The gun shot was deafening. A single, sharp crack, that Max felt from the tips of her fingers to the soles of her feet. Blood fountained, surreal in color and intensity. The horror she felt threw her world into slow motion. She watched helpless as he fell, slowly, oh so slowly, to the ground.
The shot, the noise, it heralded an epiphany, that instant of clarity where the heavens waited for her cry of "Eureka!" and her soul demanded to know what took so long. She knew then that she loved Alec, loved him with an intensity that made her want to run. And it wasn't friendship or the familial bond she felt for all transgenics. No, this was love, the kind that seeps into your bones and makes words like soul-mates seem plausible.
She was frozen, her eyes on his body, breaths coming short and fast, verging on hyperventilation. A tear slipped down her cheek, her teeth clamped down on her lower lip to hold back a scream, stifling it but not stopping it.
Nothing was ever going to be the same.
Strong arms lifted her up, dragging her back from the sight of the ever expanding puddle of blood and she barely noticed. She stared at the body, unable to look away, until she was carried from the room and thrown into the retrieval van.
She started to shake, some part of her dimly recognizing the signs of shock. Then she heard nothing, saw nothing, she submerged in a world of white noise and static.
Time passed, hours slipping past too fast for her to grab hold of. She was trapped in her own head with sound of a gun shot and the sight of a body tumbling to the ground playing in a continuous loop.
Hours slipped into days and she slowly started to come back to the real world. There was the vague impression of familiar surroundings and comforting smells. There were far off voices that sounded like friends, Joshua and Sketchy, OC and Mole, all trying to pull her from her prison, but never the one voice she longed to hear, the one voice that would shift reality into nightmare and make everything alright again when she woke from the dream.
Then the curtain of white noise and static parted with another sharp, resounding crack. Her cheek felt like it was on fire. She blinked, slowly at first, then faster and faster, until the room came into focus.
And there was Alec, battered and bruised, his face contorted in anger, his eyes shadowed with fear.
She watched as he lowered himself to sit on her bed, moving with that cautious, creeping, slowness that spoke of great pain. He laid down on the bed next to her, close but not touching, eyes never leaving hers. She felt his hand on hers, lifting it slowly, exerting gentle pressure, prying the gun she still held in a death grip from her hand bit by bit.
When its weight was gone, reality snapped back into focus, like the snap of a rubber band.
She looked down at her hands, hands that were clean, not covered in blood like they should have been, and she started to cry.
Alec's arms slipped around her and she burrowed into him like she was trying to crawl inside of him, become part of him, anything to escape what she had done. But it didn't work and it couldn't last. She drew away as the memories crashed into her.
Logan was dead. Logan, her first love, her "not like that", "save the world by Tuesday", boyfriend, was dead, and she had been the one to kill him.
He had made a deal with White, had almost gotten Alec killed, all for the cure. He had done it for her and she had killed him for Alec.
Her breaths shortened, coming faster and faster, a panic attack brewing on the horizon until Alec's hands gripped her shoulders tight, anchoring her to reality, each shake dragging her back from the abyss.
A single word passed his lips, a single word that soothed her regret and brought her epiphany rushing back.
"Maxie." He breathed, pain given voice and she knew that she would do it all over again.
She saw it in her mind's eye, the rapid fire exchange of blows between her and the Familiars, Mole and Gem to either side as they fought to cross the warehouse floor and reach Alec's side. She saw the flash of Gem's gun and the bullet that took out Ames White. It was a quick kill, cleaner than he deserved. She saw same gun knocked from Gem's hands a fraction of a second after the bullet left the chamber, and slid across the floor before coming to rest at Max's feet. She saw Logan's eyes fill with despair. She scooped up the gun with an economy of movement that would have made Lydecker proud. Her aim was steady, trained on the heart of her "might have been" lover, as he turned to Alec, murderous intent plain to read on his face. Then she fired as he took the first of three steps that would have brought him close enough to finish what White had started. Close enough to ensure that if Max didn't belong to Eyes Only, Alec wouldn't get her either.
Her breathing was shaky as she remembered the horror of his body falling to the ground but for the first time the guilt she felt was tinged with something else. It took a moment to identify it as satisfaction. A sort of grim pride filled her as she realized that she'd managed to fire a gun, the one thing in the world that she truly hated and feared, and she'd used it to save the man she loved.
Nothing was ever going to be the same. And maybe that was okay.