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Chapter Text

Max paced the floor like he had Billy’s superspeed. He hadn’t changed out of his mission suit yet - his boots were scuffing the hospital tiles, but he hadn’t noticed. He wasn’t looking. He hadn’t let himself look down since he noticed a spot of her blood on his laces ten minutes earlier. 

It had been two hours. Two hours . How long was this going to take! His lungs tightened; he sank into a chair, shuffling on his cape for a minute as his back hit the cold wooden-back of the bench in the hall. He was up and pacing again before he let the breath out.

“Max!” A flash of silver light caught his attention; he snapped his head towards it, hoping it was one of her surgeons. “Max, oh, my baby. Come here, honey.”

Not a surgeon, but Barb sprung forwards, arm locked around his shoulders. Her son towered over her, had done years now, but when it came to Barb Thunderman’s children, in her eyes, they’d be preschoolers as long as she was still alive. And for once in his life, Max sunk into it. He clung to her, hand reaching up to fist her cardigan at her back; his eyes stung, pulling tears from a lump in his throat, but he refused to let it out in front of the little sister who was watching all this next to their Dad.

“Chloe teleported us,” Hank’s hand found his youngest’s shoulders, “She told us everything”. But Chloe’s eyes were directly on her big brother. Those wide, wet little-sister eyes that broke him on the best of days. She wasn’t even on the mission - she had a test when the alert went off and Phoebe made her sit it through. Max had only called her when she had -

“Max?” Chloe swallowed fear, watching him for answers as Max stepped back from Barb. He scrunched his eyes to calm himself down and remembered he had his mask on - that was good. If he did cry, Chloe wouldn’t see. “Max, is Phoebe okay?”

And all he could do was shrug. “She’s been in surgery since we got to Metroburg. I haven’t had an update in a while.”

A blur caught him off guard. The doors to the waiting room flapped open with an invisible force, and before Max could blink, the blur unravelled to a stop, pulling apart to become Billy and Nora. Billy’s chest heaved, Nora looking between their parents and then at Max expectantly. Two-for-two on the little-sister eyes, so Max looked anywhere but up. He saw the blood on his shoe again.

“What happened ?” Nora demanded. “We came as soon as could.”

“It was -” he tried to speak; his voice went dry. “She didn’t…” he had to sit down again; flashing images burning into his mind. He couldn’t stop seeing it, stop hearing it. 

“Take your time, honey.” Barb perched on the chair next to him, fingers wrapping around his hand. Max caught the way she and Hank looked at each other, and pulled his hand back to himself. He couldn’t bear the sympathy. Not for him, not now.

“It was a freak accident,” he managed, “We were on a routine mission…”

***

“I’m clocking him on the roof, Max. What’s your 20?”

“Huh? We’re 26, Pheebs.”

“It means “where are you”, you dufus! Ugh, learn the codes.”

“Here’s a code for you: I-C-U.”

“I’m not familiar, is that one new?”

“Yeah, it means I see you . Look up!” Phoebe jerked her head up at the factory in front of her as she stood, feet planted on the concrete. The building itself was dark, the cover of night aiding the mission, but she shielded her eyes from a nearby lamp post to adjust to Max’s instruction. Several windows were boarded up, towering up four floors to a flat roof where the generator whirred. The door in front of her swung open, hinges squeaking. 

Max waved from a hole on the second floor where a window had clearly seen better days. The frame cracked, the only evidence there had ever been glass there at all was a collection of abandoned shards on the ground where it had long since smashed. 

“Found the stairs,” he grinned. “Told you I’m better at recon.” 

Phoebe shook her head, glaring. “Just TK me up to you so we can catch the bad guy already!” 

No sooner had Max extended an arm, Phoebe was floating through the air. She groaned as he started talking, “Goobers and Gentlemen, please keep your arms and Pheebs inside the carriage, during your first class flight to Awesome-brothers-ville.”

“You’re a jerk,” she landed smoothly. 

“Thank you!”

“And you need to work on your stability, I was leaning a little to the left.”

Max blinked, hands adjusting his hair as he ignored her, “You were saying about the bad guy?”

“The roof,” she chose to let it go for the sake of peace. “Come on, if we’re quick, we can still catch him.”

