Author's Note: I was watching the second season and once again wondering what on earth possessed the higher-ups to cancel this show when I started pondering the relationship of Mason/Daisy. To me, the second season opened up so many possibilities and really expanded on all the characters. I have to admit that the Mason/Daisy pair really grew on me, and the two had great chemistry. Since all the other pairings I care about seem to go sour (L/L for GG, J/K for Lost; hell, even Chloe/ Clark for Smallville) I figured I'd take refuge in a pairing that never got to live out its potential. After all, you can't screw up any more than cancelling a show. But at least we're left with that possibility of 'what if.' This is set after 'Be Still My Heart.' The title is stolen from a Simon and Garfunkel song. It's a oneshot.
"'Cause we're just a matched pair,
Of Damaged goods.
No good to anyone.
We took the long way,
To come up short.
But we're still looking."
'Damaged Goods,' Jesse Valenzuela
"Tell me about your sister." Mason encouraged with a slight smile. After her initial question Daisy had ended all talk of her sister, but Mason could feel that she wanted to open up to someone. She had sat quietly for over an hour; more-or-less absorbed in her own thoughts and only offering a distracted word if he asked a question or told a story.
Daisy lowered her eyes a moment and let out a breath before she spoke, "She was beautiful, but I don't want to keep you here all night."
"No worries, Love." Mason laughed a little. "I'm an insomniac. One of the more…unfortunate side effects of my less desirable habits."
"It's getting late and I've got to be up early tomorrow…" She trailed off as she checked her watch.
"Why?"
"Shopping," Daisy replied matter-of-factly. "A girl's got to keep up with the trends."
Mason furrowed his brow. "How is it that you can shop? I mean, where do you get your money?"
"I have my sources." Daisy replied.
"You don't—you're not going to pawn the bracelet off or something are you?" Mason asked offhand and waved his hand toward her wrist in a poor attempt to cover his question.
"No, Mason, I think I'll keep this one." Daisy smiled.
"Good, 'cause I had a hell of a time just getting the bloody thing off the prissy little mutt."
"Really?" Daisy feigned interest.
"It bit me, more than once." Mason grimaced and pulled up his sleeves to show several tiny wounds.
Daisy looked up and studied his arms a moment. "Perhaps you should have let the dog keep it." She told him.
"Nonsense," Mason let his cuffs fall back to his wrists and rested his hands on the bar. "It looks better on you, and if you had seen this dog's owner then you'd know they're not going to miss a little thing like that."
Daisy glanced back at the bracelet on her wrist. It was gold, covered in diamonds, and had several diamond charms. It was without a doubt the most expensive thing she had ever worn, let alone owned. She flicked her eyes up to Mason and saw that he was looking into his coffee. The most expensive thing she'd ever owned, given to her by a man who couldn't even afford a new pair of socks because what money he made went to alcohol. Or, mostly alcohol, she thought. She wasn't sure if he did any of the harder illegals anymore.
"Do you do more than drink?" She hadn't meant for the question to come out, but the thought jumped from her mind to her mouth and she found herself genuinely interested in the answer.
Mason looked up from his cup and she could see that she had interrupted a memory. He smiled a moment and scratched his chin. "Nah, I haven't had anything good in a long time."
"Why?"
"Can't afford it, Love. The inflation is terrible these days." He shook his head. "Been limited to booze—and cigarettes or pills if I can find them."
"Why did you start drinking again?" Daisy asked.
"Because my life's too bloody depressing, and I'm tired of it." He spoke quietly.
"Mason, it's not that bad—"
"Yes it is." He interrupted quietly. "I'm not a good person. I wasn't good when I was alive and I'm not good now and I have no idea what the hell I'm doing here." He smiled grimly and she realized that by 'here' he meant here on Earth. "But I've accepted that. Although, there are some days…what I wouldn't give for a mind-altering drug." He took a sip of his coffee. "But enough about me. Tell me about your sister, you sound like you two got along well."
"I really should be going." Daisy began to stand up but Mason took hold of her hand.
"Oh, come on, Daisy, humor me," He said. "You heard some of my sob story, the least you can do is share a little about why you're so down."
"Alright," Daisy settled back onto the chair and Mason let go of her hand. "My sister and I were close. Delaney…she and I were only a few years apart."
"Was she younger than you?" Mason asked.
"Yeah."
"Thought so; I could hear it in your voice." Mason said.
