A.N.- Okay, my long awaited return to the fic world! Whoo! I'd like to see you guys saying that by the end. I pulled a bunch of stops on this one, be warned. It's PG-13 for a scene of violence and blood, but no swearing (note that none of my other fics ever had swearing either). And other warning, this is ANGST! With a semi-happy ending for your enjoyment. Or not, in the case of some of you. Just as a side note, the song "Shape of My Heart" by the BackStreetBoys, was responsible for this. Blame the song. Trust me on this one, okay? Now, I'll go hide in the fireproof box sitting in the middle of a fountain I have, where I'll hide until the flames have burned out. Enjoy!

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.

MOVING ON
BY:
Maxy Steel

Yelling, bustling activity all around, too much to process at one time. A call from his left side, someone warning him to watch out...a flash of light, twin screams...darkness.

With a startled gasp, the young man's eyes flew open, but he laid still, struggling to grasp comprehension. Then he braced his arms, and tried to sit up, ignoring the dizziness.
"Easy, hermano. Don't try to get up yet," a soothing Spanish voice ordered gently, accompanied by a pair of hands firmly pressing him back to the bed. Max fought for a minute, then relented, feeling painfully drained. He expelled a soft breath, and grinned weakly up at Berto.
"Hey, bro. What happened this time? I overdid it again, right? How long are they gonna keep me in here? I wanna go right now," he said, his voice feeling thick and rough, like he hadn't used it in a while. His friend sighed softly, looking away. A frown crossed the older boy's face.
"You did overdo it, hermano. They'll probably let you out once you get one more exam, though," Berto replied finally, his voice definitely softer than Max remembered it being.
"Well, that's a good thing, right? So why do you look so down?" the bed-ridden boy asked curiously, raising an eyebrow. The younger man sighed again, nudging his glasses up on his nose, a familiar gesture.
"The weapon you were hit by, hermano...it damaged the max probes. Severely. You've been in here a week, in a coma," the soft voice explained, hedging around the extent of the damage. Max blinked, looking at his arm. More specifically, the IV running into it. He studied it for a long moment, wondering if he wanted to know what his friend meant by the statement. After a moment, he raised his head.
"How bad is 'severely,' bro?" his voice sounded less rough, the vocal chords getting used to being used again. Berto suddenly found his watch to be fascinating.
"Everything. Stealth mode, turbo, the holographic projection...hermano, there's no more Max. The probes have been completely neutralized. I've been testing, but as far as I can tell, it's permanent," the Hispanic boy replied, not taking his eyes off the band around his wrist. No more Max... the words echoed in the stunned agent's head. He closed his eyes, feeling the over-whelming loss. Half of himself was gone. Max, no, he wasn't Max anymore, Max was gone, Josh allowed himself to stew over this fact for a moment. Then something clicked. As bad as him losing his powers was, it wasn't a reason for Berto to look as depressed as he was. Furthermore, weren't there two other partners who should be here too?
"Berto...where's Rache? And Kat? Were they hurt on that mission?" the blonde questioned. It was the only reason he could think of for their absence. It was the wrong thing to say. Berto broke down. He turned his head away, and his body shuddered with heavy sobs, which he was trying valiantly to control. Brown eyes widened. This was NOT a good sign. A sick, heavy feeling built up in his stomach while he waited for Berto to regain control of himself. It took several minutes for the gulping sobs to recede, and the younger agent, eyes now red-rimmed, turned his head back to face his friend.
"Kat...she's gone. Rachel too. The mission..." he choked out, his voice cracked, and he turned away, burying his face in his hands. Josh stared straight ahead at the wall, his head spinning. Gone...gone....gone... the awful word repeated over and over. No, it didn't happen. I refuse to believe. No, they're around here, just...busy. No, I won't believe it...
"No," he uttered aloud, still staring fixedly at the wall. Berto blinked, wiped his eyes, looked at him, then fled the room, his own psyche unable to handle any more. He'd done what was needed, explained everything to Max... no, Josh. Now, he needed time to grieve. Josh watched the exit, then looked up at the ceiling. "No..."
