Disclaimer: I do not own Girl Meets World, Boy Meets World, the characters, or events that took place in both shows. Only the events, plot, and OC characters in Don't Look Down are mine.
a/n: Warning! This contains elements of non-con!
Chapter Five
It took one week for Dr. Moreau's personal assistant to'recover'from his ailing illness. By the time he returned from his week's vacation—ahem, sick leave, Maya wished she could only be so lucky to catch whatever disease he recovered from. (Was a sinus infection even contagious?)
Nevertheless, when Jeff showed up at work one Thursday morning, apparently recuperated yet still lacking the logic to change his name and run away to Mexico, Maya had never been so happy to see him. It was saying a lot, considering she hardly knew he existed until she was forced to do his job for one week.
As it turned out, her original job was literally performing the tasks even the personal assistant was above.
"On the upside," she mused to Farkle whilst slouching defeatedly over a bowl of instant-ramen, "Dr. Moreau let me do something other than file and take coffee orders. Maybe next time she'll let me fill in for the janitor and wipe the floors."
Farkle sent her an unsure smile, clearly torn between congratulating her and apologizing for her rough week. Instead, he slid a cream soda across the countertop and into Maya's awaiting hands. "Have you seen Riley around?"
A bout of concern replaced the pleasure of the cold drink in her hand. "No," Maya furrowed her brow confusedly, "why?"
Farkle shrugged. "I just haven't seen her since Tuesday morning. I thought you might know something."
Frowning, Maya fingered the rim of her bottle, studying the magnified image of her index finger through the bronze collection of carbonated bubbles. Despite the moment shared between Riley and herself a week-and-half ago, she had yet to share a real conversation with the brunette other than the cordial "good morning" and "how was your day?".
Granted, Farkle usually took care of the latter one.
The unfortunate part of it all was that the tension in the apartment hadn't actually lessened
Truthfully, Maya was itching to sacrifice her pride—despite the fact that her words to Riley, however harsh, were very, very right—and get back to the way things were less than two weeks prior. This was her fault, and Riley had every right to be angry with her (hell, she was surprised Farkle didn't react similarly), but Riley Matthews had a heart of gold; she had to forgive Maya at some point. History had proven such.
"Maya?" Farkle asked gently. "Are you okay? Because you know our schedules are super hectic and Riley's probably super busy and we've just been missing each other and I'm sure she's okay—"
Maya inhaled a sharp breath, shaking all thoughts of guilt from her head—or attempting to, at least. "I'm fine, Farkle," she assured him and plastered a smile to her face in an effort to support her claim. She knew what he was attempting to do: assure her the tension between her and Riley had nothing to do with the latter's absence in the last few days. But even Maya admitted that, if the roles were reversed, she would want to spend as little time around Riley until she could bring herself to forgive her.
"We never really talked about…" she started, uncertain, then cleared her throat. "Farkle, that day, I had no right to bring up Smackle."
Farkle nodded once in acknowledgment of the blonde's statement. "I forgave you before the words even left your lips."
"I know, Farkle." Maya exchanged a grateful smile with the genius, but her lips fell into a concerned frown. "I just hope you know that I don't think that of you. I know Smackle hurt you, but I would never accuse you of sacrificing your dreams because you're afraid to face her." Except, of course—and she thought as much regretfully—that's exactly what she had done.
Cloudy conflict fogged Farkle's boyish features. His pointed nose scrunched and the space between his bushy eyebrows creased, a sign of skepticism for the young Minkus. "I've actually been thinking about it lately," he admitted with apparent reluctance, shuffling over to the drawer where they kept the silverware and pulling a fork from the disorganized pile of utensils. "Even before you brought it up," he added as an afterthought.
"Thinking about Princeton?" Maya inquired cautiously, stuffing a forkful of noodles between her teeth to keep her quick mouth busy—just in case she found herself tempted to speak out of turn. Again.
"You were right," Farkle distractedly stirred his fork in his own bowl of ramen, "Princeton was my dream school, and I gave it up because I couldn't bare the thought of facing Smackle." His shoulders fell defeatedly, blue eyes clouded by regret and the steam from his noodles. Then he straightened his posture, stood a little taller, a little prouder. "But dreams change."
Maya narrowed her eyes suspiciously. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"It means," Farkle paused, caught in an obvious mental battle, "I applied to a Master's program at Stanford."
