Chapter Text
When the lights had turned out, she’d curled herself into as small a ball as she could manage, holding her aching limbs tightly and resting her head against her knees. She imagined herself onto the couch at home, Max’s arm stretched out behind her, their feet tangled together on the coffee table, with Chloe spread out across their laps, her hands twisted into their tee-shirts so if she teleported in her half-asleep doze someone could bring her back, and their family surrounding them as they had a family movie night. Dad would have a giant tub of popcorn, and Billy would be eating one of those awful 10,000 calorie protein bars he needed to eat so his blood sugar wouldn’t tank after he ran to Guam, and Nora would have her laser blocking glasses on because she was tired, and it wouldn’t matter what movie they were watching because she was safe and everyone was there and no one could hurt them if Mom and Dad were around.
The movie flickered and shut off, the lights disappeared, and Phoebe was alone in the room again, biting back her sobs, cold, curled into herself, with her back to the corner.
And then someone knocked on the door.
*
She really shouldn’t have been surprised when, about three seconds after knocking, Max walked in.
“Hey, Bee,” he whispered, smiling softly. “You look like crap.”
“You don’t,” she glared, then softened. “You look better.”
Max smiled and slid down the wall next to her, gathering her into his arms. She buried a sob in his shoulder.
“I miss you,” she admitted.
“I’m sorry I left you here,” Max said.
“Don’t be sorry, Em. I’m glad you’re not hurting anymore.”
“Oh, I’m still hurting,” he said wryly. “Do you know how exhausting it is to walk four feet to the bathroom when you’ve been unconscious on a hospital bed for a month?! My legs haven’t felt this sore since those stupid rocks.”
Phoebe looked at him, her eyebrow furrowed.
“What?”
“I’m not dead, Bee,” he said. “And you haven’t been captured. You’re lying in a bed in Metroburg Super Hospital, and I’m lying right next to you. Mom’s on your other side, and Dad’s standing at the door with his arms crossed, daring anyone to come in.”
“…what?”
“We’ve been in the hospital. We caught this stupid virus that puts its victims to sleep and keeps them in a dream state while it drains their powers, and then kills them. We are apparently a medical mystery, because no one’s ever survived more than two weeks with it.”
Phoebe blinked.
“Twin thing?” She asked. “Also, wow, my brain is really good at making sh*t up when I’m dying,” she said to herself.
“I’m real, Bee,” Max said. “It’s me, I promise. But hey! Glad to see you’ve broken the swearing barrier. I approve.”
Phoebe frowned.
“You’re not here, someone has to do it,” she stated. Then she shook her head. “But you’re not Max, you’re just a figment of my imagination.”
“I’m not,” he shook his head, squeezing her tightly.
“Prove it,” Phoebe begged, tears sliding down her cheeks and holding him to her just as tightly. “Please! Because my brain is telling me that you died in my arms and I’m just imagining you here to help me cope with the fact that you’re gone and I’m never going to see you again.”
Max opened his mouth to do just that, and then realized the extent of what she was asking him to do.
“How? I mean, I will, but how? You know everything I do about this place, so you’ll say your brain is making it up. We both know all the sh*t I’ve pulled, so again, you’ll just say your brain is reminding you. I did our secret knock, but you know that, too. How can I prove I’m actually me?”
Phoebe was quiet.
“We’re in the hospital?” she asked softly.
“Yup. Our doctor’s name is Clark Kent,” he started.
“Like-“
“Yeah,” Max grinned, running his fingers through her hair. “They had to tell the non-supes something, and I guess they went with flying alien.”
Phoebe snorted.
“I thought I was dying, Bee,” Max started. Phoebe swallowed a sob and laced their fingers together. “But then I woke up to Mom and Dad sitting by my bedside. They said we’d been in the hospital for a month. And given how many tubes and needles and machines I had attached to me, I believe it. You have them, too. They think that’s why we weren’t hungry – we’ve had feeding tubes and IVs since they brought us in.”
“That … kind of makes sense,” she allowed.
“Okay. Logic. I can do logic. How about this: we weren’t actually touching, when we tried to regulate our powers,” Max continued. “We were asleep in different beds, about five feet away from each other, because Mom forgot. We haven’t needed to do that since-“
“Hawai’i,” they finished together.
“That’s why you felt so far away,” Phoebe realized. Max nodded.
“The first time I actually touched you was two nights ago. Did you feel any warmer?”
Phoebe nodded slowly, leaning into him and blinking back tears.
“I thought that was you keeping your promise, and telling me you were okay.”
Max blew out a breath. “Jesus, Bee.” He pulled her in tight and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “I am okay, I promise. And this is me telling you that you’ll be okay, too.”
