had become anxious beyond belief, working herself up to a point of no return.

She wasn't quite sure why she felt so uneasy. Her brain was tied in knots and loops, thinking about anything hurt.

Dr. Sen had tried to offer Daisy something she could take with her to release her anxiousness. He brought out a bin of stress balls and small devices that made different sounds, hoping the girl could find some sort of tranquility.

Daisy didn't want any of that though, instead walking over to the pen holder on the psychiatrist's desk and taking a black ink pen, which Dr. Sen thought was incredibly uncharacteristic for the girl.

Daisy was a timid person, and she seemed scared of her own shadow. She didn't do anything or take anything without permission, so Dr. Sen found it interesting that she had no problem ignoring the man and taking his pen. He didn't mind, truthfully, because it seemed to ease her.

The psychiatrist's office was silent as the two sat there, the only sound cutting through the air being that of a ballpoint pen being frantically clicked.

Daisy clicked in rhythms, of course, because rhythms always helped. Numbers always help. God Daisy loves numbers. Fifteen, more precisely. Fifteen was good. Fifteen was a good, safe number.

"Daisy?" Dr. Sen asked as he observed the girl, her body language making it clear she was closing in on herself both physically and mentally as she was hunched in. "Would you...like to take a moment to talk? I think it would help you feel a lot better."

Daisy knew what made her feel better. Counting.

Counting was so great. Why didn't more people count? Counting in small increments was something you learned to do as a mere toddler, counting was something you built up and everyone eventually uses in everyday life.

Daisy loved counting. Daisy loved math, the wonderful magic of building numbers together like an architect. Why didn't more people like math?

Daisy had no true passion of what she wanted to do in life. She decided maybe she would be a math teacher.

Mark was a doctor, of course, and Calypso wanted to be a veterinarian seeing as the girl was obsessed with animals. A doctor, a veterinarian, and a math teacher. Daisy decided those three occupations weren't too out of touch with each other, Daisy wouldn't be too much the disappointment of the family.

Dr. Sen was appalled at Daisy's unresponsiveness, her eyes cloudy and blank, the only sign of life her trembling finger which clicked the pen rapidly.

"Would you feel better if I went and got Mark?"

Mark. Daisy didn't know how to feel about Mark.

Antagonist happened to be a big word. An antagonist was sort of like the villain of the story, the bad guy. Daisy had learned that in English class last week.

Daisy wondered if Mark was the antagonist. Maybe he happened to be the bad guy that was secretly plotting against Daisy.

Or maybe the story had already met its antagonist. Maybe Mr. Walter was the antagonist, and his actions happened to just still be plaguing Daisy's everyday.

Or maybe this was a red herring situation. Daisy had learned about that in English too. Logically speaking, comparing the two men side-by-side was as similar as comparing night and day. Maybe it was the logical thing to expect cruel Mr. Walter to be the bad guy, but maybe when Daisy was focused on Mr. Walter and least expecting it, perfect Mark Sloan would sneak up out of nowhere and become the bad guy.

The girl was deep in thought, so much so that her brain didn't even register Dr. Sen standing up from behind his desk and walking out into the hall.

"Can you page Dr. Sloan to psych?" Dr. Sen asked once he had reached the nurses' station outside of his office.

The younger woman typed something into her computer, peering through navy blue rimmed glasses. "Dr. Sloan is in OR 2. He's in the middle of a surgery."

"Page him, please."

"I doubt he'll be able to drop what he's doing. Why, is it an emergency?"

Dr. Sen wanted to argue that yes, it was an emergency. Daisy was completely non-verbal as well as unresponsive to any interaction. The girl had shut down, and it was concerning.

But the man also knew the weight of the word emergency. Daisy wasn't presently hurt, dying, or in danger. Dr. Sen could picture causing a scene in the OR in which Mark thinks his kid is dying and leaves his surgery only to find Daisy sat quietly clicking a ballpoint. Dr. Sen could also picture a very angry and annoyed Mark as a product of that scenario.

The nurse seemed to notice the uncertainty written on Dr. Sen's face because she gave him a reassuring smile. "I don't think Dr. Avery is in an OR. I can page him up here, if you'd like."

