Daisy leaned against the counter of the shop with her head in her hands and wished she had superpowers.

Not like; flying or whatever (although that'd be pretty damn cool), but something like being able to reverse time or read minds, maybe. That certainly would've made her current situation a lot less lonely.

It wasn't like she didn't have anyone, of course. She had Mack, obviously, and other friends. But somehow, with Lincoln gone (most likely permanently), there was a piece missing that she hadn't even known was part of the puzzle. That puzzle had felt – not exactly incomplete, but definitely missing something for around two weeks now, ever since the godforsaken day on which Daisy was an idiotic jackass.

So yeah, superpowers would've been great in that she could a) have gone back to the moment right before she opened her big fat yap, and b) read Lincoln's mind and maybe understand what he had wanted her to say.

She pondered this for a minute. I mean, it's understandable that nobody likes to feel looked down upon, that's clear enough, she intentions hadn't been to hurt Lincoln in the least, though. From what she had gathered about him based on their brief couple mornings together was that he certainly didn't need more hurt in his life.

The exact opposite, in fact. He needed laughter, and brightness, and – her gaze shifted down from the ever-closed door to the display of bright yellow and white flowers at the front – he needed flowers.

Flowers.

Now, that was a superpower she had.

A plan was forming in Daisy's mind, and quickly. Not a very good plan, probably, but a plan nonetheless, and goddamn it, she would try anything. Because as far as she could tell, the flowers Lincoln had been collecting from before (she smiled a little, remembering) had been the brightest things in that broom closet of an apartment.

So maybe she'd make things a little brighter.

Daisy swung around the edge of the counter and slid over to the display case (the word 'slid' was being very literal; she didn't have shoes on, only socks). She grabbed a bunch of daisies out of the several gatherings they were in, and went back over to the counter to grab one of the decorative ribbons she usually used for gift-wrapping. She promptly tied together the flowers into a small but bright bouquet, and just before she went out the door, Daisy remembered that these flowers actually cost money, and so slapped a 10 dollar bill in the register (she figured she could calculate the actual cost later).

Daisy left the shop in her socks and with the door unlocked (after all, he literally did live right next door) and turned towards Lincoln's apartment. With a sudden, sinking feeling, she realized that the door at the bottom locked rather than the one at the top.

When she tried it, however, it opened. Lincoln must've forgotten to lock it today or something, she thought as she climbed the stairs.

When Daisy reached the door at the top of the stairs, the one that led into Lincoln's apartment, it was closed. Not wanting to trespass or intrude, she knocked.

Daisy waited with bated breath for a few minutes as she listened hard for footsteps. She heard some coming towards the door and for a minute she was certain it was about to open, but then she heard a small huff of frustrated air and then receding footsteps again.

There was a peephole in the door. Lincoln must've seen it was her and then promptly decided not to open the door.

That was fine. She could do this without being face to face with him. It made it easier, in fact.

"Okay, Lincoln, I know you're there. It's fine, you don't need to open the door or even acknowledge me, because I just want you to listen."

She took a deep breath.

"I, um – brought flowers. I mean – I brought daisies, since I know you were keeping all of the other flowers, and I thought daisies would add on nicely, I guess. Anyways, I'll leave the flowers here when I leave, so that you can come and get them without having to see me or talk to me or whatever."

She leaned the flowers against the wall in the corner by his door and straightened up again.

"Okay, so I'll start with something really simple – I'm sorry." Daisy paused for a second. "I'm sorry about the way you took things. I'm not, however, sorry about what I did. I'm not going to feel guilty for it.

"I wasn't offering you charity, Lincoln. I was trying to offer you help. I wasn't asking for anything in return, especially not any form of debt and not even any form of thanks, if you didn't want to.

"It wasn't something big and great that I was trying to do, I wasn't expecting you to bow down and admire me. I wasn't expecting devotion. It shouldn't have even looked like that, it – it's shouldn't be considered some big thing, to help someone. It should be considered a necessity, or a requirement of human existence.

"Anyways, that's what I was trying to do. Fufill a requirement. Help you. Help a –" she paused again, "– help a friend." She waited for a minute, but Lincoln didn't respond to anything, so she continued.