Phoebe was silent, putting all the facts together.
“This is crazy,” she shook her head in denial. “Jack-“
“Isn’t real,” Max supplied quickly. “We made him up. Or the virus made something up that we reacted to. No one really knows. This room doesn’t exist; it’s all in your head. We couldn’t use our powers because we were in a dream and didn’t realize it.”
“Nightmare,” Phoebe mumbled. Max nodded.
Phoebe was quiet.
“If you are Max,” she asked quietly, daring to hope, “why did you wait so long? To come back?”
He winced.
“It took me a while to remember how to get here,” he admitted. “And how to get in. Your mental shielding is amazing, by the way. You’ve got this burning Emerald City motif going on in your outer dreamscape to keep people out,” Max poked her gently. “Why is the horse of a different color a carnivore? I haven’t watched the Wizard of Oz in a while, but I’m pretty sure that was not a plot point.”
Phoebe huffed out a laugh, then winced at the pull on her rib.
“The doctor wanted me to get a little more of my strength back, too, just in case I got stuck again.”
Phoebe sucked in a breath.
“You could get stuck again?” she asked, horrified. “Max, you need to go!”
“And I will,” he replied patiently. “But not without you.”
Phoebe bit her lip.
“I don’t know how,” she admitted.
“I think I do,” Max held his breath, then winced. “But you’re not going to like it.”
Phoebe just looked at him.
“I think you have to keep your promise.”
His sister frowned.
“You said you were right behind me,” he reminded her quietly, nosing into her cheek.
“You’re saying I need to give up?” she asked. “You didn’t.”
“I did,” he admitted softly. “You told me that it was okay, and that I could rest. That Mom and Dad wouldn’t be mad. Once you said that, I was okay with whatever came next. And I just… let go.”
Phoebe sucked in a breath.
“Think about it, Bee,” he continued. “What is one thing that a superhero wouldn’t ever do?”
“Give up,” she whispered. “We keep fighting.”
“Exactly,” Max said. “Everyone else died from this thing. What if it was because they refused to give up?”
Phoebe thought about it, while Max played with her hair. He hadn’t tried to braid in a while, and it showed.
“You need to go, Em,” she finally ordered, sniffing hard and wiping her face.
“Bee, I-“
“You need to go, because if I let go and you’re still in here, you might get stuck,” she continued. Phoebe looked at her brother, and Max swallowed.
“It’s only a theory, Bee,” he started, shaking his head.
“Hey, you’re a super genius,” she smiled, then rested their foreheads together. “I trust you. Now get out.”
Max grabbed her hand and laced their fingers together, pulling her to her feet.
“I’m not sure if this will work,” he said, closing his eyes and pushing strength toward his sister. “But just in case.” Max kissed her forehead, and backed up to the door, not letting go of her hand.
“Promise me you’re right behind me, Bee,” he begged, blindly turning the door knob.
“I promise, Em,” she said. “I’m giving you a thirty second head start.”
Max closed the door behind him, and Phoebe closed her eyes.
*
She was awake before she opened them, feeling warmth from both sides, and the gentle pulsing of Max pushing her strength through their bond. She took a deep breath, smiled at the lack of pain in her ribs, and coughed.
“Open your eyes, Bumblebee,” Mom murmured, running her fingers through Phoebe’s hair.
Phoebe blinked, her eyes taking a minute to focus on Mom’s relief filled face.
“Hi, Mama,” she croaked, curling into the arms of the woman who would always be her protector and defender.
“Hi, baby,” Mom cried.
“Took you longer than thirty seconds,” Max teased from behind her, curling into her back.
Phoebe bit back a sob at the feeling of her brother, alive, against her.
“I’ve never given up before,” Phoebe croaked. “It took me a minute to figure out how.”
“Come here, Max,” Dad said softly. He was sitting behind Max and, telegraphing his movements when both Max and Phoebe watched him warily, gently pulled Max into his arms. “We need to let the doctor check her out before you start cuddle therapy. Hi, baby girl.” Dad reached out with the arm that wasn’t curled around Max and brushed her hair out of her eyes.
Phoebe smiled. “Hi, daddy.”
Phoebe eyed the stranger in the room.
“Doctor Kent?” she guessed, turning over in Mom’s arms.
“That’s me,” he confirmed. “Good to see you awake, Phoebe,” the doctor smiled.
“Good to be awake,” she said.
She’d done nothing more than wake up, roll over, and say a few words, but she was exhausted. She had tubes and wires in interesting places. But she was warm, and surrounded by her family, and when she squeezed Max’s hand, he squeezed back. Sleep could wait a minute or two.
