Disclaimer: This story is an inspired continuation of another story titled Even Heroes Fall by Weasleymama. I in no way own any rights to the original story, and have no intention of claiming rights to it. What they wrote is an inspired tale about loss and grief following a great tragedy and it moved me profoundly. It contains Major Character Death and Graphic Depictions of Violence in a school setting, so read the original at your own risk. The story below is my take on what follows the conclusion of Even Heroes Fall, therefore I do reference certain plot points of the original story. If you are triggered by graphic depictions of violence, school shootings, PTSD, and/or death, please do not read anything past this this disclaimer. I also do not own Girl Meets World in any way, shape, or form.

Author's Note: Hello everyone! This is my first ever complete attempt at writing fanfiction. After reading Even Heroes Fall many thoughts began spiraling around my head of how else it could have ended. That being said, I want to make it clear that this story is not a "fix-it" fic, as it is written in a way that is meant to fit perfectly following the events of Even Heroes Fall. It can be read standalone, however some things will make a little more sense if you have read the original story (i.e. characters seeming like they are acting slightly OOC, etc.). Please take note that I am doing this of my own volition and have not contacted Weasleymama in any way about writing what I've written here. I have every intention of preserving what they wrote as a masterpiece of loss, grief, and rebuilding your life after tragedy. The story I've written has a very happy ending, so if you do read it please stick with it until the end and let me know what you think!

Special mention: I want to thank Jackie for being a wonderful beta with an endless supply of patience while I bombarded her with constant questions about what I'd written. After I sent her a link to Even Heroes Fall we both agreed we wanted to see a different end for it, and she pushed me to write it myself, and I am forever grateful she did because I am so very proud of what I've written here as a first-time fic writer. I dedicate this fic to her (mostly because she refuses to take any credit for it, even though I insisted it's half hers).

Woof that was a lot… onto the story!

I'll Be Right Here. Always.

BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP

The alarm clock smashes into the far wall.

Maya opened her eyes to see the twisted remains of cheap plastic scattered across the floor next to her closet. Great. She thinks. Another day, another alarm clock in need of replacing. She stretches out her arms in front of her, vaguely feeling like something seems off, but still too hazy from sleep to try and figure out what it is.

Every day it gets worse. Every day she wakes up and thinks the same dreadful thoughts:

How can I keep on like this?

She stares at the bluebonnet on her arm.

I can't do this anymore.

The tattoo that covered up the scars of what happened that day.

Not without him.

But not all of her scars.

I can't live my whole life loving a ghost.

Not the scars on her heart.

Eventually she gets up, gets dressed, has breakfast, and goes to work. Today felt different though. Something hung in the air. There was a sense of unease… of wrongness here. She couldn't quite put her finger on it. It was the same kind of feeling you get in abandoned subways or rest stops on the highway. She had read somewhere about these places being called "liminal spaces". They were places you're only supposed to visit but never linger in. Maya shook her head trying to banish the thought.

She opened the glass door bearing the legend "Tony's Tattoos" and heard the familiar tinkle of a bell. Tony looks up and waves, his eyes crinkling from a smile before returning to his email. Maya smiles and waves back, trying her best to not look like she's crumbling. She's got acting blood in her veins. She can do this.

And she does.

Every.

Single.

Day.

It's like being caught in a nightmare you can't escape. Every time you fall off the cliff, you wake up and something else is chasing you. You don't know what it is because you don't dare look back. All you know is that you have to get away. You have to keep running. If you stop, you're dead.

Dead.

"Hey, you alright?"

A hand touched her shoulder and she flinched away, gasping for air. Turning to see who startled her, she sees Tony's wrinkled face. His brow is furrowed in concern now. She must have been zoning out again. Dammit.

"Yeah, Tony, I'm fine. Sorry about that," she said in what she hoped was a convincing tone. "Any appointments today, or just walk-ins?" He frowned, still looking unconvinced, so she flashed him a tight smile. That must've done the trick, because he decided not to push any harder. Or maybe he just knew her well enough to leave it alone. If she didn't want to talk, nothing could break that wall down. He learned that a long time ago.

"Just walk-ins today, sweetheart. Why don't you get your station ready? I'll be at my desk if you need me."

"Okay."

And so Maya continued on with her day. Like she did every day.

Every.

Single.

Day.

Until he walked in.

She heard the tinkling of the bell from the back. She was still grabbing some supplies, so she let Tony greet him. She liked working here. Really. It paid the bills and it had her using her artistic skills to change people's lives. Even when someone wanted something straight out of the book, she didn't mind. There was something very cathartic, not to mention intimate, about stitching swirls of colors and shades of darkness into another person's skin. The customers were great too. Sure, every once in a while you would get a drunk they would have to kick out, or the occasional douche that didn't know the meaning of personal space, but Tony made quick work of them. Even a man pushing sixty can be quite intimidating when he wants to be.