They were quiet on their way up the stairs. Thunderford had alerted them midafternoon on their watches - it was after dark now, they’d been chasing this guy for at least four hours. 

His name is Fuse , Thunderford had explained. The Mastermind’s latest attempt to destroy Secret Shores. Fuse can redirect pulses of energy into whatever he desires. He’s breaking into generators in abandoned buildings, and he’s going to build up enough energy to blackout the power across the whole of Secret Shores, and use it to take over the town!

Phoebe and Max hadn’t hesitated. Chloe had been upset - she always was when she was sidelined - but Phoebe was up at night more than she’d like worrying about her little sister’s schooling. This was just a routine take-down, and she would feel better if Chloe left today knowing more about Pythagoras than fist-fights. 

So now, here the Thundertwins were, sneaking onto the roof to catch their latest target off-guard. Stars blinked above them, in the distance, the ocean rolled; a car honked in an evening rush to get home.

And there he was - unmistakably: Fuse. A leather jacket, jeans, a golden mask eclipsing his face, and a bulky, sparking glove to match.

“That must be his transference glove,” Max hissed as they dropped down side-by-side behind the generator. Fuse was crouched on top of it, too focused on hot-wiring it to notice he had company.

Phoebe nodded, “He can’t use his powers without it. We get that glove, we’re home in time for dinner. How do you want to play this?”

“Well, unless you spent four years studying villainous gadgets and think you can stop the generator after he’s set it off, I vote I do the science, you be bait.”

“Bait?” Phoebe scoffed, “Max, I was a Straight-A student, I think I can handle a little generator power.”

But it clunked to life before either twin could fight another sentence. Fuse cackled, rising into standing as the lights blinked on one by one; Max and Phoebe flinched as the giant fan began whirring. 

“Never mind - that’s all you,” Phoebe squeaked, running from the generator. “Bait it is.”

In a second, Phoebe skidded to a halt in the centre of the roof. Her stance widened, the fan of the generator billowing her cape. 

“Hey Thomas Eddison! Lightbulb moment,” she smirked, clicking her fingers with theatrical flare, “You’re going down.”

“Dork,” Max mumbled, but Phoebe was already stuck in. 

The roof itself was wide, flat, plenty of space for Phoebe to meet her enemy. A boundary stood at knee-height around the edge, marking the difference between fighting ground and a four-story drop. 

Fuse was on her in no time at all. He flipped from the generator, throwing the first punch; she caught his fist and kicked back with ease. 

“So you’re the superhero the Mastermind warned me about?” Fuse snarled, blasting a ray of energy from his glove. It tangled with Phoebe’s freeze-breath but thawed it to nothing. She bent backwards as it pulsed over her - dang . He wasn’t just some guy in a mask.

“What’s it to you?” she flipped, ducked, tossed a pulse of energy with her telekinesis.

“Where’s your partner?”

“Oh, he didn’t have the energy ,” she smirked, eyes flicking to Max’s crouch over the generator that Fuse hadn’t yet noticed; her heat-breath sparked Fuse’s glove. 

“Funny thing…” Fuse’s voice just darkened, “Not a problem I’m familiar with.” The spark on his glove just fed back into it, and before she could react, the pulse doubled in size. Her throat burned as it fed her heat-breath back to her like a boomerang. She felt something blister, coughing through a searing pain.

Just like that, Fuse had the upper hand. The pain distracted her for a microsecond, but Fuse was already half-way through his next move. Phoebe’s hand was nursing her throat when his boot slammed her stomach. She rolled back, spine colliding with the boundary at the edge of the roof. Her head swam with the thunk her skull made against the brick.

“ Hey !” 

Max leapt off the generator, swiping his telekinesis through the air until Fuse was knocked backwards. He was between them in seconds, the generator slowing to a stop with the device Max had left running by the fan. 

He pulled Phoebe to her feet, steadying her. They had seconds, Fuse was scrambling to his feet. “You good?”

“Voice…” she croaked, coughing, but nodded. “My -” but she winced, breathing hard. The pain in her eyes switched to alarm as she stared at her brother.

“It’s okay,” he tried, “Don’t try to talk, we got this. We’ll figure it out.”

