Hi! I hope everyone is doing well! I'm sorry this chapter took so long, it's been a crazy past few weeks.
Three days passed, and the rain persisted. Because his tiny car would never survive the flooded dirt road into town, Coulson and his house guest were stuck. Normally, he wouldn't have cared and would've gone anyway, but Daisy was just a kid, and he didn't want to put her life in danger. So, the two of them spent their time watching the rain, eating Oreos, and trying to uncover any information Daisy could remember. However, the girl still couldn't recall anything about her past, leaving Coulson no closer to uncovering her story.
Daisy still remained reserved and cautious around him, but ever so often, Phil got to catch a glimpse of who she really was. Each time, it brought a smile to his hardened countenance. There was something about her that seemed to soften him. It was like a tiny flame had been brought into a dark room. It didn't eradicate the darkness, but it made it a bit more bearable.
Coulson sipped at his coffee and relaxed against the counter. Outside, a gentle drizzle of rain fell, running down the dusty windowpanes and painting the kitchen with small, raindrop-shaped shadows. Phil exhaled and eyed the clock. It was half-past seven, which meant Daisy would be awake any moment now. She still slept in his bed, which left Coulson on the couch. He didn't mind so much anymore, though. Watching her fall asleep with three or four blankets pulled up to her nose and her thumb in her mouth was worth it to him.
A thump came from the bedroom as Daisy's tiny feet hit the floor. A few seconds later, she appeared in the threshold of the kitchen door, rubbing her tired eyes.
"Good morning," Coulson greeted, taking a small sip from his mug.
"'m morning," Daisy stumbled into the kitchen. Eyeing Coulson's coffee, she asked, "What's that?"
"It's my coffee," Coulson smiled gently. "Would you like a sip?"
The four-year-old nodded emphatically, and Coulson handed her the mug. With two hands, Daisy brought the mug to her lips and carefully took a sip. Instantly, her face wrinkled up. "It's spicy!"
Coulson's eyebrows shot up in surprise, and he laughed loudly. "Spicy?" he gawked.
"Spicy, spicy, spicy," Daisy sang, shaking her head rapidly and returning the mug to the older man.
Phil chuckled and took a sip. "I think you mean 'bitter'," he joked. "Here, try it like this." Coulson grabbed cream and sugar and generously added them to his drink. He gave Daisy the mug, and she took another sip.
"Yummy," she exclaimed. "Like a milkshake."
That's what my wife used to say, Coulson thought, smiling to himself.
By the time Coulson finished his coffee milkshake and Daisy ate her jam and toast, the rain cleared up, and the sun poked out shyly from behind the clouds. The two of them lounged on the couch in calm, comfortable silence.
Glancing out the window, Phil announced, "I need to work in the garden today. I have some paper and pens, would you like to color-"
"Can I help?"
Coulson paused. "I don't see why not," he decided. "I'll get you some boots."
Phil was waiting in the garden when Daisy clomped noisily outside. Sporting big, black boots that went to her knees and a straw sunhat that drooped over her eyes, she was quite possibly the most adorable thing Coulson had ever seen.
"Ready to work?" he asked, buttoning his brown jacket. His tiny assistant nodded. "First, we need to pull up these weeds." He motioned to a couple of small pink flowers sprouting in his tomato beds.
Daisy nodded shyly, kneeled down, and began tugging at the flowers. Coulson did the same. Working quickly and silently, the task flew by. They moved on to the peppers, then the carrots, after that, the squash and zucchini, and finally, the lettuce. When Coulson told Daisy that a ball of lettuce is called a head, she burst into a fit of giggles and immediately got distracted from the task. And when he showed her the sign for lettuce in American Sign Language, essentially a bonk on the head with the lower palm, Daisy was even further amused and sidetracked. The little girl clomped around the garden patting her head and saying, "Lettuce!" Phil leaned back on his knees and watched her with wonder for a few moments as she lived entirely in her own world.
"Alright, back to work, kiddo," Coulson announced after a few minutes, and the little girl happily rejoined him.
Around lunchtime, they took a small break to eat, but Daisy was enjoying the gardening and was determined to keep going. So, they kept working. The sun rose higher and higher, finally shooing away the pesky rainclouds for good. Daisy was quiet but content as they weeded the herb garden.
"You can try some, if you'd like," Phil offered. He plucked a sprig of thyme and held it out for her. After a moment of hesitation, the four-year-old accepted it. She nibbled on it cautiously at first, but she perked up and finished the rest in one bite.
"Yummy," she whispered to herself. Coulson wordlessly handed her another sprig which she eagerly took.
The sampling quickly turned into a herb-tasting, and Coulson let Daisy try each herb. She loved the basil, lavender, and sage but nearly gagged on the parsley.
"Icky!" she exclaimed, ripping the parsley leaf out of her mouth.
"Not a fan?" Coulson chuckled. "Here, try this." He offered her some rosemary. Daisy chewed it slowly and deliberately, like she was judging a cooking competition
"That's my favorite one," Daisy smiled resolutely. "It tastes like spring."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah."
