Caritas
Max finally woke from her sleep, as if drugged. She knew that she’d slept more soundly than usual after the mini-crying jag she’d indulged in while in the shower the evening before. She was thankful that Cordelia had seemed to instinctively know what it was that she wanted. And that was to be left alone. In a strong show of solidarity, the other woman had simply pushed Max to the bathroom, turning on the hot water and murmured something about hot chocolate.
When Max had emerged from the bathroom, hair still wet, but feeling at least marginally human, the hot chocolate and comforting shoulder was waiting. Cordy didn’t push, just sat close by. And finally Max was able to speak. In a quiet voice, she’d told Cordy what she’d told Angel. And the other woman sat there, calmly accepting the evil that Max had done. That wasn’t to say that Cordy was made of stone. Max caught her wincing and cringing as she retold the story. Damn that, it wasn’t a story. It was the gritty, hard, gut wrenching truth, baldly laid out for perusal… and rejection.
But to Max’s immense and unknown that it was needed, relief, Cordy had simply set down her cup and leaned over to embrace her friend. They sat like that for a while, with Cordy’s arms around her shoulders as Max shook in effort to control her body’s reaction of the shock that the memories were back. And they were worse than she had supposed. Not that she should really be surprised. When had her life ever been normal, or easy? But for it to have revolved around Case. She wasn’t sure she was strong enough to deal with it. Max momentarily toyed with the idea of using the training she’d received from Manticore to just forget the information. But that would have been the biggest insult to Case’s bravery that she could imagine. She really didn’t know what she was going to do. So in the end, she’d allowed her roommate to guide her to her room and had fallen into a fitful sleep that strangely, lasted most of the night.
She was grateful that Cordelia had left some coffee for her. Although she wasn’t sure that she wanted to wake up any more than she already was. The more awake she became, the more thoughts would come. Max moved back to her room, sipping at the mug while she chose some clothes for her day. She figured she might as well go to work and keep herself busy. It was a ploy that usually worked. And right now, she needed the distraction desperately. Case’s face was just on the edge of her conscious mind. Moment by moment, she cherished the innocence there, only to feel sickened as the vision twisted to that final moment before everlasting sleep took him. Max shook her head. Of all the people she’d seen dead, he was haunting her the most. Even holding Tinga’s dead, cold body in her arms didn’t hurt as much as this.
She knew that it was because his death was unavoidable that it was hurting so badly. Knowing that she had brought it about for the greater good was what made the guilt weigh so heavily on her. With a grimace, Max set the coffee cup on her dresser with a thump. She forced herself to the task at hand and yanked her clothes on almost viciously. Before she could stop herself, she’d rushed out of the apartment on her mountain bike, determined to get past the moment. It would wait for her. That moment would always be there for her. Right now, she needed to survive, keep her sanity until that moment. Figure out where the hell her life was going, what new purpose it had. Then she could be in that moment. Give in to it. Surrender to it. And maybe then, she’d find peace.
Cordy arrived at work in the afternoon. She’d left the apartment early that morning after making a pot of coffee. It wasn’t that she was avoiding her roommate, but she really needed time to sort out what she’d been told. Cordy had seen a lot of things during her high school years on the Hellmouth. And it had only gotten worse after her move to LA and joining of Angel’s team. Speaking of, he was waiting for her in the seemingly deserted lobby, carefully avoiding the sunlight, as was his daily torment.
"How is she?" he asked without preamble. Cordy sank down into her chair behind her desk.
"Messed," was her short reply. He nodded. He hadn’t expected any less.
"She’ll get better," he mumbled, more wishful thinking than surety.
Cordy’s head snapped up. "I don’t think she will Angel," Cordy snorted. He stared at her, understanding in a way, what she was trying to get at. "She’s human Angel."
"I know that."
"Intellectually, yeah," she scoffed. "But you have no conception of what she had to do." She sighed. "Okay, think of it this way. You are an adult, fully able to understand the consequences of certain actions. Buffy killed you, sent you to hell. You understood why, and I think, at times, were proud of her for the strength she had to do that." She noticed his predictable involuntary flinch, but pressed on ahead anyway. "It nearly ruined her. She was devastated by what she had to do. But that doesn’t even compare to what Max had to do. Yes Buffy loved you. But there were conditions on your relationship. You both knew that it was her only choice. The world would have been sucked into Hell otherwise. But in Max’s case, it was a little boy. Full of hope. Full of love and light. And she knows somewhere deep down inside that there might have been some other way to prevent what was going to happen. Not everyone would have died in that moment. It would have been bad, but it wouldn’t be Hell on earth. And aside from being a little boy, it was her nephew. The last link she had to her sister."
"I know all this Cordy," he reiterated softly.