"I should have maybe changed the way I set it up or offered it, but I wouldn't take back the offer if I could – and I would know something about wanting to undo things. As you might be able to tell, I've got the kind of mouth that lets things slip easily. But not this. It wasn't an accident." As Daisy was saying the words with every second she realized they were true. "I meant it and I still do. And even if you say no – even if you turn it down – which I would completely understand, by the way. Even if you do, I'd like it if maybe – maybe you would come back. Buy some flowers again," she finished with a touch of sadness.

"Or mooch them off me through guilt," she continued as she glanced at the flowers in the corner. "You're pretty much our only customer, anyways."

Daisy swallowed hard and took a step back from the door. She waited for a second to see if perhaps the door would open, but a few minutes passed without any sound from inside or movement of the door. Daisy's heart sank into her stomach.

"I'll just, um – go, then," she said halfheartedly as she turned. She was beginning to realize how stupid an idea this had actually been from the start. Lincoln wouldn't forgive her. Not for just flowers, anyways. Maybe no endless supply of apologies would bring him back.

As she turned away, though, she heard loud, heavy footsteps approaching the door fast. Pit-pat-pit-pat-PIT-PAT. Her heart jumped back up out of her stomach and into her throat as the door in front of her was wrenched open and out of it came Lincoln, with a look on his face somewhere between desperation and sadness and guilt, all at once. Without hesitation, he flung forwards and wrapped his arms around her, burying his face in her shoulder.

Daisy had definitely not been expecting this, but she responded in kind, bouncing back from the force of the hug and flinging her arms around his neck.

"I'm sorry," she said quietly into his ear, as they rocked back and forth.

"You already said that," he said back, his voice muffled.

There's something more satisfying in getting something back after you've lost it. Lincoln seemed to enjoy time with Daisy even more now, if possible, mostly because he had gone without it for so long.

When they had first talked after that morning with her through-the-wall apology, he had decided that he would rather go without money from Daisy, which she refrained from taking personally (or tried to, Lincoln could see it bugged her a little). He also noted that he would like to try and keep his financial and personal situation out of their friendship – that's right, it's a friendship, he had reminded himself while they were talking. He didn't have many of lose lately. But anyways, they did steer clear of the topic of work.

On the topic of work, however, he was still without a job, which was still a lot of stress on his shoulders, but somehow it didn't feel as pressing. At least, it didn't until the phone rang.

He found, however, that sometimes he could forget about the ringing.

It used to never leave his ears, but now things were different. Now he heard a different bell; the on that sang every time he opened the door to the flower shop.

Lincoln was there every morning now, too. He did, of course, go and look around for work during the other hours of the day, but he always started by waking up at pretty much the ass-crack of dawn, and meeting a (usually) very tired Daisy as she unlocked the shop.

It was on one of these days when they were rearranging one of the displays – Lincoln had thought it looked sort of garish – that Daisy had brought up the ever present topic (one which they had poked and prodded and laughed at during the montage of mornings) or how damn early her shift was.

"Mack says I can take the later shift," she said offhandedly, tucking a couple lilies into a different vase.

"Really?" he asked, leaning against the display case.

"Yeah, it seems he's finally given up on the idea that the morning is the busiest time of the day,"

"I thought he had a science behind it, though," Lincoln said somewhat teasingly.

"It seems he's rethought the science, much to my gratification."

"Yeah, thank god for that."

"Anyways," Daisy began, with a more careful tone now, "I think it'll be later in the day now, so you can swing by after the interviews instead of before."

Lincoln noted the defensiveness she carried, and he understood why she carried it. They were still on somewhat shaky ground – although closer friends than ever now, which didn't quite make sense, but he was okay with the arrangement, nonetheless.

Nevertheless, Lincoln nodded.

"I guess I won't have to buy you coffee anymore," he said, trying to communicate some level of reassurance.

The reassurance was somewhat a surprise to himself, too, though. He was realizing a couple things.

One thing; that Daisy had now become a part of his day, not part of his free time. She was a non-negotiable block. Perhaps the block wasn't always in the same place, but it was always there.

The second thing he found was that he was quite okay with that.