chapter rating: pg-13
word count: 2,614
summary: (AU) The first time Maya and Lucas meet, they're adults, and he's wandering around her art gallery, looking so very lost.

Maya wasn't a fan of taking breaks, not, at least, when she was working on a piece. But her assistant had teamed up with Riley to remind her that interacting with the world, or at least taking some time to eat and sleep, was necessary. All day long, Riley sent her inspirational Matthews quotes, interspersed with 'have you eaten today?' and 'don't forget to drink lots of water!' texts. So, Maya was taking a water break, hoping Ina, her assistant, would stop giving her that judgemental 'take care of yourself' look that she offered whenever she wasn't downstairs, managing the shop. Maya was more of a 'stay in her studio and not face the critical eye of her clientele' type, which worked just fine for her. They bought what they liked, she avoided the heavy-handed criticism laced with haughty dismissal, and Ina made sure everything ran smoothly.

She'd just finished washing the paint from her arms and raiding the back kitchen for a bottle of water and a bowl of grapes when she spotted him. He wasn't the only one shopping around, he was just the only one that stood out. Maya's clientele were largely hipster-like in how they dressed. Intellectuals that wore it in their clothes, a message they expected everyone to receive on first meeting. This guy wasn't like that. He was wearing a plaid button down over a t-shirt and a pair of comfortable jeans. She wouldn't be surprised if he produced a ten-gallon hat from nowhere and tipped it in her direction.

Having done as Ina and Riley would want of her, Maya knew she could return to her art cave and not come out until her stomach screamed for dinner, but for some reason, her feet walked her toward the awkward looking cowboy that was standing in the middle of her art gallery, looking lost.

"Need some help?" she asked, popping a grape in her mouth and squishing it between her back molars. She arched her eyebrows at him as he turned to see her.

"Oh, uh, I… I'm not sure." He smiled, wide and sincere and just a little bashful. "Friend of mine sent me over here. Said my office needed something for the walls, but…" He reached back to rub a hand over his neck. "Think this might be a little high brow…"

Maya hummed, giving him a quick look over, and popped another grape in her mouth. "What kind of office?"

"I'm a veterinarian. Lucas Friar," he introduced himself. "I just moved here a couple months back. I had a practice back home in Texas, but, uh, I needed a change of scenery."

She snorted. "Big change." Pivoting, she looked toward the piece he'd been standing in front of. "So is the art for the animals or the worried owners?"

"Probably the owners. I was thinking of putting up a few paintings in the waiting room. Something calming, I guess. People get worked up when they're waiting to bring their animals in, they always think the worst."

"As someone who's personally lost three hamsters and seven goldfish, I can promise you, the fear never fades."

His mouth hitched up on one side as he laughed under his breath and turned to face the painting ahead of him. "So, you think anything here might help keep that fear at bay a little?"

"I don't know. A lot of this stuff is more dungeon of sadness than sunflowers and rainbows."

He shrugged. "I don't know. I've seen a few pieces that seemed happy."

"Well, art is subjective, Huckleberry, some people see happiness and others don't." She grabbed up another grape. "Even if the artist tells you what it is, you're probably going to find your own interpretation in there somewhere."

He hummed, tucking his hands into the pockets of his jeans. "Well, what about this one?" He jutted his chin forward. "You think it's sad?"

Maya looked to the painting in front of her, shades of gray mixed with dark blues. The finished product of an ended relationship; her and Josh were doomed from the start, but that didn't stop her from spending three years trying to make it work.

"It's regret," she said, chewing her lip. "Lost time, lost energy, the tail end of something that should've been great but only amounted to disappointment."

He nodded slowly. "See, I don't see that…" He took a step forward and pointed to a streak of orange in the top right corner. "Maybe it started that way. But there's color in there too, underneath everything. Maybe there were good moments that snuck through, or maybe they're ahead, I don't know. But I like to think something good comes out of everything bad."

She glanced over at him, an eyebrow arched. "You're one of those optimistic people, aren't you?"

He grinned. "Is that a bad thing?"

"Not bad. Annoying, sometimes, but not bad." She shook her head, her hair swaying at her back. "You remind me of someone…"

"Someone you like, I hope."

She smiled. "Even when she's at her Riliest." Pivoting on her heel, she started walking. "Come on, I'll show you another piece. This one's a little more… peppy."

"All right then."