*****
What Berto had said was true, everything. Josh got one last check-up, which reaffirmed that his powers were gone, and was released from the med area. He learned that both funerals had yet to be held, through Rachel's family had insisted on being able to bury their daughter back in London. Had this mission happened three months later, or even better, not at all, Kat would have had Berto to call family. As it stood, she had no one, her parents both dead, and no other living family. N-Tek had been her family. Now, Josh sat in the front row of the church, beside Berto, directly in front of the closed casket. Kat's body had been too mutilated for her to have an open casket, so he was told. The spacious room was crammed beyond capacity. Kat may have always said she was a loner, but she'd earned the respect of many other agents, all of whom had come to see a member of their own as she made her final journey to her resting place. The blonde glanced over at his friend, watching Berto as he fiddled with the engagement band Kat had given him in return, tears slipping over his cheeks. Vaguely, the older boy heard the priest ask for people to come up with stories. Reaching over, he laid a hand over Berto's, and squeezed lightly, getting his attention. When the haunted eyes met his, the blonde flicked his gaze towards the front, asking a silent question. Berto nodded, and they stood as one. The dull hum of voices silenced as the two came up. The Hispanic boy looked out at the crowd, and his throat closed off, eyes dropping to his ring. Josh, sensing this, cleared his throat softly.
"Kat was my partner. One of the only I've had in my time at N-Tek. She was like a sister to me, I trusted her with my life. I can't, and won't, ever forget her," he said as clearly as he could manage around the tears building in his throat. A few agents clapped. Berto sighed, and looked up, slipping the band onto his finger.
"I loved Kat. With all my heart. She was a part of my heart, my being, my...soul. With her death, I feel as if half my existence has been torn away. God keep your soul, my love," he said, barely loud enough for everyone to hear. The last sentence's volume dropped to where only Josh was able to barely make it out. The others were silent. If anyone had been planning to say something, they couldn't anymore. Josh placed a hand on Berto's back, gently guiding him back to their spot on the bench. The younger man was gulping weakly, trying to fend off tears. He'd cried more over the past few days, he was sure, than he'd cried throughout his childhood. Josh had been on the edge of breaking down, but had, as of yet, managed to maintain himself.
*****
The plane seemed cramped. It was, in reality. The same agents who had attended Kat's wake were heading for Paris for Rachel's funeral. The stoic, firm, confident blonde agent had earned as much respect, maybe more, than the younger agent. Josh looked out the window, watching the clouds dissipate as the wings cut through them. He closed his eyes, recalling the many times he'd flown with Rachel and Kat. Tears welled under his eyelids, and he blinked them back. He'd been a tiny child when his mother died, a toddler when his father was killed. He hadn't understood death back then. It was simply a matter of wondering where mommy and daddy had gone off to. Now, it wasn't so easy to accept. Denial wouldn't help anything. It definitely wouldn't bring back Rachel and Kat. He sighed, and opened his eyes, looking over at Berto. The Hispanic boy was curled in a ball in the plane seat, asleep. A quick glance over the back of seat showed the blonde boy his father five rows behind him. Jeff had been near the back at Kat's funeral. He would be near the back at Rachel's too, the blonde assumed.
The service was in French. Josh sighed to himself, closing his eyes, not bothering with trying to make out the words, from the sparse scraps of the language Rachel had tried to teach him. The translator was taking care of that, anyway. The brown eyes opened, and focused on the open casket less than ten feet in front of him. He could just see Rachel's face, her nose, cheeks, and bangs. As his stomach filled with butterflies, he tried to steel himself to get up and look into the coffin. The translator finished off the last few words, and Josh was on his feet before he knew it, Berto at his side. Together, they walked up to the silent box. Rachel looked asleep, looked as if she'd open her eyes, get up, and be perfectly alright. The gaping wound that had stolen away her life was hidden under her clothing. Josh took the rose he'd been clutching in his hand, kissed the petals, and laid it delicately by Rachel's head. Even in death, she was beautiful. Looking upon her, something inside the young man snapped. With a strangled cry, he slumped to the floor, hands against his face, unleashing the sobs that had been building for days. Berto placed a comforting and supportive hand on his shoulder, and waited patiently for the storm to pass. It took five minutes, but the flow of sorrow receded to hiccuping gulps, and finally, silenced altogether. The Hispanic agent knelt down.
