Hi everyone! It's been a hot minute. Life's been a bit busy, but I'm back with another chapter!

"That should do it!"

Mack ducked his head out from underneath the sink with an accomplished look on his face. He slowly stood up, returned his wrench to his toolbox, and relaxed against the kitchen counter next to a very awkward Coulson.

"Thank you, Mack," Phil told him, unable to find any deeper words to convey all the emotions tied up in his chest.

Knowing exactly what his old friend was trying to say, Mack simply smiled and replied, "Any time."

It turned out that Mack hadn't changed a bit after all these years. The moment Coulson called and said he needed help, Mack had started to grab his car keys. Coulson quickly assured him it could wait until morning, and, true to his nature, his ex-coworker arrived bright and early the next day with his box of tools.

Their eyes remained locked on each other for a lingering moment before Mack broke away and began to pack up his tools.

Coulson stared down at the floor, unsure what to say. "So," he managed, "how's life been for you?"

"Oh, you know, work, wife, church - the usual."

"How is Elena?"

"She's great! We just had our 7th wedding anniversary, and Fury promoted her a few months ago. She works with, uh, new recruits now."

"Wow - good for her," Coulson replied, feeling a pang in his heart for all the moments he'd missed in his friends' lives. "I'm happy for you two."

"Thank you." Mack turned away from his toolbox to give Coulson a warm smile.

They remained silent for a few minutes while Mack finished cleaning up.

"So," Mack started, "where's the girl you mentioned when you called?"

"In her room," Coulson answered. "Well, in my room. It's sort of become her room."

"Not ready for strangers yet?"

"Not yet. She's…she's been through a lot, I think."

"Sounds like someone else I know."

All Coulson could manage was a quiet, "Yeah."

"So, what's your plan with her?"

"Now that the roads have cleared up, I'm going to take her to the station and see if they can identify who she is and who she belongs to," Coulson explained.

"Any idea what happened?"

"None. She just showed up a few nights ago, soaking wet with no recollection of what happened, or even her name. I've tried to help her jog her memory, but she gets frustrated quickly."

"I'd be pretty damn frustrated, too. That's hard."

"Yeah. I really hope I can find her some help. She's an amazing kid. Daisy…she's really changed my perspective on some things."

"Kids'll do that to you," the handyman chuckled, then became serious. "It sounds like you really care about her."

Coulson was silent for a moment. "Yeah, I do. But I don't- I can't-" He paused and collected his thoughts. "She deserves more than I can give her."

Mack didn't reply at first, and Coulson panicked and started to retract his words. "I know I sound crazy, I mean, god, it's only been a few days and I don't even really know her and here I am dumping this all on you and-"

"Stop."

Coulson froze and exhaled slowly. "Okay."

Mack fixed his gaze on the kitchen tile, and Coulson could see him searching for words. After an eternity, he spoke up.

"When Rosalind died, you shut down. You stopped feeling. You dug yourself into a hole and stayed there, and you haven't moved since. You've convinced yourself that this is what you deserve, this is the hand you've been dealt." Mack motioned to the cabin around him. He paused for a moment and took a deep breath. "Coulson, Rosalind wouldn't have wanted this for you. You know she wouldn't."

"I know."

Before Mack could continue, the bedroom door creaked, and Daisy stepped out. She was holding a snapped red crayon and nervously twirling her hair.

"Hi, Daisy," Coulson greeted. He knelt down gently and Daisy beelined to him. "This is my very good friend, Mack."

Mack also got on his knees and gave the girl a wide smile. "It's nice to meet you."

Daisy didn't respond, and her eyes remained focused on the ground. Mack gave Coulson an understanding look and slowly stood up. "I should go."

Coulson shook his hand firmly. "Thank you," he whispered, those two words saying a thousand more. Mack grabbed his toolbox and opened the front door.

"Always. Good luck with Daisy."

And with that, the door swung shut, and Daisy and Coulson were alone again. The older man turned around to his houseguest.

"So…breakfast?"


"Alright, we're here," Coulson glanced at the four-year-old in his rearview mirror. Her knees were drawn up to her chest, and she was staring out the window, eyes wide as she took everything in.

"Do you remember what we're doing? What I told you at breakfast?"

Daisy nodded, but Coulson thought it would be best to recapitulate. "We're going to talk to Officer Sitwell. His job is to help people who are lost, like you. He's going to ask you some questions, and if you need help, just tug on my shirt or something like that. I'll be right there the whole time, okay?"

"Okay." God, she sounded so small. Coulson wished he could just take all her fear away.

"It's going to be alright, Daisy," he reassured softly. He hated that weak affirmations were all he could give her. "Are you ready to go in?"

She hesitated, then nodded. Coulson helped Daisy unbuckle her seatbelt, then they walked in together, side by side.

The instant Coulson stepped through the door, a wave of nausea crashed over him. He dug his nails into his palms to keep from sprinting out the door. If he thought Rosalind was a constant presence in his cabin, the station was unbearably filled with her. Right there, at that front desk, he'd asked her out for the first time. They'd sat together on that ugly green couch, had sex in that storage closet (yes, they were those people), flirted next to that water fountain-

"Can I help you?"

Coulson shook his head to refocus himself on reality. The voice belonged to the receptionist, a mid-twenties, blonde-haired girl that Coulson didn't recognize.

"Yeah- yes," he managed to get out. Clearing his throat, he walked over to the desk and continued. "We're here to speak with Officer Sitwell."

"Do you have an appointment with him?"

"Um, no, sorry."

"No problem, I'll just phone him and let him know you're here."

"Thank you," Coulson exhaled. The girl - her nametag read "Sharon" - started to dial Sitwell. Coulson felt a small tug on the sleeve of his shirt. Instantly, he knelt down in front of Daisy.