“Figure this .” Fuse was back on them like a shot. Max read Phoebe’s plan without her needing to speak - with one look, they were ready.

Max somersaulted to Fuse, snapping his hands around the gold metal of the glove just as a pulse shot out in their direction. Phoebe flipped away, launching the energy telekinetically away…

Directly into the generator. A shuddering vibration, and it sparked back to life.

“Yes” Fuse roared, “You fools are no match for me - you’re weak !”

Max launched towards the generator on instinct. His device was still combatting the now growing levels of energy in the generator - if he could get to it in time, they could still stop it! He climbed the mesh of the generator’s cage in a second, grunting against the sheer strength of it. Wind from the fan made his arms tremble, fingers numbing with its strength, but he pushed, forced himself closer and finally found his device. 

The recalibration took a second, aiming it took a couple more. Then all he had to do was adjust the dial and Max sighed - the sweet, sweet sound of his inventions being more powerful than second-rate villains. For the second time that night, the generator obediently drained into quiet.

But a strangling cry caught his attention in the quiet. The force of the generator had eclipsed any other sound, but now Max’s heart dropped.

He turned, watching in slow motion as Fuse’s glove shot a beacon of energy directly at Phoebe’s chest. It ricochetted into the navy of her supersuit with such force that even Fuse staggered back. 

And Phoebe couldn’t even scream. Fuse had already crushed her voice, the only thing that escaped her now was a hiss, a terrified gargle that made his stomach churn. 

She slipped, tried to right herself, but fell back so hard that the boundary of the roof caught against her legs. Max’s whole body moved on instinct.

“No!”

His legs pumped with adrenaline to reach her in time, arms stretching out, swiping thin air as he missed her by a millimetre. She flipped backwards over the edge, cape tangling in her limbs as she disappeared from view. 

“ Phoebe !” His chest slammed on the edge as he looked down from the roof, arms suspended as his telekinesis caught her midair. She sprawled, swung a little with the force of his powers - he grunted, strained, but for a second, Max caught her. 

“That’s the funny thing about fuses.” Max didn’t register the footsteps at his side until it was too late. Fuse grinned, “...They can make the lights go out”.

The glove sparked a final time, and Max lost his hold. His telekinesis slipped…

And Phoebe crashed. She spun like a ragdoll until she cracked into the concrete with a force that tore through Max like lightning. She lay unmoving, silhouetted, limbs tangled. Fuse’s laugh echoed in the distance.

***

“Phoebe!” Max thundered down the stairs, stumbling through onto the ground with blind panic. Fuse had gone. He hadn’t even tried to catch him - Max didn’t care.

He skidded beside her, concrete grazing his knees through his suit. “No, no, no, no. Phoebe, Pheebs .” Her hair matted to her face in sweat and something darker. Her eyes were closed, skin clammy, pale.

Max shook her shoulder, turning her onto her back - nothing. Panic slammed his voice, “Wake up, Pheebs, c’mon. Rise and shine! Time to make fun of me for dropping you!” 

He leant his ear to her mouth, begging for a sound of breath but couldn’t be sure. His hands moved to her wrist for a pulse. Weak, but there. Thrumming. 

“ Yes …” He choked his relief, every muscle in his body collapsing for a moment.  She’s alive . “Okay, I got you, I got you, I’m here.” I dropped her . “Stay with me, Phoebe.” I did this to her.

Max fumbled for his phone, swallowing fear as he found Chloe’s contact. 

“Chloe…” he breathed, “Chloe, we need you. Can you teleport us to Metroburg?”

Chapter Text

The recovery ward stood high in Metroburg Hospital, the window of Phoebe’s room overlooking the city for miles. Sunrise was beginning to climb over the skyline now, pink hues dancing across the ripples in the river. Skyscrapers pierced upwards from the rest of the city and they still didn't reach as high as the Thunderman family, crowded round her bed under the harsh brightness of an over-head lamp. It was Hank who twisted the blinds, opening them so the dappled morning rays flooded over her hospital gown. The sunrise tickled Phoebe's face, and her nose twitched. 

“She's waking up,” Barb whispered, bent over her daughter. Phoebe's features began to slowly come back to life. Her head rolled into her mother's touch as Barb stroked her hair, “Hey, sweetie, it's Mommy. You're in the hospital.”

