Okay so chapter 2 is kinda short and jumps around a lil but like i said i just wanted this to be a quick Christmas story. i'll make a simple one shot for New Years though soooooooooooo yay. Chapter 3 will be the end. Anyways, here ya go! and shout out to my bestie LibraDiva83 love you babez.! thanks for solidifying my decision to make this story!


Chapter 2

She had felt the quake and saw the people stampeding; but everything seemed to move in slow motion. Max never realized she'd been standing that close to the railing – and it made no sense for her to fall over and yet it somehow happened. Support was thrust away from underneath as a breeze shot forth from behind. Her heart felt like it had paused and dropped within the girl's chest as Gibson's body fell back into an uncontrollable position. Eyes wide in shock and fear, arms outstretched – but there was nothing to grab hold to, nothing to prevent her oncoming death no matter how slow it came. There was no time. Her frame passed the railing. She was going to die.

"MAX!" Suddenly her shoulder jerks roughly enough to cause a scream of pain to erupt from her full lips while her body halted. "Hang on!" Her eyes open and focus on the pale face looming above her, practically hanging halfway over the escalator itself.

"Terry," she murmurs with a whine, hearing the sounds of others falling. Max looks down briefly at the sprawled bodies.

"Don't look down!" But Max doesn't listen. "Damn it Max! If you love me in the slightest look up. Look AT ME!" This time she does as commanded with tears running heavy down her cheeks; whether she was compelled to do so from fear or because she actually had feelings for him like he was for her, Terry couldn't say. But she looked so sad…so beautiful. It was not often that he could see Maxine cry. When they were children she'd done it a lot – for many reasons, the majority she would not discuss -; but as time passed the tears faded and were replaced with a tough and unbreakable façade. But to see those tears now, to realize that she could have died, made McGinnis angry – he'd find whoever did this and make them with excruciating agony.

He pulled her up allowing her to collapse into his chest with a minor scream. She didn't pull away like he had thought; rather she apologized and cried and apologized some more for her stupidity. But she wasn't being stupid, it was him. He was the one too afraid to come to her, to be the friend, the hero, the man she needed to protect her. "Max," Terry whispers breathily, pulling her face towards his with the tip of the boy's fingers by the chin. "I don't want to lose you." His face inclines, but he pauses at the shrill cry from the maniac he knew all too well. The man whose only solution was to "blow it all up." McGinnis turns his head towards Mad Stan and frowns blatantly, fist balling tightly. "Max, stay here. I've got to handle this." He rises.

But Max's hand shoots out and grabs her best friend's pants leg tightly, staring into his eyes with a mixture of fear and compassion and traumatization that he'd never seen the like. "Don't leave me," she begs. Terry bites his lip, battling the desire to do his job and to protect the one female he cared the most about. She needed him to stay, but he couldn't. He had to leave. It's what Batman did best. Abandon the ones he loved.

With a conflicted gaze Terry kneels for a brief moment and places a hand on her cheek. "I'm sorry. I have to go. I'm so sorry." And without another word McGinnis runs with his backpack tight in hand with a steady haste for the nearest bathroom he could find. Max was scared. She'd never been scared before – but this was different. She had a gut feeling that appeared unshakable. Something was going to happen. Terry was going to be hurt.

Mad Stan laughs boisterously at the cowering figures of the people beneath him, hopping down from the upper level and landing with a heavy thud on the escalator. "Society has corrupted you all. Christmas is nothing but a ritualistic holiday to make the government even more powerful than they already are. They use your love to trample on your every wish. I say let's enjoy Christmas without the governmental authority. And do you know how? BLOW IT ALL UP!" His black and maddened eyes shift then at a movement from his peripheral to find a lovely African American woman with luxurious pink hair staring up at him with the most dazzling gaze. Now she was the perfect example of what he represented! Freedom. Mad Stan reaches over and snatches the girl by the arm; yanking her into his large arms while stating with a sly smile, "Isn't that right beautiful?"

"Hands off, dreg!" she yells, struggling within his grip, nails digging into his shoulders.

"Oh! A fighter huh? I like that. Wanna be my freedom fighter baby? Think of all the things we could blow up together."

"In your dreams detonator breath!"

Mad Stan smiles, leaning forward and slamming his lips against her own hard; so hard that it hurt. Max's muffled scream at the gesture and her already pained arm as it flares with the tightening of the psychopath's hold raises in pitch. Gibson takes her hands and shoves them roughly against Stan's face, pushing and scratching – trying to force his mouth, his entire body, away from her. But her attempts seem to only turn the man on even more as he squeezes her back with one arm – raising her up from the ground so that her feet are flailing wildly – and frees the other from her buttocks to the back of her neck as he forces the kiss to last even longer. How long had it been since the maniac had been with a woman? Much too long. Max's eyes shift to the side where the detonator to whatever explosive Mad Stan had next was placed gingerly on the side of her cheek. This could not be happening. Someone had to save her!

