Chapter Text
Maisie Margaret Fitz-Simmons was born in Perthshire nine years ago, and that's where her family spends most of their breaks from school and their summers.
Her mum and dad both express interest in moving there several times, but Mum told Dad one night when she thought Maisie wasn't listening that they have to be 'close to the base in case of emergency' and Dad didn't press it any further.
Maisie doesn't mind. She likes San Diego. She likes the zoo and the beach. She likes the authentic Mexican food and nice weather. She likes the creatures and the amusement parks and the people.
"Maisie, are you awake?" Mum asks.
Maisie hides under a pillow, clutching her old monkey stuffed animal, and doesn't answer.
"Maisie?" she says, and Maisie hears her door open and the footsteps as her mother walks in. "Don't think I don't know that you're awake."
Maisie groans, taking the pillow off her head. Mum laughs, pulling back the covers and taking Maisie's hand. "Get up, darling, today's your first day of school!"
"First day of fifth grade, Mum, not kindergarten."
"American schools are..."
"Confusing?"
"To say the least."
"America is confusing."
"That it is."
"How come we don't move to Perthshire, then?" Maisie asks as she sits up in her bed, hoping to get a real answer out of her mother this time.
Mum shakes her head. "We have a perfect life here."
Maisie can't argue with that.
- - -
Isabelle Mackenzie Morse-Hunter was seven years old when she moved for the fifth time. Now she's nine years old, and her name is Isabelle Mackenzie Shaw. Mom won't explain why they can't go by Morse-Hunter anymore, but she told Izzy and her brother, Owen, that it was important, and she said it in her serious voice. Izzy still doesn't like 'Shaw,' but she's learned to live with it.
Owen likes their new last name, but that's only because he's stupid and also a suck-up. He's such a suck-up that he laughs at Dad's jokes. And they aren't even funny.
"Isabelle! Time to go, love!" Dad calls up the stairs. Izzy likes the new house - it's yellow, with a red front door and a big back door for her mini corgi, Idaho. Dad nearly cried when Izzy said that she was naming him Idaho.
Mom and Dad don't talk much about her namesake, Isabelle Hartley, but when they do, Izzy listens. Dad mentioned how he and Idaho and Izzy were partners-in-crime. Mom told them later, on the anniversary of Hartley's death when Dad left for a few hours to go to her grave, that Idaho and Izzy died by each other's side in a car crash.
She would rather not die, but Izzy Shaw could get used to a partner-in-crime, which is why Idaho is always by her side.
"Come on!" Izzy hisses, nudging Idaho. He's sitting on one of the straps of her backpack, and he's not a very big dog, but Izzy doesn't want to lift him off. Luckily, Idaho leaps off as soon as her skin brushes his fur, freeing the strap from underneath him. Izzy grabs the backpack, slinging it around her shoulders, and dashes for the stairs, Idaho following as best he can on his tiny legs.
"Isabelle Mackenzie!" Mom calls just as Izzy slides into the kitchen. "Don't want to be late for the first day, do you?"
Izzy laughs and instinctually snatches a pancake out of her air as it flips towards her. Mom swats Dad. "You're going to mess up the new kitchen!"
Dad smiles. "But you love me for it." And it's true, she does. They're so in love it's almost too much for Izzy to bear.
Izzy finishes her pancake and sneaks the last bite to Idaho in her lap. "Mom, can I bring Idaho?" Izzy begs as her dad grabs the camera and her mom grabs the keys.
"No dogs at school," Mom replies.
"What about cats?" Owen asks, holding a familiar - furrmilier, Izzy thought, smiling at the pun - cat in his arms.
Mom smiles at the feline. "Guess Nat wants us to babysit. Or Liho got sick of Clint and Lucky."
Liho mews in agreement as Idaho barks happily at the sight of her return.
"Don't think she'll find much refuge here, love," Dad remarks. "Owen, Izzy, smile and look like you love each other."
Owen smiles shyly and obediently puts his arm around Izzy's shoulders while she cradles Idaho and gives her dazzling (if she does say so herself) smile.
"You're supposed to tell them to say cheese!"
"Why? Cheese never did anything."
Izzy takes advantage of the distraction provided by their playful argument to slip Idaho into her backpack, carefully nestling him among her folders and making sure he's comfortable before zipping it up partway so he can breathe. She can't leave him behind.
They're partners in crime, after all.
