Maya

"Can you check if those new parts came in, Maya?" My manager asked.

I lifted my head and adjusted my cap. "Sure thing, Drew."

It's been a week since I started this job. It ain't much and the pay is definitely a human rights violation but it's better than nothing. (Plus, I get a discount on supplies so win-win. I guess.)

The hardware store was quiet. A few people came in, mostly ranchers who needed things for repair. They were wary of me at first but I kept my mouth shut and didn't ask any questions.

I thought I would see more cowboys. I guess that's on me since Steve and Bucky are the ones who introduced me to the spaghetti westerns.

Man, I would kill to watch MacKenna's Gold right now.

I pull my work gloves out of my back pocket and slip them on. I close my eyes and exhale slowly.

There are three people in the store. Me, my manager, and a farmer came by to pick up some tractor parts. That's good.

My manager, Drew, smiles when he notices me carrying a large box. "Need some help there?"

"Nah," I said, placing the box on the counter. "I'm stronger than I look."

"What did your mama feed you?" The farmer asked.

I grinned. "Tough love."

I helped the farmer place his spare parts in his old pickup truck. He thanked me, put on his wide-brimmed hat, and drove off. I walked back inside, slipping off my work gloves and stuffing them into my pocket.

Drew looked up at me as I walked back in. "I'm going to grab a bite to eat. You mind watching the store?"

I sat down behind the counter. "Not a problem, boss."

"Call me, Drew." He untied his apron and draped it over his chair. "Want anything?"

I waved my hand. "Nah, I'm good."

Drew grinned and grabbed his car keys. It was even more quiet now.

Small business in America was a dying art. I could understand the appeal of the city but I was starting to admire the country. I'm just waiting for the other shoe to drop.

The door chimes. I look up, half expecting Drew to forget his wallet.

Instead, I'm met with what essentially is a grisly bear in human form. He's dressed in black. Black hair, black shirt, and black cowboy boots. The only exception is his worn-out jeans.

Even his hair and eyes are dark.

I feel uneasy but push it away with a customer-friendly smile. "Good afternoon, how can I help?"

"Afternoon, darling. You got any burlap and rope lying around?"

I point down the aisle. "That way, on the left. Lucky for you, we ordered some extra."

He grinned though it didn't reach his eyes. "Much obliged."

It took him fifteen minutes to get what he wanted. He sees them down and pulls out a wad of cash from the pocket of his jeans.

He wanted burlap sacks and some rope, cool. Not my problem. The first rule of survival is don't ask stupid questions.

I ring them up. "Anything else?" I ask.

"No need for change. This is for you." He holds out a crisp 50-dollar bill. "You new here?"

Who am I to look a gift horse in the mouth? I've got four mouths to feed.

I quirk up my eyebrow. "That easy to read, huh?"

He shrugs. "You're definitely not from Montana. Student from Helena?"

"Nah. Just moved up here with my siblings," I said, putting the rope into a bag.

"You haven't been getting any trouble, have you?"

"Nah. The only trouble I get is from the kids."

He chuckled. "Well, shit. Clothes on their back, food on the table, and a roof over their head. Keeping them off the streets is better than nothing."

I ring up the man's supplies, careful to place them in the bag. "What about love?"

He scratched his beard, glancing out the window. "Well...that's on you."

—

The kids have gone to sleep. Well...almost.

I can hear Carlos in his room as he reads a book. He's a bit of a night owl, I'm not sure how he manages to wake up early or get through his homework. I guess at that age you have time for everything and nothing. My childhood memories are barely even there, I can only recall a few moments with my mother.

I'll have to apply for a library card so that he doesn't have to always go to the bookstore.

My laptop is open. Four files stare back at me, beckoning me closer. It feels so wrong but these might be the only way I can help these kids out.

Doc only scratched the surface but I knew that I had to go deeper.

Safia's files were a mess. More messed up than my own and that's saying something.

A washed-out model mother who jumped from one rich man to another, chaotic home life, running away at the age of thirteen only to be found by the police, multiple arrests and stints in juvenile detention for shoplifting.

Dr Franz had made detailed notes; of heightened anxiety, a tendency for high-risk behaviour and severe abandonment issues. Thankfully there was no mention of drug abuse, her lab results mentioned no trace of drugs in her system either. I leaned back in my chair, making a note to find a way to contact a therapist for her. Online therapy was all the rage these days.

