Maggie
Things had been strangely quiet for a few days. Everyone seemed frozen, waiting on the edge of their seat to see who would cave first. Maggie could tell people were getting agitated; the city fizzled with anxious energy, ready to burst at any moment when the pressure got to be too much. She saw it in the tired lines on Becca's face, felt it in Nick's glaring absence as he spent more time at the bar.
Life couldn't come to a complete halt, though, and her mom's illness was too obvious to ignore. Maggie remembered what Faith had said about essential oils- the thought came to her as she heard her mother retching in the bathroom. In a desperate attempt to do something, anything, to help, she decided to head over to the Thornton's. It felt good to be out of the house, the chilly air cooling her lungs and wind whipping through her hair.
On a whim, she decided to ride her dad's bike over. It was less than 5 miles and seemed like a perfect way to blow off some of the anxious energy thrumming through her body. Helmet on, she pedaled through the side streets to avoid car traffic as much as possible. Almost no one was out and about, it seemed, unusual even for mid-morning. Was it a holiday she'd forgotten about? Her mom hadn't felt like even watching the news this morning, so she wasn't sure.
Mrs. Thornton opened the door with concern creasing her brow. "Oh, Maggie, it's you. I thought… Did you see John on the road?" She asked in an anxious tone, looking around fervently before pulling Maggie in and closing the door firmly behind her.
"No," Maggie responded, wondering why John would be expected home this time of day, anyway. "I'm sorry to bother you, Mrs. Thornton, Faith had just mentioned the other night about some essential oils for my mother…" She trailed off, hearing a strange thundering sound in the distance.
Before she could figure out where the sound was coming from, the door burst open again, startling both the women. "John! Thank goodness you're home." His mother cried while he locked the door behind him.
John was obviously surprised to find Maggie in his home but was apparently in too much of a rush to question it. "Mom, Maggie, y'all go upstairs. Get the gun, lock the door, stay quiet." He was struggling to catch his breath, looking like he had run all the way home from The Mill. He motioned again for them to go upstairs as the roaring sound from outside grew louder.
There was a gun suddenly in John's hand as if it materialized out of thin air. Maggie glanced at it quickly before locking eyes with John. There was none of the soft kindness she'd become accustomed to seeing in his eyes. Instead, she saw the cold, calculating fear of a soldier preparing for battle. The expression on his face sent shivers down her spine, freezing her in place until Mrs. Thornton tugged her up the stairs. They raced up the staircase and into a back bedroom where Faith was already huddled in a corner, the older woman grabbing a shotgun from a rack before telling the girls to stay put.
Of course, Maggie followed Mrs. Thornton down the hall to a room with windows overlooking the street, staggering a bit when she saw what was below. A sea of people crowded in front of the house, chanting something she couldn't make out. But one thing was obvious, they were upset, and there was no question who the focus of their anger was.
Across the room was a TV set to the news station, a familiar name catching her attention. The headline on the screen said, "Thornton initiates plan to break Ghost's boycott." Oh no. Maggie's heart sunk as the newscaster outlined the details of the plan. It was actually an impressive idea, but she could see what had stirred the boycotters into such a frenzy. They stood on the front lawn of the large house, not yet willing to make the leap onto the porch and forgo all sense of order. She wondered how long that feeling would hold.
John
It only took a few days for the news to spread. He was almost glad when it did because every moment was torture waiting to see what the Ghosts' reaction would be to his actions. John was at The Mill, still selling tickets to Williams' show left and right, when the phone rang.
"You need to turn on the news," Watson said solemnly with no preamble. John knew immediately what this was about, dread filling his heart as he clicked on the television. He wasn't sure what to expect, but he hadn't thought it would go so far as the enormous group of protestors making their way through the city towards The Mill, led by none other than that fool Steven. The crowd looked angry and volatile. His thoughts immediately turned towards his family, at home, potentially unaware of any danger.
Picking up the phone again to call his mother, John discovered the phone line was dead. Something was very, very, wrong. Every instinct he had told him he needed to get out of there and fast. He could see the crowd on the street now, so he slipped out the back door and took off towards home. He had quite a head start before they noticed he was running. They didn't bother to change pace- they knew where he was going.
The cold air stung his lungs as he sprinted towards home and burst through the front door. The last person he expected to find there was Maggie. She couldn't have picked a worse time to stop by, but that wasn't important right now. He needed to make sure they were safe. His body went into autopilot as he grabbed his gun from his waist and barked orders at his mother, looking at Maggie one last time. He expected to see terror in her eyes, like he knew Faith's held at that moment. But it wasn't fear he found there, just concern and confusion.
He realized she didn't know what was going on. Well, she would find out soon enough. There wasn't time to worry about that, though. He sat on the stairs after the women had disappeared, watching the door with his gun at the ready. The police would come, he knew, Watson had hurriedly told him they were already contacted. It was how long they would take to arrive that concerned him.