"Yeah…" Daisy trailed off.
"Well?" Mason prompted.
"Well what?"
"Tell me a little about her. She was a blonde I assume."
"Yeah," Daisy smiled a little. "She was prettier than I was."
"Oh, I find that hard to believe." Mason said teasingly.
"Well it's true." Daisy said with a wry smile.
Mason didn't know how to respond. Daisy stared hard at the countertop and he fished for some way to pull her back to their conversation. "What made you think of her today, love?"
"I just…she came to my mind while I was out. A little déjà vu feeling, you know?" She asked. "You ever do or see something that makes your family come to mind?"
Mason shook his head and grinned. "Can't say that I have. I never really knew my family." Daisy looked up in confusion. "I was a war baby." He clarified. "I was more or less on my own.
"I had no idea." Daisy said.
"How else would I have acquired my excellent scrounging abilities?" Mason asked with a smile.
Daisy gave a short laugh in spite of herself. "I don't think I would call them excellent."
Mason contorted his face indignantly in response to her teasing. "Oh, okay," he stumbled a little over his words. "That's fine. You know, the next time I find something nice I think I'll just give it to George."
"She'll have to wait a while." Daisy said with a smile.
Mason stuttered before finally giving up on a comeback. "What's got you all cranked up tonight?" He asked playfully.
"Oh, Mason, you're just so easy."
"Something I pride myself on," He grinned at her, and her eyes widened a little in surprise as she caught the double entendre.
"I didn't mean it like that." She said with a laugh.
"Yes, but I did." Mason countered with a wiggling of his eyebrows, and Daisy had to look away as she blushed in embarrassment. "Come on, what brought your sister to your mind tonight?" He asked again.
When Daisy turned to look at him she had lost her glow. "She…My reap today. My reap reminded me of my sister." She answered quietly.
Now he felt like a shit for badgering her. "Oh, Daisy." He reached for her hand that was on the counter and held it for a moment before letting go. "I'm sorry."
"No, it's good for me to remember." Daisy said. "We were so close, and I never think of her. And I don't know why." She sank back into silence.
Mason shifted a little in his seat. "What can I do?"
"Nothing," She waived him off with a flick of her hand. Mason started to move, to say something, so she cut him off. "It's sweet of you to try, but there's nothing you can do. I just want to go home." She picked up her purse and began looking for a tip. "Dammit!" she cursed sharply.
"What?" Mason asked.
"My wallet isn't in here. I took it out last night." She sighed and dropped her purse onto the bar-top in frustration. "It must be on my dresser."
"Let me cover you tonight." Mason said.
"Mason—"
"No, I insist." He interrupted her. "It's not often that I have the ability to be a Good Samaritan, especially when it comes to financial matters. Besides—speaking from experience—I don't think you'll find the one dollar and twenty cents to pay for a cup of coffee and the tip."
"Thanks," Daisy said as she stood up. "Listen, Mason. I really should be getting home."
"Is George going to come pick you up?" Mason asked.
"Not tonight." Daisy said as she closed her purse.
"Well, I'm skint; otherwise I'd call you a cab." Mason said.
"Skint?" Daisy wrinkled her brow.
"Broke," Mason explained. "It's British, Love."
"Oh," Daisy nodded in understanding. "You can pay for coffee but not a cab?"
"I'm not made of money. I have enough to pay for either a cab or coffee. And since we have to pay for coffee before we can call a cab, we're pretty limited in our options." After a pause Mason asked, "Why don't you let me walk you home?"
"Mason," Daisy smiled easily. "I don't think that's necessary."
"No, but it is proper." He countered. "Can't have a beautiful young lady walking alone at night."
"Alright," Daisy said, as if she were letting him tag along despite wishing he didn't. But the truth was that she would be glad for the company. The death of the mistress had shaken her soul, putting a fear into her that she had not felt in a very long time. It pulled up old memories and unanswered questions; questions that had plagued her since long before she had died.
"Excellent, darling," Mason grinned, and after he had paid for their coffee they walked out the door.
Once outside, they noticed the sidewalk was wet even though it had been mostly clear all day. The wet boulevards glowed with greens and reds from the streetlights and the street signs reflected the soft yellow light coming from the store windows.
Mason asked the obvious question. "When did the rain move in?"