They travel through her white-walled gallery in search of one of her college pieces. Despite being one of the longest-hanging paintings in her gallery, and having numerous offers, Maya never sold it. She wanted it to go to the right person, and she just never felt like she'd met them. There were so many who had come to admire it, but none of them connected to it the way she wanted them to. They didn't see what she wanted them to see. So she kept it, and she waited, even if that meant never selling it.

"Well, what do you think of this one?" she asked, waving a hand toward it.

Tipping his head, he gave it a good, long look, seeming to take in every fine detail. And then he stepped a little closer, like it might speak to him, tell him exactly what its purpose was.

"It feels… hopeful," he decided.

"Hopeful," she repeated.

"Yeah. Like… Like when the flowers first bloom in the spring and you can see new life coming up everywhere."

Maya stared at his profile, at the half-smile curving his mouth and the way his eyes were still absorbing every brush stroke. "You really like this stuff, huh?"

Shrugging, he looked back at her. "I don't know much about it. I grew up on a ranch and then headed off to college as soon as the ink dried on my diploma."

"Y'know, I had a friend that used to say it was only people who lost hope that could recognize it."

His gaze dipped for a moment. "Guess we all have our stories."

"Yeah." She smiled thoughtfully. "Guess we do."

Tucking his hands in the pockets of his jeans, he rocked back on his heels. "Maybe… Maybe it isn't that only the people who lost hope can see it, but maybe it's that they recognize how important it is when they find it again." His brow furrowed. "Does that sound stupid?"

"No." Her face softened. "A little fortune cookie, but not stupid."

He laughed under his breath, ducking his head for a moment. "Well, good."

Maya pointed at the painting. "This is a pretty old piece. I should show you something more recent. I'm sure we can find something a little more relaxing for your clients."

"Sure. But… Is this one for sale?" he wondered.

Maya blinked, looking back at it. "I'm not sure this is right for the waiting room, Sundance."

"No, of course not. But I wouldn't mind having it somewhere else. I just…" He sighed, looking back at the painting. "You ever look at something and just think… That's me. That's how I felt once. Or maybe more than once."

Humming, she stepped a little closer and tipped her head up to admire the canvas. "I think that's what art's supposed to do, when it's done right. You see yourself reflected somewhere in every piece." She pointed to a stripe of purple. "Like that. That is Riley Matthews. My best friend. Happy and optimistic and endlessly strong. And here…" She pointed to a splash of yellow. "That's Topanga. Fierce amazon warrior. Right next to Cory—" Vibrant green. "—life lessons and support and fatherly intuition." Her finger wandered down to a whorl of red. "And Auggie. Sincere and strange and proud of it."

He nodded, and then looked to her. "So where are you?"

"Well, I'm all of them. I'm made up of what they gave me and who they made me into."

"What about who you are without them?"

"That's probably somewhere in the gray scale, where I was rebellious and angry and too scared to hope that life would ever be any better than it was."

He stared searchingly into her eyes, and Maya felt her heart give a little lurch. "I get that," he said. "I get the anger and the resentment and the fear. Pretty much sums up my youth, actually."

"Yeah? You figured it out though. Became a vet, that couldn't've been easy."

"It wasn't," he agreed. "I made some hard choices, figured out who I didn't want to be, tried being who I thought I should be, and eventually found a good middleground."

Maya nodded. "I mostly surrounded myself with good influences and stopped fighting their advice."

He grinned. "Whatever works, I guess."

She laughed. "Yeah, that's for sure." Staring up at him a moment longer, she finally pivoted on her heel. "We can talk about the sale price on this one later. For now, why don't we see if there's anything for the waiting room?"

"Sure." He tipped his head. "Lead the way."

Maya walked toward another area with smaller pieces. Nothing quite so existential as her other stuff. It was more sunsets and flowers and calming, neutral paintings that she did when she was in a certain kind of mood. These were Auggie's favorites; she'd done a few pieces for him over the years and whenever he visited, this was where he ended up. Katy loved the hopeful pieces, because they spoke of something she always worried Maya would lose. Farkle enjoyed anything abstract, because it confused him just a little, and made him work to understand it. Topanga preferred the darker pieces, the ones she deemed fierce. Cory loved it all. He walked around her gallery with a proud look on his face, shaking his head as he speechlessly waved his arms around. It never failed to make Maya feel a hundred feet taller. And Riley, she liked the studio above, the works in progress.

