rating: high teen
prompt: assassins au
word count: 5,010

crossroads

In the "Most Likely To" section of the yearbook, Maya was firmly under the headline of "get arrested." She surprised her graduating class by joining the ARMY. She surprised herself by becoming a decorated sniper. And then she surprised her best friend by becoming a well paid and highly recommended assassin.

"Listen Peaches, you know I'll support you in anything and everything you do..." Riley's voice crackled over the phone.

Maya nodded as she took apart her gun, laying it, piece by piece, across her table, to be cleaned. "I do know that."

"Good! That's good. But, when you say assassin..."

"They're bad people, Riles. The kind of people that would never be invited into Rileytown." Tapping her clip against her chin, she said, "Not even Mayaville would take them."

"I admit, that's a little comforting."

Maya smiled. "But...?"

"But you're better than this. You can do better than this! You have medals that prove that when you put your mind to things you get them done. So, I don't see why you can't pick something a little less..."

"Murdery?"

"Yes!"

"Well, maybe I'm not meant for less murdery. Maybe I'm meant for more murdery." Maya shrugged. "We've all got our paths in life, honey. This might just be mine." Leaning forward, she rested her elbows on her table and looked down at the phone in front of her. "You know you can't save me from everything, right? Sometimes people go down a path they can't turn around from. And sometimes they were always meant to go there."

Riley was quiet for a long, contemplative moment, but when she did speak, her voice was firm and certain. "I don't believe that. I believe people can always change for the better."

"If that's true, then they can change for the worst, too." Half-smiling, Maya shook her head. "You don't have to worry about me, Riles. I'll be fine."

"Will you?" Riley wondered softly. "Are you sure this is what you want to do? Who you want to be?"

"No," Maya admitted honestly. "But I've never known what I wanted to be or who I was. And maybe this will help me figure it out." She reached up then, dragging her hair up into a high ponytail and pulling the elastic off her wrist to tie it. "I gotta go. Things to do, people to kill, you know how it goes."

Riley hummed. "Peaches?"

"Yeah?"

"When you're ready... When you want to come home... I'll be here."

Swallowing tightly, a lump in her throat, Maya nodded. "I know you will."

"Don't take too long, okay? Don't wander too far."

Blinking at the burn in her eyes, Maya licked her lips. "I'll try."

"I love you."

She sniffed and quickly rubbed a hand over her nose. "Love you too, Riles."

With that, she pressed the End button on her phone, and then she slumped back in her chair, staring at the gun in front of her. The room was quiet aside from the faint ticking of a clock and her breathing. If Matthews were there, he would tell her she was at a crossroads. One lead back to New York, to Riley, to the comforting arms of her best friend, and the other led somewhere darker, somewhere colder.

Maya had always seen Riley as a glitch in the thorny path of her life. She was sunshine and rainbows and unwavering faith and hope, the exact opposite of everything Maya had ever been. And some days she wanted to be like Riley, she wanted to be filled with the glow of everything good the world had to offer. Other days, she told herself that maybe her job wasn't to have the glow, but to protect it. And she did. She made sure that during the entirety of their friendship, Riley was always protected, always happy and warm and untouched by the cruelty that life had to offer. But that meant more cruelty for herself, more brushes with the dark side, and eventually, she had to know her life would lead her here.

There was a folder with a general write-up and a few pictures of her intended target. His brother wanted him removed so he could inherit everything. So, maybe what she told Riley was a lie; not all of them were bad people. They were just people. Good, bad, something in between. Maya had no idea who Lucas Friar was or why his brother couldn't just be happy with what he had. Greed got the best of people more often than not. What Maya did know was that this was a job, one she needed, and one that could mark the beginning of a whole new life and career.

Maybe her 'Most Likely' column wasn't completely off. There was time yet for her to fulfill the prophecy and get herself arrested. But she guessed they expected low level crime like vandalism or something; she'd been an avid spray painter in her youth, murder was a bit far off from that. Shit happened, though. People changed. For better or worse. Whatever that meant.

Texas was too hot for Maya's liking. Her skin felt dry and stretched while her clothes were damp and sticky, clinging to her body in a way she wasn't used to. She'd always preferred the comfort of loose clothing. It concealed weapons and curves alike. Growing up, she'd gotten her fair share of ogling and she'd always answered it with a sharp tongue and a middle finger. But she lived in a shady part of town, so most people just laughed at her show of attitude. Maya was small, something that could help or harm her, depending on what she was doing. High shelves were the enemy, but squeezing into tiny spaces to get the right angle on a shot was a lot easier. It also meant she blended in a little easier, ducking behind taller, broader bodies when she was following someone.