Time seemed nonexistent as they worked, and soon enough, it was nearly dinnertime. More than satisfied with the day's labor, Coulson brought Daisy inside for supper. He grabbed some pens and paper to occupy the four-year-old and then set to work on food. He drummed his fingers on the counter as he tried to figure out what he could make with the sparse ingredients in his kitchen. His thoughts drifted off towards Daisy in the garden, nibbling on herbs, and inspiration struck. Coulson called to Daisy that he would be right back, and he beelined out the back door to the herb garden. He grabbed a few sprigs of rosemary and headed back inside. He chopped up the rosemary, melted some butter, and stirred the two together. He grabbed four slices of bread and buttered them, then grabbed some cheese slices out of the fridge. Humming to himself, he turned on the stove and constructed the first sandwich. No more than five minutes later, Coulson was done.
"Daisy?" he called. The little girl looked up from her drawing. "Can you please come wash your hands before we eat?"
Nodding, she abandoned her artwork and joined Phil in the kitchen. He pulled out a small stool for her and then turned around to cut up some strawberries. Suddenly, he heard a loud, metal clang from behind him. Coulson whipped around to find water from the now-broken faucet spewing everywhere and a soaking wet, close-to-tears Daisy.
Coulson grabbed a wrench from the cabinets and tried to examine the sink through the water still spraying everywhere. He wasn't even sure what had happened, but he managed to tighten a few bolts and get the fountain of water to dial down to a pretty significant leak (which was still progress). Great, he thought. Now he was stuck with a sink he had no idea how to fix.
Coulson turned his attention to Daisy, who was curled up in a ball on top of the little wooden stool. She had covered her ears and buried her face in her knees, and her tiny shoulders shook as she cried.
"Hey, hey, it's alright, Daisy," Coulson soothed, kneeling down in front of her. He tried to put on a brave face, but inside, he was cursing himself. They'd been doing so well today. One step forward, two steps back, Coulson thought.
"I-it was a' accident," she hiccupped, lifting her head but avoiding Coulson's eyes.
"I know, I know, and I'm not mad," he reassured her gently. "Accidents happen, but everything is alright now. You're safe."
The four-year-old seemed to find comfort in those words, and she nodded to herself and rubbed her eyes.
"I have some dinner for us," Phil added, "but we're going to wait until you're ready, okay?"
"Okay."
They sat in silence for a few minutes as Daisy's breathing slowed and her tears faded. "Ready now," she whispered.
Coulson stood up, and Daisy did too. "C'mon," he told her, "let's eat outside."
"That was yummy," Daisy remarked, still chewing her final bite of grilled cheese.
"You like it?" Phil asked. The orange-streaked sunset poured onto the porch where they sat, tainting everything it touched with a golden glow.
"Uh-huh," Daisy replied. She shifted her position in her rocking chair so she was sitting back on her knees. "It tastes…different."
"It's my secret ingredient," Coulson declared. He leaned back in his chair and stared out at the sunset. Doing his best secret agent impression, he added, "Do not ask. Will not disclose."
"What's a secret im-ed-ee-ent?" the four-year-old asked, carefully sounding out the last word.
The older man laughed. "It's something special you add to a food to make it yummy, but you don't tell anyone what it is."
"Like a s'prise?"
"A what?"
"A s'prise," Daisy repeated.
Coulson stared at the floor, desperately trying to figure out what she- "Oh! A surprise! Yeah, like that."
Daisy giggled. "You're so silly."
"Oh, I'm silly?" Coulson gave her an overdramatic look of mock offense. "I think you are the silly one!"
The little girl burst into a fit of laughter, shaking her head wildly. "No, you are!" Coulson laughed - a real, genuine laugh.
Daisy sighed contentedly, looking out at the sky, where a few tiny stars were beginning to peek out. "I like being here," she announced to no one in particular.
Coulson swore his heart leaped out of his chest. "And I like having you here," he smiled at her. Daisy met his gaze and gave him a big grin.
A few hours later, Daisy was asleep, and Coulson stood alone in the kitchen. He stared at the worn business card in his trembling hand- God, why were his hands shaking? He was pathetic. What would Rosalind think of you now? Coulson's face crumpled, and he threw the card back on the counter. He'd done this to himself. He'd abandoned his old life and made a new one, out in the middle of nowhere, alone. He'd hurt people he loved - pushed them away. They wouldn't want him back now. That was selfish - to turn back to them only because he needed them for one thing. He'd made his bed, now he had to lie in it.
But then Daisy happened. And suddenly, Coulson realized how much he didn't like being alone. In fact, he almost hated it. He missed his old life. He missed the person he used to be. He missed loving people the way he'd loved his friends. He missed feeling loved. A part of him, deep down inside, wanted that back again.
Daisy made him want to be a better person. Coulson wanted to take care of himself, heal himself, so he could care for her the way she needed it. In his eyes, she deserved the world. Her smile, her eyes, her carefree laugh - it made him ache for a new start. A second chance. One where he wasn't alone, where he didn't push people away.
Maybe he didn't have to resign himself to this new life. Maybe he could try again. It wouldn't look the same as before, and that would be okay. He didn't need what he'd had before. He didn't need a picture-perfect reality. He wasn't that person anymore, and that was okay too. He just needed people who loved him, and the people he loved, and that would be enough.
Coulson didn't try to steady his trembling hands as he picked up the business card. He didn't try to calm his racing heart as he dialed the number. And when the person on the other end said, "Hello?", Coulson didn't try to hide the brokenness in his voice when he said, "Hey, um, Mack? I need your help."
Hope you enjoyed!