It took Phoebe a second, squinting as her eyelids unlocked and her pupils took a moment to focus. Her lips parted and she swallowed, a groan escaping her throat before she could speak. The shapes ahead of her were blobs of colour on a backdrop of sterile white. A few of them had sounds… voices. One of them murmured something to someone else. 

“ Phoe-be! Can - you - hear - us! It - is - Bill-y - your - bro-ther! ” Her ears pounded and she winced at the yell; she vaguely watched a laser zap into his arm, followed by Nora telling him off. 

“Billy?” Phoebe murmured; she meant to speak, to laugh at him, but it was like talking through a swamp. Her throat felt like sandpaper. She blinked once; the blobs settled to shapes, and when she blinked again they sharpened into the features of her family. Billy was grinning, lop-sided and smug.

“Hey, it worked! Take that, Nora. I'm basically a doctor.”

“Yeah, Doctor Doofus .”

“Kids,” Hank spoke sharply, “Give your sister some space.”

“It's… okay, Dad,” Phoebe managed to croak out; her head swam, but she caught Chloe's eyes from next to her. Her littlest sister was clutching the edge of Phoebe's sleeve, the linen of the hospital gown crinkling in her fist. She blinked, her memory frantically piecing together the day’s events. Hadn't she left her at school? “Chloe, your test -”

Chloe blinked tears away, “Come on , Phoebe, I teleport you to a superhero hospital for emergency surgery and all you care about is Math?!”

“Emergency… what?” Phoebe's muscles protested as she looked around the room. She began to register… hospital bed. Metroburg out the window. Surgery gown. Where's my supersuit?

“You were hurt,” Chloe said, “Max called me.”

Max… The mission! Fuse . “Oh no,” Phoebe felt her chest stutter in her panic, her breath screamed and pain seared through her stomach as she tried to sit up. Barb launched forwards in alarm.

“Easy, honey,” she settled her back onto the pillow, but Phoebe shook her head.

“The generator - We didn't…” her eyes flicked over her family. She didn't remember if they stopped it in time. Secret Shores could be mid-blackout and she was here on a stupid sick day. Max would know - he would remember. But she couldn't see him - she counted the heads around her… Mom, Dad, Billy, Nora, Chloe… no Max.

“Where’s Max?” she asked, heart suddenly pounding. Unless… her stomach flipped, her entire soul slamming the breaks. She didn’t remember either of them getting out of there. “Is he…?”

“I’m here.”

Six heads turned towards the hallway. Max leant against the doorframe to the recovery room, arms folded across his chest. His mask stuck out of his suit pocket, cape falling behind him as he looked Phoebe over, expressionless. His shoulders hunched in; he breathed once. 

“You alive?”

“I don’t know.”

“Good enough.” Max pushed off the door frame, pacing towards her; Phoebe swore she saw something glisten in his eyes, but he blinked it away by the time he was closer. He didn’t say anything more for a moment, just shuffled from foot to foot.

She tried to hide her own relief - they were both okay, both up and talking. “Do you have the mission report?”

“Huh?” Max blinked, tilted his head like he wasn’t expecting it, “What mission report?”

Phoebe tried to elaborate. Her mouth dried and she licked her lips and tried again. She couldn’t work out why she was so tired at first but then remembered the anaesthesia. “The mission report,” she breathed, “Don’t tell me you didn’t write it up yet. Max, this is why Super President Kickbutt doesn’t like you. She’ll need a copy to check -”

“Super President Kickbutt likes me just fine!” he scoffed, “You always write the mission reports.”

“But that was last night and now it’s this morning and she always expects them by midnight and what if we get kicked off the mission and -”

“We’re not going to get kicked off the mission!”

“Kids!” Hank warned; Phoebe registered a beeping sound and realised a monitor beside her showed a climbing heartrate. Max sighed, ran a hand down his face.

“Sorry,” he said, and Phoebe thought she was hallucinating. Did her brother just apologise ? “Listen,” he tried, “I only didn’t do it yet because writing reports is literally your only hobby. I was trying to be nice. But, given the circumstances - and how you got hurt - I guess…” his hand found her shoulder. Phoebe watched him struggle to know what to do with it; he turned a grounding squeeze into a light pat, into a friendly fistbump in the space of a second. “I guess this one’s on me, Pheebs.”

