A/N: As I'm rewriting, editing and adding to this fic around my work schedule, I hope it comes across as more sincere, more realistic, and more appealing. I'm not doing this for reviews or stats, or praise - if you like it, you like it, if you don't, you don't - but if you want to let me know how you feel, or what you think, just drop a line. I'm just happy to be writing again after a very long sabbatical.

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Marvel/Disney/Stan Lee, please, don't sue me.

CHAPTER TWO

The Lakers were playing on the flat screen above the bar, and winning, but all Happy could think about was the first time he saw Maggie Sousa.

The sky had been overcast and gloomy all morning when she emerged from the parking garage. He was outside for his noon smoke, and there she was, an enigma with rectangle glasses and the brightest yellow sweater he had ever seen. She walked carefully around puddles in her heels, arms laden with stacks of bound files. She was breathtaking to him, despite the glasses, which had never considered an attractive quality in a woman until that afternoon.

Actually, the glasses seemed to have added to her allure. Her long hair had been pulled back in a ponytail, and her frames appeared wider than they actually were. He remembered her hair had been a deep, rich brown, just as it was now, and her eyes an earthy green hazel with hints of light, warm brown. She had worn a black dress with vibrant flowers printed on it, tied around the waist, and her smile had brightened his day as she passed by. Literally, the clouds parted and the sun shone down on the world when her eyes focused on him for that brief moment, her lips offering him the most stunning smile he'd ever seen. Just those brief few seconds, when their eyes connected, was enough to make Happy forget about Tony and Pepper, and his life, for the rest of the day.

Then he'd seen the nameless woman following Pepper around the next week, at ease with the routine as if she had been born to it. She was always so put together; simple hairstyle, simple makeup, and cheerful dresses, skirts, blouses and sweaters. Sometimes she wore heels, sometimes she wore flats, and yet she always looked so professional, despite the fact that she also dressed like a kindergarten teacher. At any rate, she was a breath of life after years of watching Pepper from afar - this sweet, warm, kind woman whose name he didn't even know. He looked forward to passing her in the halls, because it seemed like she always had a special smile just for him.

He hadn't known if his eyes were playing tricks on him, or if she really was that chipper, but when she felt as though no one was watching, her smile would fade and she would look sad, as if there were some great burden on her shoulders that she didn't want anyone else to see, but he did. It was almost as if she were lonely, worried, struggling, but the sadness always faded the second she felt someone looking.

It was creepy, he knew that, to watch her so much, but he couldn't help himself. She was alluring, and different from Pepper in every single way, and he wanted to know more. He wanted to know her, but he was just too afraid at that time to talk to her.

Then he'd caved and accessed her employee file.

Mary Margaret Carter Sousa, born 12 November 1976 in a hospital in Queens, and raised in Brooklyn. Graduated high school early, attended Columbia University, then Yale. Obtained a few Masters in science and technology, a medical degree with a specialty in psychiatry, and another Masters in criminal pathology, or something. Her employment history prior to Stark Industries had been confusing, but he had asked Pepper about it, burning red when she narrowed her eyes in knowing amusement. It had been something to do with SHIELD, like she was close to the end of her contract with them, or something, and she was using the last months to transition back into the real world - something like that. According to Pepper, there had been an incident, and Maggie hadn't quite recovered from it without help. The executive assistant position was a favor to Coulson. And Pepper had made him swear to keep it to himself, making a comment, as well, about how she never thought he would break company policy in a non-work related manner.

"She must be very special," Pep had said with a sly smirk.

He'd left it at that, making a note to never ask Pepper about Maggie ever again. It was bad enough the woman grinned every time he offered to drive her places when he knew Maggie would be in attendance. He didn't know why had taken a liking to the mysterious Ms. Sousa, only that she was a break in the endless existence of failed pick up lines and bad dates. It was her presence that he craved, her smile, and it was those very things that made Happy finally gather up the courage to ask her out, which hadn't turned out as well as he had hoped. He had been so nervous, and she had fumbled the papers in her arms before telling him she would love to have a friendly drink that night. It hadn't even been 5 minutes and he had already been sequestered in the friend zone, apparently. And to top it off, she apparently didn't drink much, or at all. She had sipped water all night, asking him questions about his work with Stark Industries, the Yankees, and what the rules of baseball were, which he found odd and fascinating, since she had been raised in Brooklyn.