An hour later, Lucas followed Maya up to the front counter, a piece of paper in hand with a collection of numbers marking which of her paintings he was hoping to buy for his waiting room. There were three in total, and she was planning on giving him a discount.

"I'll have to call Ina over," she told him, putting her empty grape bowl aside. "She covers all the sales and books."

His brow furrowed. "I thought all these big places worked on commission."

"We do," she said, nodding.

"So, doesn't that mean Ina will get the commission?"

"Ina's the only one that gets commission around here. She's the only person that sells anything." Maya shrugged, and then reached over to pluck the paper from his fingers, putting it down by the inventory book. "You're getting a ten percent discount and the pieces can be delivered to your office tomorrow, if you want."

"Uh, yeah, that'd be great."

"Cool." She tugged her phone out of the pocket of her pants, sending off a text to Ina to come help a customer before she put it away. "So? I guess you liked what you saw."

"I did." He nodded. "We were gonna talk about that other painting, if it's up for sale."

Maya's mouth scrunched up. "That's the oldest piece in this place. It doesn't even have a price tag because so many people offer well over what it was and…"

"I get it. It's one of those sentimental pieces." He nodded. "The artist, she's really good. I might not have much experience with art. In fact, I think the last time I was near a paint brush, I was touching up Pappy Joe's barn. But… I don't know. It's like you said, I guess. I just, I see myself in all of her work."

Maya swallowed tightly. "That's a big compliment, Hop-Along."

He laughed. "You think you might try calling me by my name?"

"I don't know. I'm starting to get attached to the nicknames."

"Well, maybe we just need more time then…" He took a deep breath and said, "Would you like to get coffee with me sometime? It doesn't have to be today, but… Sometime soon, I hope."

Maya stared up at him, a grin spreading across her mouth. "Sure. I could do that."

"Great. Uh…" He shook his head. "I don't—I must've left my manners in Texas. I'm sorry, I didn't get your name."

She laughed a little, under her breath. "Maya." She saluted him. "Maya Hart."

Lucas' eyes widened. "Hart," he repeated. "Like… Like the gallery?"

"Mmhmm." She nodded. "Like my gallery."

As Ina walked up then, clipboard in hand, she smiled between them. "We've got a sale? Good for you, boss-lady. Did you get a snack? You work too much, you know that?"

"I got a snack and sold four paintings. Between you and Riley, I'm turning into a responsible adult."

"Perish the thought." Ina snorted, before stepping past her to the desk. "Hey, there's only three numbers on here. I thought you sold four?"

"I did. He's taking 203."

Ina's brows hiked. She glanced at Lucas and then back to Maya. "He is?"

"Yeah."

"For how much?" she wondered, shaking her head.

"For free." Maya shrugged, hands on her hips. "All I wanted was for it to go to a good home, to someone who would understand it, and… he does."

"Maya… You were offered more than a million dollars for that painting," Ina said, her voice pitched low so Lucas wouldn't hear.

Considering he stiffened and managed a strangled, "What?" she figured Ina failed.

"I know, but that guy just liked collecting things people said he couldn't have. He only went that high because I kept saying no." She rolled her eyes. "Farkle offered to buy it for twice that and a three-week cruise."

Ina blinked. "You went on that cruise."

"Who turns down a free cruise!?" Maya started toward the stairs leading up to her studio. "Just ring him up, all right? It's not a big deal."

"It's a really big deal," Ina muttered, but sighed, turning around to face Lucas.

He stared after Maya, a little dazed. "Well hey, wait! Are— Are we still on for coffee?" he wondered.

Maya paused halfway up her winding staircase, grinning. "Sure, Huckleberry. I'll even let you buy me dinner sometime."

Smiling a little goofily now, he nodded. "It'd be my pleasure… ma'am."

When he tipped an imaginary cowboy hat at her, Maya laughed. Oh, she liked him.

Downstairs, Ina finished logging everything in for the sales, before looking back to the smitten cowboy as he stared up the stairs.

"She's something, huh?" he said thoughtfully.

Amused, Ina nodded. "Yeah, she is. But I'm sure you'll find that out first hand." She tore off his receipt and handed it to him.

Taking it, he tucked it in the front pocket of his shirt and said, "Here's hoping."

[end]

author's note: i've had this on my computer for a couple weeks. it was about half-finished, while the second half was mapped out. i hope you like the finished product!

thanks for reading! please try to leave a review!

- lee | fina