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He wished he could know what truly happened, how did they get him out of it all. Were his mind a little bit clearer, he could have guessed what indeed took place, that they barged in, killed everyone and left with him to bring him to the hospital. But right now, he simply knew that they barged in, and brought him here. And he could be relieved about it, who knows where he would be right now if it weren't for them. The afterlife for sure, but where that is, is up to each person's own mind.

Ruby seemed determined to see him get better, acting like a mom right now, which felt rather strange to the cop. He wasn't used to have anyone take care of him like a mother before, his own flesh and blood mother never taking the time to nurture him that way. There must have been a few times where she did indeed fill the mother attitude expectations, but it wasn't anything that stained the man's brain more than a few scarce images. He watched the blond woman curiously as she split the croissant into a small piece and put a napkin under his chin. He laughed in a low tone, squinting an eye as he remembered he shouldn't do that right now. He opened his mouth, letting Ruby feed him. As miserable as that sounded, he appreciated the gesture. It took him some time before he was able to swallow the piece, but indeed the food was good.

However that was all he'll accept of it now. He wasn't truly hungry for now, and biting down on that piece once felt nice as it was. "It was good, thank you Ruby. But I think you can eat the rest" he said, giving a look at her and all three of their linked hands. She looked destroyed, and it was a sight Max hated to see but couldn't do anything about it now. He should be more careful, and try to avoid getting hurt so he wouldn't have to see her, or Jacob this way.

"You two should get some rest. You look like you got ran over by a truck." he smiled slightly, his eyes seemed to start closing again. How long before those short waking ups would last longer? He didn't know, but he felt like each thing he did right now was consuming a very poor energy battery. "I'm fine, don't worry about me now. Go get some sleep, walk Lucius at the park...Lucius is okay right?" he asked, only remembering that he had found the pup in a closet before he blacked out. But this small list of things reflected what the cop wished he could do at the moment if he weren't here. He wanted these two to go do those things in his stead, enjoy the day since it appeared to be sunny.

This was supposed to be RF >:U

Of course Jacob would have questions, and Max knew that the man would have loved to do the deep himself. And Madden would have probably left him, if only he didn't want to make sure Jack White wouldn't kill him. When you want something done, you do it yourself and don't play around with deciding who will do what. In this case he took the place of the killer, Jacob's initial place, to accomplish a deed that needed to be done. Personal vengeance had also a big part in all of it. All the pain he had felt during that night at the slaughterhouse had to go somewhere. He couldn't keep it inside, it had to escape. So like some sort of ceremony, an exorcism, he killed his torturer, spreading his blood on the forest floor. But now here came the secondary effects. The fear that he may have changed because of this act haunted him, but right now he didn't have the courage to tell Jacob that.

He remained quiet as Jacob's questions slipped through his lips. He couldn't answer without letting his angry emotions get the best of him. He thought he had calmed down, but the coals of his anger were still burning, ready to catch on fire at any second. That is until he felt Jacob's arms wrap around him, soothing like water thrown on embers. He didn't expect that action from Jacob. It was closer to something Ruby would have done, but yet he learned to know about Jacob each day they met, each minute they passed together, each second he spent on looking into those eyes. It was what convinced him Pierce wasn't truly a bad person, and despite the man not believing the cop's beliefs about him, Max held that fact close to his heart even today.

He did not dare move or reciprocate the man's movements, again afraid to stain something pure, even if that word is relative considering Jacob's past actions. "I need your help..." he said accepting to move a hand to the man's shirt collar, the tip of his fingers barely touching his skin. "He's in the car_the body is in the car..." he needed help to get Jack White's body away from prying eyes, to make him disappear into the night for no one to see. And the car as well. He was still dressed in the driver's clothes, stained with White's blood. He will have to burn those. The thought of the blood on his skin and under his nails made him want to scrub his own skin off, paranoia filling him at the thought that the PD could find out.

He did not wish to talk about himself right now. All he wanted to do was to get Jack White's body erased from the face of the earth so that he could move on, walk upon the next step to recovering from this. And one of the next steps was to find out if he was still the same, or if he had irrevocably changed.

Sorry for the door

The silence in the car was unbearable. The creaking sound of the wheel turning under Madden's bloody hands scorched his ears at each turn. He turned on the radio, trying to find something to listen to other than the news reporters. But each time he changed the frequency, a new bloody finger print was left on the board. Max was stressed out by the sight of it, flicking his fingers each time it happened, looking at the prints with worry. He was a cop, he knew what detectives looked for when they looked for a murder. However he doubted the PD would be looking for Jack White. Without knowing it, the PD had him on their hit list, Max had just executed justice by himself. He made himself stronger than any man by taking away someone's life, and that made him fear himself more than the PD's reaction to it. He had killed before, but never this way, never out of vengeance and in such a cold blood. His mind was filled with stinging scorpions, poisoning his every thought with diverse emotions, all wrecking him a little bit more.

