AN: As always, thank you, thank you, thank you for the reviews on the first chapter. I hope you all continue to enjoy the story.
Mike didn't want to blink. If he did, she might disappear. Max said nothing but stood there, each breath she took visible on the frigid air, her eyes watching him carefully. He finally got to his feet, his eyes never leaving hers as he stood opposite her, "What are you…?" He finally managed to say, still not entirely certain that she was truly in front of him just watching him as he watched her.
"Doing here?" Max finished for him. She tilted her head slightly as she looked up at him. God, he looked horrible. It had been months since he'd left shortly after Joe had gone back to jail. Neither she nor Ryan had seen or heard from him since the day he said he was leaving and he wasn't sure he was coming back. She couldn't exactly describe the relief that she felt at seeing him, though. He was alive, but he definitely wasn't living. There were dark circles under his bloodshot eyes and he seemed thinner than he had ever been. Even his voice sounded off to her ears, and if there was one thing she could always identify, it was his voice. "Ryan and I had a bet going," She said, crossing her arms over her chest. "I bet him that you would come back today, and you would come to your father's grave. Clearly, I was right."
"Clearly," Mike echoed, glancing back over his shoulder at the headstone. He looked up as he noticed snow starting to fall, white flecks falling on Max's dark hair. She looked amazing to him, just as he remembered. He longed for her, to reach out and feel for certain that she was real, but he resisted because he didn't want to be wrong.
"Have you been home yet?" Max asked, already pretty sure of the answer, but she had to ask anyway.
Mike shook his head. Having a normal conversation with someone felt weird, especially having the conversation in English, "I took a cab here from the airport. I wanted to get here before the cemetery closed, and I wasn't sure that I would be able to leave if I got home and started getting comfortable." Just the thought of going home was something else he was longing for. He missed his home, his bed, all of it.
"Let me take you home," Max said, zipping her own jacket up a little more as a frigid breeze blew between them. Mike opened his mouth to say something, but he was taken over by a coughing fit. He covered his mouth with his elbow and groaned softly as he finally managed to stop coughing. That cough had been his constant companion over the last few weeks and it didn't seem to be getting any better, only worse. He noticed Max watching him, a concerned look on her face, "Are you okay?"
"Just a cough," Mike shrugged, all the desire he had to refuse the ride from Max suddenly gone from him. Accepting the ride from her would definitely be the fastest way home, and he was almost desperate to get there. "And a ride sounds great, actually, if you're okay with that."
"I wouldn't have offered if I wasn't," Max said, the faintest hint of a smile appearing on her face as she motioned for Mike to follow her. He trailed behind her, following her to the parking lot, silence hanging between them, "I saw your mom when she was here earlier," She said as she headed for her car. "She's worried about you, you know."
"I don't know why," Mike shrugged as he narrowly avoided slipping on some ice. He hated thinking about his family. Everyone had said things that had hurt one another, but at the end of the day, they were still family.
"Mike, no one knew what happened to you," Max said, stopping and turning to look at him. "The only thing that we knew was that you weren't dead because your name never popped up when Ryan did a search for you through ever database the FBI has access to, and even that we couldn't be sure of. You disappeared off the face of the earth from everyone who cared and loved about you without even…."
Her voice trailed off as she saw the pain flash in Mike's eyes. He was exhausted and probably in more pain than he was letting on, and if she didn't know him so well she might not have caught it, but as it were, she knew him as well as anyone could. She sighed softly and pulled out the remote for her car, her new baby a black Jeep Grand Cherokee, starting the engine with a push of a button.
"What happened to the Jetta?" Mike asked after hesitating for a moment, clearing his throat to stop another cough attack. He didn't miss the way that Max's eyes shot him a look of concern, "Really, I'm fine. Nothing a hot shower and some sleep won't help."
"I got rid of the Jetta when I got a new job," Max said, unlocking the doors and allowing Mike into the car, the heater already starting to warm up the interior. She sighed as she settled behind the driver's seat, "It's not Detective Hardy anymore, Mike. Now it's Agent Hardy."
Mike froze as he settled in the passenger seat after putting on his seat belt. He hadn't noticed it before, but now that he glanced at Max's hip, he saw her gun there, and right beside it, a badge not unlike the one he carried when he worked, "Oh, wow. Congratulations. I can't say that's completely unexpected, though, after everything that's happened."
"Yeah, I remember before you left we used to joke about it," Max said as she pulled the Jeep out of its spot and headed for the cemetery gates. She glanced both ways before pulling out onto the road. She was happy that she and Mike at least seemed to be able to have a normal conversation with one another.
"I remember," Mike said after a moment of thinking. Things from before he left were often a little hazy for him, but now that Max brought it up, he did have memories of the two of them joking about her joining the FBI and the two of them being partners. "You were so sure you would never leave the NYPD though."
