Maggie

After tossing and turning all night, Maggie woke up more exhausted than she had been before bed, wondering if she had even slept at all. Her head was still a little sore from the injury, especially tender near her temple where the rock had hit. The combination of stress, pain, and lack of sleep made her incredibly irritable that morning, every small inconvenience grating on her nerves as if the world itself had set out to make her miserable.

It was far too early when she heard the knock on the door. Not to mention that she wasn't expecting anyone. Her mom was still in bed, seemingly getting up later and later every day, spending more time in bed than out lately. Maggie was in the kitchen, staring blankly into the open refrigerator. Nothing sounded good, though she knew she had to eat something to satisfy the gnawing hunger that had set up shop in her stomach. Dixie came through the kitchen doorway, an irritated look on her face. "That tall businessman is here to see you. The one that plays the piano so poorly."

Her words took a moment to register. "John?" She asked, confused. "Did you tell him dad is already at work?"

Dixie crossed her arms. "Of course, I told him that. He said he's here to see you. He's in the front room." The gnawing feeling in Maggie's stomach was replaced with lead. She wasn't sure what John had come here for, but she didn't think it would turn out well for either of them.

Closing the refrigerator, Maggie steeled herself to face John. Whatever he had to say, she would bear it with grace and aplomb.

He looked incredibly handsome, standing at the window with his back to the doorway. Broad shoulders and narrow hips accentuated by the perfection of his posture, rigid as a soldier at attention. It was obvious that he heard her enter the room, though he didn't turn around immediately.

When he did finally face her, he wouldn't meet her eye. His gaze traveled across the room, before finally landing on the flowers sitting on a side table. They were irises; out of season, but her mother's favorite flower. Maggie knew that John had sent them over a few days before. It was a kind gesture and had made her mom smile more than was common these days.

"I've never noticed how colorful irises are," he said, almost startled at the sound of his own voice. "Maggie, I wanted to thank you for what you did yesterday." He finally looked straight at her; the intensity of his gaze made her uncomfortable.

She looked away first, glancing down at her hands. "Oh, there's no need to thank me."

This conversation was already going in a direction he hadn't planned for. "I think there is," he said, trying to get it back on track.

"No, I only did what anyone would do," she responded, trying just as hard to derail his intended discussion.

His blue eyes narrowed a bit while he reigned in his annoyance. "I don't think that's true."

Just as stubborn, Maggie dug in her heels. "Well, it was my fault that you went down there in the first place, isn't it? I would have done the same for anyone in that situation." She felt it was a reasonable argument, but John took immediate offense.

"Oh, so you agree with the boycotters, then? I guess I got what I deserved, didn't I?" The hostility in his voice seemed to come out of nowhere. She wasn't sure what she'd said to make him so angry, but it irked her nonetheless.

Regardless, she thought to try and defuse the situation. "No, of course not. Just… They're angry and desperate. I think if you'd try to meet with them and try to work it out calmly…"

"Oh, right," He cut her off a bit harshly. "I forgot that they're your 'friends'." The air quotes around his last word only made her angrier. She took a moment to calm herself, not wanting to cause an argument that was sure to be loud and dramatic.

Taking a deep breath, she finally said, "If you could just try to be reasonable…"

Again, his angry words cut her off. "Oh, so now I'm unreasonable?" He said, sounding entirely unreasonable.

"All I'm saying is if you would just try to talk with them instead of poking the fire, don't wait for it to get so bad that the police have to help out, I think- no, I know they would…" She stopped, his hardened face making her lose her train of thought. She wasn't sure what she had expected him to say when he showed up that morning, but this was far from anything she'd imagined.

"They'll get what they deserve," He said bitterly. Apparently, this wasn't how he intended things to go either. He stopped to gather his composure, before turning back towards Maggie and speaking in a much gentler voice. "Maggie, I didn't just come here to thank you." She knew that already, had been dreading whatever he thought needed to be said. Once it was out there, there was no going back. She wanted to stop it, but found her voice frozen, waiting for him to say the words that would irreversibly change things.

John

Sleep never came. He tried but instead lay there listening to all the sounds of their old house, the creaking and swaying with the wind. Imagining all of the shadows that could hold dangers, the sounds that could be a person creeping through the house. The sun finally rose in the east, as it did every day since the dawn of time. John forced himself to wait for an appropriate hour before heading over to the Hale's to check on Maggie.