He drove for a while, constantly changing the radio frequency, burning maybe one or two red lights, he wasn't sure. He almost forgot he was in a limousine at times, nearly shoving the back end of the vehicle into other cars. The man arrived at the address he was headed to, the building standing tall above him as he parked the limousine further away from it. It was late, very late, perhaps too late for anyone to answer his calls. But he got out of the car, seeing no one in the streets at this hour as he made his way to the entrance. His hand reached for the door, without letting him remember they were covered in blood. Gladly the blood was now dry and wouldn't let any traces behind. He made his way up the stairs, not taking the elevator, being quiet in each of his steps. He couldn't afford to wake up anyone now. Reaching the level he remembered to be the one he was looking for, he stepped towards the door, raising a hand to knock on it until he froze. His fist, bloody and cracked from the punches it had given. The hand shook as Madden slowly lowered it, a ball forming in his throat. He wet his dried lips, staring at the door, parting his mouth "Jac__" his voice was so weak it barely came out, Jacob's name ending in a cracked whine. It was pity-full of him, and it brought an angered look back upon his face.

He finally brought himself to knock on the door, stronger than he had first planned. He needed Jacob to open, he needed the man's presence, his advice, his help, his words. He needed to see his eyes. He didn't realize how he looked at this point, mirrors in the car simply didn't attract his gaze. Perhaps was he too ashamed of himself to dare stare at himself. But his face was covered in the traces of his bloody hands, and the murderous gaze in his eyes still didn't leave. Blood coated his clothes and skin, splattered upon his neck like some red paint on a canvas. If anyone saw him...

Sorry for the door

Seeing their faces as he woke up was a feeling like no other. He was surprised that he could even talk at this point, after everything that happened. The usage of the word Honey by Ruby brought a smile on his face, but as much as he wished, he couldn't chuckle. It was probably best he didn't anyway, who knows how much his painkillers are actually muffling. He didn't know if he could eat something right now, especially since he knew some of his organs didn't fully recover from the punches. But he knew it would make both of the criminals happy if he ate a little something. Eating was a sign of good health, so he was ready to take very small bites of something if it could reassure his friends a bit more. "Just a croissant will be fine sweety." he said of a weak voice, his eyes a drugged happiness, looking at her before shifting to Jacob. He was proud of himself for being able to understand them and pick up some jokes on the way, or at least humor, because he doubted anything he said would make them laugh at this point. But he tried, he would try.

Jacob looked like he hadn't slept in days. Max wished he could hug the man, thank him for being there and reassure him further. Put him to sleep one way or another. But he couldn't do any of that, so instead he rose his hand slightly from the mattress, towards Jacob. He wished the man would take it, squeeze it, warm it in his palm. Max wasn't sure where his mind trailed, but at this instant, he simply wished for human contact and warmth. He then thought for a little bit about how he felt, following Jacob's question. "Hmm, I'm not sure. I can't feel much but when I do feel something it's not really nice..." he said, moving his head to look at the heart monitor. The breathing tubes in his nose were rather uncomfortable, but he knew he probably couldn't part with them just yet. He looked back at Jacob, and Ruby before asking with a confused look. "What happened? You two barged in? I think? I can't remember a lot from_yeah." as he spoke he tried to remind himself of what happened, but not much came. The only way he could know more was to ask.

This was supposed to be RF >:U

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He wished he could feel the warmth of Ruby's hands around his own. But the truth was that he barely felt the skin under his thumb as he slowly moved it across the back of her palm. He could feel her fingers through his hair however. The doctors had been dwelling on the subject of his hair during the operation, which Max did not know about of course. They were afraid that he had a concussion or worse, and that they may have to shave his head to make sure their was a quick access to his skull in case it was needed. But it turned out he was fine, in a better state then they had expected. That wouldn't save Max from further examination later in the week, but that was to be expected.
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Max couldn't hear their words as they spoke, but Ruby and Jacob seemed calm from what he could see. He was concerned about them more than himself since he still didn't acknowledge his state. He was standing in water with only his head out. Anything under was invisible, and didn't feel, apart from his thumb, which barely rose above the surface. The water was slowly rising however, and Max could feel his mind start to drift again. He looked at their lips as they moved, trying to read them without success. They were too complex for his slow mind. He saw Jacob move his hand to his face, touching it lightly and with care. He wished he could move right now and embrace them both, tell them everything was fine, that he was here because of them, that they saved him yet again. They had redeemed their cruelty for letting him at the harbor for dead a long time ago, but today they had signed a peace treaty only Max's subconscious knew of. Jacob's touch made him close his eyes, and that action served to seal him underwater once more. He wasn't there anymore to hope that this action won't worry them, but hopefully the heart monitor's steady and reassuring beeping will tell them that only sleep was taking their cop away.
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It must have been around, what? Eleven o'clock? Time was still not in Max's knowledge when he started to wake up the next day. But time was not important to him, what was important was if he was alone in this hospital room or not. And for the first time he was starting to acknowledge how, he was. His eyes were closed, his head oriented towards the ceiling as his mind started to course his body to take conscience of his being. He could feel his right leg fine, not really able to move it right now, but it was fully functional from what he could feel. His left leg however, he felt it heavy, the bottom half from the knee to the ankle felt like it was missing. He couldn't move his toes, despite the fact that he knew they were there. It must be in a cast, that's at least what he thought. He could move his hands and his arms but only from the elbow to the hand. When he tried to flex his biceps to move his entire arm, a numbed out pain stroke his back. It was numbed out yet it was still present, issuing perhaps the first sound from the cop since he fell silent the night before. It was a quick distressed and choked protest, a gasp of pain escaping his lips to wake up his mind. One could have thought he dreamed, but with all the painkillers in him, he didn't even remember the slightest image of a dream if dream there was. After the pain calmed down, his eyes opened slowly, fluttering as he looked at the ceiling. The familiar beeping was still there, and perhaps for the first time he acknowledged that he was in a hospital.
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It took him a bit of time to want to move his head to the side, and when he did, he saw the silhouette of two familiar people. His eyes opened more, his vision clearing up from its foggy state as the faces of Ruby and Jacob drew themselves in front of him. He remembered that they were there before, but he couldn't know how long since that was. But the point was: They were still there. They looked tired, exhausted, and if Max knew better he would have ordered them to go to sleep. His head rested comfortably on the side, sunken into the white pillow as a content smile formed upon his face. His face felt less numb today, but it hurt, and the motion of a smile didn't help. He frowned slightly, which only created a domino effect of paining, making him snarl, paining him again until he just gave up and opened his mouth wide to pull his tongue out with another protesting sound. He looked at the two, resting his face again, and giving up on showing too much emotion. He parted his lips, wanting to break the unnerving pace of the beeping. "I want a croissant.... I want something french so bad" he said with a meek voice, forcing himself not to smile too much. He was just overly happy with their presence.

