Daisy hadn't realized until she walked into the restaurant that Sharon had invited both of them.
Hill was already seated.
The atmosphere at the table tightened immediately. Anyone who knew the two of them knew they didn't get along — publicly, at least.
"Can we all just sit down and talk?" Sharon said quietly.
Daisy resisted the urge to point out that she would have sat down already if Sharon hadn't called this a three-person dinner. She kept her expression neutral and took the seat across from Hill.
Sharon considered the geometry for a moment, then settled in beside Daisy.
"I don't know what happened between you two, but I want to say something." She rested her elbows on the table, her gaze moving between them. "We had something real. The three of us. I don't want to watch it fall apart and do nothing."
Daisy registered the sincerity in it. She'd long since stopped wondering whether Sharon had ever been sent to watch her — the answer was obviously no. Sharon had a slight fixation on a certain star-spangled legend, but underneath that she was a genuinely good friend.
Tell her, or keep the cover?
She glanced sideways at Hill.
Hill's expression was the usual composed, unreadable mask. Under the tablecloth, however, she delivered a carefully measured kick to Daisy's shin.
Daisy manufactured a small cough. Anything with real depth between them wasn't a conversation for this setting. She took a different approach.
"There's honestly no real conflict between us..."
Sharon looked unconvinced. The way they'd been behaving around each other in public was not the behavior of two people without a conflict.
"Here's what happened." Daisy leaned forward slightly, her tone earnest. "It started as a small misunderstanding. But then rumors started circulating — fast, and from nowhere obvious. We figured if we stayed distant and let it play out, we might be able to trace whoever was behind them."
She extended her hand across the table toward Hill. Hill took it with a warm smile, though at an angle Sharon couldn't see, she dug a thumbnail firmly into Daisy's palm.
Daisy barely kept her composure. She held her smile through sheer will.
Sharon, whose experience with romance was still largely theoretical, didn't catch any of it. She seemed satisfied — but then something shifted in her expression, and for a moment she looked genuinely troubled.
"Actually... I think I know who started those rumors."
Both Daisy and Hill went still.
Daisy's first thought: Does she know about HYDRA? Hill's reaction was simpler — she was just listening carefully.
Sharon's next words blindsided both of them.
"It was Nick Fury."
"...I'm sorry?" Daisy's confusion was complete. Her mind immediately went somewhere absurd: Is Fury HYDRA? Is Pierce the loyal one?
She dismissed that thought almost before it formed. Fury's moral flexibility had its limits, but joining HYDRA wasn't one of them.
"What's your basis for that?" Hill didn't operate on instinct where Fury was concerned. She'd worked alongside him, but her standards didn't bend for personal history. If Fury was running some kind of play behind their backs, she would follow the evidence wherever it led.
Sharon hesitated. She had struggled with this herself when she first pieced it together; now she was sitting across from the two people most directly involved.
"Before I explain, I want your word that you won't do anything rash. Remember what we are to each other." She was choosing each word carefully.
What we are to each other. Daisy kept her thoughts to herself on that particular phrasing. She nodded and listened.
"The World Security Council has been pushing Fury to name a successor. You" — Sharon pointed to Hill, then Daisy — "and I are all on the shortlist."
"They've reached the end of their patience with Fury. They want him replaced — but they can't afford a destabilizing power transition. So whoever takes over needs to be acceptable to both the Council and Fury himself."
Sharon pointed to herself. "I was eliminated in the first round. They're concerned my aunt's influence would overshadow theirs. Which leaves the two of you."
She looked at Hill. "Fury values you more than almost anyone. But in his vision, you're a deputy — not a director. When it comes to actual leadership succession, he trusts you less than he trusts Coulson."
Then she turned to Daisy. "Your advantage is demographic. The Council is wary of white leadership over an organization this large. At the same time, you have limited institutional connections — which, from their perspective, makes you easier to steer remotely." She paused. "That last part is my aunt's analysis."
Sharon placed Hill's hand and Daisy's hand side by side on the table. "I don't know how this plays out. But I don't want either of you treating each other as enemies because of it. Keep the competition where it belongs — between professionals. Can you do that?"
Daisy closed her eyes briefly. She was processing. Most of what Sharon had just laid out she'd already known, on some level, and chosen not to examine too closely. Having it placed in front of her in plain language was different. She needed to look like she was hearing it for the first time while simultaneously waiting to see how Hill responded.
"I'll take this seriously," Hill said, the words carrying a second meaning that only Daisy would catch. "It won't change anything between us."
Sharon looked at Daisy. She echoed the sentiment — healthy competition, within bounds, nothing personal.
Sharon visibly relaxed. Satisfied that she'd defused something, she flagged down the server and called for food. A reconciliation dinner deserved a proper meal.
Somewhere between the appetizers and the main course, Daisy asked Sharon what she planned to do with herself going forward.
The blonde paused, staring at her steak with an expression that suggested she was imagining it was someone on the Security Council. She stabbed it. Stabbed it again, from a different angle.
"What else is there? I'm not like you — I can't produce films and run companies on the side. Technology isn't my field. I'll probably end up as a field operative, same as always. Whoever ends up in charge —" she pointed her fork between the two of them "— I expect to be taken care of."
Daisy laughed softly. "You're getting ahead of yourself. My read is that Fury won't step down easily. The Council's plan will probably stall out. And our beloved Deputy Director Hill here will most likely get her old position back in the end." She let her gaze drift meaningfully toward Hill. "Someone like me, with no real institutional base? I'll probably be quietly shown the door once the dust settles."
It was a studied performance of strategic self-pity — and Daisy delivered it with genuine feeling, painting a vivid picture of her hypothetical unceremonious departure from S.H.I.E.L.D. Even Hill was pulled in for a moment. The scenario was plausible enough to be convincing.
Then Hill ran the logic and saw through it. She frowned slightly. "The Nazi operation put your name in people's mouths from top to bottom. The operational credit you earned from that isn't nothing."
Daisy's expression didn't change. She reached for her glass.
Good.
Let Hill think she'd outmaneuvered her. That was exactly where Daisy wanted her.