It was clear the nurse thought that Dr. Sen just needed a plastic consult for his patient as opposed to specifically needing Mark for Daisy.

"No, I need Dr. Sloan, he, uh..." Dr. Sen frowned, trying to think of a new resolution. "Is there anyway we can just send somebody down there to pass a message? His daughter really needs him."

"I'm sure the patient cut open on his table needs him too."

The nurse had a point, unfortunately. Mark's patient very well couldn't be left alone exposed in a cold operating room.

But...was Daisy supposed to just sit there for the next foreseeable few hours until he finished? Wouldn't that surely cause much more mental damage? A much harder hole to dig out of?

Dr. Sen sighed, deciding to just play a game of waiting it out as he turned to retreat back to his office.

Upon walking into the room though, Dr. Sen noticed that Daisy wasn't alone on the couch. Jo was sat beside her, speaking about something the psychiatrist couldn't quite make out.

"Oh, uh, Dr. Wilson. Hi." Dr. Sen spoke, clearing his throat. "Thank you for coming by. This happens to be a private psychiatry session though, so if you could-"

"I think something's wrong with Daisy." Jo spoke as she turned to face the doctor. "She's not saying anything."

"She's not, correct." Dr. Sen nodded slowly. "But this really is supposed to be Daisy's private session."

"Oh, that's okay. I know Daisy." Jo smiled, not seeming to grasp the concept that a private session meant that Daisy was the only one truly authorized to be in the room. "You should probably go get Dr. Sloan."

"He's operating, I don't even know if he's close to finishing. I can't really leave Daisy alone in here anyway, so-"

"I can stay." Jo assured. "You should go get him."

Dr. Sen blinked for a moment. "You really don't understand the concept of psychiatry, do you?"

The whole point was to have a one-on-one session, psychiatrist and patient. Psychiatry was all about confidentiality, it completely defeated the purpose if Jo was sat right there.

Besides, as Dr. Sen's patient, Daisy was also Dr. Sen's responsibility in the sixty minutes that she sat on his couch. What kind of responsible psychiatrist would leave their patient alone in the office, with a mere surgical intern at that?

Dr. Sen found himself inwardly arguing, though, because this seemed like a special circumstance.

"I understand that psychiatry is about helping." Jo began to speak. "And if your patient needs help then you should go get help."

Dr. Sen silently agreed. Daisy clearly did need help. Maybe Mark was almost done anyway, maybe he was at a point that he could stop and come help calm Daisy down.

Dr. Sen figured that the chances of Jo kidnapping Daisy while he was gone were very low.

He hoped, at least.

Dr. Sen quickly left to find Mark, wanting to take as little time as possible so as not to be gone from his patient for too long.

Jo sat alone with a wordless Daisy, tilting her head as she observed the girl's state of being. Jo was thinking about so many different things, so many different questions and problems she didn't know the resolution to.

Daisy, on the other hand, was thinking about turtles.

Turtles were good. Fifteen was good and red plates were good and Daisy made the decision that turtles were good too.

Turtles moved slow, at a dragging pace. Daisy's thoughts moved so rapidly, it was no wonder she felt so anxious all the time. Daisy wished she could be reduced to a turtle. She wished she could walk slow and take her time and not have to think about all the little suffocating details that life entails.

Jo noticed that Daisy's breathing rate had increased, her inhalations short and choppy. While Daisy let her thoughts continue in a downward spiral, Jo briefly exited to retrieve something from the neighboring supply closet.

"Daisy." Jo spoke as she came back with what looked like a paper bag. "Do you want to take this?"

Daisy, of course, didn't acknowledge Jo at all. Her face remained blank, the constant click click click still filling the room as Daisy's thumb moved up and down and up and down and up and down.

It wasn't until Jo placed a hand on the small of Daisy's back that the girl flinched, her once stuck eyes flickering over to the woman beside her.

"I'm sorry." Jo frowned at the way Daisy flinched back. "I brought this, if you want to use it. It'll help regulate your breathing."

Daisy only stared up at Jo for a moment, as if she had just now noticed the woman's presence despite her being there for minutes.

Daisy tenderly took the paper bag, the texture feeling funny in her hands as the bag made light crinkling sounds when she gripped it.

