General disclaimer: Max Steel belongs to many companies, Kids' WB!, two different computer animation companies, and a whole mess-o corporate executives. This story is my personal work derived from my inner child getting hold of an uzi and obliterating my good side. And special thanks to Jen [Gridmaster] for her beta read of this. Thanks a bunch, Jen! *hugs*
BY:
Maxy Steel
Sitting at her desk at N-Tek, Rachel was deep in thought about her husband of seven years, Max Steel. Fortunately, there was no work; she was just waiting for Max to get back so they could go home. Slowly, she picked up a pen, twirling it between her fingers, then frowned at it. There's something wrong with Max. I don't know how I know, or what it is. I just know, she thought, tossing the pen in the air, and catching it with ease. On the other hand, maybe it's not that odd. I am his wife, after all. She flicked the pen onto the desk just as the doors slid open and Max walked in. Smiling, she got up and hurried over to him. Looking up at his face, she frowned slightly.
"Max, what's wrong?" she asked probingly. He sighed, tossing his hair out of his face, and offered a small smile.
"Nothing, Green-Eyes. Just a long day," he assured her smoothly. They hugged; she stretched up to kiss him on the lips.
"Then let's head home. I'll make you feel better," she told him firmly. He chuckled, brushed her bangs away from her face, and kissed her cheek.
"You're the boss," he said softly. She smiled again and they left her office.
They hadn't gone far down the hall before the blond sighed to herself, watching her husband. He must be hiding something about the day. He's dragging a little. She took his hand, and squeezed it. He looked at her and smiled."Max," she said suddenly, breaking the silence. He paused and looked at her.
"Yeah, Rach?" he replied, raising an eyebrow. She looked him in the eyes, long and hard. He fidgeted after a moment.
"Are you feeling all right? You seem a bit...off." He shrugged a little.
"I feel fine. I'll go to bed early," he promised, a smile crossing his face. She grinned, shook her head, and poked him in the chest.
"See that you do," she ordered laughingly, pleased to see a familiar cheerful spark in his eyes. She stopped worrying as they headed for the outside and the car.
Rachel turned on her side in her sleep and sighed softly, edging closer to the softly snoring form beside her. Josh, however, wasn't sleeping as soundly. He was tossing, shifting, and making panicked whimpering sounds. Rachel snapped awake at a loud, frantic yelp from him, shot into a sitting position and looked over at him. He was up as well, and she was not reassured by the pure terror reflected in his light chocolate brown pupils. His breath was coming in short gasps.
"Josh?" she asked softly. His hand was clutching the bed sheet so tightly his knuckles were white. She touched it and he jumped, literally, a foot off the bed. She rushed to grab his hands, trying to calm him. He slipped them free and hugged her tightly, resting his chin on her shoulder.
"Rach...oh, god," he whispered. She murmured in his ear, patting his back, trying to think of what could have frightened him so badly.
"Josh, what happened?" she asked gently, leaning away from him a little, but maintaining her grip around his waist. He sighed softly, brushing his hands over her arms.
"Just a really bad dream. Some psycho, I guess," he replied quietly. She tightened her grip around his mid-section, slowly leaning until he lay back down with her. She cuddled as close as she could, resting her head against his bare chest.
"Go back to sleep, Josh. I'll be right here; nothing will happen." He tightened his arms around her, and sighed, slowly falling back asleep. She listened to the sound of his steady breathing until she slipped off herself.
Not more than two hours later, Rachel was snapped awake again by her husband. She raised her upper body, noticing that she wasn't in his arms anymore, and looked down at him. He was still asleep, but possibly not for long. His breath was coming in short, panicked gasps, and he was squirming like a fish in the bottom of a boat. A thin layer of sweat was forming on his brow. Not wanting to wake him, Rachel quickly grabbed him around the waist and pressed herself close against him. It seemed to do the trick. He calmed down, relaxed, and finally, was back into a more relaxed sleep. But the blonde female wasn't given such a fast respite. As she lay there, clutching her husband close, a nagging feeling kept tugging at her, telling her something was wrong, and something bad was going to happen soon. I just wish I knew what, she murmured to herself. He was completely relaxed by then, breathing even and steady. She didn't dare move away from him, and soon sleep took her away as well.
The next morning, Josh was first to wake. He yawned sleepily and suddenly became acutely aware of the lithe form in his arms. He glanced down and smiled softly. Then, he groaned to himself, laying his head back against the pillow and staring up at the ceiling. What a strange dream...who was that guy? he whispered to himself, closing his eyes. He started at movement from his wife and grinned, seeing her slowly waking. With ease, he pulled her up higher and kissed her in greeting.