"Want me to top you off, sir?" asked the woman tending bar. "You look like you could use another."

When he nodded solemnly, the bartender poured more whiskey into his tumbler, and left him to his moping. He glanced up at the scores on the television, but he couldn't even bring himself to be outraged at how far behind the Lakers had become in the last quarter. His thoughts flitted from Maggie, to Pepper, to Tony, then back to Pepper, which always led back to Maggie. It was always Maggie. He couldn't figure out why she assumed he had no romantic interest in her. For Christ sake, he had spent the last few months trying to break down her walls to try again. How could Maggie not see it? How could she not notice?

The hours slipped by as Happy drank three quarters of a bottle of whiskey, relishing the emotional numbness creeping through his veins as he paced himself. He couldn't ignore the fight Maggie and he had earlier that day - well, yesterday, now that he saw the clock on the wall - but he could drink away the ability to be angered or saddened by it. He just replayed the day over in his mind, lingering on brief moments and picking through conversations, until he was drunk enough to forget what Maggie and he had been arguing about. He could still see the blush that darkened her cheeks after she got into the car at the private hangar, embarrassed about her Yoda panties. It was a surprise, considering he had been in her apartment, seen all the clothes laying on the floor, and yet never once saw a pair of her panties, anywhere.

He even lingered on the look in her eyes when he had basically told her that he needed some space. There had been hurt there, and for a moment, he took a sadistic bit of satisfaction in knowing that she was experiencing what he did every time she put up a wall on a personal subject. It was like she was worried he would replace her now. She didn't understand that he had been waiting for her to realize that they were more than just friends by now.

Christ, she was infuriating. She never talked about her life, or her future. She always became quiet for a little while, before the smile came back and she changed the topic. She was cheerful, friendly, completely adorable in her own quirky way, but there were moments when the walls crumbled, and he got that glimpse of something underneath. Happy knew something was going on in her life, with her, that she did not want to talk about, but she didn't talk about anything. She didn't talk about family or friends, or tell stories about SHIELD or tales of college. She didn't talk about anything relevant to herself, actually. In fact, she asked questions and listened to him tell stories of his own life when topics turned personal. They had spent hours some nights talking about nothing, he realized. Television shows, sports, his family and friends, and even the shenanigans Tony and he had gotten into before Pepper became Tony's world.

Happy knew absolutely nothing about Maggie, to be honest, and it bothered him.

"Sir, your phone is ringing," said the bartender as she wiped down the counter.

He looked over and saw the screen lit up, the sound of the ringtone barely registering as he picked up his phone. Before he answered, he nodded to her and said a sluggish, "Thanks." She gave him a sad smile, poured one last finger of whiskey, and left him to his privacy, to which he was grateful.

"Hogan," he answered, sobering a tiny bit when he heard the name of the person who had called. "Phil?"

He listened to Coulson explain the situation in the vaguest sense possible. Happy felt a little green around the gills, mostly due to the fact that he had no idea what Phil Coulson was talking about. He didn't know anything about Maggie, which meant the little Coulson said made no sense. The only thing that permeated his booze-soaked mind was the fact that Maggie was obviously still a contracted employee of SHIELD, which he already knew via Pepper. It wasn't easy hearing that his sweet, kind, beloved-by-all Maggie was still subjective to SHIELD commands, or that she had missed her last 3 mandatory therapy sessions.

His head was throbbing by the time Coulson wrapped up the extremely vague, nonexistent briefing on Maggie, and how Coulson wanted Happy to drag her to an appointment the next day, if she did not go willingly. By the time the call ended, Happy's head was spinning with very little information he didn't want to remember the next day.

So, he marched back into the bar and called Maggie to pick him up while he finished off the rest of the bottle of whiskey.