Maya's jaw dropped almost unwillingly, and she had to catch the noodles falling from her mouth. "Stanford?" she repeated incredulously, unattractively slurping the ramen spilling from her lower lip. "Like, California Stanford?"
"They're one of the top research schools in the country."
"Take me with you!"
"Maya, I haven't even heard back yet!" Farkle exclaimed, though his upturned lips showed clear relief at her reaction.
Maya shook her head defiantly. "Please, Farkle! You have a 4.0 at freakin' Columbia and you're graduating a year early! They'd be idiots not to accept you," she defended, returning to casually chewing her noodles. "Wait—what about the job?"
Farkle's face fell again. "That's the thing—if I choose to pursue my Master's in California, I have to give up the job."
"Sounds to me like you'd prefer Stanford," Maya voiced, sipping at her beer.
"It's not that simple," Farkle defended. "This job is a sure thing. Do you have any idea how hard it is to be employed straight out of college? Who's to say I'll be that lucky when I finish my Master's?"
Maya could think of at least ten reasons Farkle should stop freaking out, starting with his youthfulness and the fact that he had all the time in the world to finish his Master's as well as find a job in his field. But she doubted any answer she had for him was what he desired.
Crossing the space between them, she came from behind and wrapped her arms around his shoulders, standing on the tips of her toes to rest her chin on the junction on his shoulder and neck. "Whatever you decide, Farkle," she murmured, arms crossed over his bony clavicle, "you will always have me behind you, supporting you—and Riley, too."
"Thanks, Maya." Farkle pivoted to face her, returning her thoughtful embrace. "That means a lot to me."
It seemed, much to Maya's relief, he appreciated her support. Yet it stung just a little, because she wanted to be able to give him the answers he yearned for, the secret to life and making the right decision. But she could hardly resolve her own issues, let alone someone else's.
"California, you say?"
Maya nodded, then suddenly remembered Josh couldn't see her gesturing over the phone. "Yep!" She spun idly in her office chair, propelling from her toes and swinging from left to right, knees bumping the sides of her desk. "I'm ninety-five-percent sure he's taking me with him."
"Dear Lord," Josh groaned. "The entire state of New York can barely handle Maya Hunter; the citizens of California better be prepared to evacuate upon your arrival."
Maya bit back a laugh and her effort to frown was thwarted by the smile that tugged on her mouth. "You're just jealous 'cause I'm gonna be showing off my bikini body to all the hot men of Cali while you're stuck in—" She paused, struggling to remember Josh's current geographic location.
"Vermont?" he helped.
"Yes, Vermont."
Josh's heavy sigh crackled over the speaker of her cell phone. "Hey! If I had it my way, I'd be showing off my bikini body to the hot men of Cali right next to you."
This time Maya did giggle. "I always knew there was something off about you." She tapped her chin thoughtfully as she tried to imagine Joshua Matthews in a bikini, then blushed furiously, shaking the wanton thoughts from her head and joking, "Are you sure it's me California needs to worry about?"
"Well, I'd mostly be there to keep the other guys away. Shawn would have a fit if I knowingly let his little girl fall prey to the richie-riches of the West Coast."
Maya hummed in agreement. Even at twenty years old, she was still—at least in Shawn's eyes—the scrawny fourteen year old whose clothes didn't fit her and whose daddy did a number on her. But she would never complain. "I mean, I'll have Farkle. He can turn any guy who tries to take advantage of me to dust with his laser gun."
Josh's scoff tickled her ear through her phone's speaker. "Sure, and accidentally destroy the planet in the process."
Maya snorted unashamedly, then, remembering she was at work, threw a glance over both shoulders, sighing in relief when no one appeared to be there. Then again, who else besides the underpaid intern would willingly work past six o'clock on a Friday? "When do you get back?" she asked, attempting to sound casual but her bottom lip was caught nervously between her teeth.
Josh grunted, and Maya imagined him rolling over on the bed in his hotel room to reach for his travel-sized calendar. The nerd. "Uh, I'm making a stop in Philadelphia to see my mom, but I'll be landing in New York on the 3rd."
Maya's brow furrowed at the mention of Amy. Allen Matthews had passed away the previous summer, and while the entire family—biological and otherwise—was caught off guard by the loss of the seemingly healthy patriarch, no one was more devastated than Amy Matthews. "How is your mom? I haven't seen her since…"
"The funeral, yeah," Josh finished for her. "She's hanging in there. She asks about you a lot, actually. She really appreciates all you did this last summer."