"Do you want to say anything?" he asked softly, tone conveying that it was perfectly alright either way. Josh thought about it. Then shook his head. Words couldn't describe his feelings towards Rachel. He regretted not having acted upon his emotions. Berto understood, and gingerly helped his friend to his feet, and back towards the pews. On the other front row bench, Rachel's mother was sobbing loudly, held protectively by her husband. The sound was almost enough to send Josh into another fit. He realized a moment later, that it would if he didn't get out of there. Nausea hit him hard without warning. With a smothered gagging noise, he jumped up and bolted for the doors. Berto waited a moment, then took off after him.
The tall blonde burst out of the church, whipped around to the side of the building, and promptly vomited. Tears welled in his eyes as he doubled over, heaving and gagging violently. There wasn't much to expel; he hadn't eaten much since waking up that horrible day. Was it only three days ago? Yes, that sounded about right. Still, he couldn't stop heaving. They hurt, and he felt like passing out. A hand landed on his shoulder, but it went ignored. The blonde couldn't stop his stomach from lurching long enough to see who it was. Though he figured it was Berto. The two boys had supported one another greatly over the three days. With much effort and waning energy, the young man forced his stomach back into place. He wiped at his mouth, and straightened, turning to face his supporter. To his surprise, Jefferson stood behind him, his eyes sorrowful. True, his father had been there the entire time, but Josh had found himself turning to friends for comfort over the death of friends. He hadn't talked with his father much over the last three days. Now, as he looked upon the man he called "Dad," he felt his control weakening again.
"Oh Dad! Why?" he choked, then threw himself, literally, at Jeff, hugging him fiercely, sobbing hard. As if he'd been expecting this, Jeff simply put his arms around his son, rubbing his back soothingly.
"I don't know, son. I wish I did," he said softly, closing his eyes. They stayed that way for what seemed like forever, neither wanting to let go. Letting go meant having to face the world again. The young man, just barely into his twenties, dropped all his barriers, and wept into his father's shoulder, shuddering so hard, he was in danger of sending both of them to the ground. Jeff just held the boy, rubbing and patting his back, loosing a steady stream of soft murmurs that didn't really say anything, were just there as a calming factor.
*****
Josh had been put on mental health leave, as his father called it. Both knew the real, unspoken, leave it was. This was a time for the young man to heal, but also decide if he still wanted to continue on a N-Tek. It would be much tougher. No powers, and if he stayed, Berto wouldn't be monitoring him, he'd have a new partner, maybe wouldn't even be out on missions. Stay on at N-Tek, where he'd be reminded of his lost partners everyday he arrived at work, or try to fit back into civilian life. It seemed like it should have been an easy choice. It was one of the most difficult in his life. He'd spent almost all of his time in his room, staring at the ceiling, letting turmoil emotions run their course. Sitting on his bed as he was right then, the young man looked around his room, surveying the results of loosing his troubled emotions. Several objects lay in a state of wreckage so bad, it was difficult to tell what they used to be. Inside, he felt about as organized as his room. His clothes were rumpled, he hadn't changed them in a while. He knew perfectly well that he needed to pick up the pieces of his life, try to go on. But, it was hard. Two people he cared deeply for were dead, and it was hard to get around that. He slumped off the bed, left his room, and walked to the bathroom. With a groan, he leaned against the counter, and looked at his reflection. His face was pale, thin. Dead brown eyes with dark bags under them. Nightmares had been keeping him up. Someone, which he now realized was Rachel, shouting for him to dodge, a flash of light, a pair of screams, and he'd wake up. He'd lost weight, and his frame looked awkward, fragile and muscular at the same time. A sudden flash of rage swept him, and without thinking, he drew back his fist, and smashed it into the mirror. Directly where his nose was, had he been punching himself. With an almighty crack, the glass shattered, collapsing in a heap on the counter. Shards of the glass sliced and slashed his knuckles, leaving him with a shredded and badly bleeding fist. A gasping sob escaped him, and he turned and huddled on the floor, clutching his limb to his chest, blood flowing and soaking into his shirt. Tears began running down his cheeks, landing on his hand, which stung badly, mingling with the red running from his hand.
