Notes: A few of you asked if I'd write something after 'Sacrifice' so here's a short piece! Hope you enjoy it :)
"Max, it's me."
Ryan Hardy knocked on his apartment door with an inkling of urgency, worry etched in his features for his friend who was standing in a daze beside him. After he had told Max to head back to his apartment and lock the door behind her, they had received another surprise from the blond bitch; Mike had gotten to witness them killing his own father.
After the kids well deserved meltdown, he had gone into shock. Figuring it would be a better idea to bring him back to his apartment than Weston's empty one, Ryan quickly maneuvered them away from the FBI headquarters.
Weston had gone silent, eyes glassy and red from the tears, body still trembling slightly beneath his jacket. His face was pale as a sheet and it looked like a gust of wind would blow him over.
Hardy knocked again, afraid the kid would fall over if he didn't get him inside. He could hear Max's voice before she opened the door.
"Okay, okay! Jesus Ryan, I was just getting out of the shower-"
The lock clicked and the door swung wide, revealing his niece in a pair of sweats with damp hair. She froze at the sight of Weston, his ghost like appearance in the hallway.
"What happened?" She asked, glancing to Ryan then back at Mike.
He nodded towards the interior of the apartment, "I'll tell you in a minute, let's get him inside."
Max complied, opening the door fully to allow them in and shut it with a click of the lock. She followed them to where Ryan had Mike settled on the couch, still a vacant expression on his face. Her uncle waved a hand in front of the younger man's face, but there was no response.
Ryan sighed, standing up and rubbing a hand over his face. He eyed the kid with copious amounts of pity and sorrow, a smidge of guilt sandwiched between. Catching Max's eye, he pointedly jerked his head toward the kitchen, understanding passing between them. The pair walked over, speaking in hushed tones in the minimal amount of privacy the kitchen contained.
"What the hell happened, Ryan? He looks like his puppy was kicked," Max whispered in a confused tone, thinly veiling the concern and worry hidden in her voice.
The elder Hardy sadly shook his head at her words, knowing the kid had a fondness for dogs. Also knowing that this was a major blow to Weston and he would likely never show the same enthusiasm and happiness he witness when they began working together a year and a half ago.
"Lily Gray happened. Apparently taking you hostage wasn't enough revenge for putting Luke in the hospital. They," he broke off, glancing towards Weston, before continuing in a softer tone, "They killed his dad."
Max stared at him in shock, raising a hand to her mouth. "God," she choked out, also glancing towards the unresponsive man sitting on the couch.
"Lily sent a pre-recorded video message. They slashed his throat and Mike – he saw the whole thing."
She focused back on Ryan and a moment of silence passed between them. After this event, things were never going to return to normal, for any of them. The hell bent revenge would flow until it was over, when Joe and Lily were dead and they could finally try and achieve peace. But there was always going to be that small slice of hatred and regret that found its way in.
Ryan let out a resigned sigh, "Can you make sure he's alright while I head back to the FBI to get the rest of his stuff? I brought him directly here after... Plus I need to make a few phone calls."
She slowly nodded, "Yeah, sure. Of course."
He placed a hand on her arm and gave a light squeeze, needing that assurance that she was really there, safe and sound. Max gave a small smile in return, though it was bittersweet. Today should have been a win, but it was a gigantic loss in their books.
Ryan quickly made his way out of the apartment as Max ran a hand through her hair, gazing at Mike in his broken state. Jumping into action, she moved around the apartment, trying to get a few things together to make him more comfortable.
She gathered a few pillows and blankets from a closet in the hallway, mind racing. It was easy for her to relate, losing both parents, though not in such a brutal manner. God, it was hard to imagine what Mike must have been going through. The emotion and hatred, feeling like he could shatter into a million little pieces on the floor as if an earthquake had run rampant into his world.
Max shook her head and started filling up the kettle in the sink to make tea or decaf, whichever Mike preferred, when his voice piped up beside her.
"I'd prefer alcohol."
She startled, almost dropping the kettle in the sink at his appearance at her side.
"Christ!" Max uttered, swerving to face him, stepping back halfway at his unexpected closeness.
Mikes gaze was intense, but the rest of his stature was broken. He looked gaunt, dim under the lighting. She sucked in a deep breath and placed the kettle down, about to ask him how he was holding up, but he cut to the chase first, leaning back against the counter to rest on his elbows.
"Max. How're doing?"
She stared in astonishment, mouth open wide. "You're asking how I am? Mike-
" – I know what you're going to say, and no, I don't want to talk about it. What I would like to talk about is if there's any alcohol Ryan's got hiding around here."
"No. I poured it all down the drain myself the last time he overdid it. Even if there was any, I still wouldn't give it to you. Now, I think you should go sit down."
His eyes narrowed, "You do, do you?" He spat out harshly.
Max hardened her own eyes and felt the urge to cross her arms at the venom in his tone, "Yes, I do. Now come on." She urged, walking back towards the couch.
"What the hell for?"
Max spun back around, "Look, I know you're angry and pissed as hell right now, but I am not the one you should be taking it out on."
He turned his head away, closing his eyes, hands clenched by his sides. "I'm sorry. I know I shouldn't be yelling at you. Max…"
A hand on his shoulder had his lids fly open and he focused his attention back on the brunette who was giving him a sad smile.
"You should grieve Mike, but anger's not the way to do it. Trust me; I'm kind of experienced in that aspect. But if you are going to get pissed, focus it in trying to capture the sons'abitches that did this to you. To your fa-
She was cut off as he pulled her to him, arms wrapped tightly around her sides. Max tensed for a moment, and then relaxed, her arms looped loosely around him.
"I'm sorry Max. Everything's just so…fucked."
She nodded, head bobbing against his shoulder, "Well. I guess we're all fucked then. You, me and Ryan."
As silence echoed through the small room, she cleared her throat, "You know what I mean. You're not alone in this Mike, not anymore."
He was the one to nod this time, uttering a quiet "Thank you."
They stood in the slightly awkward position for quite a while, neither one wanting to let go of the warmth and comfort after such an emotionally draining day. So there they stood, promises made and accepted in the confines of their small world. Together, they would overcome the circumstances; ride out the aftershocks.