Chloe Price sat in a sterile hospital room and wondered how the world could end in a single week, with no one noticing or caring.

It had been four days since her father's funeral. Since Max fell into a coma. Three days since Chloe went from listening to a recorded message endlessly to rushing to the hospital. Two day since she was sneaking around, listening at doors to try and find out what had happened to her first mate.

Then, in a meeting between Max's parents and the Doctor's that she wasn't supposed to be hearing, amid a sea of indecipherable medical jargon there had been one term which had been as direct as a knife in the gut.

Braindead.

Her Max, her best friend, sidekick on a hundred adventures and lead role on a thousand more, was gone. She was lying right there, pale and freckled and so damn cute, but she was gone.

Chloe hadn't left Max's bedside since finding out. Nurses, doctors and security staff had cajoled begged and threatened. She hadn't even noticed. Eventually, they left her alone. It wasn't like she was causing trouble. She just sat there, eyes fixed on Max's still form. Refusing to even blink until her burning eyes forced her to.

She wasn't going to take her eyes off Max. Off what was left of Max. The empty shell in the hospital bed might not be much, but it was all had. She had already lost so much.

Maybe if she was patient enough Max would….wait, no. Chloe couldn't just wait around. She always got such good grades, maybe if she went back to school and studied and studied and studied she could figure this out. So much about the human brain still wasn't understood. It would take years, but maybe she could make some breakthrough and…

Maybe.

Maybe maybe maybe.

Maybe if she found a dark altar in a hidden temple and sacrificed a fucking virgin whatever vicious god had taken over Chloe's life would relent for a fucking minute and give her back.

She didn't even realize she had spoken the last part aloud until she heard her voice bouncing back at her.

It was enough to break the floodgates.

Chloe hunched over, burying her head in Max's lap as she sobbed out a simple refrain. Three words, repeated over and over and over in a desperate plea.

"…give her back give her back give her back giveherbackgiveherbackgiveherback…"

Chloe had never been religious. She never had anything against religion, she just wasn't raised with any particular faith. So it wasn't a prayer she sent out, there was no god or specific entity she hoped would hear or answer.

It was just a general plea, to a world that had been so very beautiful until so very recently. A child's cry that the "real world" she had spent so long hearing about not be this hard, this brutal. That it show a little mercy, and not take everything.

The gentle hand running through her hair almost stopped Chloe's heart. And then the voice. That beautifully familiar voice.

"I'm so sorry Chloe. So, so sorry." Max said gently.

Chloe blinked the tears from her eyes, gaping up at her best friend. Her miracle.

"Max?" She whispered.

"Yeah Chloe? Uhm, why am I in the hospital?"

"Max! Max Max Max! MaxMaxMaxMaxMaxMaxMAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAX!"

Chloe threw her arms around her friend, pulling her into a close hug.

"What do you mean, you don't know?"

Chloe found it hard to blame the doctor for flinching in the face of Ryan's fury. They were in the doctor's office for a meeting Chloe was only included in due to her steadfast refusal to let go of Max's hand.

"I mean that unless your daughter has two minds in that head of hers this is medically impossible!"

"How about you stop making nonsensical statements about my daughter's mind and use your own to figure out what happened! One minute you are telling me that she is braindead and the next that she is perfectly fine. When I ask what caused this you just shrug and say "stress?". Whywas it a question, Doc? And your best advice for treatment is to keep her calm and stress free? We are moving to a new city to a house that was just torched by some random fucking arsonist and one of the family's closest friends just died. We are all pretty fucking stressed."

Vanessa placed her hands on her husband's shoulders, kissing the back of his head and looking to the doctor.

"Would it be better for Max to avoid change, right now?"

Ryan looked up in shock.

"'You can't be talking about what Max brought up at the hotel, 'Nessa?"

She nodded. "With everything that has happened….I think we should call Joyce, love."

Chloe glanced at Max, who shrugged. Apparently, the last thing Max remembered was arriving at the hotel and taking a picture of herself. Whatever this conversation was, Max wouldn't be filling in the blanks for her.

Max frowned in her sleep, the crease in her brow barely visible in the faint light filtering in through Chloe's window. In the near darkness, Chloe's room was transformed. The unfamiliar shapes that were the various boxes and bundles containing Max's possessions should have been strange and threatening, transformed into intruders by the poor visibility.

Instead they were treasured reminders of the impossible stroke of luck she had had. The unbelievable arrangement her mother had come to with Max's parents, even if they had been sure to stress that it was temporary.

The deal which meant her best friend was in bed curled around her, where she would stay for at least a month. She and Chloe had talked for hours, hands intertwined as Max's eyes got heavier and heavier.

Until she had fallen asleep literally on top of Chloe, who had settled back and attempted to join her. She had had such a hard time sleeping, lately, and she was still a long way away from being okay. But with every warm minty breath that puffed out of Max's mouth and across Chloe's cheek, the tense knot of emotion that had been in her chest since the moment her mother got home from the grocery store lessened, just the tiniest fraction.

Chloe slipped into a gentle, dreamless sleep.