"Rache....Kat....why?" he whispered, doubling over, as if trying to protect himself from something. He unfolded just enough to pull his knees up to his chest, resting his forehead on them, then starting to repeat the word "why" over and over, as if it were a mantra, or if he said it enough times, it would be answered to an extent he could accept, beyond "it was meant to be", or "it was their destiny". Screw all that. He wanted his partners back.
If someone asked him how he knew, Berto wouldn't have been able to explain his sudden urge to go visit Max, Josh. It was just something he felt required to do. Something was wrong. He may have not been running the bio-link, but he was still finely attuned to his best friend. The teenager, barely, pulled up outside the house, and shivered. Something was definitely wrong. The house even looked silent and unlived in. As if whoever was supposed to be there was either dead or had moved out. He hoped that bit of intuition was wrong as he got out of the car, and walked up to the house. His hand hit the door, loudly, and he stepped back a pace to wait. A minute passed, but no one came to the door. He tried again, harder. Another minute, still no response. Worry began to build up, and he tested the doorknob. It opened easily, and he stepped inside, carefully shutting it behind him. He let himself freeze, and listen for signs of life. Instantly, he picked up on the sobbing from the bathroom, and crossed over to it swiftly. Peering into the room, the Hispanic agent had to forcibly fight down nausea. His best friend sat, practically curled in a ball, bawling like a two year old, blood everywhere around him. The shattered mirror didn't lend to the picture. His strong, brave, sassy, friend. Berto swallowed, and stepped into the room. Josh took no notice of him. The younger boy dug around in the cabinet to the side of the distraught blonde, and pulled out gauze and hydrogen peroxide. With a soft sigh, Berto knelt down in front of his friend, pried the wounded arm loose, and inspected it. With a small noise that sounded close kin to gagging, he picked the shards of glass from the wounds. Josh made no sounds of protest, though he had quieted, and was watching with red rimmed eyes, and making the occasional sniffling noise. He winced sharply when the peroxide was poured over his hand, and tried to pull away.
"Sorry, hermano. But it needs to be cleaned," Berto said softly, wrapping the bandaging around the hand. He finished quickly, and put away the remaining gauze. Then he came back over, and gingerly placed his arms around his friend. Any other time, it might have seemed strange. Here, it was just the thing needed. The faint trembling in Josh's form ceased, and he relaxed.
"Thank you," he managed, adding a small grin to the words. Berto nodded slightly.
"Welcome. You gonna be okay?" the smaller man asked gently. Josh looked down at his bloody shirt and bandaged hand, grimacing a little. Then his eyes misted over.
"I miss them so much," he whispered, resting his forehead against his friend's shoulder. Berto squeezed him a little, feeling tears spring to his own eyes.
"Same here. But at least their lives had... meaning. They were doing what they wanted to do with their lives. We should be at least trying to restart our lives... soon," he said softly. Josh jerked his head away from the dark-haired boy, looking shocked.
"Go on?" he almost snapped, then bit his lip. Berto shook his head.
"I didn't mean all of a sudden. We were close to both of them. We deserve, and need, the time to mourn. But we have to pick up eventually, so we don't destroy ourselves," he replied quickly, looking pointedly at the older boy's hand. Josh chewed his lip thoughtfully, and sighed.
"I'll try," he said finally, then dropped his head to his chest. Berto expelled a soft breath, and got to his feet, and looked expectantly at his partner. Josh remained seated, seeming to have gone into his own world. The teenager hooked his hands around the older boy's arms, and tugged hard. It got Josh to pop back into reality long enough to get to his feet, and be prodded to his room. The dark-haired teenager helped the blonde one out of his shirt, then pushed him onto his bed.
"Get some rest," Berto ordered quietly. Obediently, Josh closed his eyes. The Hispanic teenager waited a moment, then silently left the room, slipped out the door, and headed for the graveyard for his daily visit.