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eeping. It's all he's been hearing in his head for the past two and a half hours. He couldn't see any image, no dreams, no thoughts. He couldn't hear the nurses or doctors, despite them talking close to his head sometimes. He couldn't feel their hands opening his eyes to flash a light in his pupils, touching his neck for a pulse. He couldn't feel the blood slowly getting back in his body, nor could he sense his heartbeat regaining a normal pace. He was laying in the bed, breathing tubes in his nose, a pulse sensor around his right index, a filled pack of blood hanging next to a second half empty one by the side of his bed. The bandages around his chest covered his scar, only showing the bottom of the R, while the J& was overlapped in white, hidden to everyone's prying eyes. His wounded leg was out of the sheets, wrapped in white as well. He looked so clean after the sight of him covered in blood at the Slaughterhouse. So much white embracing him, one holy person could make more than one stupid reference to an angel. Apart perhaps from the beat up face. The cuts had been taken care of, sown back together. But the bruises, the red and blue ones were engulfing his figure, swollen on his cheek bone and forehead. A black eye on one side, bloodshot but closed anyway. His hands had regained their natural color, though perhaps a bit paler than usual. However there was still the red traces around his wrists, where the tape had kept his two hands together for so long. He was lucky to have only exterior wounds on his head and no internal bleeding, or else things could have been much worse for him.
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The beeping continues, but now the air actually matters. It feels warm, cozy. Right at this point, Max's brain can start to feel and only that. But feeling physically is not yet an option. He's closer to 'sensing'. But so far nothing mattered. He was in a bubble, feeling peaceful, slowly rising back up, but taking his time, since he didn't understand the meaning of rising or living. Time didn't exist, nothing else existed but presence. He existed, and that is all that meant anything.
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Existing, until he was brought back. A jolt through his hair first. No one had touched him there since he was in the room, and it was the place with the shortest course to his brain. He grew aware because of that one touch, slowly starting to understand he needed to wake up, but he didn't know why. A second touch came in to pull him back to the surface, making him exit the comfort of the underworld, underwater where everything is muffled and only he, exists. Warmth around his hand, slowly the information climbed up his arm, his neck until finally reaching his brain. Electric. He didn't move at all, apart from his rising chest. That same hand had been unconsciously holding Jacob's shirt tightly before, and perhaps just as unconsciously he squeezed his hand around whatever was now in it. The squeeze was feeble, almost invisible, but it Max's mind he was having the hardest grip a man could have. Could have been anyone's hand, but fortunately it wasn't just anyone. He felt like turning his head, and open his eyes to see, but his mind was fighting him, disobeying his will. The reason for that was that all the muscles in his neck, if they moved or tensed, would tug on his back, and even drowning in painkillers like he was right now, charging like a dark horse would the pain come back.
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Ruby and Jacob. The first images he was able to picture as he made the strong effort to get his mind working again, trying to focus on memories, doing his best to convince himself he was alive and not dead. He was seeing them sitting next to him, looking at him intently, but the image was blurry. He didn't understand it yet, but he had shifted his head slightly and opened his eyes slightly. Barely opened enough to let anyone see those blue eyes, he seemed to look into emptiness because of how static his eyes were, but looking long enough, you'll notice he blinks, proving he was very much there, with his thumb, touching Ruby's skin firmly. The only part of his hand that obeyed his will, and the only part of his body, that existed in reality.