Celestial Predator

The rain came down in sheets off the bay, the kind of hard, indifferent rain that San Francisco wore like a familiar coat. It drummed against the corrugated roof of the repair shop, a rhythm that Daisy Johnson had long ago stopped hearing. She sat cross-legged on the concrete floor, a laptop open in front of her, its screen casting a pale blue glow across her face. Her fingers moved over the keyboard with a lazy, practiced speed, tracing lines of code that belonged to someone else’s life. A client’s corrupted server. A puzzle she could solve in her sleep.

She was good at this. Quiet work. Invisible work.

The shop was a mess of parts and cables, the air thick with the smell of ozone and old coffee. A space heater hummed in the corner, fighting a losing battle against the damp. Daisy reached for her mug, found it cold, and drank the dregs anyway. Outside, the city was a blur of gray and neon, the Golden Gate a faint suggestion in the mist. She’d been here for three years now. Long enough to stop flinching at the sound of a helicopter. Long enough to forget the weight of a gun in her hand.

Almost.

Her phone buzzed on the workbench. A text from a number she didn’t recognize. *Need help with a drive. Heard you’re the best. Cash.*

She typed back with one thumb. *Who gave you my number?*

*Friend of a friend. You still in the game?*

Daisy stared at the screen. The game. She hadn’t been in the game for a long time. Not since Fitz. Not since the surgery. Her hand drifted unconsciously to her neck, to the small scar just below her collarbone where the power suppressor had been. The skin was smooth now, healed, but she could still feel the phantom ache of it. The cold metal that had kept her safe. Kept everyone safe.

She’d woken up on a table in a sterile room, her wrists strapped down, Fitz’s face hovering above hers. He’d been crying. She remembered that. Tears streaming down his cheeks as he told her it was for her own good. That she was too dangerous. That he loved her too much to let her destroy herself.

She’d begged him to stop. Screamed until her throat was raw. And then the anesthetic had taken her under, and when she woke up, the suppressor was gone. The vibration in her bones was back, stronger than ever, a constant hum that never let her forget what she was.

She’d left SHIELD two weeks later. Didn’t say goodbye. Just packed a bag and disappeared.

Now she fixed computers for people who didn’t ask questions. It was a life. Not a good one, but a life.

She deleted the text and went back to her code.

The bell above the shop door jingled.

Daisy didn’t look up. “We’re closed.”

“I know.”

The voice was soft. Familiar in a way that made her stomach clench. She looked up.

The woman standing in the doorway was soaked through, her blonde hair plastered to her face, a leather jacket dripping water onto the floor. She was tall, with shoulders that spoke of a strength that had nothing to do with muscle, and eyes that were the exact shade of a sky Daisy had once known. A sky that didn’t exist anymore.

Kara Zor-El.

Daisy’s breath caught in her throat. For a moment, the shop disappeared. The rain, the cold coffee, the hum of the space heater. All of it gone, replaced by a memory she’d buried so deep she’d convinced herself it was a dream.

A rooftop in National City. The stars above them. Kara’s lips on hers, soft and insistent. The taste of hope.

“You’re dead,” Daisy said. Her voice came out flat. A statement of fact.

Kara stepped inside, letting the door swing shut behind her. The bell jingled again, a cheerful sound that felt obscene. “I’m not.”

“You’re dead,” Daisy repeated. “I saw it. The crisis. The anti-matter wave. You were erased.”

Kara’s jaw tightened. “I survived. We all did. The multiverse merged. Earth-38, Earth-1, all of it. We’re on Earth-Prime now.”

Daisy shook her head. “That’s not possible.”

“It’s the truth.” Kara took another step forward. Her boots left wet prints on the concrete. “I’ve been looking for you for two years. I didn’t know if you’d made it. I didn’t know if you remembered.”

“Remembered what?”

Kara stopped. She was close now, close enough that Daisy could smell the rain on her skin, the faint hint of something floral underneath. “Us.”

Daisy laughed. It was a harsh, broken sound. “Us? There is no us. We never met.”

“That’s what you think now,” Kara said. “But you’re wrong. We met. We fell in love. We were together for three years before the crisis.”

“You’re insane.”

“I’m not.” Kara’s eyes were steady, unblinking. “Your name isn’t Daisy Johnson. It’s Skye. You told me that. You said Daisy was the name SHIELD gave you, but Skye was the name you chose for yourself.”

Daisy felt the floor tilt beneath her. Skye. No one had called her that in years. Not since…

“You don’t know me,” she said, but the words felt thin. Brittle.

