After seeing the crime scene, after confirming that Gosalyn, his girlfriend and better half, was truly gone, Max turned around.
And ran.
He couldn't bear to stay.
So he stumbled out of the city, towards the Audubon Bay Bridge and up to Darkwing Tower.
He had to keep reminding himself to breathe, deeply and through the nose. Even though his lungs couldn't seem to expand all the way. And no amount of deep breaths soothed the pain lancing through him, clawing at his insides, like some creature desperate to get out. Any moment now, he was sure, it would burst through his chest and the suffocation would be over. A gentle forgiving blackness would take him away from this awful place, far from the new reality where he had been left alone.
But the blackness never came, no matter how little air Max took in or how much the thing in his chest squeezed and squeezed and squeezed.
Once he was safely ensconced in the Tower, Max finally collapsed. Relished the biting cold of the cement as it caused his kneecaps to shudder, jarring and dull. His shield and spear clattered away from him, neither of which he could be bothered to pick up. There were the sounds of clamoring feet and a pounding on the metal staircase, but it was only on the periphery. It was nothing to the rushing sound in his head, the rattling of his own breath in his lungs.
Gosalyn would never be able to breathe again.
Something like a sob escaped him as hands, gentle but unfamiliar, gingerly took hold.
"Max?" came a voice that was also familiar. But it wasn't who he wanted. Wanted with a harsh desperation that he felt fragile and fractured, ready to collapse into tiny fragmented pieces.
Scrooge's grip tightened fractionally, trying to hold him up. But gravity was an unstoppable force and Max had little resistance to much of anything. He slumped forward, the hands scrambling as Scrooge repositioned himself to catch Max as he fell.
"Where's Dad?" Max asked, needing to know. Needing him. Everything else was falling apart, Max included, and Goofy was the only person who could help put some of it back together.
"I'll call him," Scrooge assured. "Do you want to lie down?"
He already practically was, but he nodded anyway.
Scrooge hauled him up to standing, his strength greater than Max had given him credit for, and led him over towards a bed.
The smell hit him first and Max collapsed onto the mattress with another sob. Gosalyn's bed. The one she used after long and strenuous missions.
The sheets were a haphazard mess at best, rumpled piles of fabric at worst. She never did make the bed. And it smelled just like her, the cucumber and green tea soap that she used. He'd gone grocery shopping once, and hadn't been able to find her shampoo in the multiple aisles that female hair product was shelved in, so he'd called her in a panic. She'd laughed before telling him to look for a green bottle with purple flowers on it. "Cucumber and green tea," she'd said, and he had been able to hear the smile through the phone.
Max felt the tears start to slide down his cheeks as he curled into a ball on the bed, the blankets coming up to wrap around him.
That invisible monster was constricting his lungs again, powerful iron talons wrapping around his chest and cutting off his airflow. Max buried his face in the pillow, the sweet scent of Gosalyn's shampoo flooding his senses. He couldn't take it. Wasn't able to look around and see a world that she wouldn't traipse through again. Where she wouldn't burst into laughter at the most inappropriate moments. Where she wouldn't look up at him with that light shining in her eyes, arms warm as they encircled his waist and she leaned into him, solid and comforting.
Another sob exploded from him before that monster was squeezing at his rib cage again.
God.
He'd had all of his last moments with her and hadn't even realized.
The last time he would ever wake up first with his arms around her. Enjoying the quiet stillness of the morning as she slumbered on.
The last time he would make her breakfast.
The last time they would play video games together.
The last time he had seen her smile. Heard her laugh.
The two of them had been just starting their life together when she'd been ripped away.
There were a couple shows on Netflix they had promised not to watch without each other. He was sure there were leftovers in the fridge that she had promised to finish (she'd been bad with finishing her leftovers, always coming home with more food that she'd picked up on the way home). The blanket on the couch was definitely a wadded bundle tucked in the folds; she rarely put it away once she'd cast it aside after movie night or reading her comics. Then there was that: one of their favorite comic series had been re-released as a complete limited edition set, all of which they'd bought, and the first book was still sitting on their coffee table as she'd made her way through the volume.
She still owed him money from all the bets they'd placed that she'd lost. He had never listened to that podcast she'd been raving about for months. The laundry hadn't been done before they'd left because they hadn't decided whose turn it was to do it.
Phantom fingers slipped through his hair, the caress reassuring. Echoes of her steady voice reverberated in his head, of Gosalyn giving him instructions.
"Stay safe," he had said.
"You too," she had said. "I'll see you after this is over."
Max had felt the largeness of that moment. Felt how monumental it was. He hadn't been sure why at the time.
But now, looking back, he knew.
It was the last time he'd seen her. Would ever see her again.
If only he'd taken the opportunity. Told her how much she meant to him. How she had changed his life. The ways she had altered his world view and had made him a better version of himself.
But he hadn't.
And now she would never know.
Something soft and warm wrapped around Max's shoulders and some part of him knew he should be startled, but he couldn't bring himself to care. He turned his face up, blinking against the harsh lighting in the Tower and saw his father.
Max released another sob and launched himself at Goofy, his arms wrapping around his father's neck in a vice.
Goofy was there.
Even though Gosalyn had left him alone, Max would never be alone with Goofy there.
His father gathered him close, a hand coming up to cradle the back of his head and suddenly, being held like this, Max felt all of ten years old again. A feeling he relished because if he was truly ten, then none of this would have happened. There was still time. He would meet Gosalyn all over again and fall in love. Maybe warn her against such a dangerous career choice.
But Max wasn't ten anymore.
Gosalyn was gone.
And he had been left behind.
He would have to figure out how to live his life without her when all he had been doing the past four years was picturing their future together.
Goofy's hand slid down to rub circles on his back. He said softly, his voice oh so gentle, "I wish there was something I could do so you wouldn't have to go through this."
Max wished it, too. Wished desperately that magic existed so they could fix it. That science had been advanced enough to travel through time.
But it hadn't. And magic was only in stories.
Max had never felt more helpless in his life.
Shifting so his head was resting on Goofy's chest, Max said, his voice cracking, "I-I feel like I can't breathe. Like I keep trying to catch my breath and I just can't do it." He sighed, more tears streaming down his cheeks.
Goofy squeezed him tighter. "It's gonna hurt a lot. For a long time. It'll never really stop hurtin'. Then, one day, you'll find you don't mind carryin' this pain around. It's somethin' that grows apart of you. Some days will be worse than others, but ya learn to live with it instead of waitin' for it to go away."
Max inhaled shakily, half a sob escaping. "I just want her back." Gripping onto his father, Max gave into the burning in his lungs. Tears spilled down unencumbered and he sobbed.
Goofy held Max long into the night, rubbing circles on his back with his cheek pressed gently to the top of Max's head.