Maybe I could find a way to establish two encryptions. Convincing her to attend the sessions would be another thing entirely. Safia warmed up to me like a dead deer carcass on the side of the road during winter.

I wish Mom was here. It sucked that I couldn't even contact her. I could really use her advice.

I take a sip of water and open Carlos's file. He was a different case altogether. Generalised Anxiety Disorders and PTSD, and possible depressive symptoms. He wrote high risk in his notes, underlying it in bold red. I glanced at his backpack which he always kept atop the coffee table in the tiny living room.

I can't even begin to imagine his life rife with crime and instability, the only thing that was genuinely good in his life was his mother but even S.H.I.E.L.D. can't locate her.

He still wrote her fucking letters; telling her about school or the new books he read. He was only twelve! It wasn't fair.

Annette's file was better than the rest except for the fact that she lived with an aging grandmother in the German countryside. No wonder she did most of the chores by herself, the kid practically raised herself while her ageing grandmother withered away. Dr Franz wrote in her notes that she seems skittish, possibly wary of adult figures and responds well to praise.

She always cleaned her room, did her chores, and informed me of everything that happened during school. Anytime I would smile or pet her head, she would beam like I had given a Willy Wonka Chocolate Bar.

I felt a little nauseous as I replayed the moments in my head, my heart breaking bit by bit.

I hesitated to open Rayan's file, a part of me tempted to check it into the fireplace. I took a deep breath and flipped it open. His file was a little similar to Annette's except for the fact that he had ADHD and had a tendency to act out. Dr Franz wrote 'enjoys talking a lot, almost nonstop.' I chuckled as I read that part.

Rayan was a good kid, perhaps a bit too mischievous. He liked playing pranks on Carlos and Annette, mostly because they didn't retaliate. Safia once threatened to hang him upside down from a tree if he tried to put whipped cream in her hair.

I swallowed hard, fighting back the emotions inside.

They were all just kids.

They didn't deserve this.

Kids are supposed to be with their parents, go to school, make friends, and play with toys. They shouldn't be torn away from their homes and brainwashed into bioweapons by a mad man.

Fuck Raza! Fuck the Anwar clan! Fuck it all!

I pressed the heels of my palms against my eyes, feeling the wetness pool against them. I promised myself that I wouldn't cry, that o had to be strong for the kids. Guess I'm good at breaking promises too.

"Maya?"

I freeze and pull my hands away from my face. Rayan stands at the foot of the stairs, dressed in his PJs with his hair all ruffled up. I stand up from the kitchen table and push the files behind me. I force a smile onto my face but I'm fooling nobody here.

"Shouldn't you be asleep, kiddo?" I ask, glancing at the clock on the wall.

He scratches his neck, glancing at the refrigerator. "I couldn't sleep. I got hungry."

I should probably just make him a snack and make sure he goes back to bed. Instead, I hold out my hand. Rayan flew over, his little feet hovering across the floor as he wrapped his small arms around my waist. He pressed his cheek against my stomach. I freeze for a moment but scoop him up into my arms and sit back down in the kitchen chair.

It feels natural to hold him like this.

Rayan rests his head against my shoulder. "Claire used to hug me like this when I felt sad."

Something flutters in my chest. "Who's Claire?" I ask.

"My nanny," he said. "She found out I had powers. It was our secret."

I place my chin atop his head. He's trying to comfort me. "What happened to her?"

He shifts in my lap, pulling away to look at me. There's too much sadness in his dark eyes. "I don't know. I miss her a lot. Do you think she misses me too?"

I ruffle his hair. "I'm sure thinks about you every single day."

He glances down at his hands. "I'm hungry," he says.

I glance at the clock again. It's almost 2 am. Sugar is definitely out of the question.

"Want some popcorn?" I suggest.

He perks up, and his eyes sparkle. "Caramel popcorn."

I sigh, knowing that I've just lost to a 7-year-old and his puppy dog eyes. Maybe that's his superpower this whole time. "Fine. Caramel popcorn and then off to bed with you."

"Yes!"

"But you have to brush your teeth!"

"Do I have to brush my teeth?"

"Yes, kiddo," I said. "You do."

—

A/N: A little cameo from one of my favourite shows. It's based in Montana. Comment if you know who it is. 😉

Also, if you haven't watched MacKenna's Gold, you're missing out an a lot of meme worthy stuff.