Maya smiled sadly. She spent her July in Philadelphia with Riley's family, helping Amy get back on her feet following the loss of her husband. The other Matthews siblings were caught in the webs of the real world, with Eric unable to get time off from politics even in his own hometown, Morgan dealing with the aftershocks of receiving divorce papers, and Josh running into obstacle after obstacle in his attempts to fly back to Pennsylvania. "Well, your family has done so much for me over years. It was the least I could do for them." For you.
"Regardless," Maya could hear Josh's grateful smile, "we all appreciated you stepping in with Cory and Topanga when the rest of us couldn't be there." He paused, his voice thick with emotion when he spoke again. "I appreciated you. You were absolutely incredible, Maya."
She inhaled sharply.
Maya was hardly an early riser, but the light from the sunrise transcended the barrier of closed eyelids, pulling her from her comfortable slumber. The fact that her bedroom's window faced west—an intentional decision on her part so that the sun would never wake her up—did little to alarm her. Rather, it was the fingers tracing her very bare tummy and the pleasant ache between her legs that alerted her of the situation's abnormality.
Yet she could hardly find it in herself to panic, memories from the night before flashing through her mind in pleasant replay.
("Is this okay?"
"Are you okay?"
"Am I hurting you?")
"About time you woke up," murmured a voice from above her—a thankfully familiar voice. "I was wondering when I'd get to see those pretty blue eyes."
Maya exhaled the cobwebs of sleep, forcing her eyes open the remainder of the way. Turning her neck to her left, she was met with dancing blue eyes and a knowing smirk. "What? You didn't get to see enough of me last night?" she inquired breathlessly. The hand splayed on her stomach, tickling the underside of her breasts, made it difficult for her tongue to form proper words.
Josh's breath ghosted her lips as he leaned over her and kissed her gently. "Are you okay?" he asked her against her lips, brow furrowed in adorable concern. "I know the first time is never painless…."
His fret brought a smile to Maya's face. "It was perfect." She pecked his lips assuringly, then winced as she moved her legs. "I'm just a little sore."
Josh nodded acceptingly, but a cloud of guilt glazed his baby-blue eyes. "I'm sorry, baby girl."
The words were a mirror from last night.
("I'm sorry, baby girl," he apologized into her hair as he broke through her barrier, letting her silent tears fall onto his shoulder. "I know it hurts.")
"It's okay," Maya promised, smiling up at him, cupping his cheek with her small hand. "I couldn't have asked for a better first time, Josh." Truthfully, she expected much worse. Maya was no amateur in the world of sexuality, but her experience before Josh proved to be more negative than positive. It was something the two of them worked through together.
Josh was patient as ever, talking her through the process of their love-making. He encouraged her with gentle touches, assured her with loving kisses, murmured sweet words of praise.
("That's it, Sweetheart, you're doing so good.")
He brought her to sweet bliss before he ever entered her, making her come in his hand with just a few movements of his fingers. He filled her slowly and gently with his member, held back and stilled every time it became too much for her, kissed away her tears until the pain was replaced with pleasure and she came all over again.
Maya blushed at the memory. "Was I okay?" She bit her lip unsurely, suddenly caught in a wave of her own insecurities. Josh was clearly far more experienced than herself. Did she live up to his expectations? Did she match the level of the college girls who beat her to him?
Josh's lips found her forehead, his hand fondling the sensitive peak of her breast. "You were incredible," he hummed, smiling against her skin. "You were absolutely incredible, Maya."
Josh's regretful voice brought her from the memory, and Maya was relieved he couldn't see her reddened cheeks. "I have to get a start on this article. I'll call you soon."
"Y-Yeah." Maya cleared her throat, forcing her eyes to glare at the blank white of her desk. White. Pure. Safe. Jesus, who went from talks of death and funerals to recalling memories of sex with the dead man's son? "Call me when you get to Philadelphia, so I know you got there okay."
"Of course," Josh promised casually, then lowered his voice as her murmured, "Goodnight, Maya."
Maya swallowed. "Goodnight, Josh." She hung up first, because Josh had a thing about never being the first person to end a call, and stared longingly at the screen of her phone, the wallpaper of her and Riley with their arms linked in front of the Brooklyn Bridge obscured by needless and distracting applications. Sighing wistfully, she set the device face down on her desk—lest she be tempted to stall her impending work with another phone call or round of Solitaire—and resumed the email she was drafting before her conversation with Josh.