The girl didn't actually put the bag up to her lips though, which was the whole purpose of the device. She merely held it in her hands, her brain deciding to dive into a different place.

"They have bags like this on airplanes." Daisy noted, her eyes still quite stiff and lifeless as she spoke. "Caly and I have been on an airplane before. We've been on a bunch actually, and...and one time I freaked out because we were so high up and I totally thought we were gonna crash and so the flight attendant gave me one of these to breathe in and...and Mark doesn't actually like airplanes. He thinks they're bad, but Mark's wrong about a lot of stuff and airplanes are so good and fast and you have so much time on your flight to just sit and think."

Daisy was breathless by the time she finished rambling. Her brain wanted to go back to the semi-peaceful world of turtles, but now she was completely stuck on airplanes.

Jo merely listened, and Daisy liked that. Daisy liked that Jo didn't cut off her rambling, or try to come up with a resolution to solve Daisy's craziness. Daisy liked that Jo sat and let her get it all out.

The woman absorbed what Daisy had said for a few moments, breathing lightly as a sad, small smile took over Jo's lips. "You have a lot in your head that you need to let out."

"I always do." Daisy mumbled, furrowing her eyebrows.

There were big issues at hand, yes. Of course. There were dilemmas and mental illnesses and English papers that Daisy had to work through. Daisy needed to face reality and conquer all of the poisonous problems that infected her life.

But airplanes. How did they work? What keeps those giant aircrafts suspended in the air for so long? Is it the fuel? Is it the large gliding wings?

Maybe a math teacher wasn't in the cards for Daisy. Maybe a pilot was Daisy's destined future job.

Would Mark even let her become a pilot though? Would Mark even let her on an airplane again?

Airplanes are fun, and exciting. Is that what life with Mark would entail? Boringness and no more airplanes?

Daisy opened up the paper bag in front of her, putting the small device up to her lips as she let the bag encompass her.

With every inhalation, the bag shrunk in on itself, and with every exhalation, the bag expanded. It was weird, the way that the bag moved in and out.

"Breathe, Daisy."

Jo's voice was calm and gentle, and Daisy liked that.

But Daisy had positively zero control over her breathing. It wasn't as if she could tell her lungs what to do, as if she could cross her arms and just command them to start passing the oxygen around a little better.

It must've been ages before Mark finally did enter the office. It felt like ages, at least.

Or...it didn't really feel like anything to Daisy. Her brain was having such a hard time registering the tangible things in front of her as she thought of airplanes.

How would Isaac Newton feel about airplanes? Would he have justification for how gravity could possibly suspend a three-hundred ton piece of metal in the sky?

Mark approached the couch, Jo immediately standing up.

"She was having trouble breathing, so I gave her the bag to use, if that's okay. I wasn't really sure what else to use, so I hope it's okay because-"

"That's fine." Mark nodded, taking the seat that Jo had once occupied. "Thank you, Wilson."

"Oh, yeah, no, of course. I love Daisy, I don't mind. I think maybe in another life I would've been, like...a social worker, you know? Or maybe a child psychiatrist, I feel like that would be fun-"

"Thank you, Wilson." Mark repeated himself, making it clear to Jo that it was time for her to go.

Jo made her way out of the room, but Dr. Sen didn't make his way in. He decided to wait this one out, hoping maybe Daisy would decide to share more of the information pent up in her head if Dr. Sen wasn't sitting there playing mediator.

He would be ready to play mediator if needed, of course. That was his job. But Dr. Sen truly wanted to believe that Daisy could talk things through by herself.

Daisy proceeded to breathe in an out of the paper bag, the crinkling sound disrupting all sorts of thoughts that were currently brewing.

Mark watched cautiously, not sure why the girl was so severely panicked. "Did...something happen?"

Daisy felt her breathing slow a bit. She tried her best to mellow her thoughts, though that proved to be a bit of a challenge. Daisy wondered if anyone else ever experienced invasive thoughts that they couldn't control, or was it just Daisy's messed up brain?

"Daisy?"

"How do these things even work?" Daisy breathed out as she pulled the bag away from her lips, ignoring Mark as she took in a breath of the oxygen surrounding her. "I mean...it's a bag. Does it really even do anything?"

