AN: I LIIIIIIIIIVE! Kinda, sorta, not really. Anyway, I had like half of this chapter written before I got slammed with schoolwork, life, a bad breakup, etc etc etc... and I kinda forgot where I wanted this story to go, but I'm finally taking another stab at it. That being said, enjoy.
Max glanced at the clock over the stove. She'd heard the water from the shower upstairs stop a while ago already. She was a little concerned that Mike hadn't reappeared. With a soft sigh, she climbed the stairs to the second floor, finding Mike's bedroom door wide open and Mike passed out on his bed. She leaned against the doorpost, watching him for a moment before she walked in. Mike must have been exhausted because he didn't make a move as the floor creaked beneath her. As she got closer to him, she heard him snoring lightly, clearly congested. She felt bad for him. That day was clearly not his day.
Despite the dark bags under his eye and the paler than normal tone that his skin had taken on, Max thought Mike still looked peaceful as he slept. It must have been weeks since he'd actually had a decent night's sleep. She'd always liked watching him for a few minutes if she woke up before him when they'd been together. It was the only time that he seemed to not have a worry in the world.
Not wanting to wake him, but going on a hunch, she reached out to feel his forehead. He was burning up, or maybe her hands were cold? He was often warm compared to her, especially in the winter. She inhaled slowly, hesitating for a moment before leaning over and pressing her lips to his forehead, the one way she was always able to tell whether he was sick or not. Her suspicions had been right, though. He was very warm, likely with a fever.
"Max?"
Max jumped, springing backwards and knocking into Mike's nightstand and knocking the lamp over as she hissed with pain. Mike shot up, his hand closing around her wrist before she had a chance to fall back. He gave her a slightly amused look as he leaned back on his pillows, groaning softly and rubbing at his tired eyes, "Do I want to know what in the world you were doing?"
"You didn't come back downstairs and I got worried," Max said, moving to pick up the lampshade that had hit the floor. She straightened up, pulling her shirt down a little bit, "Mike, I'm pretty sure you have a fever."
"Oh, and here I thought you were actually kissing me."
Max felt her cheeks burn and Mike yawned, "Mike…."
"Really, Max, I appreciate the concern, but I've been all over the world in a matter of months and I haven't really slept much in that time," Mike said, brushing off Max's reaction. "It's very likely that I'm just exhausted and have a bug I need to sleep off. It's not the end of the world."
Max gave Mike a skeptical look. First the cough from hell, and now she knew he had a fever too, was he really just going to keep acting like there was nothing wrong with him at all? There was really only so much she could push him on the issue. "Well, I have some food downstairs. I can bring it up, if you'd rather stay in bed."
Mike considered staying in bed, but ultimately shook his head, "Nah, I'll come down with you and then come back up for some sleep." He got up, though his entire body felt sluggish, clearly wanting to just stay in bed and continue sleeping for a few more hours. He followed Max down to the kitchen, where she had made sandwiches for them both with different types of meat, "Max, can I ask you something?" He asked as he sat down at the table, a look of confusion appearing on his face.
"Sure," Max nodded as she got some water from the fridge, handing a cup to Mike. She sat opposite him and bit into her own sandwich, her eyes curious, yet guarded.
"Why are you doing all of this?" Mike asked as he took a bite into his sandwich. It felt so good to have normal food, food that he knew wasn't about to turn his stomach inside out. It might only be a sandwich, but as far as Mike was concerned, it was exactly what he needed. "Not that I don't appreciate everything, like you being here and getting my house ready for me, but why are you doing all of this?"
Max chewed in silence for a few moments before she swallowed the bite of her sandwich and cleared her throat, "Just because you break up with me and disappear for a few months doesn't mean that I stopped caring about you, Mike," She said with a shake of her head and a soft sigh. "You look like hell, Mike. I can't even imagine what you've been through the last few months. I figured, if nothing else, you could at least benefit from someone doing something nice for you, even something as simple as cleaning your house up or filling your fridge with food."
Mike ate in silence for a few moments after listening to what Max said. He might have broken up with her before he left, but he knew what she meant when she said that she didn't stop caring about him just because of it. He felt the same way, if he was honest with himself. But breaking up with her before he left was supposed to give both of them a clean break, but it was becoming more and more clear to him that maybe she hadn't moved on. He knew that he hadn't. Thinking of her had been one of the few things that helped him through the difficult times in South America. It was just weird to be sitting in his kitchen talking to her like old times. He knew he had hurt her, and he hated himself for that. But yet somehow she had the strength to sit there and take care of him like he actually deserved it.
