in the beginning

[watchyoulive]

It's a simple conversation at the hospital. She comes to tell him that she's leaving; it's not that he owes her a goodbye or that she wanted him to make her stay. Honestly, it's that she wants to see him alive after everything that happened. Too much blood; it still stained her shirt, but she'd never wear those clothes again anyhow.

They were wadded up in the trashcan at the boardinghouse, the rest of her clothes neatly in her suitcase. She's not sure where she's going to go now - there were some rooms for rent Atlanta. The world seemed to be getting smaller and smaller since the automobiles were getting more popular, but she figured that Georgia should be far enough. No one would know her - not the deputy, not the Bonderants, and especially not anyone from Chicago.

So she saw him. Still alive, still too pale but she wasn't particularly picky. What she hadn't expected-- well. Honestly Maggie didn't expect much when it came to Forrest - not that she didn't hold him in high regard, but it was more that she never actually knew what he would say when he actually opened his mouth.

That she should stay at the station - that he wanted to keep her safe-- it made her hesitate.

And then for some reason, she said yes.

Her steps from the hospital were sure even though she had a hundred questions if she had one, and her brows furrowed as she hesitated, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it, her hands cupped to block the wind, her suitcase by her T-strap heels.

When she looked up from lighting her cigarette, she nearly screamed.

Gone were the green trees and breeze. Gone was everything she'd known, and now she stood in a hallway that was completely unfamiliar, with electric lights along the ceiling. She'd not seen waste like that since she'd left Chicago, and she bent to pick up her bag, frozen like a deer because she was so overwhelmed.

"Hey, get out of the way!" She stepped back from the young woman who was carrying a basket full of clothes, but she couldn't not stare, given that she was barely wearing any clothing. Still, Maggie did what she could; she stopped her. She got information. She got her envelope, her apartment-- she'd appeared right in front of the door. Fumbling with her key, she squinted as she tried to get the unfamiliar key in the keyhole, her mind awhirl. She hadn't realised that while she'd appeared in front of her apartment, the one across the hall? It was rented out some three weeks ago by one James Forrest Bondarant.

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[controlthefear]

The goddamn telephone wouldn't stop its ringing. Wrong numbers, solicitation, various minor annoyances. After the fourth call, Forrest Bondurant had started dolling out death threats. In the end, that made him feel marginally better, even though he'd judged the new, modern world and found it wanting. People were scarce, a good number of the apartments in his building standing empty, which was more than fine by him. But they were all a bunch of busybodies, and he was sure he'd never get used to living in such tight quarters with a bunch of damn strangers.

He spent his whole life on Bondurant land, surrounded by kin, and he'd planned on dying that way. The change had been more than a little inconvenient.

Sack of garbage in hand, Forrest shuffled out of his apartment, muttering unintelligibly under his breath. When he saw her, all done up in red, well. Who could've blamed him for thinking she was nothing but an apparition?

But she was as solid as he was, her keys jangling. He could hear the rustle of her velvet dress.

"Maggie? Aw, hell. Maggie?" He took a step into the hallway, leaving his door wide open. There wasn't a damn thing worth stealing in there, anyhow. "Whatchu doin' there?"

[watchyoulive]

She dropped her keys.

You can't blame her for being jumpy; the bruises were still dark under the long, tight sleeves of her dress, dusting her shoulders and in other places. She hadn't forgotten it yet, and when you add in the thing she didn't understand... Honestly, it was overwhelming.

She'd manage.

It was Forrest's voice, though - and not weak and rough the way it'd been only two hours before, for her. "Forrest?" Clearly confused, she stared at him, her eyes flicking from his face to his throat and the dark line across it told her enough.

Sort of.

"How did you heal so fast?" It's a non-sequitor, and she left her suitcase by her door as well as her keys, and takes the two steps across the hall to look closer even though she's still planning not to touch it or him, for that matter.

There's a hundred questions, but the first one - the most important, it's just how was he not in a hospital bed the way she'd left him.

[controlthefear]

She came at him and he stood his ground, despite never feeling steady on his feet with her around.

"Well, I, uh," he muttered, garbled, touching at the still angry line, that jagged smile, cutting across his throat. "It ain't been quick, Maggie."

He kept saying her damn name. He couldn't seem to stop himself.

"Hm," he huffed, his weight shifting. "I've been here going on three weeks now."

He'd taken the stitches out himself, squinting into his bathroom mirror and snipping at them with a pair of nail scissors.

