I Hope You See

by amamsy bruh

...Jude was Jude, and Jude made everything better, and Jude could fix him.

"Hurry your ass up, Carrigan!"

Max struggled to keep up with his soldiers, but he couldn't help observing his surroundings--the burning trees, the dead bodies piling up, and it killed him even more to know that he was part of the reason.

"Carrigan! We will seriously leave your ass if you don't hurry the fuck up!"

Max struggled to catch up, tripping over bodies and trying to push the screaming voices out of his head. If he made it out of here alive, he would never be the same. He was already fucked up. Max had killed and wounded so many people--some of them children and women--that he was slowly becoming numb. He rarely spoke, and there was absolutely no reason to laugh or smile when this shit is around you. Max had always tried to make the best out of a bad situation, but after awhile, he gave up. There was no positive side to this. No silver lining.

When Max was trudging by himself, he would attempt to drain all of his pain away by thinking of New York, his life that was taken from him, the people he missed so much.

He missed Prudence's laugh, her soft, shy voice, and her vibrant personality. He missed the way she understood him so well. She was one of his best friends, probably the closest female to him. He missed the way she would wake him up at the crack of dawn just so the two of them could grab some breakfast together, and he missed the way she would tickle his stomach.

And whenever Prudence crossed his mind, it went immediately to Sadie and Jojo. They went automatically hand in hand. Separately, they're amazing, but together, they're a force, not only in their music, but in their personalities. They contrast each other so much, but at the same time, it's only because they're so much alike. Max missed them insanely. He missed hearing Sadie's voice, whether it was at a concert, or when she was speaking directly to him. He missed the way she would cut straight to the point, and he missed the way she would always find a way to make anybody feel included--not that it was ever a problem for Max. As for Jojo, Max truly missed hearing the sound of his guitar, the way it said so much more than Jojo ever could. Sometimes in his sleep, Max could still hear the soft chords meshing so well with Sadie's voice. It was like heaven. Until Max woke up.

And then… oh, and then there's Lucy. Max blinked his eyes shut. He wished that Lucy would never have to see everything he did. From her letters, it was obvious that she had taken on a cause, believing that the more she fought, the quicker he would come home. Even Max knew that it was a long shot, but it made him cry at night to think that his sister would try anything and everything to bring Max home. It was Lucy's letters that helped him make it through the day, and she was sure to send letters every single day, and two of them, one to read right when he woke up, and one to read right before he went to sleep. Though they usually brought little reassurance, the little things would make Max feel better. And it always made Max smile when Jude offered his little signatures at the end…

Jude.

Some days, Jude was all he thought about. Max had never had a friend like Jude… but calling Jude a friend meant absolutely nothing. Jude was more than a friend, more than a best friend. Jude was everything. Jude's voice haunted Max's dream, screaming at him, begging him to come home. Max saw Jude in the fires, in the pain. Max would shoot, and hear the agonizing screams of the victim… but sometimes, it wasn't the scream of the victim… it was Jude's. Saying Max missed Jude would be an understatement--Max fucking needed him.

What if Jude had been American? Would they have been drafted together?

Max wished sometimes he had, but then he would realize that it was selfish to want someone to see the pain he witnessed. Max wouldn't want Jude to be as fucked up as he was anyways. Jude needed to make Max the way he was, to change him. Only Jude was a capable of doing so.

Max hated himself for putting so much pressure on a single person, but it was the damn truth--Jude was Jude, and Jude made everything better, and Jude could fix him.

Jude could fix him.

xxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Jude, I didn't know you were such an artist." Martha Feeney commented, observing a sketch Jude had been working on. "When did you pick up this hobby? In New York?"

Hobby? Jude was a bit annoyed. Art was not a hobby.

"Yeah, I did, yeah." Jude cringed after he said the second 'yeah.'

"Jude, have I ever told you that you say 'yeah' too much?"

Jude smirks at his American friend. "No, you haven't. But I do?"

"Yeah, you do. Is it a British thing?" Max crosses his arms and leans against the counter. "Or is it a Jude thing?"

"It's a Jude thing."

"Jude?" Martha snapped her son out of his flashback. "What is this picture of?"

