The house was dark, now without natural sunlight to preserve electricity. Just as Maya stepped into the door, a rolling boom vibrated through the sky. The promise of rain made the air slightly chilly, as Maya rubbed her hands up and down her elbows. The table had been set by Will, where sat her plate with a cold piece of chicken, stale garlic bread and a damp broccoli clump. How long had she been outside?
"Will?" Her call echoed back to her. "Will?" She made way for the upstairs, but halted by the stair-post at a flash of color. Against the handle of her front door stuck a yellow post-it note, Will's jotty handwriting scribbled on its surface. Flipping on the entrance light, Maya picked up the note, feeling her sadness drop into her stomach as she read the hasty message:
Meeting with Alex. Be back late.
Oxygen caught in her throat, Maya let out a coughing noise, which had started as a gasp. Her teeth buried within her lower lip as her heart fell down another step of pain. Not only had Will left when she very much needed him, but he had gone back to the world she would never belong to.
Maya didn't believe in disliking people she didn't know. However, if she was ever to come close with someone, it would be Alexa Casineda. The name alone suggested all she was, beauty and cunning, but having met the agent twice during Hometown meetings, the bookkeeper was surprised at her immediate dislike for the woman. She had convinced herself it was jealousy: after all, Alex had known Will long before her. She knew the indiscretions that tore holes in his conscience, she had worked with him through the memories he was now trying to forget, and from the suave manner in which she always addressed him, Alex had no doubt been his comfort for years.
All-in-all, Alex was the strong woman Maya could never be.
Maya hadn't asked Will about his relationship with Alex for two reasons: one, because she was afraid of what she would learn. Had they been lovers? Was the beautiful agent still attracted to her partner, or even more horrifically, vice versa? Two, Maya knew that if Will didn't mention Alex, he did not wish to talk about her. Some part of him, she had discovered, liked keeping his lifestyles separate. Despite technically being a part of Hometown, Will had never truly connected his girlfriend to his business, because she had not "signed up" as he had. Having been forced to join by the faults of her brother, Maya was stuck with the organization.
She dropped the note to the floor, too upset to be concerned with it. Climbing the stairs to her bedroom, the first door to the left, Maya had to grip the railing securely with fear of passing out. The first flash of lightning slashed outside her window, accenting the shadows of the furniture in her room. It had a simple design: cream colored walls, a South Shore queen-sized bed with aquamarine quilting and scattered pillows of light blue and green, a cherry-wood side-table (atop: an alarm clock, "The Scarlet Letter" and a twin-arm desk lamp), a two-door closet, a dresser decorated with pictures of many years back, including ones of the loving couple Donald and Sarah Carter.
The most outstanding feature of the room was a painting on the opposite wall of the bed. A radiant and detailed watercolor of a tall sailboat, drifting idly in the bathing glow of an orange sun, magnified by the extraordinary detail carved along its side. A closer look would reveal the light etchings of countries, from the perspective of a satellite, stretched across the entire profile of the boat. Land could be seen from the edges of the portrait, although they were shadowed by lack of illumination. The focal point was this beautiful, uninhabited boat. "Weary Traveler" was written in chicken scratch at the top left corner of the portrait.
Maya sunk into her mattress, wishing it would suffocate her worry until only a hollow presence remained. Fear had caught tight in her throat, which only irritated it more as she hiccupped tears back. She shivered, although it wasn't cold at all. Bewilderment had clouded her mind, once again dragging her from reality into the memory world where Will Traveler existed. Lost to the storm outside, but caught in a violent tempest within her own spirit, Maya was hovering in the past, three months before, within a memory she never realized was eating away at her.
Christmas was nearing, which was evident by the glossy snow glaze latched onto sidewalks, the bright lights strung along doorways and plastic Santas planted in lawns. The noses of cardboard reindeer on rooftops were blinking bright red, working as reflectors through the soupy mess of falling crystals.
Maya found it odd how, despite the festively decorated houses, the neighborhood just outside Hancock County was surprisingly quiet. People were home, for light streamed through blind-covered windows, yet no children played outside in their polar-bear suits throwing snowballs at one another, or taking advantage of the empty street by sledding down their steep driveways. Not even the print of a snow angel could be found within the area.