*****
Like graveyards tend to be, Del Oro's Nightingale Cemetery was just plain creepy. The place reeked, appropriately, of death, sadness, and lost love. Plain headstones, stone angels, cenotaphs, and the like were scattered everywhere. Most graves, especially the recent ones, had big bunches of flowers, or something that was special to the lost one, covering them. The quiet teenager had to grin ever so slightly at someone who had left up a small picnic blanket, covered with all sorts of foods, in front of a child's grave. With the caution that comes from actually believing that if one steps on a grave, the person's spirit will drag you down, Berto edged his way across the silent expanse of remembrance, towards the chunk of plot reserved for N-Tek. He shivered inwardly, and outwardly. Due to the nature of N-Tek, many agents didn't have families. They were wandering souls who wanted to do the right thing, and N-Tek was a way to do so. If they died, there was no one to take them back home, bury them with their ancestors. So they were brought here, and laid to rest among their comrades. Kat was one of those vagrants, though, she almost was a Martinez. Berto nudged his glasses up on his nose, and knelt before the still fairly fresh grave. He lovingly laid the roses over it, and bowed his head, murmuring a prayer in Spanish. His lips stopped moving, but he didn't move. Emotion wracked his soul, he stilled wished he could undo that horrible day. Still wished he could bring her back.
"It's not that easy," he whispered, standing. He pressed two fingers to his lips, then brushed them across Kat's name on the head stone. He bowed his head in rememberance for the other agents laid to rest around him. As he turned to go, something caught his eye. A large marble wall, he wondered briefly why he had missed it before, and turned to walk towards it. Immediately, he realized what it was. It had the names of any agent whom either had been taken back to their home land for burial, or, he guessed, had been killed by something that left no body. He flicked his eyes over the names, almost absently. His eyes stopped cold on one part of the plaque. He shivered violently, and hastened to get away from the marble wall. The cold chill he felt didn't leave until he was safely in his car, and speeding away.
Berto decided to swing by his friend's house on his way back. Just to check up on him, though it had only been three or four hours since he left. He parked the car, got out, walked up to the house, and knocked. Unlike last time, the door opened almost immediately. Josh, looking much better, stood in the doorway. He'd showered, changed, rebandaged his hand, and had applied make-up, where he got it was anyone's guess, to the circles under his eyes. He smiled, the warm, cheerful smile he'd had before that mission.
"Hey, bro. You wanna come in for a minute?" he offered, stepping back. The Hispanic agent nodded, and walked in. The first thing he noticed was the three bouquets of flowers sitting on the couch. A questioning dark eyebrow raised as the eye focused on the blonde boy. Absently, Josh picked up one of the bouquets. "I was gonna go visit Kat," he explained softly, setting the flowers down. Berto nodded his approval, and almost cautiously began to look around the house. It seemed more alive. He looked in the bathroom, and was surprised to see not a single glass shard on the counter or floor. Josh came up behind him. "I did some cleaning up. You're right, bro. I need to pick up and go on," he said in a calm voice. Berto turned around, and looked up at the brown eyes curiously.
"That's good that you're picking things up. But you don't need to jump back into everything. Ease yourself back in," he replied. Josh shook his head.
"I've never eased into anything in my life. I just jump with both feet. I...I'm quitting N-Tek, Berto. I'm sorry, but I can't keep working there. I'm useless now anyway. The only thing keeping me there was the max probes. And Max Steel. He's gone. I have to accept that. It was something else I wasn't letting go..." he uttered, looking away. Berto raised an eyebrow.
"What else are you letting go of, hermano?" he asked revealingly. The blonde boy looked startled, then sighed softly.
"Rachel. She fell in love with Max Steel. She never called me by my real name, you know. I'm not sure if I, as Josh, loved her, but Max loved her. They're both together now, at least, without Josh there to mess things up. Because, I think, no, I know, Josh was and always has been in love with Laura. I have to act on that," he explained, then covered his face with his good hand. Berto rolled this information around in his brilliant mind. It seemed absurd, but if it was what Josh needed to pick up the shattered remains of McGrath's life, so be it. He turned to the door.
"I'd better get going. Smith'll start wondering. He's worried about you, Josh. But I expect you know that," the quiet Spanish voice said, then it's owner breezed out the door. Josh blinked, then sighed to himself. This is the best I can do with what I've got, he thought to himself, casting a look about for his shoes. He slipped them on, grabbed a jacket, and picked up the bouquets gingerly, heading out the door.