Lucas Friar was the local vet in small town USA. A cowboy type that cured the sick critters and smiled at every person he saw. He was a Hee-Haw if ever she saw one. While there weren't too many in New York, he had Huckleberry written all over him. She imagined Riley would have stars in her eyes over him, at least back in middle school. By high school, she and Farkle had started their moony-eyed lovers shtick and they'd been going strong since. All the power to 'em, she figured.

From what little was in the packet, Friar was the eldest son of a rancher that had built a pretty big enterprise behind him. The ranch had been passed on to him, along with most of the money, after his father died. Papa Friar had been rolling in it and, while he did give a sizable inheritance to his middle son and youngest daughter, it was clear who his favorite was. Jeremiah Friar had taken offense to that, however, and decided the only way to deal with it was to have his brother removed from the picture. The fee he was willing to pay was exorbitant, but Maya hadn't let it show. Even if dollar signs were dancing on her brain, promising a nice place in New York and all the things she'd always wanted for herself. Like a fridge full of food and an electricity bill that didn't have Overdue or Final Notice printed across it in bright, angry red ink. It sounded simple, in retrospect, but when one grew up struggling like she and her mother did, having enough money in the bank to cover the bills and buy food meant a lot. She was already planning on dropping a comfortable chunk of her earnings into Katie's bank account and not mentioning why or where it came from. Her mother probably wouldn't even ask, just appreciating the generosity for what it was and not seeking out answers to questions she probably shouldn't ask in the first place.

Lucas had an easy schedule for Maya to follow. He was up at 5 am every morning, helping the farm hands out with the care and feeding of the animals, even mucking out stalls when it was needed. He drove into town in a well-used blue Ford and started his work day at his private vet clinic, where he treated everything from pet hamsters to wild horses. He had one lady at the front desk that organized everything, Jessie-Lynn Whitehall, and a protege, fresh out of vet school, that shadowed every move he made, Bobby Manning. Home by six each night, though he was on-call for any emergency calls, Lucas ate his dinner on the porch, watching the sun set over the family ranch. He had a manager that took care of the buying and selling of animals, Carly Summers, who caught up with him on the weekends, to make sure he was keeping up with family business on top of everything else.

For all Maya could tell, he was good at what he did, and a good man on top of it. His sister, Amy, lived out of town, with her husband and three kids; she was a dental hygienist that didn't seem to have any idea what kind of trouble was brewing between her brothers. She didn't seem to be in on Jeremiah's plan or in line to gain anything from Lucas' death, and it gave Maya a moment of pause, thinking of what it might be like for her to lose her brother just a few months after her dad died. Her job wasn't to care; it wasn't to think about what might happen in the aftermath. But Riley and her father had drilled it into Maya since she was little that there were consequences to her actions and other people mattered. They had to. But they weren't there, they couldn't turn her around and set her on the right path this time. It was all on her.

And she was going to do her job.

Maya didn't mean to bump into him. She usually kept her distance. It wasn't too hard to keep an eye on him from afar, he had a good foot on her. Being that it was her first job, she decided to tail him for a couple weeks, to make absolutely sure that she had his routine down so she wouldn't be interrupted when she took him out. Jeremiah had been clear that it could not look like a murder, but like an accident. Whether that meant he was trampled by one of his horses or a car accident, he didn't care, he just didn't want it tracing back to him. To make that happen, Maya needed to be sure there would be no unexpected snags. While she'd killed before, it was in the name of her country and all that jazz. It was armed people that were going to kill her or her team. She did what she had to do to survive and make sure as many of her brothers and sisters went home, too. That didn't mean she wasn't haunted, that she didn't wake up in a cold sweat remembering their faces and the pressure of a trigger under her finger, the scope pressed to her eye, hard against her cheek. It wouldn't be like that this time. She had to get up close and personal, to sneak in under the radar and remove the obstacle face to face.

Lucas was in good physical condition. He wasn't a soldier, but he took care of himself. If she stared at the lithe lines of his arms and hard-packed muscle across his stomach when he dressed down in a tank top and jeans, using his shirt to wipe sweat from his face while he worked around the ranch, well, who could blame her? But she wasn't expecting much of a fight. He was too good, too wholesome for that. He wouldn't know what to do with those muscles. They were just there for show. For the pretty little cowgirls that sidled up to him in the grocery store and flirted with him as they passed him in the street, giggling and squeezing his bicep as they asked him how work was and if he was going to take some time off to drop by the local bar and get some dancing in. He was always polite and kind, offering up a toothy, white smile before he gently rebuffed them.