Maggie was flipping pancakes at the stove when Happy stumbled through the curtains separating her bedroom from the living room. He looked as though he hadn't slept enough, but at least he didn't have that sickly complexion anymore. She assumed he hadn't drank too much before she picked him up, but the bartender had advised her that he had downed an entire bottle of whiskey. It was easy to stifle a laugh as he kept colliding with walls and tripping over her clothes on the floor, or the stools lined up along the opposite side of the counter.

She watched him stop as he entered the kitchen, rubbing his eyes and squinting as he looked around. He settled on the french press first, then his gaze moved to the stove. For a moment, Maggie just went about lifting the pancakes off the griddle and onto a plate on the counter. She turned off the stove and placed the plate with the stack of fluffy deliciousness next to the plate of eggs and bacon. She wasn't even self-conscious about the fact that she was wearing a baggy shirt that reached down to her thighs, no bra, and the only pair of sleeping shorts she owned. In her mind, it was hardly scandalous, and he was hungover, too blinded by the lights in the living room to notice her in such a state of undress. Besides, it was seven minutes past six in the morning, she hadn't expected him to be awake so soon. Especially, since she had picked him up from the bar at two 'o'clock in the morning. She had thought to wake him up by wafting the incredible scent of a steaming cup of coffee under his nose, and two Aleves to help with the headache. It was what she was used to doing on the occasion she slept on his couch, but she never had a person, friend or family, stay the night in any place she had lived. Even as a child, she had never experienced the social acceptance of an invitation to a sleeping over party, or whatever they were called. Sometimes Sharon and her parents would stay for a visit with Nana, but Maggie couldn't count that as a sleepover since her cousin and she had never really gotten along. Maggie just hid in her room until they were gone.

So, to be honest, Maggie wasn't exactly aware of what to do, other than making breakfast. She hadn't known what to do when she got Happy to her flat, either. Did she give him the sofa? The bed? Did she let him strip his clothes off and sit in the shower, like he had tried to do the second they walked through the door?

In the end, she relied on what she would do at his place when she would drive him home from the pub. She helped him strip down to his briefs, blushing as she always did, and guided him to bed. Of course, this time she placed a bucket next to him on the off-chance he felt sick.

And now she was making him breakfast to soak up any remaining alcohol still in his system, though she had never made him pancakes before, due to the fact that he never had anything more than beer, pizza, and eggs in his fridge.

And she was very aware of the fact that this wasn't the first time she had seen him in his skivvies.

Happy was blinking rapidly and looking around again; coffee, stacks of food, her bare legs. Coffee machine, her bare legs, food, her bare legs, food.

Then his gaze settled on her.

"You're not wearing sweatpants," he slurred, sluggishly, pointing at her legs.

"I am, you just can't see them," Maggie replied, aware that she should not be this comfortable in so little clothes, in the presence of a man who wasn't her boyfriend, nor her husband. Yet, she was very comfortable with Happy, despite the fact that he continued to stare at her legs, which wasn't much of a bother. Part of her liked that he was looking at her legs, it was flattering, and it gave her hope that perhaps they could both put aside their stubbornness.

She offered him a shy smile, "I can turn the lights off if that will help? You must have a raging headache. And I can put some pants on, if you'd prefer?"

He stammered a bit, a redness creeping up his neck as she buttered his pancakes and drizzling them in syrup. He groaned, running a tired hand through his short curls, leaning his elbows on the counter, and Maggie couldn't help but watch his biceps flex. With a shake of her head, Maggie took some bacon and crumbled it over his pancakes, remembering how he liked them from the last time they'd had breakfast with Pepper. She had watched him intently as he broke apart his bacon - extra, extra crispy - and sprinkled it over the pancakes with precision. She did the same now that she knew, wanting him to feel as at home as possible, since she didn't know if they were still upset with each other, or moving past it.

She placed a steaming cup of coffee and two Aleves in front of him before she handed him his plate of food, fork and knife included. Dimming the lights in the kitchen and living room, Maggie collected her own plate of pancakes and settled herself on the couch, refusing to acknowledge her attempt at checking in on Tony the night before. Not even an irate Pepper calling the man had gotten Maggie past the gate.