“I know you hate the smell of lavender,” Kara said. “I know you can’t sleep unless you’re facing the door. I know you have a scar on your left hip from a mission in Bahrain that you never talk about. I know you shift into a tiger when you’re terrified, and you haven’t done it since you were nineteen because something happened that broke you.”

Daisy’s heart was pounding. A tiger. She’d never told anyone about the tiger. Not even Fitz. Not even Coulson. It was her deepest secret, a part of her she’d locked away so completely that she’d almost forgotten it herself.

“How do you know that?” she whispered.

“Because you told me,” Kara said. “On a night when you were drunk and sad and you missed your mom. You cried in my arms and you showed me. You trusted me.”

Daisy stood up. Her legs were unsteady. “I don’t remember you.”

“I know.” Kara’s voice softened. “The crisis changed things. It rewrote history. On this Earth, you never met me. You never joined SHIELD’s superhero division. You never became Quake. You’re just… you. Alone.”

“I’m not alone.”

“You are.” Kara reached out, her hand hovering just above Daisy’s cheek. “You’ve been alone for years. I can see it in your eyes. The same look you had when we first met.”

Daisy flinched back. “Don’t touch me.”

Kara dropped her hand. “Okay. I’m sorry.”

The rain hammered against the roof. The space heater clicked off, and the silence rushed in to fill the space between them.

“Why are you here?” Daisy asked. “If what you’re saying is true, why now? Why after two years?”

Kara’s expression flickered. Pain. Longing. Something darker underneath. “Because I’ve been searching for you since the crisis ended. I went to every SHIELD base, every safe house, every contact I had. No one knew where you were. You’d vanished.”

“I retired.”

“I know. I found out three weeks ago. A friend of a friend. You’re good at hiding, but I’m better at finding.”

Daisy crossed her arms. “So you found me. Congratulations. Now what?”

Kara was quiet for a moment. When she spoke, her voice was low, almost a whisper. “I want you to come home.”

“I don’t have a home.”

“You do. With me.”

Daisy shook her head. “I don’t know you. I don’t love you. Whatever we had, it’s gone. The crisis erased it.”

“It didn’t erase you,” Kara said. “You’re still here. Still you. The woman I fell in love with is still in there, buried under all that pain.”

“You don’t get to decide that.”

“No,” Kara agreed. “I don’t. But I’m not giving up on you. I lost you once. I won’t lose you again.”

Daisy felt a surge of anger. It was hot and sudden, a fire in her chest. “You don’t get to waltz in here and claim me like I’m some lost puppy. I’m not yours. I’m not anyone’s. I’ve spent years building a life for myself, a quiet life, and I’m not going to let you destroy it because you’re lonely.”

Kara’s eyes flashed. “Lonely? You think this is about loneliness?”

“Isn’t it?”

“No.” Kara stepped closer, and this time Daisy didn’t back away. “This is about the fact that I’ve spent every day for the past two years wondering if you were dead. Wondering if I’d failed you. Wondering if there was something I could have done to save you.”

“You couldn’t have saved me.”

“I know. But that doesn’t stop me from trying.”

Daisy looked away. The rain had slowed, a gentle patter now. Through the grimy window, she could see the lights of the city, blurred and distant. She thought about the life she’d built here. The quiet. The solitude. It wasn’t much, but it was hers.

“I can’t be what you want me to be,” she said.

“I don’t want you to be anything,” Kara said. “I just want you to remember.”

“I can’t.”

“You can. It’s in there. The memories are buried, but they’re not gone. I can help you find them.”

Daisy turned back to her. “And if I don’t want to?”

Kara’s face hardened. The softness was gone, replaced by something else. Something cold and determined. “Then I’ll wait. I’ll wait until you’re ready.”

“And if I’m never ready?”

“You will be.” Kara’s voice was flat. A promise. A threat. “Because I’m not leaving without you.”

Daisy stared at her. The woman in front of her was a stranger, and yet… there was something familiar in the set of her jaw, the fire in her eyes. Something that made Daisy’s chest ache in a way she couldn’t explain.

“You’re not going to give up, are you?” Daisy asked.

“No.”

“Even if I tell you to leave?”

“Even then.”

Daisy sighed. She ran a hand through her hair, which was tangled and damp from the humidity. “Fine. You can stay. One night. But tomorrow, you’re gone.”

Kara nodded. “One night.”

Daisy turned away, busying herself with the laptop, shutting it down, unplugging cables. She could feel Kara’s eyes on her back, a weight she couldn’t shake. She didn’t trust this. Didn’t trust Kara. But there was a part of her, a small, buried part, that wanted to believe. That wanted to remember.

