The Hidden Son (Percy Jackson / Marvel's Agents of SHIELD Crossover)

13. Red Daisies

DAISY WASN'T CRYING. She wasn't—she just had a knot in her chest that hurt like hell, and her hands were shaking so badly she could barely use them, and there was a horrible, horrible feeling in the pit of her stomach. Her jaw was clenched, her eyeballs hurt, and she couldn't breathe. But her face was dry. She supposed the panic was suppressing the tears. Or maybe it was the shock. Maybe it was the sense of purpose she got when Simmons handed her a rag of some sort and told her to put pressure on the wound. Maybe it was the stark color difference between her fingers and the blood that welled up through them.

"We need to get him back to base, now!" Coulson's order somehow made it through the ringing in her ears. Or was it cotton?

"Sir, I need the bandages. Where are the bandages?" Simmons sounded as panicked as Daisy felt, but her hands were steady as ever as she unwound the roll May had tossed her.

         Fitz dropped to his knees next to Daisy and took the end of the bandage, holding it in place tightly enough to make his fingers turn white. "Keep the pressure on," he instructed her without explanation.

          Daisy's eyes flitted to May, positioned under Mack's shoulders, and she understood. She saw rather than heard the count of three leave May's mouth, and when Mack's torso was lifted off the ground, she didn't ease up until the last second. FitzSimmons handed the bandage under, over, under, over, until it was used up entirely. Even then, a spot of red was sleeping through the layers.

          "Come on, quickly, up!" Simmons ordered, and Coulson and May each draped one of Mack's arms over their shoulders. Fitz ran ahead—probably to open the doors and prep the med bay for them. Similarly, one of Annabeth's arms clung to Percy as he helped her walk, her newly bandaged leg proving useless. The two were pretty beat up, but not as badly as Mack. They'd be okay.

          The trip back was uneventful but terrifying. Daisy had to switch with Coulson halfway through—his cybernetic arm was no help. Mack bled through most of the bandaging. His head lolled to the side and she thought maybe he wasn't breathing, but he was. She could just barely feel it. Annabeth turned white as the snow. She said she was fine, but any further and she would have had to be carried.

          Mack didn't start dripping until they got back to the first clearing. The blood soaked through his clothes and she could feel it seeping into hers. When it hit the snow, it bounced.

It took forever and no time at all to get to the Playground. The doors opened just as they were in reach, and Fitz ran a stretcher out to meet them. It took four of them and Percy to hoist Mack onto it. He was even heavier than he looked, and he wasn't conscious to help.

          Then they were running. Running down the hallway, pushing the stretcher as fast as they could. A small concern that they might crash flitted through Daisy's mind, but it was gone as soon as it came. That was the least of their problems. She focused on her breathing—in, out, in, out, in, out—but there was nothing she could do to steady her heart. She lost track of the teenagers—they were behind the group, somewhere, maybe because of the girl's leg, but Daisy didn't care about them right now. Right now, her partner was being hooked up to all sorts of medical doohickeys, the heart monitor was freaking out, and he seemed for all the world like he was dying.

She wasn't a doctor. There was nothing she could do except stand there, panicking, waiting for Simmons to bark an order at her. But she didn't. Her movements were frantic, but her hands were steady as she darted around Mack, doing her best to stabilize him and ignoring everyone around her.

Daisy barely registered the teenagers when they walked in, barely glanced their way when Percy lowered Annabeth into a spare chair. But she noticed when they started talking to each other in hushed tones, eyeing Mack with suspicion. They looked like they were having a debate, albeit a very quiet one. She couldn't hear them. Was it because of all the noise? Or was she just incapable of paying attention? She couldn't tell. She was staring at the blood on her hands. How was she going to get it off?