Chapter 1: Maybe you
Amaya pressed her lips together, a haze of tears clouding her view of the screens displaying her future and that of her family, her village. It had been an impetuous and ill-advised decision to see what her timeline held; even Gideon had warned against it. The temptation to learn the truth after Nate's hints about her fate had compelled her forward, past the down-to-earth common sense that typically kept her more hasty instincts in check.
The idea that some truths about her which were known to Ray and now Nate, truths that dictated her entire destiny, could be so well understood by others, members of her team, but hidden from herself had made Amaya feel painfully blinded and powerless, emotions that she could not stand.
But now she had to wonder if she'd made an awful mistake. Could knowing this information influence every choice she made from that moment on? How could it not, after all? And in trying to ensure that she didn't damage her correct timeline, might Amaya actually misstep at just the right moment, in just the right way to destroy what ought to be, and ruin her family's fate? Then her brave, heroic granddaughter, the one Ray so admired, (and rightfully so judging by all she'd learned) might never exist.
Heavy thoughts of these matters distracted her enough that as she headed out of the library and back to her quarters, she walked smack into Mick Rory, who had been coming from the opposite direction.
"Where'd you come from?" Mick asked distractedly, steadying Amaya with strong arms as she furrowed her brow.
"How did I manage that?" She wondered aloud, using a slight laugh to cover her miserably jumbled state of mind.
"Don't ask me," he replied in that gravely, slow voice of his that seemed to caress each word, "It's basically the same as walking into a brick wall."
Amaya gave into a chortle at that, grateful to him for puncturing her uptight mood and letting a little oxygen back in.
Mick leaned down and picked up a pair of glasses he'd dropped on the floor when they collided. He slipped them back on and Amaya noticed for the first time that he was also wearing a suit, and looked rather…hmmm…
Nice. That was the right word for it, surely. She wouldn't want to acknowledge to herself that the first adjective which had sprung all-too-instantly and irresistibly to her mind had been sexy.
"Dunno why I bothered putting these back on," Mick mumbled, taking the glasses back off and looking at them in his hand. "I kinda liked this disguise for some reason. Maybe I like all the disguises. But this one in particular."
"You look very dapper," Amaya assured him with a warm smile and a pat on his arm. Even in her overwhelmed state of mind, she couldn't help feeling that strange pull towards him she'd noticed more and more lately.
He laughed sharply. "I look a little less like a loser than usual," he said. "I think that's it, that's why I enjoy the disguises. It feels like an escape from myself." Mick's eyes widened and he rubbed his jaw thoughtfully. "I don't know why I'm telling you this."
"Don't you?" Amaya asked, crossing her arms and raising her eyebrows. "We're friends, Mick, why wouldn't you confide in me?"
"I don't have—" Mick started the disclaimer instinctively, but Amaya cut him off briskly.
"Don't give me that 'I don't have friends' nonsense again," she said sharply, but then her voice softened. "And you're not a loser, by the way. You're a Legend. Do you want to go somewhere and talk? I could honestly use a friend at the moment myself."
Mick shrugged, and she could tell how hard his true wishes were fighting against his need to sink back into the abyss of uncaring. "I guess that would be okay…as long as you don't tell anyone about it."
"Tell anyone that you were feeling a bit lost and needed to confide in a friend?" Amaya smiled again and shook her head affectionately. "Never. My lips are sealed." She slung an arm around Mick's broad shoulders as they strode away, and found that she was feeling a little better already.