Outside, the crowd gathered in front of the house- on the street, on the sidewalk, on the lawn. John could see them through the peephole on the door, chanting his name like they were calling for blood. Straining, he could make out the sounds of sirens far in the distance. Good, faster than he thought. Thinking the police would be there soon, he dashed upstairs to check on the women.
Of course, his mother wouldn't stay hiding in the back room. John wasn't surprised to see Maggie with her, either. Faith lets out a wail from the backroom as the crowd grows louder, catching sight of John in the upstairs window. He turns to his mom, "See if you can keep her calm, there's no need to panic." Yet. The unspoken word hung between them as Mrs. Thornton nodded before rushing to comfort Faith.
Maggie was standing dangerously close to the window, watching the scene on the ground. He moved closer, trying to keep out of sight while still being able to keep tabs on what they were doing down there. The sirens were a bit louder, now, but it would still take time for them to make it through the crowded streets. "Don't be scared. Just a little bit longer, Maggie, the police will be here soon."
This seemed to alarm her more than comfort her. "I'm not afraid. Can't you do anything to help them?"
"The police will take care of them," he said, shaking his head.
She turned to him, frantic. "Take care of them? John, they might kill some of them! Please, do something, go talk to them! They're scared and desperate, not criminals. You pushed them to this, try to convince them to leave." Her words stung with the accusation that this was his fault, the fire in her eyes daring him to contradict what she said.
Was she right, did he cause this? At the very least she had a point about the police. There was no doubt some, if not many, in the crowd were carrying weapons. If the mob turned on the police, there could possibly be causalities. Did he want more blood on his hands? They stared at each other for a long moment before he made his decision, turning away without a word. He heard Maggie call out after him, but he was already down the stairs. Taking a deep breath and holstering his gun, he stepped outside to face the angry crowd.
Maggie
The police were coming. Under the circumstances, that should have been a good thing. The thought terrified Maggie, however, knowing that things could easily turn deadly with a crowd so large and unruly. John was suddenly in the room with them, moving with the stealth and grace of a mountain lion. Someone caught sight of him from the ground, and the ensuing noise caused Faith to cry out from her hiding place.
After he sent his mom check on Faith, John moved closer to her, closer to the window. She could see the tension in his every movement, careful and deliberate as he positioned himself to see out the window yet remain out of sight. He looked the very picture of a soldier preparing for battle. But this wasn't a warzone, and those people weren't his enemy.
It was suddenly very important to Maggie that he understood that. She didn't think he would rush down, guns ablaze, but maybe he hadn't thought through the potential human consequences. It wasn't her intention to place the blame firmly on his shoulders, but that was how it came out. Her words had some effect, though, because she could almost see the thoughts racing in John's mind before he turned and rushed back downstairs.
John's sudden absence and the continued cacophony of the crowd sent a bolt of terror through her. Maybe she was wrong. She was always saying to leave things to the police, and now she told him to take matters into his own hands. "John, be careful!" She called out after him, too late. Running to the window, she could see the crowd practically frothing at the mouth as John stood before them. There were a lot of people she recognized, faces she'd seen countless times before at various shows and events. Butch was there, looking like he'd aged 10 years since the last time she'd seen him.
There was one face she recognized that she couldn't quite place at first. It hit her when she saw the flash of bright sunlight glinting off the knife in his hand. Steven, the terrible man from The Mill. His face held a different emotion, not the desperation and fear of the others, but something far more sinister. Her limbs felt like ice as she realized how much danger she'd sent John into. In the next moment, she was racing down the stairs, desperate to get him back to safety.
"Stop!" The crowd quieted a moment at the surprise of the familiar face bursting out of the door and throwing herself in front of John. "Please, think about what you're doing. It's all of you against one man. Go home, before the police come." John stood boldly next to her, straight-backed and arms crossed in defiance. She could see more clearly now that the crowd held weapons of various sorts, a flash of a knife here, the dull black of a gun there. The glaring emptiness of John's hands made her proud of him, standing defenseless and so very brave. It also terrified her; there wasn't even the illusion of safety out here in front of an armed and angry mob.
Someone in the middle of the crowd spoke up. "Will you stop the student discount, then?" The rest of the crowd murmured in agreement with this question.
John's irritation almost had a physical presence, like it had feelings and a mind of its own. And it didn't take kindly to being told how to run his business, mob or no mob. "Absolutely not!" His angry words caused a new surge of rage in the crowd, everyone yelling over one another in an indistinguishable roar.
Never taking his eyes off the crowd, John spoke to Maggie. "It's not safe out here, go back inside."
He wasn't the only one who disliked being ordered around. Besides, she wasn't about to leave him here alone to face the volatile crowd. "They know me- they won't hurt me," she said, moving to stand in front of him, eyes searching the group for a friendly, reasonable face.
"Oh, using a woman as a shield now, Thornton?" Stephen sneered, egging the crowd on. The sirens seemed louder now, adding fuel to Maggie's urgency and the protester's desperation.