Before she managed to get the first bite in, the kettle on the stove finally started whistling, which made Happy cringe and Maggie sigh. Setting the plate on her messy coffee table, she hurried to turn the burner off and move the kettle away from the heat. She poured herself a mug of steaming water, and dropped a bag of Twinings earl grey, in which she relished the aroma of bergamot that exploded into the air. She could feel Happy's gaze on her as the tea steeped until it was the perfect shade, before tossing the bag into the trash and settling back onto the couch without so much as a word to him.

He watched her with a curiously guarded expression, as if he were contemplating something and finding it incredibly difficult to actually put it into words. Then he returned to staring at his pancakes and sipping his coffee when he noticed she had caught him staring. Of course, she might have been stealing glances, too.

It was unnerving, in a way, to have so much silence between them. It was awkward and tense, and she did not appreciate it in her home. She had no idea what to say to him, other than offer him what he needed, because she knew he must feel awful. To be honest, if he hadn't called her last night, and he hadn't been just a block away at the pub, she would have just taken him to his place and left after he was tucked in. Yet, he had been just a block away, and she had been too tired to drive to the pub, so she just walked. She had taken his keys and slowly drove to her place since it was so close. She had even pressed his suit after he had fallen asleep, it was hanging on a hook in her bathroom, and it was still warm.

After all that was squared away, she had paced between the kitchen and the living room, before she finally settled on the couch, watching the telly and reviewing the latest medical results for her grandmother, the surgical reports and other evaluations from her own medical care eight months prior. Just a normal, ordinary night for her, and it wasn't unusual for her to skip a night or two, or three, of sleep these days. There was a lot keeping her up at night, and sometimes it was just easier to forego sleep altogether, but the real reason for her lack of sleep was the monumental headache she had been nursing since her failed attempt to check in on Tony. A borderline migraine and intermittent moments of blurred, double vision had ruined her chances of getting any sleep whatsoever.

"You remembered how I like my pancakes," muttered Happy, staring at her in what could only be shock, or awe, as she finished off her first pancake. He almost looked astonished. "You remembered."

She looked at him, wide-eyed and nervous, "Why wouldn't I?"

It seemed to throw him for a loop, but he seemed very happy with her answer, in a way. The corner of his mouth quirked into a serene smile as he used his fork to cut into his pancakes. He even made a noise in his throat as he ate, obviously enjoying the food. It made her happy to see him happy.

"How are you feeling this morning?" she asked, consciously softening her voice to avoid irritating his headache. She didn't look at him, but she hoped her tone portrayed a sense of compassion and concern, because she did genuinely want to know.

She head him swallow, and his reply was gruff with sleep, "Hungover, but it could be worse."

"How so?"

"I could be home alone," he said quietly around a bite of food.

She really didn't know what to say to that, so she chose to ignore it completely. "Did you sleep well?"

"Yeah, like a log," he replied, scratching his head. "It's weird though. For a little bit, it was like someone was in bed with me."

Oh, shit.

"Well, you did drink an entire bottle of whiskey," Maggie shrugged, watching the morning news on mute. "Maybe it was a very...vivid dream."

"Yeah, a dream," he said. "Must have been."

"Most definitely a dream," muttered Maggie around a mouthful of banana. "Otherwise, it would just be creepy."

"Not creepy," Happy replied, gathering his plate and settling on the couch next to her. "Never creepy."

Maggie nodded, trying to act innocent as she shifted to give him room, balancing her plate on the arm of the couch. She sipped her tea, eyes glued to the telly as the weather report began with a forecast of rain in the afternoon. Happy and she ate in silence, neither of them able to find anything to say as the news rolled over to a Saturday morning cartoon. As the minutes passed by, Maggie's migraine worsened, and her eyes started to close, exhausted.

"Did you sleep at all?" Happy asked, startling her enough to jerk up before she dozed off. "You look like you haven't slept in days."

"I have a migraine that doesn't seem to want to leave," Maggie yawned, covering her mouth with her arm. "I'll be fine."

He fixed her with a look, "You don't look fine, Maggie. It's your home, you should take something and get some sleep."

