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Like a Ripple in Coffee

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Mack thinks of Daisy every time he has coffee.  Unfortunately, he drinks coffee a lot.  She was his partner, and that’s a deeper relationship than people on the outside know about.  Partners sometimes know each other better than lovers or spouses.  It’s deeper than friendship.  It’s implicit trust.  At least it is when you have a good one, and she was a good one.

Coffee, though.  That was an accident.  She was gone, and he had his morning cup.  Mack has tried not to be a philosophical man or think deeply.  It’s not his most comfortable place.  He liked being a mechanic and relying on that.  With Daisy, he was a field agent even more than he was before.

He prepared his cup with a spoon, a tool for a mechanic is a spoon.  He put in his cream and sugar and stirred.  All in all, not that unusual of an action with coffee.  As the brew changed from bitter and black to something tolerable and more sweet, Mack watched the surface.

Ripples.  Ripples radiating out like the power of a quake.  Ripples like waves and all that Daisy could do.  He stared into the cup so long when he first thought of it that Coulson made an obscure joke that Mack had started doing tasseography.  Leave it to Phil Coulson to know the word that meant fortune telling with coffee grounds.

“No.  Just thinking about Daisy,” Mack admitted.

Now, of course, every cup has Daisy in it because she is never far from his thoughts.  He’s not going to stop thinking of her just like he’s not going to stop drinking coffee.  He’ll just have to feel the ripples she’s left in his life.

When he gets her back, and he will, Mack will read her the riot act.  Then when they have a rare moment of calm, he’ll give Daisy her own cup and they’ll share a ripple together.  It will happen because he wants it so damned badly.