"Er." Jude looked down at what he had drawn. It was one of those absent minded sketches, one that his fingers worked on but his mind ignored. He smiled a bit when he recognized the face. "It's just a friend of mine. From New York."

Martha looked at the picture. "Lucy? But I thought you said she had long hair…"

"No, no. His name was Max."

Martha's eyes widen a bit. Growing up, Jude had always been a girl magnet. She had never really seen Jude without the company of a female, so it was hard to imagine that he had actually managed to make a friend that didn't have breasts. And from the way Jude sketched him and smiled when he said his name, he must've meant a lot. Martha smiled softly. "I see. Well, it's wonderful. Maybe you could show one of the professors at the art school?"

"They work with professional artists, Mum. Not amateur ones like me."

Martha kissed her son's head and patted it. "You never know, Jude. Now, I'll be at the market. You need anything?"

Jude shook his head, and Mrs. Feeney made her way out the door.

Jude's hand was at work again, scribbling down something on a piece of paper. But when he looked at it, he saw that he had written a full letter to a friend who was currently in 'Nam. Jude sighed. What had he written?

Dear Max,

I've come to hate the American government even more than you have. They've decided that since I resisted police at one of Lucy's protests, I have no right to be there. Or maybe, it was just because I didn't have a visa. That's probably it. Either way, I'm back in Liverpool, trying to adjust back into the old status quo. (Do you have any bloody idea how life is without having the ability to smoke weed everyday? Oh--I suppose you would…)

Molly's still a bloody bitch, but now she's a pregnant bloody bitch. If you remember my stories correctly, I told you about how needy and clingy she is--well, at least she's got Phil. They'll be happy together. As long as I'm out of the picture. But she's still as beautiful as she was before… shame on me for being so shallow. (Though, in comparison to you, I'm a saint.)

I do miss Lucy, mate. I do. You don't need me to tell you.

And you?

You bloody fool, don't even get me started on how much I miss you… I might need an entire journal to explain only a fragment of how much I need you around.

-Jude.

Just as quickly as it was written, it was crumbled up and thrown away.

Jude could never send that to Max--letting him know how much he really needed him and such. It was an unspoken thing between the two of them that no matter how much they need or miss each other, they never admit it to anybody but themselves. Deep down, both of them would know.

Jude got up from his seat and stretched his arms. He looked out the window, and angrily noted that Liverpool was fucking cold.

Jude wasn't sure what made New York seem so much warmer--the actual weather, or the people he had surrounded himself with.

xxxxxxxxxxx

Max attempted to sleep, as he did every night, but there was no sleep unless it was morphine induced. So he just sat in his bed and thought. He thought about the looks on everyone's faces whenever they came to visit him. These were not the facial expressions he was used to seeing. Prudence would force a smile, Jojo would just look at him in confusion, Sadie would plaster a wide smile on her face and it wasn't hard to tell that she didn't mean it, and Lucy… she would just look at him with those beautiful blue eyes and attempt to hold back tears.

Max knew about Jude. Prudence had told him, since Lucy couldn't bear to tell Max. When Max heard this, he put on a stern face. He simply said, "So he's okay?" and Prudence shrugged and Max pretended like that answer sufficed. But it was what happened after Prudence left, after the lights had been turned out, after everyone else had dozed off… Max just looked up at the ceiling, and he pictured Jude. It was the last time he saw Jude, with red, watery eyes but a smile on his face. He was waving with one hand, and had his other arm around Lucy. Max was in the back of the bus that was filled with all the others who had been drafted, and he watched his friends--no, he watched Jude--until they eventually faded off into the distance.

"You'll be okay mate." Jude had said before Max boarded the bus. "You're a crazy fucker, and you'll be okay."

"And until I come back," Max had replied. "You better not lay one finger on my sister."

And the two of them had laughed and shared a quick embrace.

Between Max and Jude, there was no time to dwell.

That was a night Max never forgot, when he was first told about Jude. It was the first time he had cried since returning, the first time he realized that he still had some emotion left in him.

And now here he was, back to thinking about everything and anything. Which, of course, meant Max was thinking about Jude.

Y'know mate, I'm not that swell of a guy. Why am I always in your head? Jude's voice questioned Max.

Man, of all the people in my life, you're definitely one that needs to stay in my head. Max subconsciously replied.