"Get your filthy hands off of her!" A black covered hand grabs Max's arm, pulling her away while the other lands a powerful blow directly on Mad Stan's jaw with a loud crunch, making him fall backwards. Max blinks, turning her gaze upwards and gaining full view of Batman's furious face.

Mad Stan rises slowly and exclaims boisterously, "Back off Bats! She's mine-!" But his rant is cut off immediately as the Dark Knight suddenly appears before him throwing a hard uppercut into the bomb adoring freak's gut. Stan coughs roughly at the loss of breath from the blow. He barely has time to respond before Batman grabs his shirt front and jet boots ignite, shooting them upward back onto the top floor into one of the jewelry stores.

The sounds coming from above were horrific: parents cover the ears of their children, some look away and cringe. The floors above tremble at small explosions that rang out that were more than likely from the grenades Stan loved to carry on his person. Curses, yells, the all-out sounds of a deadly brawl drifted below. Whatever was going on up there wasn't pretty, nor did it sound humane. Time passes until finally a shrill scream sounds throughout the facility and all grows quiet save for the sounds of approaching police vehicles. Somewhere outside Commissioner Gordon's voice resounds: stating that the captives would be out as soon as the police disfigured the bomb that kept them trapped inside.

But Max didn't care about that. Someone had been hurt bad; and she had to know who. The young woman leaps to her feet and runs off for the regular staircase completely unnoticed; second floor, third floor, fourth…she pauses at the end of the stairs, taking in the view of utter destruction. Department stores were completely leveled, glass and clothing and jewelry was sprawled about everywhere. Her heart picks up pace rapidly. Ignoring the shock Max takes off running from store to store in circles breathing heavily in paranoia induced fear. The more she ran the more scared the girl became, the more terrible thoughts raced through her brain. Why did she argue with him? Why didn't she just stand by his side? Why did she love him so much?

Yes, she loved him – always did since before the suit came along. It pained the brainiac to see her best friend and one she cared about being hurt…much less loving someone else. But Gibson kept quiet; she behaved, hid her feelings well. It wasn't that hard – she'd been hiding her emotions and lying to everyone around the woman for years now. Either she was extraordinary good at it…or people just didn't give a damn enough to notice. Regardless of what the answer may have been it worked, and in the end that was all that mattered. And yet it didn't. She had wanted someone to see past it, and wanted that person to be Terry. And now Max couldn't find him; all because she would not simply back the fuck down! How could she be so stupid? A groan resounds from the electronic store to her right, and with a gulp she nervously steps inside. From within the shadows and sparks of loose electric cables Max made out the form of Mad Stan tied up with large wiring around a structure post…and one of his legs completely dislocated. So that's what that scream was. He was unconscious, and that made her even more confused. If Stan was here – where was-?

"M-Max…" a voice whispers out.

Gibson swivels and looks across the hall in the opening of a store to the far end. There he stood, well, leaned against the doorway weakly. His eyes were tired, and his suit giving off red sparks in indication of the more than obvious damage done. "Batman." She ran. She flew down the hall, around the bend and across the doorway straight into his arms knocking them both over onto the ground. Batman hisses and Max bites her lip guiltily. "Sorry."

"I should almost die more often. That's the warmest reception you've given me lately."

"Shut up." The vigilante sighs wearily as he slides backwards to the far off wall, resting his weight against it. Max crawls after him observing the damage done with concern. "You're pretty banged up," the girl concludes.

"Not as much as he is," the hero contradicts cockily with a sneer.

"Did you have to break his leg?"

"Max…the nut job almost killed you…then he practically raped you with his mouth – I wasn't going to let that one fly. I love you too much."

Max blushes and shakes her head with a nervous laugh. "Whatever." But her laugh is cut off when Batman pulls his body up slightly and takes her chin once again.

"Why don't you believe me?" he asks.

"It's not that I don't believe you…"

"Then trust me for once."

Max sighs. "Stop talking, you're hurt. The old man agrees I'm sure." She presses her back against the wall, pulling his back in between both of her legs and wrapping her arms around his neck and chest. "Lay here with me and rest."

Batman chuckles mischievously and rubs a palm up her legs. "Am I going to get to have you put on one of these sexy outfits?" Max looks around. A lingerie store. Ofcourse.

"I don't think the old man would appreciate that," she kids back with a smile.

"You never know, he may like it." Directly after making the joke his body suddenly convulses in short pain.

"What is it? What's wrong?"

McGinnis inhales sharply allowing the pain to subside before falling back into his best friend's bosom. "The old man…wouldn't like that." Max laughs quietly until finally he joins in as well. Leave it to Bruce to lighten up a mood. They sit there together silently, laughing…snuggling closer into each other's embrace as the line between friendship and intimate love blurs. How could it not? They weren't going to leave each other.

TO BE CONTINUED…