"Well, this is the Pacific Northwest." Daisy answered. The wet wind had a chill to it and they moved close to each other as they walked—Daisy on Mason's right—down the sidewalk. Mason's golf shoes clomped loudly in the empty night and their bodies nudged each other ever so slightly. When they stepped into the crosswalk Daisy threaded her hand through the crook of Mason's right elbow promenade style. She saw him look over out of the corner of her eye, confusion on his face. "As long as we're being proper," She explained. "The streets are slippery and my shoes don't have much grip."
He was afraid to say anything, so he just put his other hand over hers and continued to walk. When they reached the corner of Salem and Brooks he moved to turn right but she blocked him and they kept walking straight. "Darling? Don't we have to turn there?" He asked.
"Not yet. I want to walk a little longer." Daisy answered before reverting to silence. It wasn't awkward, it was tense. She could feel Mason's concern for her but didn't know how to respond. After a few minutes she finally had a safe thought. "So I guess Georgia went to that wake after all."
"Yeah, I was with her."
"Did you see the boy she likes?"
"Yeah…" Mason answered. Daisy looked at him and he continued. "He was rich, a little overwhelmed by his father's death I think, and he had a really bitchy sister."
"My sister was really nice." Daisy said.
"Really?" He knew that if he waited long enough she would disclose what was on her mind, so he didn't push her.
"Yes. After all these years it's still the first thing I think of when she comes to mind. I don't know why…she wasn't Mother Teresa, but if she asked how your day was going it was because she really wanted to know."
"Was she an actress too?" Mason asked.
"No," Daisy shook her head and smiled to herself. "She worked as a teller in the bank."
"Ah, that's not a bad job." Mason said.
"In the Depression any job was a good job." Daisy told him. "And she had a better job than most. I was still doing local work, nothing bigger than a play in Atlanta if I was lucky, but she was doing well."
"How'd she get the job?"
"Nothing special, she just applied when she saw a sign in the window. But she caught the eye of Mr. Lambert and got the job."
"And who was Mr. Lambert?"
"The bank manager," Daisy answered. Mason felt a shift in the conversation as she squeezed his hand ever so slightly. "He was the man who killed her."
"What?"
"He was…it was her own fault, but he was the man who killed her." Daisy repeated.
Mason pulled Daisy to a stop and faced her. "I don't understand. How could it be her fault if he killed her?"
Daisy refused to meet his eyes. "They were having an affair." She whispered. "He was married and they were having an affair." When she finally looked up there were tears in her eyes.
"Oh, Daisy." Mason didn't know what to say. He needed a manual or something. This was a delicate situation and he had a clumsy heart. "Daisy," he repeated, hoping something would come to him.
But she spoke before words could enter his mind. "I was the only one who knew outside of Delaney and Mr. Lambert." Daisy revealed. "She told me about it the night that she said she was going to tell him to leave his wife. I think she finally got tired of being the other woman. I know she was tired of it. She wanted more and told me either he would leave his wife or she would go to the papers about the affair. It was the last thing she said to me." She looked away again and her tears reflected the glow of the streetlight, laying a silver path down her cheeks.
She sniffled a little and Mason couldn't help himself. As gently as he could, he wiped her tears away with the sleeve of his jacket. "It's okay, Daisy," he said, because nothing else could come to his mind. The puzzle pieces were beginning to fall into place…
She leaned into him, unconsciously seeking his warmth and comfort. She caught a hint of alcohol, and then a trace of something else. It was…soap? She smiled and choked out a small laugh.
"What's the matter, darling?" Mason asked worriedly.
"You smell like soap." She said softly.
"I'm not a savage, I do bathe every once in a while." He told her with the hint of a smile.
"And I just happened to catch that day?" She teased.
"No," he smiled. "George told me to be presentable today, so I figured if I was going to be among a bunch of snobs then I should probably be clean."
"Did you two have a good time?"
"I think she did. She had to leave early though to do her reap." Mason paused a moment. "I, I have a confession."
"What?"
"I may have…hinted…to the guy that he should go after her."
"What do you mean?" Daisy wrinkled her brow.
"She gave me her ear rings and I sort of…gave one to him and said she lost it."
"Where's the other one?"
"In my pocket," Mason admitted. "But, I don't know, I don't think they were done talking so I told him to meet her at your house so he could meet her to give it back."
"Mason…" Daisy began.
"I did the right thing, right?" Mason interrupted, and Daisy caught a little worry in his voice.