"I took Aleve a few hours ago, it just doesn't seem to be working," she offered him a smile, in the hopes that it would placate him. "And I have a few things today that I really can't reschedule, but I'll get plenty of rest tonight, I promise."

"Are you going to be up for Tony again tonight without sleep?"

"I'll be fine," she replied, finishing off her breakfast and downing the last of her tea. "I've done this before. It's not the first time I've pushed through with no sleep."

"It's not healthy, Maggie," countered Happy, looking almost pained at her stubbornness. "You need sleep."

"You're not going to be up for Tony again tonight like that."

"I will be fine," she deflected, leaving her plate and cup on the coffee table. "I'll sleep, tonight, after I check on Tony."

He looked as though he might prefer to push the subject further, but he let it go for the moment. He chose another topic instead, with a hesitant tone, but he tried, "So, you have things to do today? Appointments? Speed dating and lunch dates?"

"I have an appointment," she replied, shifting again on the couch as she fought another yawn. "And why would I speed date when I'd rather have lunch with you?"

He chuckled nervously, looking as though it were a ridiculous thing to do, "Yeah, why speed date." And then he perked a little, "So, did you want me to come with you? To the appointment? I could drive, and we could have lunch after. My treat."

Her head was still throbbing, but it seemed less horrible with the offer of a day with Happy - and lunch, she loved lunch with Happy. He knew all the best restaurants, and he was always amazing company. There wasn't anyone else in the world that she would rather have lunch with. It would be a welcome distraction from the errands and the appointment, but unfortunately she didn't want to burden him, considering the nature of her appointment.

"I wouldn't want to bore you with it all. Besides, you have oversight review today," she said, hoping he wouldn't press on. He looked as though he wanted to push more. "I can swing by work at lunch. We can get ice cream. You love ice cream for lunch."

"I can call out," he offered, refusing to let it go. "I have sick time I can use -"

Maggie reached out and fingered a short curl sticking up at an odd angle from Happy's hairline, tucking it back in with the rest of his bedhead. "You don't have to call out. Go to work. I'll be fine. It's just a couple silly appointments."

"Like doctor appointments?"

"Sort of," she replied, with a sigh. "More like therapy, and test results."

"Therapy?"

She hadn't retracted her hand from his hair, fingers combing the messy curls back from his forehead as she smiled. A genuine smile, because, for some reason, and despite the awful migraine and lack of sleep, she was genuinely happy and at ease with telling him the truth about this one thing. Being in his presence somehow made her feel safe, included, and blissful. This was the epitome of finding home. It was...magical.

Happy mimicked her actions, lifting a hand to tuck a stray lock of hair behind her ear, and then he sighed. He nodded, his fingers lingering on that lock, while she continued to comb his curls back. They smiled at each other, existing in the moment for as long as possible, and for their own, personal and selfish reasons. She did not want this to end, but unfortunately her appointment was in two hours, and Happy couldn't come with her. He needed to get to work. Yet, she didn't want to be the one to end it. She didn't want to send him away.

"Happy?" murmured Maggie, leaning closer so her fingers could play with the curls on the nape of his neck. She bit her lip when he closed his eyes and leaned into her touch.

"Hmm?" was his reply, soft, subtle, while he was lost in the sensation of her nails grazing his scalp. And then he tensed when she pressed against him, wrapping her arms over his shoulders and curling in his lap. "Maggie?"

She breathed in the hint of his cologne clinging to his white shirt, almost hidden under the smell of whiskey laced sweat and the minute, lingering scent of smoke. She buried her face in the crook of his shoulder, holding onto him as if this were the last time she could ever be this close. She couldn't help but think, or know, that this was what home felt like.

"Maggie?"

"I apologize for being childish yesterday," she murmured, fighting another yawn. "Tell me that we'll be okay?"

Happy nodded, relaxing back into the couch and embracing her in return. He held her tightly, and close, his hands splayed low on her back. One of his thumbs rubbed circles against her tailbone, and she shivered and shuddered in his lap from just that simple touch. It ignited something her that she rarely experienced, hadn't felt in a long time. It was stronger, the twinge in her stomach, the way it spread through her so quickly was powerful, in a sense. She never wanted to let him go. She didn't want this to end, ever.

