone catastrophically wrong. Daisy's usually vibrant personality was subdued, her bright smile nowhere to be found. Her eyes, usually sparkling with mischief, were dull and lifeless. Fitz, her closest friend and ally, reached out a hand, placing a gentle touch on her shoulder. "Daisy, we had no way of knowing it would go down like that," he said softly. "It wasn't your fault." But Daisy didn't respond. She just shook her head, her eyes welling up with tears. Suddenly, her body began to shake, and she let out a low, keening moan. The team exchanged worried glances as she started to sob, great heaving gasps that racked her entire body. "I want...I want my mom," she choked out between sobs. The room fell silent, the team exchanging sympathetic glances. They all knew about Daisy's troubled past, about her birth mother, Mary Mackenzie, aka Skye, who had died at the hands of AIDA. They thought she was talking about her. Fitz pulled her into a gentle hug, trying to comfort her. "Daisy, we're here for you. We're your family now." But Daisy's response was immediate and emphatic. "No, no, no! Not her! Not Mary! I want...Melinda." The room fell silent again, this time in shock. Melinda May, their team leader, had been a constant presence in their lives, but Daisy's relationship with her was... complicated. May had taken Daisy under her wing, mentored her, and pushed her to be her best self. But Daisy's feelings for May went far deeper than mere admiration. As Daisy continued to sob, the team exchanged uneasy glances. They had never seen her like this before, so raw and vulnerable. Fitz held her tight, trying to comfort her, but Daisy's mind was a thousand miles away, fixated on the one person she wanted to see right now – Melinda May. The door to the debriefing room burst open, and May herself strode in, her expression grim. "What's going on?" And then she saw Daisy, her team member broken and crying, and her entire demeanor softened. "Daisy," she said, her voice low and gentle. "What's wrong, kiddo?" Daisy's response was a muffled cry, her body shuddering in May's direction. May's eyes locked onto hers, and for a moment, they just stared at each other, the rest of the team melting into the background. Without a word, May strode over to Daisy and swept her into a tight hug. Daisy buried her face in May's shoulder, her body wracked with sobs. The team watched, transfixed, as May held her, a look of deep concern etched on her face. As the silence stretched out, it became clear that this was more than just a simple case of PTSD or mission fatigue. This was something deeper, something that went to the very heart of Daisy's being. And as May held her, it seemed that she knew exactly what Daisy needed – and was ready to give it to her.