Maya wasn't sure why. He didn't seem to have anybody waiting on him. It was just him in that big ranch house. Him and a surly old dog named Rufus. His friend Zay dropped in to visit him from time to time, mostly Fridays from what she could tell, and usually in an effort to get him to come out and join in on the mediocre nightlife. Maya wouldn't call square dancing at the bar much of a nightlife, but there were a few times she caught her toes tapping to the songs. Not that she would ever admit that. But a catchy beat was a catchy beat, banjo's and all.

Lucas was on his way into his favorite coffee shop -large coffee, two creams, one sugar, and a big slice of banana bread- and she was on his heels. She liked the coffee there, and he always lingered in the window seat to sip at his coffee and eat his food, people watching and waving at those who recognized him as they passed by on the sidewalk outside. For some reason, though, he stopped, and she managed to walk right into him.

Oof.

At some point, and she wasn't quite sure how, their legs got tangled up, and she was headed for a hard landing on the pavement, only it never came. Because he caught her. Arm looped behind her back, he stared down at her. "You all right, ma'am?"

She stared up at him, a little wide-eyed. "Nothing's broken," she said in return.

"You sure?" His mouth hitched up on one corner. "You wanna wiggle your toes for me? Make sure they're all there."

"Little forward, don't you think?"

He laughed, and pulled himself upright, drawing her along with him. "You didn't knock your head on the way down or anything, did you?" His hand carefully touched the back of her head, like he was looking for a goose egg.

"You always this handsy with strangers in the street?" She batted his hand away. "I didn't hit anything. I didn't have a chance to. You swept in before I could, a regular Prince Charming."

"Well, just doing by civil duty," he joked. "After all, it my fault you tripped in the first place."

"Yeah, you should work on that walking thing. Stopping in the middle of the sidewalk can lead to collisions. Obviously."

His mouth stretched up again, and Maya looked away, because her heart was doing some strange flippy thing that it hadn't done since middle school and Josh Matthews. A crushingly awkward memory she wished she could scrub away.

"I'll keep that in mind for future," he assured, nodding. "You're sure you're all right, though?" He searched her eyes. "I'm not gonna get sued later when you suddenly have whiplash?"

She snorted. "I think you're fine."

"Now who's being forward?"

A flush crawled across her cheeks, but she narrowed her eyes at him. "Har, har," she muttered.

Licking his lips, he rocked forward on his feet. "Hey, why don't you let me make it up to you? There's a coffee place near here; they make a good banana bread."

Maya stared up at him, her brow furrowed. "You don't have to do that. It was an accident. No harm, no foul."

"Maybe not, but... I want to." He stared down at her, that genuine look on his face that struck her a little strange. The only people she'd ever known that were that sincere were the Matthews, and she'd always felt like the weird little stray they took in and just couldn't bare to get rid of. No matter how ill fit she was to be around them.

"Well, that's nice of you, but—"

"If you're busy, maybe I could make it up later. There's a new band playing at the Barfly tonight. My, uh, my friend Zay said they were pretty good. We could get a drink, see if they're worth the cover charge," he suggested.

Maya's mouth gaped a little. This was so not going as planned. She should turn him down. Saying yes would only lead to complications. Getting close to a mark was career suicide, and would only spur up that wonky conscience of hers. But a little voice in the back of her head said it could be good. That it would help her get the job done if she could explore the ranch a little closer, even get a better idea of what his schedule was like when work ended and home time began. It was easier than sneaking past any number of animals and into the house to take him out.

He was rubbing a hand over the back of his neck, looking nervous now. "I'm sorry, if I'm coming off a little forward. I didn't mean to. I just—"

"Sure. Tonight, the Barfly. I like music, and beer, so it's a win/win."

He grinned widely then. "Yeah?"

"Yeah." She nodded. "Could be fun."

"Well, great. Uh, I- I could meet you there. Or pick you up? Are you close to here?"

"I'll meet you there. What time's good?"

"Eight? That's when the live music starts up."

"Okay, eight it is."

"Great, that— that's great." He was still smiling, and staring, and she shifted her feet. "Oh! I— I'm Lucas!" He thrust a hand forward. "Lucas Friar."

"Maya," she answered, reaching out to shake his hand. And she knew it was stupid, giving him her name like that, but it was too late to take back now.