“I would write it if I remembered,” she shrugged helplessly, but smiled at her twin nonetheless. Poor Max - whatever had happened out there, he had to have carried them both. He stopped the generator, clearly must have stopped Fuse, and he and Chloe got her to the hospital. “I trust you on this one, Max.”

But Max’s eyes widened; he looked at Barb, at Hank, then back at Phoebe. He blinked, “You… don’t remember the mission?”

She shook her head, “Must have blacked it out. We did win, right? The generator got shut off?”

“Yeah, yeah, of course.” It came out quickly. “Do you…” he ran a hand through his hair, spending a second on his swoosh. He cleared his throat, settled his hands on his hips, “Do you remember… how you got hurt?”

Phoebe tried, winding her memory back. Last she remembered was fighting Fuse. Max had gone to fix the generator, the transference glove had blasted her and she couldn’t talk. And then after that… Phoebe’s memory stopped, looped, flickered between darkness and flashes of a rooftop fight. Her hand came up to her chest, it still felt tight, like Fuse’s energy pulse still squeezed at her lungs.

“No,” she admitted, “Nothing.”

“Well that’s easy,” Billy offered, “Max said -”

“ That I was so worried ,” Max suddenly snapped, sincerely placing his hand onto his heart. He glared at Billy. “That’s it, that’s all I said.”

“But you said Phoebe -”

“Needs rest,” Max finished. “Right, Pheebs? You must be tired - long surgery. Here, Billy, Nora, here’s fifty bucks,” he brandished the note out of a wallet that looked suspiciously like Hank’s, “Go find something edible in the cafeteria.”

“Alright!” Billy pumped the air with his fist; Nora rolled her eyes and followed him when he sped off down the hall. Hank wasn’t far behind them, fighting for his wallet back, and when the door swung shut, Max exhaled. He looked at Chloe, still with one hand on Phoebe’s sleeve, and Barb, who sighed, closed her eyes in resignation, then started off after her husband.

“I’ll be back in a minute, sweetie - just need to make sure they don’t spend Chloe’s college fund on jello. Do you want anything?”

Phoebe shuffled uncomfortably, blinking to focus on the conversation. Too many people, everyone was coming and going - she was struggling to keep up. She watched Max; there was something behind his eyes she could usually recognise, but anaesthesia was messing with her senses. 

“Maybe something for my throat?” she coughed, her lungs felt like a desert, “I don’t…” she blinked, forgot where she was, opened her eyes and was blinded all over again by the hospital lights. Max was right, she was tired. “Can I go back to sleep?” 

“Sounds good! Get those forty winks,” Max smiled, “Come on, Chloe, let’s leave our sister to her rest.” And Phoebe just gave in, nodding, letting her siblings ease her down, her eyelids locking shut again as she buried her face in a pillow. Her family’s voices got further and further away as she drifted, letting her brain fog dissipate into dreams of mission reports and pythagoras.

Chapter Text

“You moron. You snake ! You… moron-snake !”

“I know what I am!” Max groaned, wincing at Chloe’s expression. Dear God, her glare was exactly like Phoebe’s. Chloe had stopped them outside the recovery room as soon as Max had clicked the door shut; his gaze flicked back to Phoebe through the glass, she was already out like a light.

“Max,” Chloe folded her arms, demanding, “How could you lie to her?”

“I didn’t lie,” he hissed, “I just… didn’t tell her what happened.”

“Well, are you going to?”

“I don’t know!” he swallowed down the guilt, the fear, every ugly emotion that had sparked inside his stomach since he’d dropped Phoebe, and it bubbled back up into defense. “Look,” he tried, “You saw her in there, she’s too out of it to even tell who’s who, I’m not going to stress her out for no reason.”

But Chloe shook her head, she was far too smart to fall for an excuse. “You got lucky,” she stepped towards him, glare narrowing even further. “Phoebe’s drunk on surgery drugs right now , sure. But I was there too. You called me , Max. Remember?”