She pushed the thought away. It was dangerous. Hope was dangerous.

“There’s a couch in the back,” she said. “It’s not much, but it’s dry.”

“Thank you.”

Daisy didn’t respond. She grabbed her jacket and headed for the door. “I’m going for a walk.”

“In the rain?”

“I need air.”

She stepped outside before Kara could argue. The rain was cold on her face, a shock that cleared her head. She walked without direction, her boots splashing through puddles, her hands shoved deep in her pockets. The city was quiet, the streets empty. She passed a bar, a laundromat, a corner store with a flickering sign. None of it registered.

Kara Zor-El. The name echoed in her mind. She’d heard it before, of course. Everyone had. Supergirl. The hero of National City. But Daisy had never met her. Never seen her in person. And yet…

There was a gap in her memory. A hole where something should have been. She’d always assumed it was the trauma, the years of fighting, the things she’d seen. But now she wondered. What if it was something else? What if Kara was telling the truth?

She stopped at the edge of a pier, looking out at the bay. The water was black, churning. A single light blinked in the distance, a boat or a buoy. She thought about the tiger. The shift. She hadn’t thought about it in years. Hadn’t let herself. The last time she’d shifted, she’d been nineteen, and it had ended in blood and screaming. Her mother’s face, twisted with fear. The men in suits, dragging her away. The cold table. The needles.

She’d locked it away after that. The tiger was a part of her she couldn’t control, a monster that lived in her bones. She’d spent her whole adult life keeping it caged. And now Kara was here, poking at the lock, trying to let it out.

“I won’t let you,” Daisy whispered to the water. “I won’t.”

She stood there for a long time, until the rain stopped and the clouds began to break. A sliver of moon appeared, pale and thin. She turned and walked back to the shop.

Kara was asleep on the couch when she returned. She’d taken off her wet jacket and draped it over a chair. Her boots were by the door, neatly placed. She looked smaller in sleep, less like a hero and more like a woman who’d been running for too long.

Daisy stood in the doorway, watching her. The urge to touch her was overwhelming. To feel her skin, to confirm she was real. She clenched her fists and turned away.

She lay down on a cot in the corner, pulling a thin blanket over herself. The shop was cold, but she’d slept in worse. She closed her eyes and tried to sleep.

The dreams came anyway.

A rooftop. Stars. Kara’s laugh, bright and warm. “You’re ridiculous,” Daisy said, but she was smiling. “I know,” Kara said. “But you love me.” Daisy leaned in and kissed her. The world fell away. There was only Kara, only the heat of her mouth, the softness of her hair. “I do,” Daisy whispered. “I love you.”

She woke with a start. The shop was dark. The space heater was off. And Kara was standing over her, her face inches away.

“You were dreaming,” Kara said. “You said my name.”

Daisy’s heart was racing. She sat up, pushing the blanket away. “Get away from me.”

“You remember.”

“I don’t.”

“You said my name.”

“It was a dream. It doesn’t mean anything.”

Kara knelt beside the cot. Her eyes were bright in the darkness. “It means everything.”

Daisy wanted to argue. Wanted to push her away. But the dream was still clinging to her, the feel of Kara’s lips on hers, the sound of her laugh. It felt real. More real than anything in her life had felt in years.

“What do you want from me?” she asked. Her voice cracked.

“I want you to come back to me,” Kara said. “I want you to remember. I want you to let me help you.”

“Help me how?”

“The tiger. The trauma. I can help you heal.”

Daisy shook her head. “You can’t. No one can.”

“I can.” Kara reached out and took her hand. Her fingers were warm. “I know you’re scared. I know you’ve been alone for so long you don’t know how to let anyone in. But I’m not going anywhere. I’m going to stay until you’re whole again.”

Daisy looked down at their joined hands. She thought about pulling away. Thought about telling Kara to leave. But she didn’t. She sat there, in the dark, and let herself be held.

“I don’t remember you,” she said. “But I want to.”

Kara smiled. It was a sad smile, but there was hope in it. “That’s enough. For now.”

They sat in silence for a long time, the rain starting up again outside, a soft, steady drum. Daisy didn’t know what the future held. She didn’t know if she could trust Kara, or if the memories would ever come back. But for the first time in years, she felt something other than emptiness.

She felt a flicker of something. Something like hope.

And somewhere deep inside her, in a place she’d locked away long ago, the tiger stirred.

The next morning, Daisy woke to the smell of coffee.

She sat up, disoriented. The cot was uncomfortable, her back ached, and for a moment she didn’t know where she was. Then she saw Kara, standing at the small kitchenette in the corner, pouring coffee into two mugs. She’d found the French press, the good beans Daisy kept hidden in the back of the cabinet. She’d also found the toaster, and there was a plate of burnt toast on the counter.

