She'd just gotten the key back out of the door when she heard his voice.

The keys dropped, clattering, to the faded linoleum, and she inhaled deeply. She hadn't realized she'd been holding her breath.

"You're late," she said.

The distance between them dissolved in a rush. Will's arms encircled her tightly and she sighed into his chest, sagging against the warmth of him. She noticed everything from the rumpled state of his clothes to the feel of his hand cradling her head to the way his cigarette smoke smell seemed nothing like stale ashtrays.

He sighed heavily, that old Will sound only now experienced with the feel of his chest warm against her cheek. Laughter sprang up in her and at the sound of it he hugged her tighter still, pulling her up off her feet.

With her feet off the ground again, less than an hour since Adam had set her so gently back down in his - now their - house, Maggie sobered suddenly.

Feeling her sudden tension, Will reluctantly released her. His own tension returned as she stepped back from him.

"Too late," she finished.

"Maggie..." Will held his hand out, palms turned up as though what he was trying to ask for could be placed there and held. He lapsed into silence and raked his fingers through his hair as he stared at the floor. After another moment, he looked back up at her and asked quietly, "Is it ever really too late?"

Stepping forward again, Maggie smoothed his hair back down with one careful hand. He reached to take her hand but she stepped away again, her expression sad but resolved as she met his eyes. "It's too late when you stop waiting."

Maggie picked up the keys she'd dropped and walked back out the door. Maybe there wasn't anything here she really needed after all.

Will watched her leave and then slumped into the armchair as if he'd been punched. He felt as if he'd been punched. He'd been so sure that if he just got here, just talked to her... What? That it was all some spell he could break? That this was a movie and some post-last-minute effort on his part could turn it all around and fix everything?

"I wasted it," he said aloud. "I wasted it all."

And for what? To spend nearly four years taking care of his father after the stroke? To care for a man who had made it clear he didn't want his son's help? To take on a tremendous amount of debt to care for and then to bury his father? To spend the two years since then working nearly every minute of the day to pay it all off?

Will looked around at the place where he'd only spent one night - the only place he'd ever really thought of as home.

"I wasted six years. Six goddamn years."

"I should have been here."