Aw, Maxwell Carrigan, you are too sweet. Max swore he could hear Jude's chuckle, even deep in his own thoughts.

I know… so, answer me this: why the fuck did you have to go and get yourself kicked out of the country? Max was slightly pissed off at the Jude in his head.

It wasn't intentional. Believe me, if I could, I'd be right back in New York.

Max blinked. He felt a warm, stinging sensation in his eyes… tears. But why was he crying? This isn't what Jude was actually saying, this is what the Jude in Max's head was saying. This statement wasn't even real, not even spoken out loud. It was all in his head.

But even knowing that, Max closed his eyes and quietly replied to his head, Fuck, Jude. Where are you?

The Subconscious Jude sighed, took a deep breath, and murmured, I'm where I never belonged. I'm where I always stood out. I'm in a fucking place where nothing makes sense… and I guess it's because I'm somewhere without you.

Max snapped up. No! Don't think that, don't think that! Jude wouldn't say that, Jude probably didn't even miss the guy. Jude doesn't give a shit.

The tears fell down Max's face. He shook his head furiously. "Get the fuck out of my head!" he yelled.

You put me here, Max.

"Get the fuck out! I don't want you here! You're not Jude, you're not him! You're a liar!"

The nurses rushed in and tried to restrain Max, but he continued his screams. "Get out! Get out of my head!"

Max wasn't sure what happened next, but one of the nurses pulled out a needle and jabbed it in his arm. Max began to fade off into darkness, but before he did, he heard his head say…

I'm coming back.

xxxxxxxxxx

Jude sat in the bar, questioning his life's worth. He had just read the newspaper, and everything felt distant. The only thing Jude could feel was the cold glass mug against his warm palm. The only thing that ran through Jude's mind was: She's probably dead.

Of course she probably was. That motherfucker Paco probably told her that making a bomb and blowing herself up was noble, and since she thought he walked on water, she probably agreed and now she's probably dead.

Probably.

He closed his eyes, trying to keep out any mental images. Fuck. How could she be so stupid? Well, not stupid… misled is probably the kinder term. Jude sighed. How is everyone else taking this? Would Max be freaking out? Would he call Jude and demand that he come for the funeral? Not that Jude would anyway--Jude despised funerals, as most people did, but Jude mainly hated them because they were depressing and they only represented death. And Jude did not want to take part in anything that represented Lucy's death.

He finished up his beer and made his way out of the bar as quickly as possible. He couldn't be in public.

But, of course, he would only run into her on his way home.

"Jude," she said in her cold voice. "hello."

"Hi, Molly." Jude responded bleakly, trying to keep his eyes off of her growing bump. "How're you?"

"Fine. Just going to the clinic for a check up, you know. So." Molly narrowed her eyes a bit. "Your mother told me to tell you that you've got a letter at home." Her voice hardened a bit. "From New York."

Jude's eyes brightened, but only until he realized what it probably meant. Jude nodded at his ex lover. "Thanks, Molly."

"You really need to grow up, Jude." Molly said. "I understand that you found your freedom in New York, and you found some friends… but face it, Jude. You'll never be anyone but the boy from Liverpool. Not the artist from New York. Sometimes, we just need a bit of reality."

Jude narrowed his eyes a bit. "Well, maybe that's reality to you. And maybe that's just because you've never left Liverpool a day in your life. You don't understand what's out there."

"No. But I know what I've got here. And it suits me just fine, Jude."

"Well, then I guess that just proves my point--we've got different standards."

Molly's voice turned stone cold. "True. I mean, I must have pretty low standards. I did sleep with you after all."

"And they keep getting lower, considering you've been knocked up by Sculley."

Molly's eyes flashed, widened, and Jude immediately felt bad for what he had said. She didn't respond, she just walked quickly out of Jude's path. He wanted to apologize, but he had a letter waiting for him at home.

xxxxxxxxxxxx

Jude,

Get your ass back in the states.

Both of the Carrigans are alive and well.

-Max.

xxxxxxxxxx

How long had he been waiting there? Two, three hours? Well, what was taking so damn long?

"So, who are you waiting for?" The young girl next to him asked. Max didn't feel like talking, but maybe it would pass time, so he obliged.

"Just a friend." Max said absently.

"You're fidgety and excited. People don't get like that for just a friend."