"I was an idiot. I should apologize, and I do," he said, pulling away enough to look her in the eyes, and, my, did he have the warmest brown eyes. "You and me? And argument hasn't broken us, ever. We're always gonna be okay."

"Truly?" asked Maggie, pressing her forehead against his with a watery grin. "Always?"

"Always."

They stayed like that for an eternity, foreheads touching, eyes closed, noses brushing against each other with every shuddered breath. Still cupping his face, her thumb stroking over his morning stubble, Maggie, spontaneous as a traditional Brit in her exhaustion, nudged his nose on purpose, and gasped, startled, when Happy's mouth moved over her own. He tasted like maple syrup and bacon, and his stubble scratched against her skin, but she could care less about trivial details. The kiss started gentle, hesitant, but as Maggie relaxed into it, after the initial surprise, Happy grew more emboldened. His lips moved more urgently, with purpose and passion, and Maggie responded, relishing in the sensation of his hands on her hips and his tongue moving against hers in a seductive dance that left her breathless. She tingled from head to toe, her fingers vibrating as she tangled them in his hair, back arched into him.

Maggie yelped when he lifted her until her legs wrapped around his waist, and then when he stood with her in his arms, aware that he was that strong, but never having experienced the weightlessness of a man lifting her, ever. She clung to him, shivering as he kissed her neck and shoulder, while one hand cupped her arse and the other pressed between her shoulder blades to hold her in place, safe and steady. She gasped and moaned at his touch, when his lips found a sensitive spot below her ear. It was a shock to her system, adding fuel to the fire, and she realized then where Happy was taking her, just as he carried her through the curtain blocking off her bedroom.

"Happy," she breathed, trembling with the desire to be ravished by him, but also nervous and ill-prepared for it, as well. She had never gone this far with anyone before, never felt a man's erection pressed against her pelvis, or experienced such a level of arousal that she believed herself to be floating. Yet, she wasn't ready, not yet. It was moving too fast, and she wanted her first time symbolic, special. She shook her head, pulling away from his lips, realizing that, in the span of a few seconds, they had tumbled into her bed. "St-stop. Please. Happy...Happy, stop."

He jerked back quickly, hands pushing locks of hair away from her face, eyes apologetic and surprised, "Sorry. I thought this would be more comfortable for you."

"No, no," she said, leaning up to kiss him quickly, one more time. "I really like kissing you, I do. It's just that I've never…"

"Made out?" he asked, confused on where she was going with the conversation.

She shook her head again, hiding being a shy blush and nervous smile, "I've never gone this far with anyone before."

"This far?" And then it dawned on him, and he pulled away altogether to sit on the edge of the bed, face in his hands. "I'm so sorry, Maggie. I would never -"

"Shh," was her reply. She got to her knees and cupped his chin to make him look at her. "I want to, more than anything, but I also want it to be more meaningful than a shag the morning after we've argued. Does this make any sense?"

He smiled that goofy smile that she adored, and nodded, "Yeah, it makes perfect sense. Jesus, we haven't even been on one date, yet."

"Well, that can be easily remedied," Maggie grinned, kissing him chastely before getting up. He reached up and caught her fingers, trying to pull her back for one more kiss, but she gently tugged on his hand in return. "Come on, you need a shower. I'll make you another cup of coffee."

Happy nodded with a sigh, "I guess I do need to go to work."

Maggie readied the bathroom for him, turning on the shower and pulling out a large, fluffy green towel from the linen closet. She left aloe scented shaving gel and a fresh pink razor on the counter next to the sink, and left him to it.

While Happy showered, Maggie rummaged through her dresser for a simple outfit. Most of her clothes were brightly colored dresses and mismatched cardigans, but she did have casual jeans and sweaters that she rarely wore. There, at the very bottom, was the black, off-the-shoulder, stretch knit sweater Sharon had given her as a graduation gift. In another drawer, she found her favorite pair of jeans, wearing at the knees, but still no holes in 7 years. They were frayed around the bottom hems, but she knew they would be comfortable. It was different from what she usually wore, but maybe different was what she needed today.