"But Angel, there is nowhere for Max to deal with this," Cordy pressed on. "I mean, if it were a regular problem, like I don’t know, alcoholism and she wanted to get better, there would be things she could do. Understand?" He nodded. "Programs, support groups and stuff like that. But where is the support group for people who have to kill loved ones for the greater good?"
"There isn’t one," he muttered, glancing away.
"You know, sometimes I think that the only thing that saved Buffy’s sanity was her friends and family," Cordelia sighed. "Max doesn’t have that support."
"Yes she does," Angel smirked suddenly. Cor caught the gleam in his eyes. "She has us."
The days fell into a regular pattern for Max. She’d get up, scurry off to work, sometimes putting in overtime. Then she’d find some way of working herself to the bone. Occasionally, it was thoroughly cleaning the apartment. Sometimes it was riding her motorcycle. Sometimes breaking it down and rebuilding it. She tried various sports and even went out clubbing with Cordelia. She tried picking fights at seedy bars. But all that last had gotten her was a dangerous reputation. And almost arrested. So she went back to the others in a restless round robin of ways to exhaust herself. But every night, the memory that tugged on the corner of her mind would be out in full force for the few hours that she slept. And then she woke and started the whole process over again.
After two weeks of this, Cordelia and Angel finally interfered. As soon as Max arrived home from work, she began wondering if she should take her motorcycle out or clean the kitchen. But neither would happen, she realized, as Cordy pushed her towards her room.
"Go get dressed," the other woman commanded. Max spared her a strange glance, then shrugged her shoulders, not arguing. She was secretly glad that Cordy had been up for all her suggestions. Just knowing that the other woman was there for her was a balm on her spirit at times. The woman seer was a strange bastion of strength. So Max dressed in the clothes that her friend had laid out for her after a quick shower. They were artfully casual, black leather pants and midnight-blue cropped tee shirt. Max prepared quickly, wanting to get away from the stifling apartment. But when she exited her room, it was to see Cordy relaxing on the couch in her around-the-apartment wear.
"Aren’t we going out?" Max demanded lightly, suddenly scared that her friend wanted nothing to do with her.
"You are," Cordy smiled. "But Angel was whining that he wasn’t getting any Max time. So he’s taking you out tonight."
"Oh crap," Max moaned. "Not another banquet or some lame ass dealio?"
"For his health, he better not," Cordy mock growled, pleased with her friend’s reaction. "But no, he just wanted a chance to get out. I think he’s been cooped up way too long. Don’t you think?"
"I guess," Max shrugged. She felt strange suddenly. Before the whole mess about Case had come into the open, she and Cordy had promised each other that they would work on cheering the broody vamp up. It lightened her considerably to be able to focus on someone else right then. Something she hadn’t been doing for a long while. There was a knock on the door before she could say more and she moved to answer it. Angel stood there, smiling down gently at her. She stepped back to allow him entry, taking in his full attire as she did. "What the hell?" she gasped, then spun around to her friend. "Cordy, why the hell do we match?" Angel glanced down at his clothes, then smothered a grin.
"Max, in no way do you and Angel match," she sighed, tossing her magazine aside. She rose from her seat gracefully and hurried to her room. When she returned, she was holding out a black, full-length duster in Max’s size. She tossed it to her friend. "Put that on. Then you’ll match." Max exchanged looks with Angel. She could see that he was trying to hide his mirth, not really succeeding. A little giggle escaped her lips. A chuckle from him. And then they were both full out laughing. Cordy smiled as well. It had been a while since either of them had felt like laughing. "Go on," she urged, making shooing motions with her hands. "Go out. Enjoy yourselves. Get drunk, whatever. Just go!"
"Yes mother," Angel drawled as he tugged on Max’s arm, pulling her out into the hallway. He pulled the door shut just as something heavy, probably a shoe, thumped against it.
"I am not your mother, Angel!’ his friend yelled from inside the apartment. There was a slight pause. "Don’t stay out too late. Max has to work tomorrow!" The clothes-matched duo chuckled again. Angel gently took the duster from Max and held it out for her to slip on. She did so and he took her hand in his, leading her out to his car.
"So where are we going?" Max asked carefully.
"Well, I heard about some of the places you’ve been to," Angel smirked, his eyes on the road. "Quite the reputation you’ve been making for yourself." Max groaned.
"I know," she muttered. "Not my finest hour."
"It’s okay," Angel shrugged. "I get it."
"Well, I’m glad you do," Max snorted inelegantly. "’Cause I sure as hell don’t sometimes." She looked him over again. She hadn’t seen him so relaxed since the last time they’d been on a pseudo-date. "That still didn’t answer my question."
"Oh, sorry. Have you heard of Caritas?"
Soul Searching
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