Max sighed, dropping into a hallway chair. He leant his head back against the wall, mind racing. Of course he needed to tell her, and he wanted to. He went in there when she woke up fully expecting her to hate him. 

“I’ve done so many bad things to her over the years,” he confessed. “But I’ve never put her in the hospital before. I’ve never almost…” he couldn’t finish his sentence. He kept replaying the crack as she slammed into the concrete, seeing the look on her face when she tried to scream for help but couldn’t even make a sound. “Chloe, if she finds out I dropped her, she’ll never trust me again.”

Chloe sat down beside him, a hand on his shoulder. “This isn’t your fault. And for what it’s worth, Phoebe’ll see that! But you’ve got to let her make that call herself.”

“When did you get so smart?” he asked, huffing a laugh. “I know it’s not at school, you’re never there.”

“Yeah, ‘cause other than the times you rudely leave me behind, I’m always on missions with you and Phoebe,” Chloe smiled. “I learnt from the best.” 

“Gross, you’re like 7. You need friends your own age”

“I’m 12, and I have more friends than you do!”

“Friends you wouldn’t have if we never moved you to Secret Shores.”

“You know what?” And then came that glare again. Oh no… “Fine. Because I learnt something else from you, Max. You know what that is?”

He knew what was coming, he could tell exactly what she was about to say. Nonetheless, he tried distraction. “Proper hair care?” he asked hopefully.

“Blackmail.” Dang it . “If you don’t tell Phoebe by the end of the day, I’ll tell her myself. And if you make me tell her, I’ll also tell Dad you make me teleport you home to raid the freezer every Thursday.”

“You wouldn’t .”

“Oh,” she grinned, “I would. I’m going to start with how you ate his last ice-cream.”

“Urgh ,” Max snapped into standing, pacing, ready to spout off a series of obscenities before he remembered that she’s a child, and he was doing this exact thing to Phoebe, Billy and Nora ten times over before she was even born. “I am…” he pointed a finger at his little sister, who sat angelically on the chair, smiling up at him; he forced a calming breath. “Incredibly proud of your incentive, and furious I’m the target. Now buzz off.”

“‘Kay,” she jumped up, her hair bouncing, and held out her hand. Max rolled his eyes, slapping a twenty into her palm. She snorted, accusing, “You love me, you dork.”

“Don’t read into it, it’s Dad’s money.”

But she had already teleported away. 

***

Max clicked the door to the recovery room open quietly. He’d spent all day going back and forth with her doctors - purely with the incentive that if they spoke to him and not Phoebe, she could remain unconscious for as long as possible, and he wouldn’t have to talk to her. It was a genius plan… until lunch time became dinner time, Phoebe woke up hungry, Chloe started harassing Max and Max’s guilt began eating him alive. 

“Hey, Pheebs…” he sang, armed with the only tactics he had left: his winning smile, and a teddy bear he'd bought on his way up from the hospital gift shop. He waved it in her direction, wincing at the morphine-induced vacancy behind her eyes. On a tray beside her bed, a water cup sat unassumingly, a straw leaning out of it; Phoebe, however, was watching it like she’d never seen such a brilliant invention, eyes focusing and unfocusing as she sloppily attempted to reach for it. Max, in hindsight, should maybe not have green-lit every drug the doctors suggested.

He took pity on her, extending an arm, watching the cup respond to his telekinesis as it floated towards her. The straw slid directly between her lips and she sighed with relief, grasping it with both hands like a sippy cup.

“How’re you feeling?” he asked tentatively, approaching the bed and perching at the foot. She swallowed a sharp glug of water and spat the straw out. 

“M’okay” she rested her head against the bed, which had been angled up by a nurse to resemble seating, “I can’t believe I went down like that, m’sorry Max.”

“Hey, no, don’t - don’t do that,” he sighed. Man, he was the worst person ever. “Here,” he thrust the teddy bear in her direction to distract her, settling it in her arms. Stupid thing had a little white coat, Metroburg Superhero Hospital stitched into the breast-pocket. Her pupils dilated to saucers.

“Is this one of my doctors?”