"Okay…" Max thought of a way to put this. Even to a perfect stranger, it was clear to see how much Jude meant to him. Max smiled a bit, something that he hadn't done in awhile. "I'm waiting for my best friend." Even that felt like an understatement.

"Well, then. They're letting people through." The girl nodded and said. "Good luck with your friend." Then she walked over to join another group.

Max clung to the fence, watching the gate with an increased rate in heartbeats. Dammit, Max would never admit it to Jude's face, but he missed that Brit so fucking much that it hurt. He needed to see him, he needed to see him…

And then, he saw him.

"JUDE! JUDE! JUDEY! JUDEY, JUDEY, JUDEYYY!"

xxxxxxxxxx

"So what's it like to be back in the states?" Prudence asked, grinning. "Did you miss us?"

"Like mad." Jude smiled at her, planting a kiss on her cheek. Prudence, Max, Jude, and Lucy were all sitting on the rooftop of their apartment building, crossed legged and buzzing a little bit. They had been up here for a good few hours, sharing beers and stories.

"Well, it's nice to have you back." Lucy said, gently kissing Jude on the lips.

Watching this, something in Max's stomach churned. Then he opted for the smart ass remark. "Though, it would've been nice to have you back a bit sooner."

Jude grinned at Max. "Well, I would've if you had written sooner."

Max smirked. Then he stood up, beer in hand, and announced to all of New York below, "This is a toast--to lesbians, to radicals, to ship jumping Brits, and to veterans!"

Prudence and Lucy giggled, but Jude stood up and put an arm around Max. "Here, here!"

"I swear, you two are insane." Prudence muttered, then glanced at the starry sky. "It's so beautiful tonight… too bad I'm too tired to give a damn. I suggest sleep. Anybody else with me?"

"I am." Lucy stood up and joined Prudence. She looked back at the boys. "You guys are staying up?"

"Of course! The night is young!" Max exclaimed, swooping up Prudence into a hug.

"Well, you two have fun. Don't get too drunk, and don't jump off the roof, thinking you can fly. Gravity always wins." Prudence took Lucy by the hand. "C'mon Luce. I think Sadie has some cake stashed somewhere…"

And with that, the girls disappeared down the steps, the door slamming behind them. That left Jude and Max. Alone.

Jude looked off into the sky, smiling widely. "I can't fucking believe it--I'm here! I'm back where I belong!"

I'm where I never belonged. I'm where I always stood out. I'm in a fucking place where nothing makes sense… and I guess it's because I'm somewhere without you…

Max pulled himself out of that memory. He didn't need Subconscious Jude anymore. The real deal was right beside him, taking in the sights of the city.

"I'd be lying if I said I didn't miss you." Max commented, sitting back down.

Jude looked down at him, smirked a bit, and sat beside him. "I see. And would that be because you're secretly in love with me?"

Max chuckled. "Oh, that's a definite possibility."

They both stretched out on the rooftop, letting the cold wind brush through them. They were both looking up at the brightly lit sky. It was rare when you could actually see the stars in New York.

"So, Jude, tell me--was it my letter that brought you back?"

"Of course." Jude didn't even have to think about it.

Max felt content with that answer, and they continued to observe the shining stars. Max would occasionally look over at Jude with a feeling of happiness and longing. Where was this feeling coming from, the longing?

And then, Max knew it.

He knew it from the way he felt the moment Jude came into view, he knew it from the way he had missed the bastard like crazy, he knew it from the smiles, he knew it from everything that added up… and he had probably known it since the moment he offered Jude some Ivy League hospitality.

As for Jude, well Jude was still in amazement. Here he was, looking up at the stars, beside his best friend, in New York. Home.

In fact, hadn't this what he had been waiting for all along?

But it felt like there was something missing, like Jude was supposed to say something, or he was supposed to do something.

"Max?"

"Yeah?"

"There's something missing… I don't know what it is."

Max looked over at Jude with his beautiful eyes and said, "I don't think there's anything missing. There's New York, there's the world, there's the universe… and there's you and me. I don't think we need anything more in this equation."

Then it clicked for Jude. "Say that again."

"Say what again?"

"What you said after universe… say it." Now Jude was looking back into Max's eyes. Neither of them were moving.