"Did she really like him?" Daisy asked, and Mason nodded. "Did he seem like a nice boy?" She continued, and Mason nodded again. "Well, then I think you did the right thing, Mason."
"Lord, I hope so." Mason thought aloud. He squeezed her hand and realized how close they were to each other. "I'm so sorry about your sister." He said tenderly.
"Thank you." Daisy replied, but it came out a little muffled because she was leaning into him again. She pulled back and wiped her eyes. "Well, I think we need to keep moving." She said.
She kept her hand in his, and they walked on in the same manner as before. He let her lead, and she took him on a slow and winding course through the neighborhood. He didn't want to break the silence, so he just held her hand in the crook of his arm. He wanted to be there for her, but he didn't know what she wanted and he didn't want to scare her away. His mind was running circles around his thoughts and he realized with a start that they were approaching her house. The porch light was on but the windows were dark. They took the steps side by side and Mason released her hand so she could find her keys.
Daisy glanced at her watch as she pulled her keys from her purse, and was surprised to find it was nearly midnight. Where had the night gone? Well, it didn't matter now…She jingled her keys slightly before unlocking the door. "You want to come in—have a nightcap?" She asked.
"Sure," Mason agreed, and followed her in, shutting the door behind him. Daisy turned on a small lamp near the couch and went into the kitchen to get a couple glasses.
"What can I get you?" Daisy asked.
"Oh, whatever you're having; I'm not very picky." He answered.
"Well then, I hope you like whiskey." She said.
"Absolutely." He said as he stood near the couch.
She came back into the living room with a smile, set the bottle on the end table next to the lamp, and moved close to him as she handed him the glass. Their fingers brushed and she looked into his eyes. "Have a seat." She said as she pointed to the couch, and they sat at the same time. She was on his right again.
Her thigh was touching his, and her shoulder nudged his arm. In fact, she was so close that he couldn't help but touch her all along her side, and it was making it hard for him to think clearly. He took a sip and concentrated on the whiskey. It was smooth and smoky and burned as he swallowed. It was good, and he welcomed the feeling as the alcohol mixed with his system and calmed his nerves a little. He was used to the feeling of alcohol: his mind became crystal clear, and the world moved in slow motion, and every sense was heightened. It was difficult to see straight, but he could pick up every little vibration near him. But that would be later. He needed more alcohol in his system before he could reach that stage. He took two more quick sips and the ice clinked in his cup.
"Slow down, Mason." Daisy laughed a little. She took a long sip and he saw her grimace a little as she swallowed the bitter liquid. She covered it with a smile and moved her glass to her left hand, resting it on both their legs as she reached for the bottle with her other hand and refilled his glass. "This is the good stuff; you've got to enjoy it, honey." She set the bottle back on the table.
It was the first time she had ever called him a pet name, and he could see the alcohol beginning to work on her. It was only natural, she wasn't anywhere near the drinker he was, and she was so small. Drinking's all about tolerance and body size; Daisy wasn't a heavy drinker and he guessed she couldn't weigh more than a hundred and twenty pounds soaking wet. He began to take another sip but she stopped his arm with her free hand. "Promise me you'll slow down and enjoy it." She said to him.
"I will, I promise." Mason answered, and took a slow sip. When he was finished he looked to her for approval, and she nodded and smiled.
"See? It's better that way." She said as she took another drink and let her body lean against his. This was probably not the best idea she'd ever had, getting hammered with a professional drunk in the middle of the night. But she trusted him. She was such a lightweight it was embarrassing, especially being around Mason. He probably couldn't function without a blood-alcohol content twice the legal limit, but for her…it wouldn't take very long for her to move into that haze between tipsy and falling down drunk. But she didn't care anymore. She'd had a really, really long day. "I have a confession." She echoed his words from earlier in the night and drank again.
"What is it, love?"
"I, I interfered with my reap."
"How?" Mason turned his head to see her face.
Daisy took a sip and turned her body toward him. "My reap was a mistress." Her knees were on his thighs, and her body was pressed against him. "The man killed her, and I couldn't let him get away with it. So…I wrote his name on a pad of paper near the phone and left." She bowed her head a little to cover the tears.
Mason shifted his drink to his left hand and put his right arm around her shoulders. "It's okay."
"I couldn't let him get away with it. I couldn't let it happen to someone else." Daisy sniffled.