- - -
Maisie does not like elementary school.
For one thing, Mum and Dad refuse to move her up in grade level (Mum doesn't want to attract too much attention to them and Dad agrees with her), and for another, Maisie is going to be the only one with a Scottish accent.
In the whole school.
"Nainai says to tell you she hopes you have a great day," Mum reads off her phone.
Maisie attempts to raise an eyebrow, but she ends up raising both of them. Whatever the look is, she's unimpressed. "Nainai would never."
"She said to tell you to kick arse," Dad admits.
"She didn't say 'arse,' either."
"Maybe, she's an adult, and you're nine years old and therefore required to follow the rules about cursing in our house," Mom points out.
Their car rolls up behind a black Prius in a line that snakes all around the building as parents drop off their children. Maisie watches as a woman gestures to both the Prius and her own car, telling them both that it's their turn. Maisie tries to ignore the butterflies in her stomach as she slowly unbuckles her seatbelt and grabs her backpack.
"Have a good first day, little monkey," Dad says.
"We love you," Mum adds.
"Love you too," Maisie replies.
She steps out of the car.
- - -
Mom and Dad drop off Izzy (and Idaho, but they don't know that) before they drop off Owen. Izzy has never been in a school without her brother. He was always just one year up.
But she's got her partner - what else does she need?
"Mrs. Moss' fifth grade class, come line up over here!" calls a woman with a pixie haircut and glasses. Everyone in her line looks shorter than Izzy. Which is normal, considering that Izzy inherited her mother's height.
My name is Isabelle Mackenzie Morse-Hunter - well, Shaw, but I don't like that - I am nine years old, and my partner is a mini corgi named Idaho who is also in my backpack. I have lived in three countries, I have a brother named Owen, and everyone in my family is a secret agent but they don't know I know.
Izzy takes her spot in line behind a girl with long brown hair in a braid and startling blue eyes. The girl is facing her, and she smiles shyly.
"Hi," she says.
"Hi," Izzy replies.
- - -
My name is Maisie Margaret Fitz-Simmons, I am nine and a half years old, and when I grow up, I'm going to be a bioengineer. I am Scottish, I love Mexican food, and my aunts and my grandmother could kick your - arse.
"I'm Maisie Fitz-Simmons," Maisie introduces herself, holding out her hand for a handshake.
"I'm Isabelle. Isabelle Shaw," says the girl. She looks around suspiciously, then takes Maisie's hand and whispers, "Can I trust you with a secret?"
"Yes," Maisie whispers back. I'm pretty sure my parents work for a secret government organization. Of course I can keep a secret.
"My dog's in my backpack."
Maisie's forced smile becomes genuine, and now that she's looked, the backpack does seem heavier than it should be. "Really?"
"Really. His name is Idaho."
"Isn't that a state?"
"Yeah. Have you lived there?" "
"My accent is Scottish, not Idahoan."
"Duh. I was asking 'cause I've lived there."
"Duh?"
"My dad's from England."
"Oh. Can I see your dog?" Maisie replies, still speaking in a hushed voice. Isabelle smiles and sets her backpack on the ground in front of her. They both crouch as Isabelle fully unzips it. Sure enough, a tiny corgi is in there. He can't be bigger than ten pounds, even though Maisie's neighbor has a 27-pound corgi. He's adorable.
"We're partners," Isabelle says proudly. She glances at Maisie then asks tentatively, "Would you like to be our third partner?"
"Like a trio?"
"Yeah."
"Okay."
"Really?"
"Yeah."
- - -
"We shouldn't be spying on them," Daisy sighs. May watches as both girls step back into line and walk into school together, hands intertwined. Daisy's right. They shouldn't be spying on Maisie and Isabelle. But she had to make sure that they'd be okay. And she had to make sure they wouldn't be interacting (which they most definitely are, so that can go to hell). When Bobbi told her what school Izzy would be attending this year, May couldn't believe it.
She also decided not to tell FitzSimmons. She figured the girls would be in separate classes, or they wouldn't even notice one another, or...
She was a fool to think so. They're the children of three of her best agents and one idiotic mercenary who May will never admit she misses. They're practically drawn to one another.
"Isabelle and Maisie. What did we expect would happen?" May asks.
"This. Or we should have."
May inclines her head in acknowledgment.
"Do we tell either family?" Daisy asks.
May shrugs. "By the looks of it, they'll find out soon enough."