What did stand out were the bars on the windows of every quaint house on the street. There were no cars parked by the curbs, probably stowed away in securely locked garages. On the doors of at least half a dozen homes, Will had counted/noted, there were "Protected by ADT Security" signs taped clear for anyone to see. Living within five miles of a jail made people extremely cautious, Will had concluded. Paranoia was enough of a con to bring prices down on homes in these areas, he stated matter-of-factly, so people were willing to risk the security for a bargain house.
He had done most of the talking on their hour car ride. Maya had appreciated him coming along, despite having tried to convince him not to waste their weekend for a trip downstate to see her brother. He had insisted, however, when she mentioned her plan to see him, to come along and make sure she would be alright. Maya suspected he had made his own conclusions about Duncan, even though he had yet to meet her brother. Whenever she mentioned growing up with him, spending summers fishing for salmon and trout at the docks in their father's boat, building igloos with the neighbor's daughter, going up to Maxine's for Iced Apple-Cinnamon pancakes, Will would only give a small smile and nod. His impression was upon Duncan's last event with his sister: sitting in a jail cell in Deer Harbor, both awaiting questioning by the FBI in regards to drug trafficking.
Maya hoped she was simply reading too much into Will's calm manner: after all, she couldn't expect him to be cheery about a man whose actions had brought her into such a dangerous mess. Once, Maya had pointed out that she only met Will through Hometown. At that his eyes had fogged over with sinister gravity. "That's true," he replied as his frown grew tighter. "And I certainly don't regret that, Maya. If only it had been under different circumstances…"
If Only. What a horrible phrase that was. If only Duncan had stayed clean. If only Will wasn't caught up in such an important project. If only he had not been so well trained as to be suspicious and untrusting of everyone. If only Maya was stronger, like those her lover worked for. If only she could comfort him with all the emotion bursting within her. Oh, 'if only' was a cruel provoker.
Maya's small car easily maneuvered into a parking space in front of the jail. The lot was empty, which along with the graying sky and dead trees made the building look distinctly ominous. Men in orange jumpsuits stood stooped-over about the grass area, collecting decayed branches as one of their more dull chores. While getting out Maya counted five guards along the border of the prison, all with the same stern, frozen expression that scared Maya three years before, and to this day still scared her. It was one of the many fears that caused her to push aside ethics and agree to John Ellington's recruitment.
On the sidewalk, finally taking in the realization that she would be seeing her brother again, Maya was pulled from her worries as Will touched her elbows. He pulled her body towards his, taking her hands in a prayer motion. "Are you sure you want to do this?" His tone was scratchy, which she guessed was a result of worry. "I know you promised your brother you would come… but you don't have any obligations towards him."
Maya gave a small but lingering nod. "Yes. I need to be sure he's okay. I-I'm the only person who comes by and I know it means a lot to him that I visit on the holidays."
Confirmed, but still doubtful, Will sent a warm rush through Maya when he captured her lips. He kissed longer than necessary, adding sincerity to his next question: "You know I'm here for you, right?"
Maya gave a warm, appreciative smile. "I've never doubted it."
He was thinner. That was the first thought that came to Maya's mind as she stared at her brother through the transparent screen. All the shine in his eyes, that she had reveled in for the twenty years they had lived together, had vanished entirely. That glisten had been replaced with a cold void of sorrow, with dark times and the pains of isolation floating within. Duncan was broken. He had truly fallen apart.
Before even speaking, Maya reached out to the glass, as though it would disappear and allow her the ability to touch her brother reassuringly. But his sentence, she knew, would not permit them to have contact, fear of her possibly passing drugs to him or vice versa. The law did not account for the guilt and confusion inside of her, seeing Duncan bearing the recognizable orange suit, that (despite being bright) made him look pathetic and tired.
"Hey sis," he eventually offered, the lightest of smiles breaking through.
"Hey." Some relief swept over her just by hearing him speak. Maya took a seat on the provided stool, placing the phone more securely against her ear. His voice was almost inaudible, which probably didn't have to do with their restricted way of communicating.
"How've you been?"
