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The last yellow hues of sunlight seeped through a window that had been left cracked open for ventilation. He liked the city well enough, but Sam hated the humidity the summer days brought. And with a busted AC unit perched crookedly in a wall adjacent to his bunk, no Geek to call- as they were working with the mayor to better fortify the city after what happened last month and wouldn’t be back for another week- and a lack of working fans, a cracked window was as good as it was going to get.
Sam was sitting at a desk near the AC unit, organizing the papers that laid sprawled out across its surface. The desk was a mix of fines, newspaper clippings and reminders he had left himself on sticky notes. He hadn’t tended to his desk in quite some time. The commissioner had been sending much crazier cases as of late, which kept them out of the office for whole days leading them to get put up in hotels. There was so much filing to do in the main office alone that Sam was usually too tired to do much of anything outside sleeping whenever he came to the bedroom. As much as he hated to admit it, he’d become quite the procrastinator and all of the adventuring only seemed to worsen it.
With the sky turning a deep dark blue, Sam had set the fines in a drawer to deal with later and had turned on a lamp and read some of the newspaper clippings. He couldn’t just toss them all out; there might have been a juicy picture of him and Max nabbing a crook. There were a few passages covering some of their more domestic adventures. A guy stealing doll purses. A jackalope hinged on controlling every computer in the world to play country music nonstop. An army of koi fish at war with an army of goldfish that threatened the sea ecosystem. All rather tame cases neatly filed away. Article after article was placed in a drawer for safe keeping.
The smile on the canine’s face soon dropped as he picked up the last clipping and read the title. Seven Sleepless Nights Finally Pass.
“Title could use work...” he thought as his eyes drifted down to the picture that had been submitted to go along with the article. The photo depicted his old partner in a demonic form towering over the city and a small version of himself waving to him.
…
Why? That was the word that bounced off the walls of Sam’s mind as he tightened his grip on the clipping.
Why did they pick that picture? Why couldn’t it have been a different image? Why did they take the picture on his bad side? Why…
Why did he feel bad about it?
He and Max saved the city that night, but…
Sam rubbed the back of his neck and stood up, walking towards the nightstand next to his bunk. He stared at a picture frame that rested against the lamp. It was a picture of him and his partner aiming their guns into the distance while looking at each other. It wasn’t anything special really, but it was one of the last pictures he took with Max.
That Max.
His Max.
His Max…was gone.
With a shaky sigh, he sat on his bunk and looked at the clipping. His vision became clouded as his eyes welled up with tears, tears he refused to spill. A low growl escaped his lips as he crumbled up the paper and threw it towards the door. His breathing became shaky as he placed his head in his hands.
He shouldn’t feel this way. At least…at least he had a-
“Sam?”
The voice of the lagomorph sent him jolting straight up, quickly wiping his face of any stray tears.
“Sweet Ben Franklin’s ill-advised kite doing the butterfly in steaming magma at the pearly gates! You startled me, Max…”
In his frenzy, he hadn’t noticed that Max was holding the newly uncrumbled newspaper clipping. Max had a slightly concerned expression on his face, a rare sight in all their years being together.
“Took a break from cleaning the ol’ desk. You wouldn’t believe the number of fines we’ve got. We could probably shred ‘em and make a horde of pinatas, maybe even fill them with-”
“Me?” Max interjected.
“Well, we could probably squeeze you into 2, tops. Three would be pu-”
“No, I mean…was this,” he flipped the clipping around and pointed at the towering creature in the photo “me?”
Sam swallowed but his throat was dry. His heart fell to the bottom of his stomach. ‘Yes’ felt like an awkward reply to make, but he didn’t know where to go from there. Why, oh why had he kept that clipping in the first place? He hated thinking about him and Max’s final night together. He hated how empty he felt back then. And he most certainly hated how every time he spoke to this Max, he thought about the one he lost. He just wanted things to go back to normal.
He wished there was a normal.
Hearing the crinkling of paper, Sam was ripped from his downward spiral and was greeted by Max tightening his grip on the clipping and pulling out a fedora from…well-
“Where were you keeping that?”
“I think you should know by now that that’s none of your damn business.” Max rolled his eyes. “It was Sam’s.”
Sam’s eyes widened as they drifted from Max to the oh so familiar hat. Stains and scratches decorated the rim, but nonetheless, it was identical to his own.
“Had to save something of his..” Max put the fedora away and, for a split second, Sam could’ve swore he saw his lip quiver.
“Why don’t we grab a bite to eat before this gets too depressing, huh?”
Before Sam could respond, the lagomorph was turning to head out the door. He suddenly stopped and turned back.
“Silly me!” He handed Sam the crumpled newspaper clipping.
Before he could pull away, Sam pulled Max into a tight embrace, lifting him off the ground. Lip quivering once more, Max patted Sam’s arm gently. After a few seconds, Max cleared his throat.
“You wanna do Stinky’s?”
“Was actually thinking of that new Italian joint a few blocks past there.” Sam responded, setting Max down and placing the paper on the nightstand.
They walked out of the bedroom and Sam flipped the lightswitch, immersing the empty room in darkness. A gentle breeze came through the cracked window, relieving the room of the warm, sappy atmosphere.
Max couldn’t understand why it was so hard for him to fall asleep. Sam could fall asleep at the drop of a hat, at least recently he had. Meanwhile, he woke frequently throughout the night most of the time. He had been fiddling with the corner of his pillow when he heard a sound.
A whimper.
He peered down over the railing to the bottom bunk to see his partner tangled in sheets. His brow was furrowed and he kept kicking at the air. Max let out a low sigh and made his descent down the grappling hook rope he used to get up to his bunk. His feet were light on the floor as he landed, staring at his partner’s face. Rolling his eyes, he went to work untangling the sheets from around Sam’s body, only getting kicked square in the face once. Once he was done, he climbed on top of Sam’s chest and pulled the covers over both of them.
“Numpty…” he said as he drifted off to sleep with a grin on his face, rising and falling with the movements of Sam’s chest.
And for the first night since they united, the two freelance officers slept peacefully with one another. The beginning of something new, yet very familiar, lay just ahead.