"It, uh...balances the oxygen flow in your body. Puts carbon dioxide back into your lungs." Mark explained slowly, narrowing his eyes. "Listen, is...something going on?"

"They have bags like this on airplanes." Daisy stated blankly, not sure how her brain was so stuck on the fascinating world of airplanes. "One time Caly and I were flying and I freaked out because we were so high up and a flight attendant said it would help me breathe better and...oh, you...sorry, you probably don't want to hear about this story. I told Jo this story and she was fine with it but I forgot you're not fine with it because you're not Jo and your friend died on an airplane and-"

"Daisy." Mark tried his best to hide his grimace at bad memories that were popping up like weeds. He desperately wanted the girl to take a deep breath. Hearing how fast she was rambling made him feel out of breath. "Just slow down, okay? You've got all the time."

"Not really." Daisy let out a desperate sort of laugh. "I waste so much time stressing about stupid things. And nobody ever really even has enough time anyway because Mom was so young and Dad was so young and...and your friend Lexie was probably so young-"

"Daisy." Mark frowned, wanting the girl to calm down from her clearly fragile state of mind. "Breathe, kid."

Dr. Sen had interrupted just as he was about to close, which was fine because there were surgeons capable of closing up a patient just as well as him.

But when Dr. Sen said Mark was needed in his office, he thought maybe he just needed to sign a paper or something. Maybe Dr. Sen needed a second professional opinion, or maybe Daisy just needed money for the vending machine or something.

But this was clearly something different. The gravity of this felt much heavier than any possibility Mark had thought of. Daisy didn't seem present. Her brain was skewing out all sorts of things as she let out strings and strings of words so fast Mark could hardly make out what she was saying.

"What happened? You're not usually like this."

"I'm always like this." Daisy shook her head. "I think about this stuff all the time but...but I can usually keep it all up in my head and I'm good at keeping it all in my head, except now it's all sort of coming out and I don't know how to get it to stop, I don't know how, I..I..."

Daisy closed her eyes, bringing the bag up to her lips again. Her heart was beating fast, and she felt a sense of weightlessness in her stomach. A bad weightlessness, like that of when you're at the tip top of a rollercoaster ready to meet your impending doom.

Daisy wished she felt weightless in the good way. A sensation that would make her feel like she was flying, gliding, soaring like an airplane.

Mark was stuck. He didn't know what to say, nor did he know how to get Daisy to magically calm down. He took a deep breath, trying his hardest to be as insightful and helpful as possible.

"There's clearly something that's upsetting you. And...and that's okay, to have something that bothers you. But you need to just take a deep breath and try to-"

"You like Calypso more than you like me."

Mark was taken aback by how sudden the statement had come. "Sorry?"

"I get it, because she's little and cute and she draws those pictures with glitter pens. And I really can't even be upset with you because I honestly like Calypso more than I like you too." Daisy let out a humorless laugh, trying her best to swallow the quiver in her voice as she frowned. "But...but you're the adult, and that's not fair."

"I don't...I don't like Calypso more than you." Mark frowned, shaking his head. "That's not true, Dais."

"It is, though. Because...because you read her bedtime stories, and you tuck her in, and...and..."

"You...want me to start reading you bedtime stories?" Mark tried his very hardest to hide a grin. Daisy looked visibly flustered, and Mark raised his hands slightly. "Hey, no judgment. If that's what you want-"

"No that's not what I want." Daisy mumbled, feeling embarrassed beyond belief. "I just...I want...I don't know."

Daisy didn't know what she wanted, truthfully. She wanted to be overly coddled and cared for and paid attention to in the same way that Calypso was.

And yet she also sort of wanted to run far far away, and keep as much distance between herself and Mark as possible. It was a weird feeling, Daisy genuinely didn't know what she wanted.

"I'm not good at talking." Mark sighed out, trying to think about the words he would say as a small grin took on his face. "I mean...Calypso's easy to impress, you know? All I do is blink and somehow I'm the coolest guy alive. And I forget that thirteen-year-olds aren't quite as easy to impress. I...I need to get better at talking. I just...I didn't think you cared, honestly. I mean, I thought you really didn't like me."

"Why would you think that?"

Mark sort of thought Daisy was joking, and he wanted to laugh at the statement. Why wouldn't he think that?