"Morning," he said, smiling. She returned the expression, sliding her arms around his neck. She rested her head against his shoulder, and yawned.
"How are you feeling?" she asked, her voice barely above a sleepy murmur. He shrugged a little, as if whatever the night's terror had been, it hadn't been that horrible. But he wasn't fooling either of them.
"Just fine, Green-Eyes. Come on. I'll make breakfast," he offered, pulling both of them into a sitting position. Her half-awake expression turned to one of alarm, and she grabbed his arm.
"Don't you scare me like that," she scolded, a jesting note in her voice, a smile on her face. He laughed at her.
"Knew that would get you up," he teased, pulling both of them off the bed. For a long, wonderful moment, the happy couple remained where they were, arms still around one another, savoring the feeling of just being alive and together. Josh was the one to break the moment, unwinding his arms and hers, then heading for the bathroom. Rachel sighed, and picked up her robe. She wandered out to the kitchen, tying the cord around her waist.
Josh stepped out of the shower, wrapping a towel around his waist. He shook his head, sending small sprays of water in all directions, then stared at his reflection in the mirror. To his shock, another face appeared in the mirror behind him, an evil grin on its face. The young man's face turned white, recognizing the face from his dream. He opened his mouth to say something and was surprised by the loud, terrified yelp that came from his mouth. He slipped on a small pool of water and fell.
Rachel's head snapped up, hearing the scream and crash. In half a second, she was up and at the bathroom door. Hesitantly, she tapped on the wooden barrier.
"Josh?" she called worriedly. A low groan answered her. She undid the lock with her fingernail and pushed it open. The older blonde gasped, seeing her husband on the floor near the shower, clutching his head and shaking. Rachel paled, seeing the blood on the floor with him. In an instant, she was kneeling beside him. Her pulse relaxed considerably when she saw he was still breathing, that the blood was coming from only a small cut on his head and back where he'd hit the edge of the shower door on his way down.
"Rachel?" he asked suddenly, as if coming out of a trance. She nodded, gently helping him into a sitting position. He winced as the cut in his back touched the wall. She noticed another small gash on his right shoulder.
"How'd this happen?" She turned, stood, and reached for a washcloth. She turned on the warm tap and held the cloth under it. Josh mumbled to himself, putting a hand to his head.
"I'm not sure.… He was trying to get me…." he said vacantly after a moment, pulling his hand away. His face blanched at the splash of red covering his palm. Rachel knelt beside her husband, raising an eyebrow as she dabbed delicately at his shoulder.
"Who? Was someone here?" she asked, concern in her voice. He looked up at her blankly. She pressed the cloth down harder, and he winced.
"No, but he's after me..." the younger of the couple replied vaguely. Rachel wasn't so disturbed by his comment as she was by his eyes. They were blank, as if he wasn't even there in the room with her. She reached around and cleaned the cut in his back. He jerked reflexively.
"Josh, are you feeling all right?" she asked gently, reaching up to his forehead. He shook his head and his eyes cleared. He looked up at her.
"Oww...." he muttered, one hand going to his shoulder, which was the worst of the three cuts. She chuckled softly, more out of relief that he seemed to be back to normal than anything else.
"If you're having troubles with staying upright, maybe you should call in a sick day," Rachel suggested casually, tossing the bloody washcloth into the clothes hamper. She stood, plucked a box of gauze bandages from the cabinet, and knelt back down beside him.
"Nah. Just slipped. I'll be fine--ow!" He winced as she stuck a bandage on his back. She sighed at him and applied one to his shoulder, more gently. A band-aid sufficed for his head gouge. He got up, a little unsteadily, bracing one hand against the wall. Rachel put away the bandages and left the room.
At work, the two of them parted ways, having different duties. Max left her with his usual kiss, hug, and promise to return in one piece, but Rachel was still feeling a little chilled by his behavior from earlier. Some things just didn't leave easily. He seemed to be fine, though. It was one thing to be grateful for.
"I've known him for ten years, and have been married to him for seven.... I could always sense his thoughts and emotions...why can't I figure him out now?" the blonde agent sighed, pausing between reports. There were only a few more to go, and surely Berto wouldn't mind her hanging around for a little while. She suddenly felt a need to be where she could talk to her husband. Quickly, but with meticulous professionalism, she finished the remaining five reports and left her office. Her heels were soundless on the carpeting of her office but clicked painfully loud on the hard tiled floors of the halls of N-Tek. With so many agents coming in muddy, bloody, or otherwise able to dirty the floors, tile had been an obvious choice.