One windy evening in autumn Tony confided in her that after his only son passed away, he had been forced to accept the fact that he would never be someone's grandfather. He asked her if it was alright if he considered himself somewhat of a grandfather figure to her. At a loss for words she could only hug him in response. It didn't fill the hole in her heart, but it did make her feel warm that he cared so much about her.

Walking out of the back with her supplies, Maya vaguely took notice of the tall broad-shouldered man talking animatedly with Tony. His back was turned to her, his stance firm and strong.

"Are you sure about this? That's very close to the ribs, son, and the ribcage is one of the most painful places to get a tattoo. You look strong enough, but I've seen grown men twice your size cry like a baby getting something like this done."

"I'm sure." His voice was deep and calm. There was a hint of an accent to it. She couldn't quite put her finger on it. Like the moment after déjà vu strikes and you're stuck trying to remember something you've already lived. It was there, but just barely out of reach. What was it?

Maya rolled her eyes at his response. He's sure now, but wait 'til the needle goes in. We'll see how sure he is then.

"Maya!"

She jumped and almost dropped the bottle of ink in her hand. She hated it when Tony barked like that.

"Yeah?"

"How do you feel about starting us off today? I have to finish writing this email before lunch."

"Sure, I've got it."

"Thanks, sweetheart."

Still turned toward what she was doing she called out, "come on over and plop yourself down, I'm still getting set up. It should only take a few more minutes."

Out of the corner of her eye she saw his figure shift toward her, and while he walked toward her chair Maya felt a chill go down her spine. That doesn't make any sense… it's the middle of summer. It's been humid for weeks.Yet as he came closer and closer she started to feel a presence she hadn't felt in a very, very long time. Maya's breathing hitched. She looked down at her feet and tried to catch her breath. Breathe in and out, come on. In… and out. In… and out. Why is this happening now all of a sudden?

"I suppose you'll want a sketch of what I'm getting, right? Here." He stuck his hand out in front of her, showing a piece of paper with a crude sketch on it.

With a trembling hand she reached out to take it, still not daring to look at him. She was scared. Why am I so afraid of this man? I've never met him… Have I?

Barely able to focus, Maya looked down at the piece of paper.

A campfire.

Blood rushed through her veins, her lungs contracted in a sudden gasp, and her eyes shot up at the stranger.

The last thing she saw before the darkness enveloped her was a pair of gorgeous, pale green eyes.


Screaming.

That was the first thing he heard.

Piercing, blood-curdling screams were coming from right next to him.

Lucas jolted awake, his muscles tensed, ready to fend off whatever attacker was endangering he and his wife in their home. But there was no one.

Maya was screaming from a nightmare, and it was clearly much, much worse than any of the others.

Lucas reached over and grabbed her shoulders, turning her toward him. She was shaking like mad, still shrieking bloody murder.

"MAYA! MAYA, WAKE UP!"

In her sleep she tried to throw him off. This clearly wasn't working.

Lucas wrapped his arms completely around his wife's shoulders and held on. Maya kicked, and punched, and threw herself from side to side.

Screaming… screaming… screaming…

"Maya, it's me," he whispered in her ear. "It's Lucas. I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere. Please, just calm down."

Whether it was because she was beginning to lose her voice or because somewhere in her nightmare Maya could hear him he did not know, but her screams slowly came to a stop. She quit fighting, and her breathing began to even out.

"Lucas…?" She breathed.

He looked down into her beautiful blue eyes and smiled. "Hey Shortcake," he whispered.

"Lucas?!" Her eyes welled up with tears and she dug her fingers into his t-shirt like she were sinking into the ocean and he was the only thing keeping her afloat. Maya buried her face in his chest and began to sob. "Y-you're… alive…?" She cried between sobs. "H-how is this… possible? Y-you were d-d-dead!" At this her sobs grew even more.

"Maya, I'm right here. Shhh..." He began to rock her. This was the worst he'd ever seen her. "It's okay, baby, I'm not going anywhere. I'm right here. I'm right here with you."

"B-but you were shot! In the chest! You d-d-died saving me… I saw it happen! And you w-were g-g-gone!"

"I'm not gone. I'm not gone, baby. I would never leave you. I'm right here. Always."

Maya looked up from where she'd been sobbing into his chest. Tears were still staining tracks into her cheeks, and the utter look of terror and disbelieve etched into her features broke his heart. Taking a hold of her small frame and laying back, Lucas held her close to his chest. He wrapped his left arm around her waist and consolingly ran his right hand through her blonde locks.

They didn't move from that spot all morning.

When Maya's sobs subsided he began to move, but her fingers gripped him even tighter and held him in place, not willing to let him go. He lay back down. "Okay, alright. Shhh… it's going to be okay." Lucas was seriously worried now. It had never taken her this long to remember before. "Baby, I'm not going anywhere. I'm just going to get us some water. I will be right back."

"Don't leave me!" She cried out desperately.

He frowned. "Maya, you can watch me the whole time. The bathroom is right there, you see? I'm not leaving."