Maggie sat cross-legged on the floor in her makeshift bedroom and brushed her hair, braiding it over her shoulder when Happy emerged from the bathroom. He was dressed, looking as dashing as ever. She could see his reflection in the mirror propped against a wall, smiling at him as she tied off the messy braid. She applied mascara and a lip balm before sliding her glasses back on, getting up from the floor. He gave her an odd look before disappearing to the kitchen, leaving her to get dressed.

Nana Peggy once told her that there was nothing a woman couldn't accomplish while wearing lipstick. What Maggie realized, which had taken 15 years to understand, was Nana wasn't talking about wearing war paint, it was the routine of putting her best face forward and soldiering on. It forced her to believe everything would be okay, because that was what Nana Peggy had raised her to do. And now routines were her safety net. Routines were comforting, which was why Maggie thrived as Pepper's personal assistant. There was a day-to-day routine in daily operations, and managing Pepper's schedule, which satisfied her enough to be happy with the abrupt life change. She wasn't using her degrees, wasn't seeing patients or interrogating persons of interest. She was just an assistant, fetching coffee and scheduling meetings. It was normal. It was ordinary and safe.

Grabbing a purse, she shoved her phone, keys and wallet inside, passing through the curtains separating her bedroom from the living room in her loft. A cup of coffee wouldn't hurt to keep her going for the day. Unfortunately, change always begot change, and she sucked in a breath, stopping in her tracks, when she saw Happy sitting on the couch, looking through the medical records she had forgotten were on the coffee table. He was on the phone, telling someone he wouldn't be in to work for the day - something had come up. She listened, edging closer to the back of the couch to see which records he was looking at while he gave a list of things to check on, asking that he be updated throughout the day. He didn't hear her bag dropping to the floor.

"Stop reading those," Maggie exclaimed, leaving her purse where it fell as she . "They're private-"

"I gotta go. Keep me updated," said Happy, standing with one of the files in hand before she made it around the couch. He tried to stop her, but she ducked, grabbing up the papers. "Maggie-"

"These are private," she said, sniffling slightly. "I should have never left these out. I'm so bloody stupid-"

"Maggie..."

"No," she shook her head, refusing to look at him, focusing more on collecting the papers as they fell to the floor. "I brought you into my home. I took care of you - I trusted you! Get out! I said, get out!"

"Maggie, stop," said Happy with a sigh, holding her wrists to stop her from grabbing at more of the papers. "Maggie, look at me. Come on, look at me."

It was like being trapped under that building all over again; the pressure in her chest, reality shattering around her, the ringing in her ears. She could hear the clanking of metal, feel each heavy step grow closer and closer, knowing what was about to happen, and knowing there was nothing she could do to stop it. She could feel the comfort of her control slipping away, the room beginning a slow, spiraling descent as she watched the papers slip off the little table to the floor. She had been careless, leaving the records out. It was as if she had been asking for him to take a look, and now he knew.

He knew.

Happy was kneeling on the floor with her, large hands holding her small wrists, speaking calmly and softly to her. It was as if he was trying to soothe her. Why was he being so nice? Why was he acting like he understood and accepted this? Why wasn't he yelling at her for keeping this a secret?

"Maggie, you've got a nosebleed, and you're hyperventilating. Breathe-"

She shook her head and clenched her eyes, "Shouldn't have left them out, but I trusted you," she cried, struggling to breathe. "I'm just so tired, and I can't...sleep-"

"Maggie, look at me!"

Happy yelled at her, finally, taking her by the shoulders and giving her a shake. There was something in his tone that made her look at him, and there was something in his eyes that made her quiet, save for the occasional gasp for air. He had her. He was holding her steady and keeping eye contact as she fought to control her breathing, as the room doubled and blurred and a rigidity started to creep over her. His touch was comforting, his face reaffirming, and it made her less terrified as her sight disappeared and she started to seize.

"Maggie? MAGGIE!"