Chapter Text
--November 1987--
Max found herself in an unfortunately familiar place: in front of a tombstone. She still couldn’t see very well, only blurry shapes and light. She traced her hands through the engraved letters. She had hoped she would never have to come back here.
Not like this.
They had buried him in late May, while she was in her coma.
Tears pricked at her eyes.
He had left her a letter. She hadn't even gotten to go to his funeral, but he left her a letter she couldn’t read. Lucas had to read it to her. That made it even worse. His last words to her and they weren’t even private. Those words belonged to her. He wrote them for her and she couldn’t even read them herself.
She wasn’t sure if it would have hurt more or less than hearing Lucas read it. He sounded like he did the night she died. Choked and sobbing. Broken. Though that was two weeks ago, she could still hear it.
…
Max was in the hospital bed. She asked where he was. Joked that he must have some special grudge with her to not visit his newly awakened friend (sister). The silence was deafening and all she needed to figure it out. Everyone but Lucas left the room as she sobbed.
She wondered if any of them were surprised at how much she cared. Wondered if he had told anyone about how close they had grown. Wondered if any of them still thought they hated each other.
When her sobs had slowed to hiccups, Lucas began to tell her what had happened. He didn’t need to, though. She already knew.
Max hated the quarry.
The quarry took him from her. Like it had any right to do so.
She should have been there. She should have been there. Should have found a different way, tried to contact him more and tell him to stay in California until they found a different victim to follow. She should have been there. She left him. This was her fault.
Tears carved into her irritated cheeks.
“He left you a letter,” Lucas said, “I–I can read it for you if you want?”
With a deep breath she nodded. She wasn’t sure she was ready, but she didn’t want to push it off. It felt disrespectful to him.
She nearly regretted agreeing as Lucas cried through the letter, her hand clasped in his.
Dear Max,
I know you’re already probably finding ways to blame yourself for this, but I promise you this was in no way your fault. Nothing you did or didn’t do caused this. I did. Me.
You actually kept me here. Long past my expiration date.
That day you found me at the quarry, I wasn’t planning on going back home. Or anywhere else, really. I was planning to jump again, this time with no one to save me. Yet somehow you did. Without super powers or forcing me back. You just sat with me. You just talked with me. You made me a deal.
I tried to keep it, I’m sorry. I really did.
I miss you so much, Max. Please don’t do anything stupid when you wake up. That’d make you like me, and we both know you’d never dare be caught acting more like me.
Please wake up. Everyone needs you. I saw the party without you, and as against you joining as I was, the party needs you. They’ll need you especially after I’m gone.
They need someone to boss them around, and I can’t think of someone better than you to take on that role.
I’m sorry. I miss you. And I love you.
Your makeshift brother,
Mike
…
“Why,” She choked out, “Why would you leave me like this? I never got to–I never got to say goodbye–” She sobbed, resting her head against the cool stone. She could hear her tears hitting the grass beneath her. “I hate you–I hate you for this. I–I’ll never forgive you. We had a deal. You broke the deal. You weren’t supposed to–” A dreadful sound burst from her mouth.
She stayed there for a while, letting her breathing calm down. She began tracing her fingers over his name again.
MICHAEL JAMES WHEELER
1971-1987
“The world is burning,” She whispered, recalling that note so long ago, “Or maybe it’s just me.” She shuddered with a deep breath. “I miss you. Your makeshift sister misses you. And I love you too.” She sighed. “I’m sorry. Goodbye, Mike.”
She called over for Lucas, who had given her space to grieve. He helped her into her wheelchair and they left the cemetery.
Back near the tombstone, a white rose sat next to an empty melatonin bottle.
(“An inside joke,” she had told Lucas when he asked. Mike would find it funny, anyway. Or he would get pissed off, which Max would find funny.)