Slowly Maya nodded and, reluctantly, released her grip on him. Lucas kissed her forehead and eased himself up. He walked to the bathroom and filled a cup with water. He grabbed a fresh shirt while he was at it, revealing a jagged circular scar just below his left pectoral muscle. He could feel her eyes watching his every move. Slowly and carefully he walked back to their bed, placed the water on the bedside table, and laid back down pulling her back to him.

He took the cup of water and held it out for her. She just looked at it. Then she shifted her gaze back to his face.

"Maya, you have to drink. You've been crying all morning and you're probably dehydrated. Drink."

She brought the cup to her lips and took a sip, all while keeping her attention on his face. It was like she thought he was going to vanish if she looked away. She handed him back the water.

He smiled. "Good." Lucas placed the cup back on the table and went back to calmly running his fingers through her hair.

"You were dead." It wasn't a cry this time. It was a statement. She wanted answers.

"I'm not dead, Maya. Look at me; I'm alive and breathing right next to you. And I love you so much."

"How do I know that this is real? How do I know this isn't just another dream?"

"What's the last thing you remember before you woke up? I know it's hard, but think."

"I was… working in a tattoo parlor. You came in to get one. I didn't see you at first, I was too busy working. When you came near me it was like… it was like I could feel your presence. Like… like I wasn't empty anymore. You held out the tattoo you wanted. It was… it was a campfire. And I looked into your eyes and then just… black; Darkness."

Lucas smiled. "Maya, you saw me and the campfire because that is the symbol of our bond."

She just looked at him, confused and afraid.

Lucas sighed. "Back in high school there was a shooting, and I was shot protecting you." Her eyes widened in panic. Quickly, he added, "but I'm fine, see?" He lifted his shirt to show her the scar. "Only a scar left, and it doesn't even hurt." She reached out and lightly touched the only blemish on his otherwise perfect skin. "I'm right here with you. But I would do it again if I had to, just to keep you safe." He held her tighter as if to emphasize the point. He was dead serious. Lucas would die before he let anything happen to Maya.

"The paramedics were able to keep me alive long enough to rush me to the hospital. I was placed in immediate emergency surgery with a bullet wound to the chest. The bullet missed my heart by less than an inch." He held up his thumb and index finger together to give an example. "But… there was a lot of bleeding, and I was in and out of the ICU for weeks. I survived though, and I still say I have you to thank for that. You never left my side. Not once. You told me that as soon as I got out of the hospital we were getting married." Lucas grinned. "I told you we were just kids, we couldn't get married yet. You argued with me of course," He was actually laughing softly now. "But then you said as soon as you turned 18 we were tying the knot, and you wouldn't hear another word against it. Not from anyone. You said you couldn't bear the thought of losing me again without me knowing how much you loved me." Now Lucas was starting to tear up. "That one thought… that I would be married to Maya Penelope Hart, and that you loved me so much you never wanted to let me go… that resolve got me through the most difficult and painful period of my life. Maya, you saved me just as much as, if not more than, I saved you." He took a big gulp of air and swallowed back his tears. She couldn't take her eyes off of him. Not because she felt like he was going to disappear anymore, but because Maya felt like she was falling in love with this man - this stupid, protective, wonderful man - all over again.

"But Maya, my wounds were only physical. Yours have been far more scarring than any bullet. You've been suffering from PTSD ever since the shooting. It comes to you in your dreams. You've described to me entire realities of my death and the intense grief you've gone through over it." Maya's grip tightened at this, so he brought his hand down from her hair to squeeze hers. Lucas needed her to know she was safe, that he was very much real, and he wasn't going anywhere. "Through many therapy sessions we finally found a way for your subconscious to pull you back. You and me." He held up their joined hands between them. "Our bond." He pressed his forehead to hers and looked deep into her eyes. "The campfire." He kissed her softly. "It's all a part of your subconscious telling you to wake up and live outside of that grief. To live with me." He touched her wedding band. "For the rest of our lives." By the time Lucas finished his story his eyes were full of tears again. He was looking at Maya with so much love in his heart he thought he might break in two from the sheer immensity of it.

This was too good to be true. Maya couldn't believe what she was hearing. Not only did Lucas survive, he married her. They lived together. They were going to spend the rest of their lives together and live each day more in love with each other than the last.

Maya looked down at the scar on her arm. The tattoo was gone. She looked at her fingertip still lightly tracing his scar. She raised her eyes back up into his face, shining, so full of love. Her hands traveled up to caress the face of Lucas Friar, the love of her life. Her soulmate. Ocean blue met pale green, and in that instant she knew. She was beginning to remember.

"This is… real?" She whispered, letting hope in just a little bit.

"This is real." He smiled and nodded. "I knew you could do it."

She began to cry again. Stupid tears just wouldn't stop. "I love you so much, Huckleberry," she cried.

He pulled her in close and let his tears fall with hers. "I love you, too Shortstack. More than words can ever express."

"And I'll be right here. Always."