He couldn't remember the last time he had been so nervous. He'd been to war, seen things that would haunt him forever, yet the thought of facing Maggie and saying what he needed to say was far scarier than any of that. Bracing himself, he knocked on the door, only to be disappointed by Dixie. She looked disturbed when he asked for Maggie, but let him in nonetheless. She offered him a seat that he couldn't take; he couldn't sit down and be still with all the nervous energy coursing through his body.

The air in the room shifted when she came in. almost soundless, but he knew the instant she entered, could feel her watching him. what was she thinking? He wished he knew. He would have given anything to be able to read minds at that moment. He finally worked up the courage to face her. She looked tired, much like he imagined he looked himself. But he was glad to see that her injury was small enough to hide with her hair.

A flash of memory hit him, the feel of her limp in his arms, the terror he felt when she collapsed. The thought almost knocked the breath out of him. he couldn't meet her eyes; instead, they roved the room, noticing the flowers on the side table. He hadn't meant to lead with a comment on flowers, but at least it broke the silence that had held them in suspense.

He also hadn't intended to start an argument. Her continued sympathy for the boycotters bothered him, after all they had done. Not to mention her insistence that her actions meant nothing- that it was pure instinct, done without regard for any other feelings she might have. That notion felt like a stab to his heart, making him almost reconsider what he wanted to say.

But he couldn't live with himself if he didn't tell her. The doubt, the unknown, it would eat him alive. He needed her to know how he felt, whether she wanted to hear or not. "I came here because…" he stopped, not sure how to begin. "Well. This isn't something I'm used to talking about. I'm not really sure how to say it." He glanced out the window a moment, reassured by her silence that she wanted to know what he was getting at. "Maggie. Yesterday made me realize that my feelings for you are stronger than I thought." That didn't even scratch the surface, but it was a start.

"Please, don't." She stopped him before he could say anything more. "Don't do this." She wouldn't look at him fully, instead, she studied the irises.

The world seemed to grind to a halt beneath his feet. "Do what?" He asked, dreading the answer he knew was coming.

She spoke to the window rather than to him. "Don't say things like that. It's not… appropriate." The excuse fell short, and he knew that she knew it.

"Oh, I already know that I don't measure up to your high standards, Maggie. But I'd like to know why you find my very feelings for you offensive." It was the truth; he'd always known that she viewed him, possibly all southern men, as subpar when compared with her previous acquaintances. He just didn't think she would come right out and say it, had hoped that it was something he could overcome. The thought that his affection was so revolting to her that she didn't even want to hear what he had to say—that made him angry.

"I'm offended because you come over here talking about your feelings but show no concern for mine! As if you're duty bound to care for me just because I saved you." She was angry, too, though he didn't know why. Her words made no sense in the context of what his heart was saying.

At least now she was looking at him, even if it was fury and not kindness in her eyes. "I'm telling you how I feel because I love you, not because of some imaginary debt you think I owe." They stood toe to toe, glaring at each other. The words caught them both off guard; he hadn't meant to say them, though they'd been whispered in his heart for some time now. But they were out there now, dropped between them like a bomb, waiting to see if she would pick them up or let them blow his heart to pieces.

Maggie

He loves me. The thought was like a blow to the chest, knocking out her breath and disorienting her. It didn't make sense; she didn't believe it. "Do you think because you are rich and powerful, that you can just have whatever you want? I'm not some accessory you can just add to your collection." Harsh words, but she thought they held some truth. He may think he loved her, but surely, he only wanted what he thought he couldn't have.

"I don't want to possess you. I want to be with you because I love you." There they were again, those words. The passion in his eyes stung, making her feel as if she flew too close to the sun and got burned. John put more feeling and emotion into two simple 'I love yous' than Henry had put into hundreds combined. The comparison rattled her. She couldn't handle the heat of his emotions; it was all too much. It made her agitated and defensive when all she wanted was for this conversation to be over.

"You shouldn't, because I don't even like you. I never have." Maggie turned away before the full force of her words hit him. She couldn't bear to watch the destruction of her own making. It was hard enough to say the words, much less see their effect.

The silence was heavy with the weight of a thousand thoughts unspoken. When John finally spoke again, his voice was soft, sounding very far away. "One minute we're talking about the color of flowers, the next about love. How did that happen?"