Maya gulped silently. The last time she had visited her brother in prison, she had told him about Will, the "FBI agent" (she could not mention Hometown over a bugged phone) who stayed with her on occasion. They had not been dating at the time, nor had she given her brother an impression Will was anything more than a colleague. She had withheld this from him because Duncan knew what Hometown was. More than that, he was aware of the dangers of those involved. The night of their arrest, Maya had told him about the call she received from John Ellington, an out for not being convicted. She didn't have to tell him, though. Because he too had received the same call. Hometown could make his charges vanish, he had been promised. And in return they would only need him to perform a simple task.
"Don't do it, Maya," he had warned her that April night in jail, taking her hand and locking her petrified gaze. "I'm not, and you can't either. I know these kinds of people: they are like coyotes and lone-sharks. They have something on you, and they will take you for everything you have."
But she hadn't listened. Prison scared her too much. And more than that, with their parents having been killed in a drunk-driving accident ten months before, she could not afford to lose the family's bookstore. So she had agreed to the damnation, while her brother was carted away to jail to rot for ten years.
Knowing his feelings on Hometown, Maya was sure he would not be pleased to learn she had fallen in love with her contact, whom he considered to be, despite her objections, a spying bastard who didn't give a shit about what happened to Maya. So what was she to say to him?
"I'm doing okay." She had decided on the ride up to Hancock County she would have to relay the news gently. It surprised her how much she cared about her brother's response: it was not as though he chose who she could and couldn't date. She determined it had more to do with him being her only remaining family member. And she loved him, even though he had damned her to a life of lies; she cared so much about Duncan.
"Have you? The FBI not giving you any trouble?" The FBI, being Hometown, seemed Duncan's number one concern, staring her down with stony eyes that would not permit her to lie.
'Here it goes.' "Actually… no. In fact, the agent staying with me; you remember Will?" She knew very well he did, and it was confirmed by the instant tight movement of lips. "He came with me today."
Duncan's eyelids rose and his pupils dilated with unquestionable dislike. Leaning forward, he pressed, "Why did you bring him?"
"I didn't bring him. Will wanted to come."
When he made no effort to respond, a deep breath permitted her to continue: "Duncan, Will and I are together. I am… I am very much in love with him," her heart sailed at reciting this aloud. She had yet to say it to either herself or Will. "And I'm pretty sure he feels the same way. I know how you feel about the 'FBI', but I promise you he is not a bad man. He is wonderful, gentle and very caring."
The look he gave her immediately washed away any hope of persuasion. Duncan's brown locks fell over his forehead, his clenched fist working as a stool for his strong nose. She could hear him not breathing, and by not looking at her knew he was furious. He hadn't looked at her when she broke his fishing pole when they were nine. He wouldn't look at her after she had dropped his autographed Roberto Clemente baseball into their pond in the backyard. And he would not look at her now.
"What the hell are you doing, Maya?"
What made his statement tear at her heart was the anguish within his tone. He sounded as though he had lost his best friend.
"You don't know him- You can't say you know Will when you've never met him! Honestly, Duncan, he is a wonder-"
"Just because he's slept with you Maya doesn't mean he loves you."
"He hasn't-" Maya paused as her voice had become exceedingly loud. "We haven't slept together. You cannot judge him, and it's childish for you to not at least-"
"Let me talk to him."
At that the blond froze, temporarily forgetting he had once again interrupted her. "What?"
"Let me talk to him. You say he's a good guy," the tone of his voice still remained solemn, despite having seemingly decided to be optimistic, "I want to talk to him for myself."
It was a trap, something deep within Maya told her. Duncan never sways so easily.
'But maybe he has changed', a hopeful voice sprung. 'Let the two most important people in your life meet- they both care about you. Neither would do anything to upset you.'
"Okay," she responded lightly. "I'll go get him." Before turning, she took a second to send her brother a silent sibling-message. 'You are so important to me. Please just accept him.'
Will appeared surprised to see her, yet he was prepared to take her into his arms, assuming her brother had been so cruel as to refuse speaking with her. But shaking her head, Maya said quietly into his shoulder, "He wants to see you."
He held her at arm's length, clearly trying to read her reaction to Duncan's request. "I'm not sure that's a good idea. I know your brother's position on Hometown. He's wrong, but I doubt I can convince him of that."
Understanding him, Maya gave a half-hearted smile, raising her hand to his warm, unshaven cheek. "But… would you still talk to him?" She knew she sounded desperate, but truthfully she was. She wanted both men in her life, and couldn't imagine losing either.