[watchyoulive]

"Three weeks." Staring at him, her face twists for a moment into something pained and unpleasant that he's not seen before. It's not planned, and it surprises her enough that the only thing she can do is look away for a moment. Somehow the fact that he's been able to get away from the past week rubs her wrong, like when you pet a cat backwards. It's an odd feeling, and not one that she particularly cares for.

"Well, then." Swallowing hard, she looks back at her things, then to him again. "It's good and lucky that we're neighbors then, isn't it." It's not the flurry of words that come to her mind, it's just that it's good to be living next door to him. Across the hall.

[controlthefear]

"Hm." He frowned, helpless as he watched something raw and unnameable wrench across her face. At the Station, she'd settled in quietly, and after not but a day or two, they'd settled into a quiet routine of their own. In the three weeks since he'd left her there, he'd done little else but worry about her well-being. He'd damn near paced a trench in his living-room floor.

Now, in her red dress, with her suitcase, she seemed a world away from him. He wanted, desperately, to comfort her, but he didn't have the first idea how, or even what he would've been comforting her for.

"Lucky, hm. Yep," he croaked, hands in the pockets of his loose-fitting cardigan. He'd dropped his trash bag by the door, and hadn't even noticed.

[watchyoulive]

She'd gotten herself pulled back together well enough to manage, and she found herself nodding when he'd agreed at their luck. "So you've been here three weeks? Is it what they say?" She didn't expect him to volunteer the information, but she knew if she asked, he'd likely have an opinion.

"Everything seems so strange." That summed it up - both the place, the cars, the people-- all of it seemed absolutely foreign to her. Even just the key and the way it fit into the lock was a mystery, and she never thought she'd be confused by something so simple.

[controlthefear]

"Ah, yeah," he nodded, shuffling another step closer to her. He'd heard talk of folks being drawn to one another, foolish notions of romance that he'd never put much stock in, but he always found himself gravitating toward her. At the station, he seemed to always know where she was, even when they weren't in the same room. Her presence tugged at his mind, always there in the periphery. It was a distraction he ought to have put an end to, but more and more, he'd come to realize that he could no longer navigate his life comfortably without her in it.

"I don't mean to scare you, Maggie, but this place? It don't get any clearer. Strange is where we're gonna be livin' for some time. We best get used to it."

[watchyoulive]

When Forrest steps closer, she doesn't step back. Forrest is the one man she doesn't see herself ever wanting to back away from, and it was a surprise to find that after what she'd left in Chicago. Honestly, she'd written off anything of the sort, looking instead for somewhere she could do good work and keep her head down to stay out of the public.

Forrest was different than most people, and definitely wasn't part of the 'public'.

"Well then," she said after a long moment of staring up at him, "I suppose that means that I'll need to find a job." She's always been practical, almost to a fault. It'd served her well what to her was two nights ago - getting him to the hospital, getting herself home, but now it was near to the only thing she had to fall back on.

[controlthefear]

"Makes two of us," Forrest grumbled. He was a man who despised being idle, but he'd yet to find his footing, in a world where he felt so damn out of place.

More than anything, he wanted to be back at the station. The rest of it, he could've done without. But having her behind his counter, pouring the coffee, was what he'd missed the most, over the last weeks.

"I should." He frowned, his gaze dropping away from her face. He turned and picked up his fallen trashbag. "Just gonna." He gestured down the hall, toward the stairwell. The cans were on the first floor. "You go on, get inside, now."

[watchyoulive]

When Forrest abruptly turns away, she's surprisingly not offended. Honestly, if she hadn't known him for as long as she had, it would seem insulting but she thought she likely understood him well enough by now. The conversation's done, and he's got things to do.

"If you need anything, all you have to do is knock." She knows he likely won't - he's not ever been the sort of person who troubles others for their time when it's not for dire reasons, or to start a conversation. Still, the invitation's there because she honestly does want him to take it.

Licking he lips, she continues. "And Forrest... I"m glad you're here." The words are soft but said with conviction because it'd been so close to him not making it through. She'd honestly thought that she'd watch him die, what with blood seeping from his throat once she'd gotten him to her car. She understood it now - he was too stubborn to die, and honestly she was thankful. That add to it that here's actually here?

He would have been the one regret she'd have about moving to Atlanta. It's a gift, and one she's not planning to squander.

She stoops to pick up her keys, and while it's still a struggle with the new way they apparently make locks, she finally gets the door open. Picking up her suitcase to let herself inside, she hesitates, even though he's already started down the hall. "Good night, Forrest."