“What? Pheebs,” a laugh escaped him, genuinely baffled. It was moments like these he missed his evil phase - he wanted to film this so bad. But he thought about what Chloe said, pictured Phoebe falling again… he had to tell her, but he needed her to be a little more sober than she currently was. “Okay, listen up, Disaster Barbie.”

“I'm Disaster Barbie?” She gasped, her hand pointing to her chest. He nodded slowly.

“That was the idea behind the insult, yes.”

“Ugh,” she slurred to the bear, “S’mean to us Doctor Mister Bear. M’gonna freeze him with my heat breath.” 

“Ah, ah, no . Bad Disaster Barbie. No superpowers right now.”

“But - ”

“I said no .” He rolled his eyes when she genuinely pouted, clutching the bear like she was five. This was useless… “Come on,” he sighed, lifting the cup to her mouth again. Maybe hydration would sober her up, “Try and drink some more water. You can't feel anything because you're on enough drugs to tranquilise a horse but I promise you'll thank me later.”

She snapped her head in the opposite direction. “Mmh, don't wanna.”

“ Phoebe .” He breathed patience, reminding himself he was trying to be nice due to the accidentally-almost-killing-her thing. He exhaled, tried again. “Water,” he instructed bluntly, shaking it in her face, as nicely as he could, “You have to do what I say right now, come on. You like rules, right? This is a rule.”

“What rule?”

“The, uh…” he shrugged, lying, “Thundertwin Hydration Clause. Drink up.”

Phoebe's head slowly twisted around back to him. Her mouth hung open, eyes blinking slowly. A strand of hair flopped in front of her face and she spat it away. 

“We're twins ?!”

“Oh boy,” Max gave up. He stood up and paced away, forcing distance between them to stop himself from slapping sense into her. He let a breath out, watching the city blink and bustle as dots below them. They were so high up - his mind tilted with the distance and he had to step back; his hand absently found security on the windowsill, his knuckles white. Max had never had a problem with heights before today, but now… 

He turned to look back at Phoebe, who had forgotten his presence in a single second, and was instead focused entirely on poking the eye of her bear with a sharp finger, muttering Shakespeare under her breath. He couldn’t help but soften. It really didn’t matter if she hated him… Phoebe was alive. High as a kite in space, sure, but alive . 

“Hey, Pheebs.” Chloe was right, he had to tell her. It was the right thing to do. “Pheebs?” He crossed back over to her bed, settling on a chair to face her. He tapped her arm, pulling her attention up from her bear. “Can you focus on me for a sec?”

“Oh, hi Max!”

“Hey,” he chuckled.

“I’m so focused,” she nodded, narrowing her eyes on him, eyebrows dancing as she giggled on her cloud, “What do we got? ‘Nother mission? I can do it .”

“Not a different mission,” he shook his head patiently, “Same one as before. I’ve got to tell you something, okay?”

Her eyes widened as she listened, braced herself. For a split second, Max saw the complete sharpness of her usual self through the haze… but it faded back to glassiness before he could continue. She blinked.

“Did I do something wrong?”

“No,” he said assuredly, awkwardness firing through his body. He shuffled, breathed, leant forwards further towards her. “You didn’t do anything. It was me, Phoebe. I…” he sighed, looked up, looked back and couldn’t meet her eye. “I did something wrong.”

“What d’you do?”

“Well,” he breathed, cleared a lump away from his throat; it came back instantly. “You got hurt because of me.” He couldn’t hold it in anymore. He checked the door to the recovery room just as the first tear dropped down his cheek like an anchor. He swiped his telekinesis to lock the door so no one would see and coughed, clearing his face with the ball of his hand. “This is stupid,” he stood up, restless, paced away, turned back to her. “I don’t even think you’ll remember me saying this. I’m going to have to tell you all over again when you’re not hospital-high. But you… you fell , Pheebs. You fell. I dropped you. I let Fuse overpower me, and you… you hit your head and there was so much blood - which ruined my favourite boots by the way - and…” 

Max choked on his anger, breath bubbling up into his throat and making him stop for a second. Phoebe had said nothing yet, she just looked at him, blinking with those huge, damp eyes that he couldn't tell if she understood nothing at all or was deeply psychoanalysing him. He sniffed, dropped back into the chair. 