He didn't hesitate. That was what made him so wonderful. He knew his restrictions, and he knew his weaknesses: saying no to her was one. "Sure." After placing a light kiss to her forehead, he disappeared around the corner (to Maya's hope, where Will and Duncan would call a truce on her behalf).
Eternity seemed to pass as Maya waited. Natural curiosity mixed with intangible fear slowed the hands of time to a pace more appropriate for molasses than an anxious girlfriend. But when the time did come- only a few moments later as it turned out- Maya knew immediately everything had gone wrong.
She heard the commotion; the sound of a screaming man followed a crash of something metal. The voice was recognizable, although Maya had never heard her brother raise his voice; yet the fury that echoed in his tone was undeniably his. It took several seconds for her heart to slow to normal pace, and by this time Will had returned. His face was completely calm, but he walked hurriedly and the fire in his eyes could have killed on contact. Without speaking, he placed on arm around Maya's waist, the other hand on her elbow, and practically pushed her out the door.
"Will-" He would not look at her as he placed her in the passenger's seat and slammed the door.
"Will, what happened?" He continued to ignore her, placing his entire focus on backing out of the parking space. Furiously forcing the car into drive, he spun the steering wheel and pressed his foot so hard on the brake Maya was sure the vehicle wasn't touching the ground. He didn't seem desperate, as though on the run; just extremely furious.
Once miles away from the jail, the blonde took a deep breath before asking again, "What was that about?"
Will ground his teeth before speaking in a tone an octave lower than normal: "It didn't work out."
Maya waited for him to give her more, but he wasn't volunteering anything else. "What did he say?"
"It doesn't matter. I shouldn't have let you come today."
"Doesn't matter? He's my brother, of course it's important. Now tell me!" At that, they were both surprised. Maya never yelled, especially not at Will. It made her feel very small when he would not answer, instead keeping his eyes trained on the road. The only sound came from tires rolling against the concrete, with the same constant pattern of a train on tracks.
"Maya," her name from his lips sounded prodigious, "he's not worth your time… or your compassion. I know he's your brother, but he does not treat you like his sister."
"How could you possibly know that from being with him only a few minutes?"
"He loves you to make you feel guilty. When in truth, you're nothing more to him than someone to blame his problems on. That's the kind of guy he is; the kind of guy I used to be. It's a line of fire where neither side wins… and I won't let you get hurt."
Maya was broken from her reverie at the hissing of her front door's screen. Will had returned home.
Slowly the bookkeeper sat up, but made no attempt to go and greet her boyfriend. As small a gesture as it was, she needed him to come to her, to show he was worried sick despite having left so suddenly. He surely knew she wanted to talk, and as always he would comfort her in the marvelous ways he knew how. So Maya remained on the edge of the bed, listening to him tip-toe through the dining room.
He must think I'm asleep, she reasoned after a passing minute.
Maya waited. She heard him shuffling in the kitchen, unable to determine what he was doing. Having memorized the creaks of her home's floorboards, Maya listened as Will stopped by the bottom of the stairs, toying with something that sounded heavy as it suddenly slammed against the wall. There was a pause of unnatural silence, intent on gathering even the slightest noise from somewhere within the house. It was then Maya realized something was wrong. No longer concerned with her own depression, she took time to compose herself before making way for the door. She heard Will's ascending footsteps, and turned the corner, knowing she would find herself immediately face-to-face with her boyfriend. "Will, you don't have to-"
She barely had a chance to breathe nonetheless scream before Maya felt a leather glove close over her mouth. She had only half a second to see that the man she'd addressed- a black cover over his entire head, a hat intended for cold weather- was not Will Traveler. Realization, on the other hand, took far longer to register, and by that time she was already being pushed through her doorway. Tripping over her assailant's scurrying feet, Maya was squashed onto the mattress, her pursuer knocking the wind out of her with his own body weight.
Out of instinct, she screamed first. And with that out of her system, Maya started struggling. Wriggling like a worm, she tried bucking her attacker off. But he had the benefit of stability: while he leaned over her, his feet still remained firmly on the carpet. The masked-man placed his forearm on her throat, pinning her down to free his right hand.
