He sat in the dim hallway outside the debrief room, shoulders hunched forward, hands limp between his knees. His tactical suit was still stained with dust and dried blood that wasn’t his. He didn’t speak when Daisy showed up. Didn’t even look up. He just kept staring at the wall, like if he looked hard enough, maybe it’d crack open and swallow him whole.

Daisy didn’t say anything at first. She just lowered herself beside him, pulling her knees up to her chest. The silence stretched. Familiar. Heavy. Safe.

“I read the report,” she finally said, voice low. “The girl…”

He nodded once. That was all he could do.

“I saw her die,” he said after a long beat. “A kid. She screamed for her dad while he walked away. I think she realized he’d sold her out before the shot even landed. I can’t stop seeing her face.”

Daisy didn’t try to comfort him with clichés or empty words. She knew better. They’d been through too much together. From fresh recruits sneaking energy bars during training drills to top-tier agents clearing black sites and dealing with the worst humanity had to offer. They’d made a name for themselves as a duo — smart, lethal, effective. But that didn’t mean they were invincible.

He let out a slow, brittle breath. “I used to think the job meant something. That we were protecting the good people from the bad. But every year it gets harder to tell them apart. Hydra. Politicians. Parents. Fathers selling daughters. I don’t know what I’m fighting for anymore.”

“You’re fighting because someone has to,” Daisy said softly. “Because even when it’s ugly and hopeless, someone still has to stand between the world and the worst parts of it.”

He closed his eyes. “It’s just... getting harder to get up in the morning. Harder to breathe. I’ve been faking it for a while now. Two years, maybe. Thought if I kept moving, no one would notice.”

Daisy turned toward him, her face open, unguarded. “I noticed. I just didn’t know how deep it went.”

He gave a weak laugh. “I didn’t want to drag you down with me.”

“You idiot,” she whispered, scooting closer until their shoulders touched. “You’re not dragging me. You never were. You’re my best friend. You’re the only one who’s been there since day one. And I’m not going anywhere.”

Something cracked in him then — not loud, not obvious. Just a slow, painful fracture that reached the surface after too long being buried. He leaned into her, eyes closed, and she wrapped her arms around him without hesitation. No hesitation. No pity. Just presence.

For the first time in months, maybe years, he let himself be held.

“You’re not alone in this,” she murmured, her voice steady against his ear. “You never were.”

And for once, he let himself believed it .