“And the doctors -” he smiled sadly, “They did the whole… we'll do everything we can thing, you know?” A bitter laugh fell from his mouth, “And I felt like saying, dude what are you doing? You see the suit, right? We say that to people every day. We say that when…” he watched his twin, who was blinking in recognition, “When we don't know if they're going to make it.” A hand ran down his face. “But you did ,” he said, proud, somehow, grateful that of everything the twins have fought over, she didn't let him be the one that killed her. “You made it,” he leant forwards a little more, hand finding her forearm. She didn't yank back, didn't hit him. “And I'm so, so sorry, Phoebe. I'm… I'm the worst brother ever, the worst partner . I totally understand if you never trust me again.”

He looked back up, met her eyes, the expression that still hadn't broken, that still weighted itself in silence. He saw a twinkle in her pupils, and wanted to believe it was banter, forgiveness. The Max-Phoebe Twin Thing like nothing had ever happened.

“Say something,” he asked, “Pheebs, I know I have no right to ask, but just… please. Don't tell me you hate me.”

So she opened her mouth, Max braced himself. He was ready for anything she was about to say.

And Phoebe belched. She let out a burp so loud, so impressively putrid that it ricochetted through her mouth and diffused directly at Max.

He gagged, a ripe cocktail of concrete and hospital food directly onto his face. 

“You're evil !” he leapt back, squirming. Another gag spasmed from his throat. “What the- Phoebe ! Not cool ! My swoosh! You got my swoosh !”

But Phoebe blinked, smiled, dopily shrugged under her influence of medicated bliss.

“Wh’d’you say?” She asked, a pop of a giggle following that she clumsily shoved back down by slapping a hand to her mouth. “Sorry I didn't listen, I was thinkin’ about tacos.”

Max stopped, his entire body locked up with a flood of rage. He had just poured his heart out! “Are you kidding me ?!”

But she was totally unreceptive to the anger, instead sliding back down to rest her head on the pillow. “Phew, that's better,” she mumbled, eyes already closed. “M’gonna dream again now, can you get me some ice-cream when I wake up?”

He had half a mind not to - stupid gross sisters. He was never speaking to her ever again, he swore right there in that moment. 

But she cracked an eye open to check for an answer. Oh sure, when it comes to ice-cream, she's all ears . “Chocolate or Vanilla?” he sighed, anger evaporating, already halfway out the door.

“Max?” 

“Not a flavour, Disaster Barbie. Chocolate or not-chocolate, pick your poison.”

“Whatever you did - bad… s’okay. ‘Kay?”

He stopped, sighed, turned to face her. “What?” he asked, resigned. “Phoebe, make sense or shut up.”

“ Max ,” she groaned, fighting a war with her eyebrows to stay awake. “Max, c’mere.”

“No, you lost that privilege when you burped on me.”

“ Mhmnph! ” He was sure that was a final attempt at his name mixed with primal frustration and her face smushed into the linen, so he relented.

“Fine. What?” He dropped on the edge of her bed with a grunt, arms crossed, ready to lean back and run at any moment.

Her eyes held themselves half-open, head still on the pillow. She stared at him down the bridge of her nose, shuffling a little to try to face him at an angle she liked.

“I’m a little crazy right now so… I've got no filter.”

“I noticed.”

“But… you're a good brother, m’kay?” She whispered it like it was a secret, “You did something bad?” She rolled her eyes, “ Pssh , I got you. You got me. We're the… the Thumb - Tumble - Wunderthins .”

“Thundertwins?” he deadpanned.

“Yeah, sounds right,” she nodded sagely, clutched the stupid bear he got her safely under her chin. Her face flopped into the fabric, muffling her voice. “Look, point is…” her voice became breath, her eyes finally tucked away behind the lids, “...You know?”

And Max just shook his head, pulled the sheet up further across her shoulders. She's alive, she's asleep - and she's completely insane … but she's okay.

“Yeah, I know,” he replied, but she was already snoring into the bear. He chuckled, stood up, and finally snapped a stupid picture of her with his phone. “Sleep it off, dork.”

And Max headed to the cafeteria like he had Billy's superspeed. She never did decide on a flavour, and Max was going to complain, rant, swear on his life he hates everything about her.

But he'd come back with one of each. Because it's Phoebe.