Her head rested on his shoulder and he could think of nothing but to hold her. Honestly, she was freaking him out; smiling one moment and in tears the next. He'd never seen her like this—so wound up and vulnerable. "It's okay, Daisy," he said. "You did the right thing."
She didn't look up, just kept her head on his shoulder. She recognized that she'd never been this honest with anyone about her fears. And that Roxy was right, she'd seriously screwed up. If Mason was agreeing with her, then he probably would've done the same thing, right? The alcohol didn't allow for much reasoning, but it wasn't important. Mason agreed that she had done the right thing, and that's all that mattered. And what's more, he was here, trying to help her down from this cliff she was on. She thought back to Der Waffle Hause, and his poorly covered admission of love. She'd dismissed it at the time, but now it didn't seem so farfetched. She wrapped him in an awkward hug and held on.
Mason leaned forward to set his glass on the floor and then took hers from her hand to set it down next to his. Finally free, he put both arms around her and spoke, "It's alright."
He kissed her forehead and she leaned into it, wanting a little more. It was wrong, she knew, but that didn't stop the desire. She knew she'd led him on, played around with his heart and treated him terribly. And yet, he didn't leave her. She wondered what it was that made him endure it all. Was it love? Possibly, she admitted to herself. If it was, then she had finally found what she was always searching for. Not with a famous star, not even with an average guy, but with the only person as torn up as she was. She covered her flaws with her acting; he numbed his with booze and drugs. She recalled a conversation with George a couple weeks back in which George had told her that Mason saw himself as exceptionally kind. After they had stopped laughing, Daisy asked how he'd come up with that. Georgia just shrugged and asked, "How the hell am I supposed to know how his brain works." Now…now she knew he was kind. She remembered with a shudder the last time she had too much to drink around him. She had admitted she watched him. On the surface, it meant nothing. But she saw something register in his eyes when she told him. It was as close as she'd ever come to admitting any feelings for him.
Mason felt her shudder and asked, "Are you cold?"
"No," She told him. She wasn't cold, she was conflicted. She certainly cared for him, but was afraid to define just how much she cared. She hadn't meant to kiss him after Georgia's VIP reap. She really just wanted to tell him that everything would be fine. But when she looked into his eyes she could see that he was losing what little hope he had. She didn't want him to be one more unhappy soul in the world. When she kissed him he kissed her back, and suddenly she found herself wanting to kiss him. It was gentle and a little needy and engaged all her senses. It lasted much longer than she thought it would, and when she finally made herself pull away she'd never seen him so confused. She'd felt it then, how much he cared for her, and it scared the hell out of her. So she cut him down again when she told him not to make it a big deal. He agreed, and it sounded like he was preparing for an impossible task. But he had kept his word; never brought it up, never made a serious move, he was just Mason. And she was afraid she had made a mistake, because now she needed someone to lean on.
"Are you going to be okay, love?" His question interrupted her thoughts.
"Yeah, I think so." She sat up and wiped her eyes.
Mason smiled at her. "There's a good girl." He whispered and squeezed her shoulders gently. "I think I need to head home."
"Stay," She said a little desperately, and was glad that her voice had been muffled by his jacket.
"What?" Mason asked.
"You can stay here, if you want. It's really late." She tried again, and this time it came out less like crazy-talk and more like an offer to a friend.
Mason smiled. He wanted to stay. She needed him, but he had recognized the tone in her first request even if he didn't understand the word. There was the possibility of so much more tonight. But he couldn't do that, especially not to her. She was vulnerable tonight, and he could probably kiss her, tell her what she wanted to hear, and stay to comfort her. But the next morning…he didn't want her to do anything she would regret, and he had made her a promise. He couldn't stay, because if something happened then he would never be able to go back. So, as difficult as it was, he decided to leave.
"I'm afraid I can't." He stood up and turned to hug her before he left. He held her close and kissed her quickly on the neck and cheek. "Goodnight, love." He left before she responded because he knew if she asked again then he wouldn't be able to leave.
Daisy watched the door close. With a sigh she pulled herself up and went to her room. She undressed and crawled into bed, then pulled the bracelet he had given her off her wrist to examine it. It sparkled in the moonlight that filtered between the blinds, and she softly cried herself to sleep with it in her hands.
Feedback is appreciated. I know this show doesn't get a lot of fanfics, but I'm considering writing more for it because the show was so good.