chapter rating: pg
word count: 1,047
summary: After waking up in the hospital, Maya is a little hazy on the details, and why a certain cowboy is so concerned for her well-being.

Maya has the mother of all headaches hammering away at her temples, and she is not here for it. Raising a hand to her head, she wonders if she and Riley got into her mom's liquor supply again. It hasn't happened since high school, and for good reason. When she blinks her eyes open, she immediately groans at the assault of white light and slams her eyes closed once more.

"Maya?!" That voice. She knows that voice. "Oh my God, Maya, are you awake? Wiggle a finger, send up a smoke signal, give me a sign! Peaches?!"

"Lower the volume," Maya grunts. "And shut off the lights."

Riley gives a painfully loud screech and grabs onto her hand. "You're okay! I knew you would be! I never lost hope, I swear. If they went for the plug, I was ready to claw some eyes out."

"Nobody tried to pull the plug. There was no mention of any plugs." Matthews.

If she wasn't in so much pain, she might actually smile. "What's with the serious voice, Matthews?"

A brush of fingers against the back of her hand is gentle and reassuring. "I reserve it for serious matters… And this one qualifies."

Maya tries squinting her eyes open and finds, this time, it doesn't hurt quite as much. Casting a look around the room, she sees Riley on her left and Matthews on her right. There's chairs scattered around with the odd jacket or book lying in wait. And Maya wonders who else might be hanging around, because there seems like a few too many chairs to fit her modest brood of friends and family.

"Question…" She looks down at herself, laid up in a bed with wires lining her arms. "Why am I in the hospital?"

Riley's brows hike and she turns to look at her dad, who's looking a little grayer around the temples. Maya decides to point that out later, when she's up to laughing at her favorite old man.

"You don't… remember?" Riley asks, hedging a little.

"All I know is I have a killer headache… Any chance one of these tubes is hooked up to a pain killer?" she wonders, following them up to a few bags and machines. The presence of so much stuff throws her off for a moment; maybe Matthews wasn't kidding about the 'seriousness' level.

"Okay." She smooths her hands over her lap. "Hit me with it. What happened?"

"Maybe we should wait for the doctor," Matthews suggests, frowning.

Maya opens her mouth to argue, because it's in her nature, but, before she can, the door to her room swings open, and in walks tall, blond, and handsome. Headache or not, she can admit there's a serious whoa moment.

"I brought dinner," he says, a hint of an accent peeking through. "Topanga took Katy home to get some sleep. She fought us a bit, but she went eventually." In his hands are a few stacked food containers, presumably holding dinner. His eyes dart toward Matthews then. "She said she'd bring coffee ba–" He pauses, spotting Maya, and suddenly he's handing the boxes off to Riley and rushing to the side of her bed, a hand on her upper arm. "Hey…" His voice, tired and stiff before, is suddenly soft and soothing. "You woke up."

Maya stares up at him, all pearly white teeth and bright blue eyes. His hand is reaching for her hair, stroking a loose curl back from her forehead. "You gave us a scare, short stack."

Her brow furrows. "All right, Cowboy, back it up a bit. Personal space is your friend." She wiggles a little where she lays, feeling a flush climb the back of her neck. "Not that I don't like an audience when I first wake up in the hospital due to unknown reasons, but… who are you?"

He blinks at her, leaning back a little. "I… What?"

"Who. Are. You?" she enunciates, barely restraining from rolling her eyes. Cute, but dumb.

He stares at her a long moment, his mouth slack, and then murmurs. "I… I'm Lucas." He searches her eyes, looking for... something. "You don't… You don't recognize me." It's not so much a question as a statement.

"No. Should I?"

"He doesn't ring any bells?" Riley asks, stepping closer, her eyes wide. "Not any part of him?" She reaches up and squeezes Lucas' face with her hands. "Are you sure? The lighting in here is terrible. Maybe you need a better look." She pushes him forward, hands falling to his shoulders and shoving him close to Maya. "Anything?"

Maya stares at him, close enough that she's almost cross-eyed. "Look, I don't know who he is, but I'm pretty sure he doesn't appreciate the manhandling. Ease up, Riles."

"Oh no. Oh, this is bad! This is really, really bad." Riley begins pacing, ringing her hands, and then turns to her dad. "Fix it," she tells him. "Make it better."

"I'm not sure this is something I can fix, honey." Matthews turns to look at Maya with the kind of sad, defeated look on his face that makes her stomach twist up uncomfortably.

"Okay, clearly I didn't get the memo." She points at Lucas. "Who is he? Why does he matter?"

He stares at her, his expression stricken. "I'm Huckleberry," he says quietly. "Or I was."

"You are," Riley assures, turning to Maya worriedly. "Tell him he still is."

"What?" Maya shakes her head. "What is going on?"

Drawing a deep breath, Riley tries to center herself and then she reaches into a bedside table and rifles around in the drawer. With an exaggerated "a-ha!" she tears a plastic bag open and comes up holding a shiny silver ring, which she then thrusts toward Maya. "He… is your husband."

Maya stares at the ring, her heart dropping into her stomach, and then she looks past it, to the man now standing at the end of her bed. His shoulders are slumped and that handsome face is worn and sad now. Her gaze drops to his hands, searching out and finding the right finger. There sits a silver ring, a little wider than the one Riley's holding, but it's a match all the same.

And Lucas, with a faint, humorless smile, says, "Surprise."

{end}

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