“You’re still here,” Daisy said.

Kara turned. She was wearing the same clothes from yesterday, wrinkled and damp, but she’d tied her hair back and washed her face. She looked almost normal. Almost human.

“I told you I wasn’t leaving.”

Daisy swung her legs off the cot. “I thought you’d be gone by morning.”

“I’m not that easy to get rid of.” Kara handed her a mug. “Here. You look like you need it.”

Daisy took the coffee. It was strong, black, exactly how she liked it. She took a sip and felt the caffeine hit her bloodstream. “How did you know how I take my coffee?”

Kara’s expression softened. “You always took it black. You said milk was for cowards.”

Daisy frowned. She didn’t remember ever saying that. But it sounded like something she would say.

She sat down at the workbench, and Kara sat across from her. The shop was quiet, the rain reduced to a gentle drizzle. In the daylight, everything felt less dramatic. Less like a confrontation and more like a conversation.

“So what’s the plan?” Daisy asked. “You’re going to follow me around until I remember?”

“Something like that.”

“That’s not a plan. That’s stalking.”

Kara smiled. “I prefer to think of it as persistent courtship.”

Daisy snorted. “Courtship. What is this, the 1800s?”

“You used to like it when I was old-fashioned.”

“I don’t remember that.”

“You will.”

Daisy took another sip of coffee. She studied Kara over the rim of her mug. The woman was infuriating. Stubborn. And yet… there was something about her that drew Daisy in. A gravity she couldn’t resist.

“Tell me something,” Daisy said. “Something real. Not a memory. Something about you.”

Kara considered. “I’m allergic to shellfish. I hate horror movies. I can’t sing, but I do it anyway. And I’ve been in love with you since the moment I saw you.”

“That’s not something about you. That’s about me.”

“It’s the same thing.”

Daisy shook her head. “You’re impossible.”

“I know.”

They finished their coffee in silence. Daisy watched the rain streak down the window, tracing patterns on the glass. She thought about the dream, about the feel of Kara’s lips on hers. It was fading now, like all dreams do, but the echo of it remained. A warmth in her chest she couldn’t explain.

“I have work to do,” she said finally. “A client’s server. It’s a mess.”

“I can help.”

Daisy raised an eyebrow. “You know anything about data recovery?”

“I know a lot of things.”

“Fine. But you touch anything without asking, and you’re out.”

Kara nodded. “Deal.”

They worked side by side for hours. Kara was surprisingly useful. She had a good eye for patterns, and she didn’t ask stupid questions. She also didn’t talk much, which Daisy appreciated. The silence between them was comfortable, easy. Almost familiar.

At noon, Daisy ordered takeout. They ate on the floor, surrounded by computer parts, the smell of soy sauce and fried rice filling the shop. Kara told her stories about National City, about her sister Alex, about the new team she’d assembled after the crisis. Daisy listened, not saying much. She didn’t have stories to tell. Her life since SHIELD had been a series of quiet days and sleepless nights.

“You were different before,” Kara said, as if reading her mind. “You were louder. Braver. You laughed more.”

“People change.”

“Not you. Not really.”

Daisy set down her chopsticks. “Why do you care so much? I’m nobody. I’m a retired hacker with a broken brain and a monster inside her. Why would you want that?”

Kara’s eyes met hers. “Because you’re my mate.”

The word hung in the air between them. Mate. It was a word Daisy had heard before, in the deep recesses of her memory, a word that belonged to a part of her she’d tried to forget. Inhuman. The tiger. The primal instincts that came with it.

“I’m not your mate,” she said. “I’m not anyone’s.”

“You are,” Kara said. “You just don’t remember.”

Daisy stood up. Her hands were shaking. “I need some air.”

She grabbed her jacket and headed for the door. Kara didn’t try to stop her.

Outside, the rain had stopped. The sun was breaking through the clouds, casting long shadows on the wet pavement. Daisy walked fast, her boots splashing through puddles, her breath coming in short gasps. She didn’t know where she was going. She just needed to move. To get away from Kara and the things she was saying.

Mate. The word echoed in her mind. She’d never had a mate. Never wanted one. The tiger was a curse, not a gift. It had ruined her life. She’d spent years suppressing it, denying it, pretending it didn’t exist. And now Kara was here, telling her it was real. Telling her she was real.

She stopped at a park, sat down on a bench, and put her head in her hands. The world was spinning. Everything she thought she knew was wrong. The life she’d built was a lie.