"Maya," he repeated, his expression softening. "Well, Maya, I'll see you tonight. Eight o'clock sharp." He started backing up then, staring at her all the while.

"Don't you think you should watch where you're going, Huckleberry? You've already caused one accident," she reminded, tucking her thumbs into the belt loops of her jean shorts.

He grinned. "Didn't turn out so bad, did it?" He didn't wait for her answer though, turning on his heel to make his way toward the coffee shop.

She stared after him, a curious look on her face.

This was guaranteed to blow up in her face... But when had that ever stopped her from doing something reckless?

"You're going on a date with him?" Riley was reaching close to 'shrieking' levels.

"It's not a date, it's just... beer, and music." Maya shrugged as she walked around her motel room, searching for her make up bag. She remembered tossing it into her suit case, but she had no idea where it had wandered off to, and her room was covered in all her clothes, tossed haphazardly over every available surface.

"Music and beer is exactly what you like on a date!" Riley reminded.

"It's not a date." She sighed, digging through a pile of shirts. "It's just... recon."

The noise Riley made was somewhere between pained and frustrated. "Maya, are you really sure about this? I mean, I've never assassinated anyone—"

"No... Really?" She snorted.

"—but I'm pretty sure it doesn't involve going on a date with the guy you plan to kill. That's just... It's weird. Isn't it weird? It feels weird..."

Sitting down on the bed, Maya shrugged. "I don't know. It's not like I have a lot of experience in this. I just... I was following him. And then something happened, some weird moment where we bumped into each other and things just kind of escalated. And before I knew it, he was asking me out and I was going to say no, because yes, it is definitely weird. But then I thought 'hey, this could be good. The closer I am, the easier this whole thing will be and the faster I can get it done or over with.'"

"I don't know... Have you really thought this through? I mean, before he was probably just a name and a face, but now he's going to be a person. A real person. With a voice and story and a life... He's going to be real to you, Peaches. He's not just paper anymore."

Maya chewed her lip. "Well, that's a risk I'm going to have to take..."

"Okay... Just— Just be sure you know what you're doing, okay? Because I know you. I know that sometimes you do things and you think that it'll be okay, that you will be okay, and then the moment ends and you realize it wasn't what you want and you weren't who you wanted to be. And this feels like one of those times. This feels like one of those big, life-defining moments, and I just... I want you to be able to walk away from it in the end."

"Yeah... Me too." Taking a deep breath, she finally pushed up from the bed. "Listen, Riles, I know what I'm doing. Trust me, okay?"

"Can I?" Riley wondered. "Can anyone trust an assassin?"

And it hurt. It hurt that she had to ask. It hurt that she hung up, not waiting for an answer. It just hurt. Because she was right. And if this happened, if she did this, could she ever really go back? Could she ever face Riley again?

No. It was as simple as that. As much as Riley said she would love and support her through anything, even she had her limits. And they would only stretch as far as the end of this choice. If Maya did this, she knew Riley would never look at her the same, would never forget who she had become, and the only stable, good thing she'd had in her life would finally crumble. One last nail in the coffin that held anything good remaining inside her.

Well, it was bound to happen one day. Maybe it was sooner than she liked, but she'd always sort of known it was coming, hadn't she?

The Barfly was a far cry from the kind of joints Maya usually hung out at. While she'd visited a few dance clubs in her time, open mics and art galleries had always been more her thing. The Barfly fell somewhere in the middle. People of all ages and backgrounds packed into the room, surrounding a stage where a band was setting up. There was no smoke inside, just a section outside for people to gather around. The bar offered a large selection of red meat drenched in BBQ sauce and every alcohol she could think of, as well as a few she'd never heard of.

It didn't quite look like the time of place that had reserved tables, but there was a folded piece of paper with 'reserved' scribbled on it that Lucas led them to after paying the cover charge. Since he shoved it into the pocket of his jeans as they sat down, she thought he might've just gone about reserving it on his own.

"You look really nice," he said as he clasped his hands atop the table. "I meant to say that earlier, but I was a little tongue tied when you walked up."

Her brows arched. "Are you always this honest?"

He dipped his head. "I try to be."

"And you like that? You like being the good guy that everyone can depend on?"

He smiled. "I guess. I'm not sure I ever really looked at it like that."

"How do you look at it then?" she wondered, leaning forward and resting her elbows on the table.

"I just figure, I'm only around for so long. I might as well treat people how I wanna be treated." He searched her eyes. "You don't like good guys?"