She made little progress, however, before a touch between her shoulder blades had her jumping out of her seat.
The panic she felt was quickly replaced with disdain for the person in front of her.
"What the hell, Michael?" she hissed, eyes narrowed.
The man in question smirked, apparently amused by her aggravation. "Are we on a first name basis now, Maya?" He crossed his arms over his chest, tilting his head to the side mockingly.
Maya stubbornly resisted the voice in her head begging her to look or wither away from her superior's wandering gaze. "What do you want?" she asked through clenched teeth.
Michael's smirk spread into a toothy grin. "Who was on the phone?"
"No one who concerns you."
"Boyfriend? Secret lover?" He took a threatening step closer
Despite her headstrong attempt to appear unswayed, Maya found herself pressed against her desk, fingers clutching the edge. "I said it's none of your damn business, O'Connor," his last name flew from her lips like a foul-taste. It clearly irritated him, because he was on top of her in a flash, his palms slammed against the desk on either side of her body, caging her.
"Are you forgetting your place here, little girl?" he taunted, though the irritation in his eyes suggested he was more offset by her attitude than he was willing to admit. Strangely, Maya felt just a little satisfied.
She held his glare, trying to ignore the discomfort of her desk digging into her lower back. "I'm not some naïve little school girl you can play with," she hissed. "I earned my spot here."
The flame of indignation in Michael's hazel orbs dwindled, then reignited with a glimmer of conceited malice. For a moment, he almost looked as if he was backing away. But his hands flew from Maya's desk to her wrists. His bruising grasp pulled her hands from the edge of her desk, and while Maya struggled against him, he eventually won out, holding her tiny fists to his chest. "I told you not to forget your place here," he jeered through a vindictive smile, "didn't I?"
Despite his painful grip on her wrists, Maya continued to struggle against his hold, willfully turning her head away from his glare. His breath ghosted her neck, his lips looming over her skin, and she bit back a pained whimper as his leg forced its way between her thighs.
"Don't underestimate me, Ms. Hart." His lips pressed against her collarbone, and Maya prepared to sacrifice her pride and cry out for her help—however certain she was that no one would hear her—but then Michael's hold on her released, and he was walking away.
Maya waited until his arrogant form rounded the corner in pursuit of the exit, then released a shaky breath she wasn't aware she'd been holding. She rubbed her wrists, resisting the urge to see the damage, and searched for her phone.
Quickly gathering her things, Maya decided the rest of her work could wait until Monday, and she hightailed her way out the front entrance—because she knew Michael took the back exit. She derailed her initial plan to hail a taxi when she realized she had no clue where to go. Farkle was having dinner with his father and wouldn't be home until late tonight. Riley's whereabouts were a guess to anyone these days, but on the off chance she was home, Maya imagined the brunette didn't want to see her.
Maya suddenly found herself wishing for her parents. The notion made her feel like a scared little girl who ran to her mommy and daddy for help instead of facing her problems, but her wrists hurt and her back hurt and Riley was angry with her and Farkle wanted to go California and Josh was in Vermont and her boss hated her and she was a step away from being assaulted by her co-worker/superior.
So Maya went home.
Actually, Maya took the long way home. Because she was feeling especially cowardly, Maya meandered her way through the streets of Manhattan and managed to turn a twenty minute walk from the studio to her parents' place into an hour long journey. By the time she reached the front door, the clock was just striking eight and her feet were screaming for rest and the rest of her body was screaming for a bath.
It was her mother who opened the door for her, peering into the hallway and looking worse for wear. That makes two of us, Maya thought bitterly.
"Maya?" Katy Hunter's red-rimmed eyes narrowed perplexedly. "Honey, what are you doing here?"
Maya bit her lip, noting the dark rings circling her mother's tired brown eyes. "Is Shawn around?" she asked, looking over Katy's shoulder and into the familiar apartment, but she saw no sign of her father.
Katy's shoulders visibly fell, but she quickly forced a smile. "He's, uh, he had a meeting to go to."
Maya pretended to believe her.
"Come on in, Sweet Girl." Katy ushered her daughter inside. "TJ's putting her pajamas on. She'll have a fit if she missed seeing you because of bedtime."