She thought about Fitz. About the surgery. About the look on his face when he’d told her it was for her own good. She’d trusted him. Loved him, even. And he’d betrayed her. Taken away her choice. Made her into something she didn’t want to be.

And now Kara was here, asking her to trust again. To open up. To let someone in.

She couldn’t do it. She couldn’t.

But even as she thought it, a small voice in the back of her mind whispered: *What if you could?*

She sat on the bench for a long time, watching the people go by. A mother with a stroller. A man walking a dog. A couple holding hands. Normal people, living normal lives. She envied them. She’d never had normal. She’d never had anything.

When she finally returned to the shop, Kara was gone.

Daisy’s heart dropped. She stood in the doorway, staring at the empty couch, the neatly folded blanket. Kara’s jacket was gone. Her boots were gone. The shop felt emptier than it had before.

She told herself she was relieved. She told herself she’d wanted Kara to leave. But the truth was, she felt a loss so sharp it took her breath away.

She walked to the workbench and sat down. There was a note on the keyboard. She picked it up.

*I’ll be back. I’m not giving up on you. I’ll never give up on you. – K*

Daisy read the note three times. Then she folded it and put it in her pocket.

She spent the rest of the day working. The server was a mess, but she fixed it. She always fixed things. It was what she did. She fixed other people’s problems so she didn’t have to deal with her own.

That night, she dreamed again. The rooftop. The stars. Kara’s lips. But this time, there was more. A flash of fur. A roar. The feel of the wind in her fur, the power in her muscles. She was running, running through a forest, and Kara was beside her, flying, laughing. “You’re beautiful,” Kara said. “Even like this.”

Daisy woke with a gasp. Her body was covered in sweat. Her heart was pounding. And something was different. Something had shifted.

She looked down at her hands. They were normal. Human. But she could feel it. The tiger. It was closer to the surface than it had been in years. Pacing. Waiting.

She got up and walked to the mirror. Her reflection stared back at her, pale and hollow-eyed. She touched her neck, the scar where the suppressor had been. She thought about the surgery. About Fitz. About the choice he’d taken from her.

And she thought about Kara. About the choice Kara was offering her now.

She didn’t sleep again that night. She sat on the cot, staring at the wall, and listened to the tiger pace.

Three days passed.

Daisy went through the motions. She fixed computers. She drank coffee. She avoided the mirror. But she couldn’t stop thinking about Kara. Couldn’t stop replaying their conversations in her head. Couldn’t stop dreaming about the rooftop.

On the fourth day, she went to the pier. She didn’t know why. She just felt drawn there. The water was calm, the sky clear. She stood at the edge, looking out at the bay, and she let herself remember.

Not the rooftop. Something else. A night in a hotel room, somewhere in Europe. Kara was there, lying on the bed, her hair spread out on the pillow. Daisy was sitting on the floor, her back against the bed, a laptop on her knees. “You work too much,” Kara said. “I have to,” Daisy said. “There’s always another threat.” Kara reached down and ran her fingers through Daisy’s hair. “You don’t have to save the world tonight. You can just be here. With me.”

Daisy closed her eyes. The memory was so vivid she could almost feel Kara’s fingers on her scalp. She could almost smell the hotel soap, the faint scent of Kara’s perfume.

“I remember,” she whispered.

She opened her eyes. The bay was still there, the water still calm. But something had changed. The wall she’d built around her memories was cracking. The past was bleeding through.

She turned and walked back to the shop. She had to find Kara. She had to tell her.

But when she got there, Kara was already waiting.

She was sitting on the workbench, her legs swinging, a cup of coffee in her hand. She looked up when Daisy walked in, and her face broke into a smile. “You’re back.”

“You’re here,” Daisy said.

“I told you I would be.”

Daisy walked over to her. She stood in front of her, close enough to touch. “I remembered something.”

Kara’s smile faded, replaced by something more serious. “What?”

“A hotel room. You were on the bed. I was working. You told me I didn’t have to save the world.”

Kara’s eyes filled with tears. “You remembered that?”

“Yes.”

Kara set down her coffee and stood up. She was trembling. “Daisy…”

“Don’t call me that.” Daisy’s voice was sharp. “My name is Skye.”

Kara’s breath caught. “You remember your name.”

“I remember a lot of things. Not everything. But enough.”

Kara reached out and took her hand. This time, Daisy didn’t pull away. “I’ve missed you,” Kara whispered. “I’ve missed you so much.”

Daisy looked down at their joined hands. She thought about the years she’d spent alone, the walls she’d built, the pain she’d buried. She thought about the tiger, pacing in its cage. And she thought about Kara, standing in front of her, asking her to let go.

