Daffodil

Author- Midnight Faith

Disclaimer- Not mine

Pairings- L/Li… what? Like you're surprised

Distribution- fanfiction.net, AOH, Buffysearch… :) anyone else just ask I just like the ego trip

Spoilers- 'Dead End'

Rating- PG -ish

Notes- all metaphorical… it all means *something* it's up to you to interpret as you will

The first bouquet had come when she was twenty-two. First month at Wolfram and Hart, recently graduated from Mortonson University, Ohio majored in law with a minor in bio-ethics.

The older lawyers she passed in the hallway would smile at her nostalgically, with the blithe purity of her innocence, hiding the knowledge of just how black her heart would become.

He was the same age working in the real estate division.

'Not quite ready for special projects yet,' his boss had told him.

He saw her every Saturday morning in August. He 'd looked up her name, loving the way it rolled around on his tongue, committed every detail to memory.

He caught her in the hallway on the last Saturday. He smiled shyly and produced a glowing, yellow daffodil swiped from a suburban garden on his way to work that morning.

'Happy Birthday' he told her.

She giggled and asked him how he knew when they'd never even met. She sniffed the daffodil, sneezing delicately as the pollen tickled her nose and her eyes watered.

She'd discovered her allergy that day. No flowers at home from a boyfriend, a sister or her parents.

Only a creased envelope containing a thousand dollars with the words 'Buy yourself something pretty' scrawled across the front.

****

They didn't see each other for another year. Exactly a year later he was finally moved to special projects. A fifteenth floor skyline, the yellow sunlight streaming in the window. The boss introduces them. She knows his name now. When they're finally left alone he hands her a pink, long stemmed rose.

'You remembered,' she says, surprised, silver tears stinging her eyes as the pollen reaches her nose.

****

The next birthday he gives her a bouquet of blood red roses in the hallway. Twelve of them. This time the tears roll down her cheeks.

And the next he is away. He sends gardenias to her apartment. That year she sits alone in the dark and discovers gardenias don't make her cry.

The next is a bank holiday. He appears at her apartment door, late at night clutching a single red rose. He doesn't leave until the next morning. She doesn't feel anything. It doesn't mean anything. Just the pollen making her cry.

And the next he fills her car with maroon roses. She doesn't know how he got in and she doesn't ask as he sits in the back seat waiting for her. She got a scar that year. Left shoulder as the roses scratch her. It fades to a scar with time as her eyes cloud over at the memory of the pollen.

****

The next he walks out and leaves her.

She looked back then forward then races after him. She stops him as he's going out of the door. He gives her a plastic rose, the colour of midnight, not wanting to make her cry this year. He kisses her cheek in friendship and whispers 'don't look for me' in her ear.

****

This year she works late.

On the eve of her birthday, she takes two tablets for the pain in her head, leaves and locks the office.

This year a card from her recently divorced mother, arriving a day early. No living off Daddy anymore.

She presses the elevator button in the deserted hallway shrugging off her black jacket.

The elevator doors swish open at exactly midnight.

He stands inside holding a single daffodil.

She cries despite the Piraton…