The mention of her young sister brought a smile to Maya's lips, yet the sight of their couch, made up with sheets and pillows and a familiar blue-checkered blanket, made her frown. "Shawn's sleeping on the couch?" She nodded to the sofa in the living room, watching her mother's eyes falter to the ground.
Katy looked fleetingly to the living area and back to her daughter. Guardedly, her arms wrapped around her torso—a trait Maya recognized well because she, too, carried the defensive habit. "It's temporary," Katy began, and the fact that her defense really didn't sound like a defense so much as a reach for some semblance of an excuse worried Maya.
But her mother appeared as exhausted as Maya felt, so she didn't bothered arguing and offered no further comment. There was too much arguing lately. Instead, she gestured in the direction of TJ's room, "I'm gonna go kiss the munchkin goodnight."
Katy nodded mutely, but Maya didn't stick around to hear if she responded. Her feet swiftly carried her down the hall to her sister's room.
Light peeked out from the small crack in the door; TJ was probably waiting to be tucked in. A slight nudge against the door revealed the toddler in her bedtime glory, sitting patiently beneath her Disney princess comforter on her bed.
Presumably at the sound of the bedroom door creaking open, the head of honey curls lifted, brown eyes widening in excitement. "Mi-Mi!"
Despite her distress from the previous hours, Maya couldn't help the smile spreading across her face. "Little dove," she responded affectionately, covering the space between herself and her half-sister with her short strides. The mattress dipped beneath her as she sat beside TJ, and the little girl waisted no time before she cuddled into Maya's side.
"You're here for my bedtime story?" she asked hopefully, eyes gleaming.
Maya shook her head with a chuckle. "No, munchkin, I'm just here to say goodnight."
TJ nodded, albeit a little disheartened, then peered up at her older sister with wide, pleading eyes. "Is Daddy coming to say goodnight?"
Maya tried not to let the heaviness in her heart show through her expression. "Mommy says he had to go to a meeting," she quoted, though she couldn't help the inkling that she was only repeating a lie. "You'll see him tomorrow."
"How long do his meetings take?" TJ huffed, crossing her bony arms over her scrawny torso, an effect of the medication, if Maya remember correctly. "He hasn't come to say goodnight to me in four days…." The little girl dropped her head.
The revelation was just that to Maya: a revelation.
Swallowing her chagrin, she dropped a kiss to her sister's head and murmured, "Go to sleep, Munchkin." She combed back TJ's hair with her fingers, the ringlet curls she envied, until the child's breathing evened out.
With heavy-laden steps, Maya exited the bedroom, closing the door gently behind her. She didn't bother to turn off the lights; TJ hated sleeping in the dark. Even her nights at the hospital and the clinic were spent with the lights on.
Sighing, Maya made her way back to the kitchen, where her mother hunched over her routine cup of Chamomile tea. "Why didn't you tell me Shawn's staying somewhere else?" she demanded—softly if for no other reason than to not bother TJ as she tried to sleep, but inside Maya was seething that her mother would dare keep such information from her.
Katy looked up with guilty eyes. "Baby girl—"
"Don't." Maya clenched her jaw and crossed her arm angrily. "No more lies; no more excuses."
Her mother nodded mutely, her lip quivering ever so slightly.
At the sight of her distraught mother, a pang of regret shot though Maya's heart. The sight was something she should've been used to, considering the amount of break ups she watched her mom go through. But this was different.
Because it was Shawn.
Slowly, Maya crossed the expanse of the kitchen and sat on the bar stool beside her mom. "How serious?" she asked, though she dreaded the answer.
Katy quickly wiped a bit of wetness from her cheek, inhaling sharply. "Shawn's staying with Cory until we figure things out."
Maya swallowed her fear; she needed to be strong for her mother. "This isn't the end," she stated, maybe for herself more than anyone else.
Katy nodded, albeit unconvincingly. "We've made it though harder times."
Yet through all of their half-hearted words, Maya couldn't help but wonder if it was all just a giant joke. Finally, after years of feeling secure, everything truly was falling apart.
It was past two in the morning when Maya finally left her mother to go back to the apartment. The subway ride back left her just enough time to check her phone: twenty text messages from Farkle asking where she was and eleven missed calls and voicemails from said genius as well as, to Maya's surprise, Riley.
Maya skimmed through her contacts, her touch clumsy through the tears blurring her vision, but she eventually landed on the name she sought.
"Hey," she greeted into her speaker, "I know we haven't talked in a while, but I miss you."