AN: Finally, a multi-chapter Maxton fic. I've been wanting to do one for a long time. I'm really excited for this one and can't wait to see where it goes. I hope it's enjoyed.
Snow crunched under his feet as he made his way through the cemetery, his eyes barely noticing the half-covered headstones that he passed by as he walked toward his destination. Mike Weston zipped his faithful black leather jacket up a little more against the cold breeze that swirled around him and adjusting the baseball hat that sat atop his head, bringing it lower over his eyes. How many months had it been since he'd been on US soil? He didn't even remember clearly. He didn't remember much, in all honesty. It was like he wore blinders most of the time, his mind focused on only one thing. And that one thing had evaded him for months, and for the time being he had other things on his mind.
Had it really been a year ago that he'd been standing in the FBI Headquarters in New York City watching a video that Lily Gray had recorded of her twisted son slitting his father's throat? That meant it had also been a year since she had been kidnapped by the Huntsman.
Stop it, Mike mentally rebuked himself as he continued his trek through the cemetery. God, he felt bad enough without his mind going there. He was sure he was sick. He had been for a while, but who had time to track down a doctor when you were constantly on the hunt for one specific person? He wasn't even sure when the last time he'd eaten had been. His entire brain seemed to work better when he focused only on one thing at a time those days. So he would continue doing that. Just concentrate on what you came here to do.
At long last he stopped in front of the headstone he had been looking for. The several sets of footprints that surrounded it told him that his family had already come and gone, which he had expected. It was late in the afternoon, they were probably spending the day together, starting with a trip to this very spot. He was relieved that he was alone though. His family hadn't heard from him in months, somewhere around nine months if his calculations were right, which they usually were. He wondered if they had finally given up on him too.
He knelt down, the snow crunching beneath him as he did so. He looked over the simple headstone, his heart sinking as his eyes traveled over his father's name, date of birth, date of death…. His heart clenched painfully and suddenly the tears were flowing down his cheeks. A year had gone by, and what did he have to show for it? Not a damn thing. He had lost everything, and at the end of the day, he had no one to blame but himself. And he did blame himself for every last thing that had happened over the last year. From his father dying, to the countless people who had died while the case went on, to the part of him that was lost forever when he killed Lily, to his relationship with Max ending when he had gone on the hunt for Mark, following lead after lead… it was all his fault.
The tears couldn't stop at that point, and Mike felt like he couldn't breathe. He was out in the middle of the frigid cemetery, and yet he felt like he was suddenly boxed in by invisible walls. He tried to inhale, but the air wouldn't come. He was being crushed by the weight of it all, and for the first time he let it all go, allowing the guilt to finally come down on his entire being.
"I'm sorry, dad," Mike finally choked out, his throat tight with the emotions that continued to crush him. He needed to breathe, to inhale, his body wanting so badly to cough, if only to relieve some of the pressure, but he couldn't seem to remember how to inhale, how to fill his lungs with enough air to make the world stop spinning around him. How could he have been so stupid? Why hadn't he listened to her? Of course seeking revenge wasn't going to fix anything. But his mind had been so clouded over with grief that he could see nothing else, even the opportunity for happiness that had been so clearly staring him in the face.
She was all he thought about on the days and nights that felt hopeless. The nights where he refused to let the pain take hold of him. He remembered the good times they'd had before he left, times where he'd finally felt a sliver of happiness after his father's death. And yet he'd still let her go. He didn't deserve her, and he knew that he could never truly be happy with her until he either got rid of Mark Gray, or he gave up his hunt. At the moment, the second option definitely seemed like the option he should have chosen, but he had been so clouded over with pain and guilt he hadn't been able to see it.
Where was she now, he wondered. Probably somewhere in New York, enjoying the holiday season with Ryan for a change, maybe with a new lover, finding her own happiness, while he was exactly where he started.
He stayed there for a few minutes, maybe longer, he wasn't sure. He really couldn't tell how long it took to finally be able to breathe again. All he knew was that that first breath he finally managed had stopped the spinning, and each breath that followed got a little easier. He leaned back on his heels and looked up at the darkening sky, allowing the rapidly cooling air to fill his lungs over and over again. He didn't know where he went from that point. He was so lost, he wasn't sure he'd ever find his way back to being the person he had once been. He wasn't sure that person even existed inside of him anymore. How had it all gone so wrong in such a short amount of time?
"Mike?"
Mike's entire body went rigid, feeling as though it had changed to ice as he heard the soft voice behind him. There was no way it was possible; no way that she could be there. He'd heard her voice hundreds of times before, usually when he hit rock bottom, which happened quite frequently those days. That was how he knew he could get no lower.
The sound of the snow crunching behind him caught his attention and finally he turned, his eyes widening as he saw her there. She stood behind him, her cerulean blue eyes piercing his and once again he felt his breath leave his chest as he looked up at her, "Max."