It took less time than she expected to reach the control room. Still, without hesitation, she punched in her code and entered the comfortably small room. The Spanish tech at the computer looked over as her heels clicked into the room and smiled in greeting.
"Rachel. Nice to see you," he offered politely. She paused just short of the console desk.
"Same to you, Berto. How's Max doing?" she replied, looking up at the large screen. It was dark, but the faint rocking movement suggested that it was still functional.
"Chasing the bad guys, as usual. Might want to wait a minute before you talk to him," the younger agent returned calmly. Rachel sighed and moved to watch the screen until her husband was at a chat point, so to speak. Max turned into a somewhat better-lit area, and was as surprised as his wife and best friend when a black-clad figure sprang from out of nowhere. Rachel gasped and Berto winced as the newcomer cracked the side of Max's skull with a wrench. There was a yelp of pain, and the screen went staticy gray.
"Max!" Rachel yelled. Groaning and clutching his head, the younger agent staggered back into the cover of darkness that he had come from.
"Hermano, can you hear me?" Berto asked calmly. His older friend slumped against the wall, trying to think. He could hear them with his ears, but his mind was far away from them.
"He's here," was all Max could get out, barely above a whisper. Panic started to fill him, a thick, inescapable fog closing in around him. He was having trouble getting air.
"Max, who's there?" Rachel asked quickly. Berto listened to his friend hyperventilate for a minute more before taking charge.
"Hermano. Relax, open your eyes," he ordered firmly. The older agent did as told, and the pair in the control room could see the area a little more clearly.
"How bad was that hit?" the blonde agent whispered to Berto. He shook his head and smiled slightly to indicate that it wasn't that bad, then returned his attention to the monitor. Swift fingers clicked efficiently over the keyboard.
"Now, look around. Do you see anyone else?" the Spanish tech continued. They watched the monitor move as Max did as told.
"Where's Rachel? What if he got her?" he asked suddenly, sounds like he was about to panic again. Berto scooted his chair back to let Rachel step forward.
"Max, I'm right here, " she said quickly and soothingly. He sighed, and slumped against the wall. He nodded to himself, his mind clearing up, despite it still being sore.
"Yeah, I know. Okay. I just...I don't know...." he mumbled. Rachel raised an eyebrow at the monitor, while Berto worked on clearing up the remaining static lines.
"Max, your terrorist got away. Get back to base. You've been battered enough as it is," he instructed, pausing in his work.
"Doc knows best," the brunette agent chuckled, getting up. Rachel moved back to the microphone. Even though he couldn't see her, she felt her usual stern look setting onto her face.
"And Max...let Berto pilot Hawk. I don't trust your motor skills right now," she ordered firmly. Berto choked back a laugh as Max took off to find where he'd left his jet. The atmosphere instantly became tense. The youngest agent reached over, and shut off the microphone.
"Has he done this before around you?" were the first words spoken. Rachel raised an eyebrow, moving to lean against the console.
"Done what?" she asked for confirmation, even though she had an idea of what he meant. She had been scared by Max's momentary loss of their world to me thinking completely straight.
"Had a panic attack, like what you saw," the tech replied calmly, appearing unshaken. When he was younger, he had panicked at anything. By now, he had long ago realized panicking over Max Steel was pointless, and would only result in that many more ulcers for him. The blonde head nodded solemnly.
"Twice last night, this morning. But those were the first times," she replied. Even if he knew, Max would not be angered by this conversation. Rachel being his wife, and Berto already knowing him inside and out. The Spanish agent nodded, more to himself.
"He's done it before in the last week or so, but I've always been able to calm him down. But I'm getting worried. I think he should see a doctor," he said finally. Rachel just sighed.
"I'll talk to him about it," she promised, just as Hawk came into view on Max's monitor. Berto reached out and turned the microphone back on.
"You ready to go, hermano?" he asked in a relaxed voice. Max responded in kind, dropping himself into the pilot seat, buckling up, and switching on remote-pilot. As Berto took the control stick, Rachel pushed away from the console, and laid a hand on the young man's shoulder.
"I'd better get back to the office. Let me know when he gets in," she told him. The brown eyes flicked up to hers for a half-second in acknowledgement, then returned to their current duty, making sure Hawk didn't smash into anything. Rachel left, wondering what was to come in the next few days. Dark foreboding told her it wouldn't be good.
OOohh....a cliff-hanger! What's causing Max's dreams and hallucinations? Who is that mysterious man who seems to shadow our boy at every turn? Why did I just call a thirty-year-old Max a boy? Will Rachel and Berto be able to stop Max before something worse happens than sleepness nights and tension? Answers to some of these in the next installment! Catch ya later! Luv ya all!
-Maxy Steel