"The you and me thing?"

"Exactly that."

"Okay… there's you and me."

And in that moment, Jude knew that there was absolutely nothing missing.

xxxxxxxxxxxx

"Shoot! Shoot!"

Max shivered as his mind recreated the pain he had just escaped from. Everything was clear. From the sounds of the shooting pulsing through his ears, to the sights of the bodies that were laying everywhere. Max knew that this was just a nightmare, but as hard as he tried, he couldn't wake himself up.

Max lifted up his rifle to aim at The Enemy… the Enemy had taken a new form each day; the Enemy was a rival soldier one day, or an innocent civilian the next day. In Max's dream, the Enemy was himself.

But the Enemy Max looked different. This guy was radiant, shining, the way he used to be. He was grinning, almost daring Max to shoot him. Because Enemy Max had no fears. Enemy Max had nothing to worry about.

After all, he was just in Max's head.

Max put his finger on the trigger, taking one last breath before he made his shot.

"You're not actually going to do that, are you?"

Max whirled around, dropping the rifle to his feet. He was facing Jude, the Jude that had haunted his head so many months ago.

"I have to. He's not real anymore, he's gone. Why should he even be here?" Max said. "That Max doesn't belong here!" He gestured at the war around him. "That Max belongs somewhere safe, where he can pretend that the world is fine and happy."

"You don't have to, Max." Jude took a step toward him. "This is your mind, your dream. If somewhere in here, That Max still exists, then there's hope."

"Yeah, but look what he's surrounded by!" Max screamed back. "Death! Pain! And this is how it all adds up to me!" He pointed at himself. "I'm no longer That Max! I'm This Max! A fucked up guy!"

"I know that. But that doesn't mean you have to be like this forever."

Max turned his back on Jude, and when he looked back, he noticed that That Max was gone… no wait, he was dead. Max looked down to see his frail body bleeding excessively. When Max turned back to Jude, he said, "See? He's really gone now. Because this war killed him inside."

"No. You killed him." Jude pointed at Max's bloody hands. "Because you're too afraid to admit that you can change."

Then Jude disappeared, probably somewhere in the back of Max's mind, and Max observed his hands. Yes, they were covered in blood, but how could he have killed him? He had dropped the gun, hadn't he? Well, odd things happen in dreams.

The oddest of them all was when Max dropped to his knees and started crying.

When he awoke the next morning, Jude was sitting beside him, half asleep, holding onto his hand.

He had been there all night.

xxxxxxxxxxx

Jude tried to tell himself that if he just stuck around, if he never let go, Max would be okay.

But after so many weeks, Jude had realized that Max would never be okay, or at least he wouldn't be the Max that Jude remembered. He would be an entirely different person, and Jude knew that Max was afraid of people leaving him. Jude knew that Max was afraid Jude would leave him.

Jude wanted to tell Max that there was no way in hell he would ever leave him, Jude cared too much. But even Jude knew there was another reason why he didn't want to leave him--the fact is, Jude's feelings for Max were overwhelming. Lucy had discovered this when she saw a sketch Jude had drawn of Max, and she had noticed the way Jude looked at it with shining eyes… she had understood. And if she didn't, she pretended like she did, because she probably knew that this wasn't new. That there was something more, and she had been in the way all along.

Jude had held Max all night long last night. Max had been crying, but he wouldn't wake up, so Jude just crawled next to him in bed, wrapped his arm around him, and allowed the beautiful male to cry onto him. Jude didn't care if Max would remember this in the morning.

"Jude?" Max mumbled, gently waking up.

"Yeah, it's me."

"How long have you been here?" Max asked, looking up at him through squinted eyes.

"Just a few hours, I guess."

Max yawned, and Jude pulled his arms way to let him move around.

"What are you doing?" Max snapped.

"What do you mean?"

"Keep your arms there. They were warm."

And so Jude did, not knowing how much longer he could contain the erupting feeling in his stomach. Jude wanted Max, needed Max, and he knew that Max's feelings were probably the same. The only problem was that neither of them had enough willpower to say it out loud.

But they were Max and Jude after all, sometimes things didn't need to be spoken.

And as they sat there together, both unable to say what they were really feeling, they both knew the truth deep inside of them.

They didn't have to say the words…

I love you.