Suddenly her feet weren't on the ground anymore, as John picked her up effortlessly by the shoulders and moved her behind him. "Go inside, before I carry you in there!" The glint in his eye told her not to argue. A flash of motion caught her attention; Butch was at the foot of the porch stairs, raising his arm as if to throw something. Maggie saw the large stone before it left his hand.
Reacting out of pure desperation, she threw herself at John, wrapping her arms around him and catching him off guard enough to move the back of his head out of the path of the stone. The unfortunate consequence of this, of course, was that she was now in the trajectory of the stone. Maggie realized this a split second before it crashed into her temple and the world went black.
John
There was no reason for her to be outside. His attention was divided between the crowd and the woman who had foolishly put herself in danger. This wasn't her fight; she shouldn't have been at the house in the first place. And now she was on the porch, striving to calm a sea of armed, bitter men. For a moment it seemed like it would work. But he couldn't— wouldn't— meet their demands to redact the student discount promotion he was running. The plan was in motion, nothing the boycotters could say or do could stop it.
If only he could get Maggie back inside. The police would come, break up the protest, and the people he cared about would be safe. Instead, she stood in front of him, as if he was the one that needed to be protected. Little fool. It just gave Stephen more ammo to work up the crowd, making John look weak in the process.
It was a battle of wills, but his desire to keep her safe was stronger than whatever had brought her outside in the first place. She didn't need to be out here when the police came, didn't need to see whatever might take place. He knew it could get ugly, that's why he wanted to protect her. When she refused to go back inside, he decided to forcibly remove her.
She was heavier than she looked; still, he was able to lift her with ease and place her firmly out of harm's way. Or so he thought- if only she had stayed there. Maggie wasn't listening to his commands. Instead, she was looking out into the crowd over his shoulder. Out of nowhere, her full weight was against him, making him stumble a moment with her arms wrapped around his neck. He barely had time catch her around the waist before she collapsed, the crowd turning eerily silent.
The stone on the porch, the blood on Maggie's temple, her dead weight in his arms as he lowered her to the ground. Pieces of a puzzle that slowly came together in his mind as he struggled to comprehend what had just happened. John felt Maggie's pulse, panic rising in his chest in response to the pale stillness of her face. The relief when he found it beating strong in her neck almost knocked him over.
That relief quickly turned to anger. Anger at the person who threw the stone, at the crowd for causing all this in the first place, at Maggie for being so stubborn, at himself for not keeping her safe. He laid her down gently and stood, facing the stunned group before him.
"Are you happy now? Is this what you wanted? Come on, do your worst." He stood, arms out, showing them he was defenseless, waiting to see if anyone would make good on their threats. Not a person moved; the fight was taken out of them at the sight of Maggie's limp body on the porch. The sirens were much closer now, the first police nearing the edge of the crowd. That's when people started running, down streets and alleys in an effort to distance themselves from the police.
No shots were fired; the protesters were smart enough to stash their weapons once the police arrived, and the cops were just happy the crowd was dispersing without too much effort. While they made their way towards the house to check on its occupants, John scooped Maggie up in his arms, holding her close as he carried her inside. He took her into the living room, calling for his mother to come downstairs.
Mrs. Thornton came flying down the staircase when she heard the urgency in her son's voice, worried that he had been injured by the mob outside. She was relieved yet surprised when she saw the limp figure in his arms as he gently places Maggie on the couch. Kneeling next to the injured girl, he gently smoothed back the hair from her pale forehead, whispering something Mrs. Thornton couldn't quite hear. John's distress was evident in his face as he turned towards his mother. "Someone threw a rock…" he trailed off with a grimace before looking back down at Maggie. "It should have been me," he murmured.
There wasn't time to question that statement; a loud knocking on the door pulled John to his feet. "That will be the police," he sighed, "I better go sort this out." He looked into his mother's eyes for a moment before leaving the room. "You'll take care of her, make sure she's okay? Please." Mrs. Thornton didn't like the pleading tone. She knew his concern went far beyond what was normal for acquaintances, even close friends, and she didn't like the implication of the changes she knew would come if he had his heart set on this young woman. But she loved her son and promised that all would be well, so he could go take care of his responsibilities.
It was incredibly difficult for him to leave her there, but John knew he had to straighten things out with the police and try to put this issue to bed as soon as possible. So he tore himself away, distracted and worried through the interviews with the police, the discussions with the other owners who had, of course, heard the news and came round to check on things, and as he swam through the crowd of reporters who had set up around The Mill and his house.
When it was all said and done, he was relieved to be back at home, so he could check on Maggie and try to figure out what had happened out on the porch. That relief was short-lived, replaced by dismay and anger when he finally made it through the door. He rushed to the couch, frantic, turning around the room trying to make sense of what he was seeing. His mother heard the door and came into the room, confirming what his eyes had already discovered. Maggie was gone.