"Mike, come back to New York with me."
Mike blinked as Max's soft voice cut through his thoughts. He tilted his head, "I'm sorry, what?"
"Come back to New York," Max said, a little louder the second time. "Ryan's there, we can get Gwen to take a look at you, and please, don't tell me you're fine and that you're not sick. I can hear from here that your breathing is off…."
Mike sighed, "Max, you can't honestly tell me that you want me to be back in New York with all of you after everything that's gone on between us."
"What happened between us is irrelevant," Max shook her head. "What is relevant is that New York is where your job is now, and where people who care about you are. Mendez said that you were supposed to be coming back; she just didn't know exactly when. But I knew you wouldn't miss the anniversary of your father's death."
"Because you just know me so well."
"Yeah," Max said, her sapphire eyes blazing slightly as she glared at him, "Like it or not, Mike, I do know you well. I know how badly you've been hurting, how much you taught yourself to loathe the person you've become so that you can block out the pain, and how much you tell yourself that no one gives a damn about you just so you can feel okay going and doing what you've been doing. But you know what, Mike? Despite that, despite everything you've done, I still care. I can't convince myself not to, and trust me, I've tried."
Mike found himself momentarily stunned. It seemed he'd finally gotten through the kinder exterior that Max had been showing him, to the core of her and everything that had been going on in her mind, "Max, I—"
"No," Max cut him off. She got to her feet and put her plate in the dishwasher before turning back to face him. "You know what? I don't care if you want to go back to New York. You're going to come to New York with me whether you want to or not."
"What?"
"You heard me, Mike," Max said, crossing her arms over her chest. "You're coming back to New York with me, tonight. And you're going to let Gwen take a look at you, because you're so sick that I could hear you wheezing from where I was sitting. And you're going to stop feeling so goddamn sorry for yourself over things that happened that can't be changed."
Mike stared at Max, an amused expression on his face, "And if I don't want to?"
Max smirked at Mike, the look both sending a chill down his spine and arousing him; he had almost forgotten that she had that effect on him, "Have you ever been able to put up much of a fight against me?"
After much grumbling and a little bit of arguing, Max found herself making the four hour drive back to New York from Woodbridge with Mike in the passenger seat. At least they had left after rush hour, so the drive was uneventful. Mike offered to drive, but Max could tell he was still exhausted and not feeling well. She stopped at a gas station along the way and bought herself the biggest coffee they had, along with a Gatorade for Mike. She was truly concerned about him, whether he would admit that he was sick or not. At least he would get some electrolytes or something from the Gatorade that he wouldn't get from regular water.
She wasn't even sure why she cared so much. She reasoned with herself that she really didn't have a lot of people in her life to care about, so even when the ones that she had hurt her, she was still determined to hold onto them, whether they liked it or not.
Mike fell asleep about halfway between Woodbridge and New York City. Max knew the moment he fell asleep because his breathing evened out and he started to snore lightly. She found herself hoping that he wasn't the victim of anything contagious; the last thing she needed was to get sick too. Mike woke up when she stopped for a bathroom break, but only for a few minutes. By the time she was on the highway again, he was out like a light. That in itself was strange. Mike never slept like that, whether he was on a case or not. While she had been at the gas station she had texted Gwen, and Gwen promised to stay wake until they made it back to the city. Only when she finally saw the lights of the city that had for so long been her home did she finally relax.
She pulled up outside Ryan's building and turned off the engine of her Jeep. She was so thankful that the drive was over. Now she just had to have Gwen check Mike over, and then she could finally collapse for the night, and maybe the next three days, "Mike, wake up. We're finally back."
Mike didn't respond. Max unbuckled her seatbelt and turned towards him, shaking him gently, "Mike, wake up." Nothing from him. Max felt her heart accelerate, remembering all too well another time that she wasn't certain what had happened to him, "Mike! Mike, wake up!" She reached for his neck, feeling his pulse. She could also hear his breathing, but he wasn't opening his eyes, "Mike… Mike, please…. Mike, wake up."