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.

Comments

[controlthefear]

He polished off his dinner. He'd never feel right about leaving good food uneaten on his plate. Waste not, want not. Jack's world was one of excess, but Forrest would live like a poor man, until the day he died.

And while the food was adequate, and the pie was suitably sweet, he hardly noticed. Maggie was, as she'd been for a good long while now, the soul keeper of his attention. Which was why he noticed her reaction, first. The tension in her shoulders, the faint line between her brows.

And then he heard it. His own body tensed, bristling like a threatened animal. Slowly, he sat back in his chair, his eyes narrowed as the manager cut out on them, like a goddamn coward.

"Hm," Forrest grunted, rising to his feet. He shook his head slowly, holding out a hand to motion for Maggie to stay put. He edged toward the window, his hand sliding into the pocket of his cardigan.

Outside, it was gray. Visibility was for shit.

"That boss of yours didn't mention this, hm?"

[watchyoulive]

She's still standing by the table they'd been at - it'd been pure reaction that when Forrest had held up a hand she'd stopped where she was. No thought went into it, although she's certain that she'd have done the same.

It's only when he moved to the window that she took a step, then another - still back, still staying out of the way and behind him, but she's thinking about the gun that the manager keeps under the cash register. "No. He didn't mention anything like this," she says first, and then she moves - still back from the windows, but it's to get the gun and her day's pay from the till, because damned if she's going to leave it here when she's got no idea what's going on.

The ash is falling thick and heavy, and--

"Oh, God," she breathes the words, barely audible as she moves closer to the windows. "Do you hear it?" That's louder, to Forrest instead of to herself. Someone outside is screaming; she can hear it in her bones. She thinks it's a man, but she can just hear him screaming, and her brows furrow as she presses her fingers to her mouth to stop herself from making a sound.

She's heard a man scream like that, once or twice in her life, and she wishes she could forget it.