“I’m scared,” she said.

“I know.”

“I don’t know if I can do this.”

“You can.” Kara squeezed her hand. “I’ll help you.”

Daisy looked up at her. The woman who’d been a stranger three days ago was now the only person in the world who knew her. The only person who’d ever known her.

“Okay,” she said. “Okay.”

Kara pulled her into a hug. Daisy stiffened for a moment, then relaxed. She let herself be held. She let herself feel. And for the first time in years, she didn’t feel alone.

They stayed like that for a long time, wrapped in each other, the shop quiet around them. Outside, the sun was setting, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink. Daisy closed her eyes and breathed in Kara’s scent. Rain and flowers and something else. Something that felt like home.

When they finally pulled apart, Kara’s cheeks were wet. Daisy reached up and wiped away a tear with her thumb. “Don’t cry,” she said.

“I can’t help it.” Kara laughed, a watery sound. “I’ve been waiting so long.”

Daisy smiled. It felt strange on her face, like a muscle she hadn’t used in years. “I’m still not sure I believe you. About us. About everything.”

“I know. But you’re starting to.”

“Yeah.” Daisy nodded. “I’m starting to.”

Kara took her hand again. “Come home with me. To National City. Let me show you our life. Let me help you remember.”

Daisy hesitated. The shop was her sanctuary. Her hiding place. Leaving it felt like stepping off a cliff.

But then she thought about the tiger. About the cage she’d built around it. About the life she’d been living, half-alive, half-dead. She thought about Kara, and the way she looked at her, like she was something precious. Something worth saving.

“Okay,” she said. “I’ll come.”

Kara’s face lit up. “Really?”

“Really.”

Kara kissed her. It was soft, gentle, a question more than a demand. Daisy kissed her back. And for a moment, the world fell away. There was only Kara, only the warmth of her lips, the feel of her hands on Daisy’s waist.

When they broke apart, Daisy was breathless. “Wow.”

Kara grinned. “Yeah.”

They stood there, foreheads touching, breathing the same air. Daisy felt something stir inside her. The tiger. It wasn’t pacing anymore. It was purring.

“I missed you,” Daisy whispered. The words felt foreign on her tongue, but true.

“I missed you too,” Kara said. “More than you’ll ever know.”

They spent the rest of the evening packing. Daisy didn’t have much. A few clothes, her laptop, a box of photographs she never looked at. Kara helped her carry everything to her car, a sleek black SUV that looked out of place on the grimy street.

“Nice car,” Daisy said.

“It’s borrowed.”

“From who?”

“A friend. Don’t worry about it.”

Daisy raised an eyebrow but didn’t press. She was too tired to argue. Too tired to do anything but follow Kara’s lead.

They drove through the night, the city lights fading behind them, the highway stretching out ahead. Daisy sat in the passenger seat, watching the world go by. She thought about the life she was leaving behind. The quiet. The solitude. The safety.

She thought about the life she was driving toward. The unknown. The memories. The tiger.

She didn’t know which was scarier.

Kara reached over and took her hand. “You okay?”

“I don’t know.”

“That’s okay. You don’t have to know.”

Daisy squeezed her hand. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For not giving up on me.”

Kara smiled. “Never.”

They drove on, into the dark, toward a future Daisy couldn’t see. But for the first time in years, she wasn’t afraid of it. She was ready.

Or at least, she was willing to try.

The sun was rising when they reached National City. The sky was a pale gold, the buildings silhouetted against it. Daisy had never been here before, not in this life. But something in her recognized it. Something in her remembered.

Kara parked in front of a building near the waterfront. It was sleek and modern, all glass and steel. “This is it,” she said. “Home.”

Daisy got out of the car and looked up at the building. It was tall, imposing, the kind of place that screamed money and power. She felt a pang of insecurity. She didn’t belong here.

Kara came around the car and took her hand. “Come on. I’ll show you around.”

They took the elevator to the top floor. Kara’s apartment was huge, with floor-to-ceiling windows that looked out over the bay. The furniture was modern, minimalist, but there were touches of warmth. A blanket on the couch. A stack of books on the coffee table. A photograph on the mantel.

Daisy walked over to the photograph. It was of Kara and a woman with dark hair and a kind smile. They were laughing, their arms around each other.

“That’s my sister, Alex,” Kara said. “She’s going to love you.”

Daisy set the photograph down. “What did you tell her? About me?”

“The truth. That I found you. That you don’t remember everything yet.”

“And she believed you?”

“She trusts me.”

Daisy turned to look at her. “Why?”