"I don't know many," she admitted. "Four, tops. One is my best friend's husband. Farkle. Another is her dad, and her little brother. And then there was my step-dad. He was a good guy."

"Was?"

"He and my mom didn't work out and he travels a lot. I guess he still is a good guy, I just... don't get to see him as much as I'd like."

He nodded. "I'm sorry."

"Nothing to apologize for, Huckleberry. You didn't break them up. It happens. Relationships start and relationships end."

"Sometimes. Sometimes they start and they just keep going."

"Yeah, well, not in my experience." She shook her head. "I've seen it, so I know it's real. I mean, Matthews and Topanga, that's my best friends parents, they've been together since they were kids. And they always knew they were going to make it. And Riley and Farkle, he looks at her like she hung the moon, and she looks at him the same. They're weird, both of them are, but... They'll make it. I know they will."

"So, what makes you think you won't find someone like that?" He shook his head. "Just because you haven't found it before doesn't mean you won't."

"Have you ever thought about a career in fortune cookies? That was some serious cookie wisdom."

He laughed, ducking his head. "All right, so it was a little vague, but... I don't know. I guess I like to look on the positive side." He waved his hand. "Like today. We could've bumped into each other, apologized, went our separate ways. But instead, here we are and... and I'd like to see where it goes."

She hummed, chewing the inside of her cheek. "Optimist, huh?"

"Yeah, I guess I am." He grinned. "Maybe I'll rub off on you a little."

"Maybe," she murmured.

The lead singer of the band tapped the mic then, drawing their attention. Maya looked toward the stage, but her gaze wandered back to her table-mate a few seconds later, only to find he was already looking at her.

Life was weird. Just when Maya thought hers was going down a road she couldn't come back from, it threw something— someone— into her path. And now she was questioning things. Questioning herself. Wondering if maybe there were other ways to do things. Other options in life. Other paths. And she wasn't saying Lucas was her path or her future or even her next five minutes. But, Riley was right. He was a person now, and not one she wanted to put a bullet in. Which meant she had a choice to make. Because if she did do this, if she decided not to put him in the ground, then there were a lot of loose ends she needed to clean up. Because walking away and leaving him to his fate felt just as bad as putting him down herself. So, either she took care of it herself or she fixed this whole thing. Maya never really saw herself as much of a fixer. She was usually the person who made the mess. And, true to character, she'd certainly gotten herself knee-deep in an epic kind of mess. But there was still time to do something about it, if she wanted to.

A crossroads. To kill or not to kill. To hope or not to hope. To be or not to be. Be what? Be a hired killer. A means to an end. A ghost of the girl Riley thought she was. That Matthews believed she could be. That she hoped she would one day become. Maybe that her had died on the other side of the world, a gun in her hands, surrounded by death and war and wrapped in a blood-soaked flag. Did they bury her dignity with her? Her hopes and dreams and aspirations in life? Did they bury the rebel and the fighter and the scrappy girl that fought, tooth and nail, not to be a statistic?

Maya Hart, most likely to be arrested.

Most likely not to succeed.

Most likely to damage any future she had before it could start.

Most likely to live and die, hopeless.

Most likely.

She stared at Lucas Friar, just a cowboy looking for something in a woman that she wasn't sure was there. Heart and soul and hope. She had .45 in her purse and a scar on her shoulder. She had scars he would never see, that no one could. Scar tissue crowding around a dying heart, smothering it. She was lost. A girl. A soldier. An assassin. A friend. A woman. A date. A person. A number. A gun. A daughter. A life. A grave.

A crossroads.

A choice.

"Hey, Huckleberry… I think we need to talk." She pushed off her stool to stand. "Somewhere a little quieter."

His brow furrowed, surprised and a little confused, but he followed after her, climbing down off his stool to make his way through the crowd with her.

Maya wasn't sure what she was going to say, how she was going to explain any of this to him. Or if he'd just call her crazy and run for the hills. But she knew she had to do something. This was as much his fate as it was hers. She hoped Riley would be proud.

As soon as they were outside, she turned on her heel to face him.

"Did you wanna go somewhere else?" he wondered. "I know a diner not too far from here. Best pie in—"

"I'm not one to knock pie, ever, but you're going to need something a little stronger after I tell you this." She stared up at him searchingly. "Your brother Jeremiah wants you dead. He's hired an assassin to kill you and make it look like an accident so he can get the rest of your dad's inheritence."

"I… What?" He shook his head. "How... How do even know... any of this?"

"Because... I'm the one he hired."

end

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