"Yeah, well, the position they offered me, since they weren't letting me go back to the intel division, didn't interest me as much as the offer from the FBI did," Max said honestly with a shrug. "The pay raise didn't hurt either, though."
"I bet," Mike said with half a smile. Now that he was sitting in the warm car, he could feel his tiredness hitting him again. How long had it been since he'd slept last? He was warm and comfortable in the passenger seat with the heat blowing on him. His eyes started to drift closed, and the next thing he knew Max was turning off the engine of the Jeep in the driveway of his house, parking behind his own car.
He looked up at the white house that he had called home for so long after rubbing his eyes. As he inhaled to yawn, another coughing fit overtook him. He felt like his body was actually trying to eradicate his lungs from within his chest. He groaned softly as the coughs finally subsided, his throat feeling raw.
"Are you sure you're okay?" Max asked, giving him a concerned look. That cough sounded even worse than it had when she was standing opposite him in the cemetery. She wasn't altogether sure that he wasn't contagious, but she didn't care at that point. "I can call Gwen, Ryan's girlfriend, she's an ER doctor, and I'm sure I can get her down here to make sure you're not seriously sick."
Mike glanced at Max, tilting his head slightly at her, "I'm fine, Max. I just haven't really slept in four months. I'm sure some sleep after a hot shower is all I need." He was lying through his teeth, though. He felt miserable, like he needed to sleep for a few weeks straight. But he didn't want Max to worry about him after what he had done to her.
"You're lying," Max said in a low tone, her eyes not leaving his. She sighed softly and unbuckled her seatbelt, "You're such a bad liar, Mike, you always have been, especially to me. Come on, let's get inside. I was here earlier and I partially filled your fridge and turned on the heat just in case you did show up today."
"You… what?" Mike asked, not entirely sure that he had heard her correctly. He looked at her, really looked at her, like he was seeing her for the first time. She had held onto that much hope that he would be coming back that she had even gotten his house ready for him? After everything he had done? Why?
"I just had a feeling that you'd be back today," Max said in the same low tone as she got out of the car. "I didn't think you'd want to come home to a cold house and an empty fridge."
Mike followed Max up the path to his house and was met by a rush of warm air as the front door opened. He'd forgotten that she had keys to his house. After Joe had gone back to jail, he'd spent the following months mostly in New York by Max's apartment, but he'd never fully moved out of his own house. He sighed softly as he glanced around. The house felt strange to him. Warm, but strange; almost as though it wasn't really his house. Max stood beside him, not missing the way that he clearly didn't seem happy to be home.
"Hey, why don't you grab that hot shower and I'll get some food going?" Max suggested after a few moments of silence. She longed to reach out and hug him, or touch him, or even just let him know that he wasn't alone anymore. She wanted to remind him that he could talk to her, even after everything that they had been through, but she wasn't altogether sure that he would respond well to any of that. Mike turned to her, his eyes, which had normally been clear and playful, were hard and clearly conflicted.
"You're staying?" He asked, his tone clearly somewhat surprised. He hadn't been expecting any of this; Max showing up at the cemetery, taking him home, even getting his house ready for him to live in again. He truly couldn't believe her. This woman was truly something else.
"As long as you want me to," Max said with a shrug. She had some time off of work, and if she was honest with herself, she was worried about him. It couldn't be easy, this being the anniversary of his father's death and the first time he'd been home in months. He also was clearly sick with something, whether or not he wanted to admit it, "Now, go on. Go get cleaned up. I'll have thrown something together by the time you're done," She said with a hint of a smile. Mike gave her a small smile back before retreating up the stairs.
As Mike entered his bedroom, he looked around. He knew for a fact that Max had been in there recently. There should have been a layer of dust over everything, but his room was spotless and even smelled fresh. He knew that if he were to sniff his sheets, they were likely clean, though if he was honest, he couldn't even remember whether those were the sheets that he'd left on his bed when he'd left or not. With a low sigh he stripped his clothes off and headed for the bathroom. Sure enough, there were brand new bottles of the soap and shampoo he used. Did Max do everything for him? It was definitely starting to feel that way. He was grateful, though. He'd be sure to say something to her once he took the shower that he was dying for.
Once Mike got into the shower, he wasn't sure he was ever going to get out. The last motel he'd been in, somewhere in South America, seemed to not ever have hot water. The amazingly warm water from the shower pounded his body and felt amazing, but it also made him cough as it loosened up whatever the hell was in his chest. He swore as he finally got the damn cough under control once again, straightening up and leaning against the wall. It wasn't often that he felt weak, even when he was sick, but this was a new feeling altogether.
He wasn't sure how long he stayed in the shower before the water started to run cold, but by the time he got out and into clean clothes, a pair of flannel pajama pants and a t-shirt, he was ready to pass out. He figured it couldn't hurt anything to lay down for a minute or two on his own bed. He was out almost the moment his head hit the pillows.