"What's the matter, kiddo?" he asked, keeping his voice low.

"I have to go," Daisy whispered so quietly that Phil barely heard it.

"Go where- Oh-" he realized. One thing he'd learned very quickly about Daisy was how mature she was for her age. She took care of her incredibly well for a four-year-old, though Coulson wasn't sure if that fact was impressive or heartbreaking. "Let me show you where it is."

After leading the girl to the bathroom and reassuring her that he'd stay right outside the door, Daisy slipped inside. Coulson stood awkwardly for a few seconds before he heard footsteps echo down the hall.

"Coulson?" Phil turned towards the voice. At the end of the hall, a tall, bald man adjusted his glasses in disbelief.

"Sitwell," he acknowledged, giving a half-smile.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Sitwell shook his old coworker's hand, grinning.

"It's a long story, but I'm actually here to see you."

"Really? That's great, Phil."

"Yeah," Coulson breathed. They stood there awkwardly for a moment, before Coulson asked, "So, how's the station been?"

"It's been alright. Fury's hired some really great people. Some of us from the good old days are still around, but it's not the same. You and Ros - you really brightened up the place. All those times we caught you in the closet fu-"

"It was once."

"Twice."

"Fine."

Sitwell laughed, and Coulson, to his own surprise, found himself joining in.

"You know, we had a betting pool on when you'd get together."

This was news to Coulson. "Wait, what?"

The officer chuckled. "Oh, yeah. Even Fury had money on you two."

"I had no idea," Coulson gaped, smiling.

"There've been a lot of office romances in the time I've worked here, but you guys," Sitwell shook his head, "you guys were something special."

Before Coulson could say anything, the bathroom door creaked, and Daisy emerged. Sitwell's jaw dropped. "Who- whose is this? Did you-"

"No!" Coulson quickly cleared up. "No, she's, uh, this is Daisy. She showed up on my property a few days ago, alone, with no memory of who she was."

Sitwell frowned. "Let's talk in my office."

As they walked down the hall, through the lobby, and down another long hall, Coulson tried to process what had happened. It felt…good, to reminisce about Rosalind. To laugh about the good times. He'd never felt that before. It was almost comforting, a thought that puzzled him as he and Daisy sat down in the chairs opposite Sitwell's. His coworker's office had remained unchanged since Coulson had been there. Overflowing bookshelves lined the walls on either side of them, and a heavy oak desk rested in front of a large window with a view of the woods behind the station. Sitwell pulled some papers out from a filing cabinet underneath his desk, grabbed a ballpoint pen, and cleared his throat in a very official manner.

"So, your name is Daisy, right?" The girl in question gave a small nod. Sitwell turned to Coulson. "Have you figured out her surname?"

"Just an initial, 'J', and I'm only assuming it's her last name."

Sitwell scribbled the information down in his wonted chicken scratch. "What was the date when you found her?"

"Ummm," Coulson thought for a moment. "November 3rd, around 1:45 in the morning."

"Alright. When you found her, did you hear anything? See anything?"

Coulson told him no, he hadn't, and Sitwell continued to ask him several more basic questions, like if Daisy had been bleeding or heavily bruised ("No"), if there had been any suspicious activity around his land after finding her (also "No"), and if he had received any calls about her disappearance (another "No").

Once he'd finished jotting down Coulson's responses, Sitwell turned his attention to Daisy. He lowered his voice and spoke as gently as he could, "Daisy? Is it okay if I ask you some questions?"

Immediately, the little girl glanced at Coulson, and he gave her an encouraging nod. Returning her attention to the police officer, she mouthed, "Yes."

"Okay," Sitwell replied softly. "Daisy, do you remember how you got to Mr. Coulson's house?"

Daisy was silent for a moment, before shaking her head.

"You told me you got lost?" Coulson corrected, frowning.

The four-year-old merely shrugged and traced the pattern on the chair.

"So, you got lost?" Sitwell's pen barely hovered over the paper.

"I dunno."

The officer clicked his tongue, unsure what to say to that. Coulson sat helpless in his chair. "Let's try a new approach," Sitwell suggested. "When you got to Mr. Coulson's house, was it daytime or nighttime?"

Daisy didn't answer. Coulson looked at her, begging her to meet his eyes. "It was nighttime, right Daisy?" he offered. No response.

"Why don't we just file a report and call in Hand to look her up in the system? We can come back to this," Sitwell decided, shuffling the papers into a folder and setting them aside. He dialed a number whilst simultaneously opening up his laptop. He typed away on his computer for a few minutes while Coulson and Daisy watched. Finally, there was a knock at the door, and, true to her nature, Victoria Hand let herself in. She did a double-take upon seeing Coulson but quickly regained her composure and looked expectantly at Sitwell.

"What do you need from me?"

Sitwell motioned to Daisy, who hadn't seemed to notice Hand's presence. "Coulson found her a few days ago. Name is Daisy J."

Wordlessly, Hand traversed the room and stood next to Sitwell behind the computer. He awkwardly moved aside for her, and she began typing furiously. Nearly ten minutes passed, and Sitwell watched her from behind with a concerned look. Finally, she pushed back from the desk.

"Nothing."

Coulson choked. "Excuse me, what?"

Hand explained herself further. "I looked her up in every database I have access to, which is a very large number. She doesn't exist on any forms, records, files, social media platforms, CCTV footage - nothing."

"Wow," Coulson breathed. "So, what does that mean?"

"It means, we have a very interesting case on our hands."

A voice boomed from the doorway, a voice Phil would recognize anywhere. He immediately stood up and turned around.

"Director Fury. It's been a while."

Hope you enjoyed! A bit of an overdramatic ending, lol. Have a lovely week :)