Like Berto had felt when he had been there such a short time ago, Josh felt a distinct chill sweeping about him as he entered the cemetery. He paused by a magnificent stone angel, looking up and studying it's serene expression. Closing his eyes, he wondered if the person had led a happy life. He hoped they had. The chill actually seemed to dissipate as he neared the N-Tek section of the graveyard. The large bouquet of flowers atop Kat's grave drew him quickly. He laid one bouquet beside Berto's offering, and stepped back, slipping one hand into his pocket.
"I'm sorry that I haven't come by before. I'll try to visit more often, eh? Kat, I'm so sorry. This wasn't supposed to happen," he said quietly, brushing away a lone tear. But, if you had to go out, I suppose this was how you'd have wanted it? With a bang, he thought, a little bemusedly. Kat was like that. He turned away from one partner, and headed for the marble "rememberance" wall. It was double sided, and the second side was almost filled. Automatically, he searched out his father's name on the older side of the cold statue. He bowed his head, and set the second bouquet under the column in which his father's name was listed. Then, he stepped around to the newer side of the marble slab, and searched out the other name he was looking for. Rachel Leeds. He found it, placed his bouquet among the others left for her.
"Rache..." he murmured, but couldn't continue. He looked away, eyes burning with tears. After a moment, he looked back, and happened to look directly under her name. His heart almost stopped. Max Steel. A long pause, and he grinned slightly. I'm not the only one putting Max away, he thought.
"See you on the other side, Steel," he said casually, then turned away from the marble statue. His heart actually felt lighter as he walked away from the graveyard. The chill of being in the place of the dead didn't bother him. The meeting with his father was starting to. He had no idea how Jefferson would react to his choice.
*****
The tall African American man barely glanced up from the work he had buried himself in when a knock came at his door. It was easy to handle the loss of three of the best agents N-Tek had to offer when one was too busy to even think about them.
"Come in!" he called. The door opened, he glanced up... and paper work became a thing of the past. He smiled as warmly as he dared at his son, and got up and moved away from his desk.
"Hey, Dad," the blonde boy's voice was almost sedate. Jefferson nodded, and closed the distance between them.
"Are you okay, son?" he asked gently, making it obvious that he meant "besides the obvious". Josh nodded in reply, and looked his father in the eye.
"Except....Dad, I want to quit N-Tek. I'm useless around here now," he said simply. Jeff didn't reel back in surprise. He'd been expecting this response, and was grateful for it. He'd had Max Steel added to the marble statue partially because he'd been certain Josh would quit, and partially because it was appropriate. Max Steel would never rise again. His time was over. Josh McGrath held center stage again. That was fine with Jeff. He placed his hands on his son's shoulders.
"I respect and understand your decision, Josh. I'll take care of it," he said calmly, a smile hedging his lips. The brown-eyed youth smiled up at his parent.
"Thank you, Dad," he said, then turned and headed for the door. Jeff called him back.
"Were are you off to?" he asked. Josh smiled wanly in reply.
"Fixing things with my past," he answered, then breezed out the door. Jefferson shrugged, and turned his attention to taking his son out of N-Tek's database. A small sense of relief flooded through him. But loss found it's way in as well. Berto was the only one from Team Steel left. A single mission had taken away one of the best teams N-Tek had ever had the luck to get hold of. Truth be told, they were also the most destructive, but it came with the territory. He sighed, and rubbed his temples, trying to rid himself of a sudden headache. N-Tek was going to be much quieter. It would take some getting used to.
*****
A sudden storm had sprung up, heavy Spring showers. It seemed proper, in a way. Cleansing his spirit, giving him a chance to nudge recent events a little into the back of his memory, allowing him to live again. He looked at the flowers he held. Baby pink roses. Her favorite color, if memory served him right. Hey Big Guy. I don't know if you're really up there or not, but if ya are, how about a little luck right around now? he thought, brushing his other hand through his blonde hair, and looking up. There she was. Of course, Laura wasn't expecting him. She'd gotten an anonymous note, supposedly from an old friend. He was half surprised she'd come in the first place. He gripped the flowers a little tighter, and expelled a deep breath, steeling his nerves. With smooth, sure steps, he advanced on the Chinese girl, mentally dispelling any lingering doubts. Rachel loved Max. Max loved Rachel. Rachel didn't love Josh. Josh loves Laura, he thought over and over as he walked up.