“Because I’m her sister. And because she knows how much you mean to me.”

Daisy didn’t know what to say. She’d never had anyone who cared about her like that. Not since her mother. Not since…

She pushed the thought away. “I’m tired.”

“I know. Let me show you to the bedroom.”

Kara led her down a hallway to a room at the end. It was spacious, with a king-sized bed and soft, gray sheets. The windows looked out over the city, the rising sun casting long shadows on the floor.

Daisy sat down on the bed. It was soft, comfortable. She felt like she could sleep for a week.

Kara sat down beside her. “I’ll be in the living room if you need me.”

“You don’t have to leave.”

Kara looked at her. “Are you sure?”

“I’m sure.”

Kara lay down beside her, keeping a respectful distance. Daisy turned on her side to face her. They lay there, looking at each other, the silence comfortable between them.

“Tell me something,” Daisy said. “Something about us.”

Kara thought for a moment. “You used to sing in the shower. You were terrible at it, but you didn’t care. You said it was good for the soul.”

Daisy smiled. “That sounds like me.”

“It is you. It’s always been you.”

Daisy reached out and touched Kara’s face. Her skin was warm, soft. “I want to remember everything.”

“You will.”

“How do you know?”

“Because I know you. You’re the strongest person I’ve ever met. You survived SHIELD. You survived Hive. You survived Fitz. You’ll survive this too.”

Daisy’s eyes widened. “You know about Fitz?”

“You told me. Everything. The surgery. The suppressor. The way he betrayed you.”

Daisy looked away. “I don’t like to talk about it.”

“I know. But you talked to me. You trusted me.”

“Why?”

“Because I loved you. Because you loved me. Because we were mates.”

Mate. The word again. Daisy felt a shiver run down her spine. “What does that mean? Really?”

Kara’s eyes were serious. “It means we’re bound. Not by magic or mind control. By choice. By love. It means you’re a part of me, and I’m a part of you. It means I’ll never stop fighting for you.”

Daisy felt tears prick her eyes. She hadn’t cried in years. She’d trained herself not to. But now, lying here with Kara, she couldn’t hold it back.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I’m sorry I forgot you.”

Kara pulled her close. “You don’t have to apologize. It’s not your fault.”

“I feel like it is.”

“It’s not. The crisis did this. Not you.”

Daisy buried her face in Kara’s shoulder. She cried, deep, wracking sobs that shook her whole body. Kara held her, stroking her hair, whispering soothing words.

When the tears finally stopped, Daisy felt empty. Hollowed out. But also lighter. Like a weight she’d been carrying for years had finally been lifted.

“I’m tired,” she said again.

“Sleep,” Kara said. “I’ll be here when you wake up.”

Daisy closed her eyes. She felt safe. For the first time in years, she felt safe.

She slept.

And she dreamed.

She was in a forest, the trees tall and ancient, the air thick with the smell of pine and earth. She was running, her paws pounding against the ground, her fur rippling in the wind. She was a tiger. A black and silver celestial tiger, her stripes shimmering like starlight.

Beside her, Kara flew. Her cape billowed behind her, her hair streaming. She was laughing, her eyes bright with joy. “Faster!” she called. “Catch me if you can!”

Daisy roared and leaped, her body stretching, her muscles straining. She felt powerful. Free. She felt like herself.

They ran through the forest, over streams, under branches. They ran until the sun set and the stars came out. Then they stopped, at the edge of a cliff, looking out over a valley.

Kara landed beside her. She was breathing hard, her cheeks flushed. “That was amazing.”

Daisy shifted back to human form. She was naked, her skin damp with sweat. She didn’t care. She felt alive.

Kara looked at her. “You’re beautiful.”

Daisy smiled. “You’re biased.”

“Maybe. But it’s true.”

They stood there, looking at each other. The stars above them, the valley below. Daisy felt something she hadn’t felt in a long time. Peace.

“I love you,” she said.

Kara’s eyes filled with tears. “I love you too.”

They kissed. The world fell away. There was only them. Only this.

Daisy woke with a start. The room was dark. Kara was still beside her, her arm draped over Daisy’s waist. She was asleep, her breathing slow and even.

Daisy lay there, staring at the ceiling. The dream was still with her, vivid and real. She could still feel the wind in her fur, the ground beneath her paws. She could still feel Kara’s lips on hers.

She remembered.

Not everything. Not all at once. But enough. Enough to know that Kara was telling the truth. Enough to know that they were mates. Enough to know that she loved her.

She turned her head and looked at Kara. In sleep, she looked peaceful. Young. Vulnerable. Daisy felt a surge of protectiveness. She would do anything for this woman. Anything.