She didn't have an answer. "Becca's cancer is back." She wasn't sure why she said it, regretted it as soon as she saw the distressed look on his face. It had been on her mind, of course, on top of everything else. There wasn't really anyone else she could talk about it with. She knew John would understand somewhat, though now was certainly not the right time to bring it up.

"That's probably my fault, too, isn't it?" It was a ridiculous statement. Though Maggie was sure the boycott hadn't done Becca's health any favors, John wasn't explicitly to blame for any of it.

"I'm sorry," she said. She meant it, too.

John didn't want her apologies. "For what? That you think my feelings for you are so god damn offensive? Or because you assume that since I'm a businessman, I must only think in terms of money and power? Or that I don't give a shit about my friend and employee's health?"

The force of his temper was terrifying, so strong that it was almost beautiful, like nothing she'd seen before. It was a different fury than the one he'd shown in The Mill that first night. This one was raw and desperate, not the calculated anger of the soldier protecting his troop. She instantly felt the need to calm the storm, for fear that it would overtake them both.

"No, wait. That's not it at all." He looked at her expectantly, waiting to see what she had to say. "I'm just sorry to be so blunt. I never know what to say… How to turn someone down gently. It's always awkward."

His eyebrows shot up at this. "Oh, so I'm not the only one? this is an everyday thing for you, huh? Right. You must have to break so many hearts."

Maggie felt as if her own heart was breaking though she couldn't understand why. "Please, John. You don't understand—"

"Oh, I do understand," he cut her off, stepping closer and staring at her so intently that she found it hard to breathe, getting lost in his angry blue eyes. "I understand you completely." With that, he turned and walked away. She wanted to call after him, to make him listen to what she wanted to say, but he was long gone before she could gather her thoughts.

John

The crisp air had convinced him to take the train to the Hale's, too antsy to be stuck in a car in the unpredictable traffic patterns on the city. Now he was glad for that; he needed to walk, to burn off this anger that was coursing through him. It was so much easier to be angry than to allow himself to feel the hurt that threatened to knock him down. He took off, not caring where he was going, just needing the steady rhythm of his footsteps to remind him he was alive.

"I don't even like you. I never have." Maggie's words echoed in his heart, clear as the moment she spoke them. She was a coward, wouldn't even look at him while she broke his heart. Her voice had settled over him like a weight, pulling him down into the depths of his darkness. It rushed in, coaxing him to give into the blackness. It would be so simple to curl into a ball, let the pain whisk him away.

Instead, he fought sadness with anger, as he usually did. There was no way to hurt Maggie the way she had hurt him. He wondered if she had any feelings at all. How could he have been so mistaken, so far off the mark? She despised him so much that she thought nothing of crushing him, heart and soul. The thoughts went around his head so quickly that he felt light-headed and thought for a moment that he was going to throw up.

Somehow, he'd walked all the way to the cemetery. He hadn't even realized where his feet were taking him. It was a good thing, though. Going home wasn't an option. He didn't want to face his family just yet, knowing his mom was waiting anxiously for his return. Sitting down on a bench, he closed his eyes, trying to rid his mind of the sounds of Maggie's harsh rejection.

It had been an exhausting couple of days, emotionally. Now, he didn't know what to do next. He hadn't thought much past what he would say to Maggie, unsure of what her response would be. For all the scenarios he'd thought through, this one hadn't occurred to him. Sure, rejection had always been a high possibility, but he didn't think she would be so cruel. I don't even like you. John wished he could say the same.

Even while cutting him down, he noticed how beautiful she was. Strong and self-assured. Why did she have to be everything he had ever wanted? There were so many women in this city who would jump at the chance to be with him. Why did he have to fall in love with the one who hated him and everything he stood for? It was pure torture.

What had he done in life to deserve this much pain? That was a dangerous question. He'd done a lot of things that haunted him. Maybe this was his punishment. Maybe he deserved it. Surely there were people up above who reveled in watching him suffer. And maybe they were right; he was no angel. He tried to tell himself that he'd had no choice, that he'd only done what he had to do to survive, that he was just following orders. But he was sure there were people out there who thought differently. In fact, he thought so himself a lot of the time, when he was alone with his memories and couldn't fight off his demons.

He didn't want to travel further down that dark path of thinking right now, so he stood up and made his way back home. Clouds had started rolling in while he was sitting there, and the rain finally burst free with a booming clap of thunder. John realized he left his umbrella at the Hales; he was drenched in moments. It was for the best. The rain hid the tears that also finally burst free as he walked down the street towards home.