Maya's guess would have been a gun. So she was surprised (but hardly relieved) when he produced a small white syringe, recognizing the dripping liquid as heavy tranquilizer intent on repressing her. Watching his hand fall to her arm, Will's beautiful face suddenly flashed in Maya's mind. She saw the decisive flare in his eyes that worked as a barrier against the past; the firm curve of his jaw as he would stare her down with his "this is too dangerous" expression. She saw the glaze in his pursued lips as they would press against her cheekbone. She recalled those lips, drifting ever so slowly across her face with the light brush of a flower, coming to a close around her ear, placing warm kisses onto her lobe. Seeing her aggressor drop the needle to her skin, knowing she may never feel Will's tender touch again, a burst of inner strength set Maya's heart into drive. She would not lose this time; for once, she would be strong.
The girl delivered a sharp kick to her attacker's shin. His hand froze briefly as he lost balance on his left leg. Maya lifted her other knee to collide with his stomach, and was rewarded with a sibilate curse. Recalling at once her self-defense training with Will, Maya slipped her hand from underneath her back, slamming the heel of her palm full against the man's nose. And by throwing her alternate fist against his wrist, the bookkeeper successfully shoved off her attacker as well as sent the sedative sailing across the room.
But there was hardly time to revel in her success. Maya dashed for the doorway, making it full way around the corner and to the edge of the staircase before she was captured by her shoulders. She was whipped around, her fingers barely having missed catching the rail; where two hands caught and clenched her arms. The mask of her attacker had begun to grow red as blood spilled from his nose. Apparent by his wobbling head, he seemed to be having a hard time focusing. All but falling forward, he pushed her over the top stair.
His poor balance was what killed him.
For instead of toppling over and down the stairs, Maya was shoved at an angle, against the rail. The wood struck just below her scapula, forcing her neck to whip back. Her attacker, still with his hands on her arms, cried out as gravity sent him falling, completely unbalanced by his attempt to push her over. She was forced to fall with him, curling from the rail, her head slamming onto his chest when he hit the stair. There was a distinct crack, with the same sharp echo as a fast ball against an aluminum bat. Maya was in too much pain to brace herself, and her thoughts were so out of focus. She knew she was going to die as they sled down the seemingly endless staircase.
But it did end. Seconds later, followed by total silence. Everything had frozen, the ominous chill of death taking no time to ascend and conquer. The rolling thunder, still ringing, seemed to hover around the home like a moth. It fluttered, came crashing down, and then made itself undetectable once again.
The first thing Maya noticed was that she could breathe. She didn't dare open her eyes, knowing too well that if she did, she would awaken all her senses and feel the stab of pain that would take her soul from Earth. Shaky gasps escaped her lips, and swallowing seemed a fatal task, but she was still alive. Eventually unable to delay fate any longer, Maya slowly raised her eyelids.
The first agony that struck was in her back, where the weight of her and a two-hundred pound man had crushed into it. The second sting came in her arms, though at the moment she couldn't understand why. Her chest ached where her aggressor had so forcefully pressed into her, and she was sure- confirmed as she sat up- that her neck would punish her for being thrown around. That was the pain she felt; looking over herself, Maya was surprised (and thankful) to see no blood staining her clothes.
The same could not be said of her attacker.
He remained still, mask curled up so part of his neck was revealed, no oxygen passing through his open mouth. Crimson blood began spilling out the bottom of the hood, crawling over his collar in an ugly growing mass. Maya realized the fatal blow she had heard did not belong to her, but rather to the skull of her aggressor. She pictured a large split in his head, and then immediately wished she hadn't, falling to her elbows as nausea swept over her. God, why could she not be steady, at least for a second?
Refusing to stare at the body, Maya shut out the world to calm herself. Immediately, she found her thoughts drifting back to the day she visited Duncan, to Will's refusal to tell her about the argument, to his "If Onlys".
Oh, if only you had been here. If only it were you who would have to clean up this body. If only, my Will, this could stop happening to us.
If only it didn't feel like fate was trying to tell us something…
Note from Me: I wanted to give a shout out to Macex for being a terrific "beta". Thanks sweetie!
A heads up for this story's future: it'll probably cover the course of events over a few days. But very busy days for Will and Maya, I assure you. ;) Feedback is always appreciated; the good, the bad, but not the ugly. Toodloo, and keep on traveling!