She reached out and brushed a strand of hair from Kara’s face. Kara stirred, her eyes fluttering open.

“Hey,” she whispered.

“Hey,” Daisy said.

“You okay?”

“Yeah.” Daisy smiled. “I remember.”

Kara’s eyes widened. “You do?”

“Not everything. But enough.”

Kara sat up. “What do you remember?”

“The forest. The running. The cliff.”

Kara’s breath caught. “You remember the cliff?”

“Yes.”

“That was our place. We used to go there whenever we needed to get away.”

“I know.”

Kara’s eyes filled with tears. “I can’t believe it.”

Daisy reached out and took her hand. “I’m still me. I’m still scared. I’m still broken. But I remember you. And I want to try.”

Kara nodded. “That’s all I ask.”

They sat there, in the dark, holding hands. Daisy felt the tiger stir inside her. Not pacing. Not caged. Just… present. Waiting.

She knew there was a long road ahead. The trauma. The memories. The healing. But for the first time, she felt like she could walk it.

She wasn’t alone anymore.

She had Kara.

And that was enough.

The days that followed were a blur of small moments. Kara took her to see Alex, who was wary at first but warmed up when she saw the way Daisy looked at her sister. They went for walks along the waterfront, ate meals in quiet restaurants, sat on the balcony watching the sunset. Daisy started to remember more. Fragments. Pieces. A laugh here, a touch there. The way Kara’s eyes crinkled when she smiled. The sound of her voice when she said Daisy’s name.

But there were dark moments too. Nights when Daisy woke screaming, the memories of the surgery flooding back. Days when she couldn’t look at Kara, couldn’t bear to be touched. Kara was patient. She didn’t push. She just waited, her presence a steady anchor in the storm.

One night, Daisy woke from a nightmare. She was drenched in sweat, her heart pounding. She’d dreamed of the table. The straps. Fitz’s face, twisted with grief and determination. She could still feel the cold metal of the suppressor against her skin.

She got up and walked to the window. The city was quiet, the streets empty. She pressed her forehead against the glass and tried to breathe.

Kara appeared beside her. She didn’t say anything. She just stood there, her shoulder brushing Daisy’s.

“I can still feel it,” Daisy said. “The suppressor. The cold.”

“I know.”

“He took it out without my permission. He said it was for my own good.”

“I know.”

“I trusted him. I loved him. And he betrayed me.”

Kara was quiet for a moment. Then she said, “I would never do that to you.”

Daisy turned to look at her. “I know.”

“I would never take your choice away. I would never make you into something you’re not.”

“I know.”

“You’re not a monster, Skye. You’re not dangerous. You’re just… you. And I love you.”

Daisy felt tears prick her eyes. “How do you know? How do you know I won’t hurt you?”

“Because I know you. I know your heart. I know the tiger isn’t a curse. It’s a part of you. A beautiful part.”

Daisy shook her head. “It’s not beautiful. It’s broken.”

“It’s not broken. It’s wounded. There’s a difference.”

Daisy looked at her. “How do I heal it?”

“You let me help you.”

“How?”

Kara took her hand. “You let me in. You let me see the tiger. Not the caged one. The real one.”

Daisy’s heart raced. “I can’t.”

“You can.”

“I haven’t shifted in years.”

“I know. But you can. I’ll be right here.”

Daisy looked at her. The fear was overwhelming. But so was the trust. She took a deep breath. “Okay.”

They went out to the balcony. The night air was cool, the stars bright above them. Daisy stood at the railing, her hands gripping the metal. She closed her eyes and reached inside herself, to the place where the tiger lived.

It was there. Pacing. Waiting.

She took another breath. And she let go.

The shift was painful. It always was. Her bones stretched, her skin rippled, her muscles tore and reformed. She fell to her knees, a cry escaping her lips. And then it was done.

She was a tiger. A black and silver celestial tiger, her stripes shimmering like starlight. She was huge, bigger than any normal tiger, her fur thick and soft. She looked up at Kara, her heart pounding.

Kara was crying. But she was smiling. “You’re beautiful,” she said. “You’ve always been beautiful.”

Daisy took a step forward. Then another. She pressed her head against Kara’s leg, a low rumble in her chest.

Kara knelt down and wrapped her arms around her. “I’ve got you,” she whispered. “I’ve got you.”

Daisy closed her eyes. The tiger purred. And for the first time in years, she felt whole.

They stayed like that for a long time, the tiger and the hero, wrapped in each other. The city slept below them, oblivious. The stars watched from above, silent and eternal.

And somewhere in the distance, a new day was dawning.