truth is nothing's true, but you still seem so surprised (♫)
[ This whole alien monolith thing is really getting old. Like, seriously universe, find a new schtick already. Surely, there have to be other more creative ways to mess with her, but no, it's just the same old thing over and over again. But instead of being sent across space or through time, or even just having her nightmares made into reality, Daisy Johnson has been sent to an alternate universe.
And not just an alternate universe, but the past of an alternate universe. She's been dropped in the goddamn nineties in a world where SHIELD doesn't exist, so not only is she living with primitive computers but she doesn't even have a corrupt organization full of secret alien-influenced tech to "borrow" from. In some ways, she is so wildly out of her depth, that it’s almost comical. Really, she’d be laughing if it wasn’t so damn frustrating.
(And she's not even going to get into how bad the fashion is in this time. What the hell were these people thinking? Thank god her usual style is fairly timeless; if she'd had to go all Clueless to blend in, she might have flung herself off a building.)
It takes her a while to accept it. Days of searching for any sign that the organization she'd pledged her life to might still exist in some other form, perhaps hidden in the shadows the way her team had been for a few years. In the end, she'd only found vague references to government agencies compiling files related to strange phenomenon — and no doubt burying just as many if not more than they investigate. It's not the best lead but it gives her a direction, at least.
Because that's what she needs. Her friends will come for her, she keeps telling herself. Her team won't leave her in this universe that isn't hers, where she's a genetic freak of epic proportions who a dozen governments would love to lock up in a lab. It's just a matter of time until they figure out what happened and find a way to follow. (She purposefully doesn't allow herself to consider that they may not be able to follow her and bring her home.) Yet even as she reassures herself that her family will find her, she pushes herself to look for a way back herself, the search becoming the only thing to get her up every morning when the loneliness crashes back in and knocks the air from her lungs.
After all these years, she really should have known to expect the universe to do its worst to screw with her life. But it's fine. She can screw with the universe right back.
It doesn't take long to trace someone connected with those secret files and investigations that might possibly hold the answers she seeks. The internet might not be as sophisticated as it is back home, but she's still a hacker and a spy — a few well-placed inquiries and a handful of conspiracy websites lead her straight to FBI Special Agent Fox Mulder. It takes even less time to clock his routine, which is how she finds her way to the bar he frequents, taking a seat near his usual spot and waiting for his arrival. ]
[ Mulder, meanwhile, is having a normal one, inasmuch as any day of his is normal. Any day he's not on the road generally goes the same way: file paperwork, attend the occasional meeting, sift through news articles and police blotters in search of potential X-files. Maybe take advantage of just how far from FBI civilization his 'department' is and pull a videotape out of the stash he keeps in his desk. (Not that he did today, mind - he was the picture of workplace professionalism. But sometimes, when nothing interesting's turning up and there are hours to go before he can leave...)
He's not much of a drinker, but he does like unwinding after work - and he hates the traffic out of D.C. right after work. So some days, today included, he ends up at a bar, waiting for everyone else to clear out.
It's self-evident that he's a fed who just got off work. Half the bar probably is. If the suit and tie didn't give it away, his easy confidence - that of a man both tall and used to being taken seriously - would. He takes one of the stools and orders a beer, nodding in greeting to the woman perched a seat or two down. ]
[ Daisy is very clearly not among that half of the bar's population, though she carries the same confidence of a federal agent. That comes from years out in the field, becoming a competent spy, and then... a whole lot more. But none of these people know that. In this universe, she doesn't have to worry about being recognized as Quake, SHIELD's Inhuman superhero who was plastered all over the news for a few years. It's probably the only really good thing about being stuck here.
Being anonymous has its uses, and she plans to use all of them to her advantage.
She watches out of her peripheral vision as her target takes a seat, glancing over as he places his order, then offering a small smile in return for that nod. A few seconds tick by before she looks his way again, sizing him up before speaking, raising her own condensation-covered beer bottle to her lips once she's asked the casual question. ]
[ His attention shifts back along with his frame, turning slightly toward her. ]
Oh, my days are never boring.
[ There's a kind of wry smile that goes along with the statement, though where exactly the irony lies might be hard to pin down.
He takes the sight of her in with a fraction more consideration as he answers, qualities piling up in his mind: attractive, confident, dressed casually but well. No read on her quite yet - maybe someone from the Hoover Building with the odd day off, except for the fact that he can't remember seeing her before. ]
[ Damn, he's got a nice smile. That makes this easier and harder at the same time — she wants to have this conversation and get to know him but part of her dreads its inevitable conclusion and where that will take her. ]
Boring doesn't usually describe my days either. Long, though...
[ She tips her head to the side in acknowledgement and takes another sip of her drink. A moment passes as she appears to consider something, then she shifts to better face him and holds out her hand to him. There was no real decision to make, of course, but she has a part to play, however much she might wish she didn't. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no one knows the truth that i’m hiding —
no subject
He's not much of a drinker, but he does like unwinding after work - and he hates the traffic out of D.C. right after work. So some days, today included, he ends up at a bar, waiting for everyone else to clear out.
It's self-evident that he's a fed who just got off work. Half the bar probably is. If the suit and tie didn't give it away, his easy confidence - that of a man both tall and used to being taken seriously - would. He takes one of the stools and orders a beer, nodding in greeting to the woman perched a seat or two down. ]
no subject
Being anonymous has its uses, and she plans to use all of them to her advantage.
She watches out of her peripheral vision as her target takes a seat, glancing over as he places his order, then offering a small smile in return for that nod. A few seconds tick by before she looks his way again, sizing him up before speaking, raising her own condensation-covered beer bottle to her lips once she's asked the casual question. ]
Long day or just a boring one?
no subject
Oh, my days are never boring.
[ There's a kind of wry smile that goes along with the statement, though where exactly the irony lies might be hard to pin down.
He takes the sight of her in with a fraction more consideration as he answers, qualities piling up in his mind: attractive, confident, dressed casually but well. No read on her quite yet - maybe someone from the Hoover Building with the odd day off, except for the fact that he can't remember seeing her before. ]
How about you?
no subject
Boring doesn't usually describe my days either. Long, though...
[ She tips her head to the side in acknowledgement and takes another sip of her drink. A moment passes as she appears to consider something, then she shifts to better face him and holds out her hand to him. There was no real decision to make, of course, but she has a part to play, however much she might wish she didn't. ]
Daisy Johnson.