"Hey, Brown-Eyes," he greeted softly, catching her attention. She spun around. Her eyes widened, then hardened. A frown started to cross her lips.
"I didn't want to see you again," she said in reply. Inwardly, he winced. Outwardly, he just gave a dramatic little sigh, gesturing a little with the flowers.
"I know, Laura," he murmured, then thrust the flowers at her. "Just for a few minutes....peace?" he asked, a little more hopefully than he was expecting himself to sound. His heart jumped as she accepted the blossoms. She blinked at him.
"Why are you here?" she asked, almost in a whisper. He bowed his head. turning it slightly.
"To confess, Brown-Eyes. To beg forgiveness. Even if it's a shot in the dark. I know I hurt you. I didn't want to. But it was...well, not necessary, but I felt I had to protect you. From what I had become," he explained, still looking at the ground to her left. He felt a tear slip down his cheek. Funny, he hadn't even noticed it. She saw it, though. Hesitantly, she took a step towards him.
"Josh, what's wrong?" she asked gently. He shook his head, not trusting himself to speak. She laid a hand on his shoulder. A friendly hand. It seemed to give him some measure of comfort, or at least, confidence.
"Everything, Laura. I quit N-Tek. Something horrible happened," he said softly. She impulsively placed her arms around him, giving him a gentle squeeze, then led him to a nearby bench. Sat him down on it, and settled beside him, neither caring if their clothes got damp.
"Tell me everything, Josh," she said quietly, not taking her arms from around him. He expelled a long breath, and shuddered. The story came out. Everything since that fated day in June. The visit to N-Tek, the encounter, the max probes, the near death, missions, partners, all the way up to the events that had brought him to her. He pulled all the stops, let her know everything that had happened. Through the story, Laura's face spanned sympathy, anger, surprise, and sorrow.
It took almost two hours to tell all. Umbrellas were a thing of the past. Both of them were drenched. After he was done, they sat in silence for a long time, her arms firmly around him, his around her. He let himself take shuddering breaths, tears mingling with rain and streaming down his face. The black-haired Asian girl was silent, processing everything she had just learned. Finally, she shifted, looking up at him.
"They're both gone?" she asked, as if unsure if he'd said so. He swallowed hard, and nodded. She dropped her head, and squeezed him. "I'm sorry, Josh," she said softly. He gave her a watery imitation of his old grin.
"Thanks, Laura," he replied, then hiccoughed. "I still can't believe it," he murmured, shuddering a little. She blinked back a few tears of her own, and looked back up.
"Josh, why are you here? I know we used to be a couple. But, I will not be a fall-back while you mourn for Rachel," she asked and stated. That point was still unclear for her. Josh had been strangely vague. First saying he was Max, then saying that Max was another person sharing his body with Josh. She'd lost track of it all. He chuckled softly.
"I'm not asking you to, Brown-Eyes. I meant what I said. But Max kind of swept over my life," he explained, his fingers brushing over the soggy material of his left jeans leg.
"But you said you loved Rachel--" Laura started to protest. A finger landed gently on her lips, silencing her as Josh looked into her eyes.
"Not quite. I said that Max loved Rachel. It's hard to believe, but Max and Josh are two separate people," he said calmly. She blinked several times, trying to figure out the cryptic meaning. As last, she leaned her head on his shoulder.
"Then...what about Josh?" she asked, already certain she knew the answer, but needing confirmation. He pulled her close, eyes locked on hers.
"He never stopped loving you," he whispered, resting his forehead against hers. She tilted her head slightly, and kissed him firmly on the lips. For the first time in a year. They closed their eyes, emersing themselves in one another's essences. It was a big step on the healing path, for both of them. The act assured them that everything would be alright... eventually.

Okay, that was hard. To write, at least. What? First time in more than two months that I did something this heavy. I wrote this mostly to deal with my over-load of emotions, and to get out some wayward thoughts and scenarios brought about by something major that happened in my life recently. If you made it through this, then good job. Catch ya later! Luv ya all!
-Maxy Steel