Max Steel no Chishiki Baiten
Cancer | Adios, Hermano
Adios, Hermano
General disclaimer: Max Steel belongs to many companies, Kids’ WB!, two different computer animation companies, and a whole mess-o corporate executives. This story is my personal work derived from my inner child getting hold of an uzi and obliterating my good side.
ADIOS, HERMANO
BY:
Maxy Steel
Another two weeks had passed. Berto had yet to find a workable cure, and it was driving him crazy, almost as badly as the guilt which hung over his head. There had been many hopeful attempts, but nothing had stopped, or even slowed, the growth of the cancerous cells. Everyone else wasn’t doing much better. Rachel was a far cry from her usual self, despite her fair attempts at hiding this fact. Caught up in trying to keep Max and Berto sane, she had been ignoring herself. In the mornings, her eyes were often red-rimmed, as she often cried in the night, when few were likely to hear her. But Max, he was the worst, physically, and especially psychologically. In keeping with his promise to Rachel, he had tried to maintain a cheery and hopeful attitude, for about a week. But then, the cancer, aggravated by the kemo radiation that had been used, and possibly along with a few of Berto’s most recent treatment attempts, had ravaged his nervous system, and his emotions in the process. He’d almost completely stopped caring about appearance. He could, and often would, cry in anyone’s arms. Rachel, his father, Berto, even a nurse had held and comforted him on many occasions. Or, at least they tried. The slightest thing could set off an emotional explosion. But, he never got mad, not anymore. There was no point anymore. The young man did his best to hold his head up, but anyone could see how bad he was, could see the depression slowly wrapping around him, a cloak of darkness.
“Hola, hermano,” Berto greeted quietly, entering his partner’s room. Max looked up, and cracked a small smile. His eyes were red-rimmed. He was disturbingly gaunt as well. But it made sense, considering he was rarely able to keep anything down.
“Hi, bro. Anything new?” the brunette replied. Berto tried not to let his disquiet at his friend’s condition show on his face as he crossed the room, raised the upper part of the bed, and checked his patient’s vitals.
“How are you feeling?” the Spanish agent replied, ignoring his friend’s question.
“Tired,” was the quiet reply. To Berto, at least, it didn’t seem possible at how much damage three and a half weeks had done to his friend, in all respects. He reasoned that all the medical prodding and treating was the main cause. Beyond that, he figured that the transphasic-powered cancer was simply tiring of it’s current host, eager to kill him off and seek out fresh prey. In a small comforting measure, the young man patted his best friend’s shoulder.
“That’s to be expected, hermano,” he offered gently, turning to look at a monitor. A soft sniffle startled him. Spinning back around, he glanced at Max worriedly. The ill agent’s head was bent, there was already tear-stains on the blanket. Berto put his arm around Max’s shoulders, and squeezed gently, murmuring a few Spanish phrases his mother had often whispered to him when he was sick or injured as a child. The older agent drew in a shuddering breath, then another. But he couldn’t stop the tears, anymore than he could get up and run out of the room. This knowledge didn’t help his already severely battered pride. He wanted to push his best friend away, wanted to be a strong person on his own again. But, he couldn’t find the strength to do so physically, or the words for verbally. All he could do was listen to the soothing sounds of the foreign words, and feel the tears flow down his cheeks.
Rachel came up to Max’s door, and was surprised when it opened before she even touched it. The shock faded, however, when Berto’s head appeared around the edge of the door.
“How is he doing?” she questioned the young tech in a whisper. The young man glanced furtively back into the room, then shook his head and sighed.
“Burned out, nothing new. He just fell asleep. Wore himself out, again,” Berto explained, holding open the door for the older agent. With a murmur of gratitude, Rachel stepped into the room. The door closed behind her with a soft whoosh. Nearly silent, she walked over to Max’s side, and stood there, looking down at his sleeping face, almost disturbingly thin. Since he had landed in the medical bay, the young brunette had lost over 30 pounds. She sighed, placing her right hand over her mouth, shaking her head slightly. There were a few tears pooled on his closed eyelids. With her left hand, she brushed them away delicately, letting her fingertips rest on his left cheek. She closed her eyes, and became acutely aware of the intensely negative vibrations prowling around the room. Her right hand dropped to her side, as she recalled memories of happier times, obviously with Max, in an attempt to shepherd away the vibes. The after glow of their many successful missions. The first day he officially asked her out. Simple things as well, everyday things. His smiles, his laughter. Kissing him, seeing the sparkle in his eyes afterward. She smiled to herself. A moment later, the blond agent was brought out of her reverie by a gentle hand on hers. With a small, surprised gasp, she opened her eyes, and looked down, right into Max’s eyes. He smiled slightly. She returned the expression, and settled on the bed beside him.
“Have you been awake long?” she asked, moving both their hands to his chest. He shook his head slightly.
“How are you?” he asked in reply. Rachel smiled at him reassuringly, lightly squeezing his hand.
“Just fine, Max. I want you to get better,” she told him calmly. He closed his eyes, and sighed almost imperceptibly.
“I want to, Rach. I can’t live with myself like this,” he murmured. The female agent caught the edge of tears in his voice, and clutched at his hand tighter. He opened his eyes.
“You will, Max. I’m sure of it,” she promised him, putting as much confidence and encouragement behind her words as she could possibly manage. Max smiled, but it didn’t seem to reach his pained blue eyes.
“I just feel so weak,” he sighed a moment later. Quickly, Rachel shushed him before he inadvertently worked himself into another sobbing fit.
“That’s the cancer, Max. Once it’s gone, you’ll feel fine,” she told him, gently stroking his bangs away from his face. He closed his eyes.
“Did you ever wish I hadn’t joined N-tek?” he asked, out of the blue, eyes still closed, catching Rachel off guard. She recovered quickly, laying a hand over his.
“Once I got to know you, I thanked the stars you had,” she told him truthfully, stroking the back of his hand. Despite what the illness had done to the rest of him, Max’s skin still looked healthy.
“I was a handful when I was younger, huh?” the bed-ridden agent asked softly, a note of jest in his tired voice. He was exhausted.
“Yes, you were, Mr. Steel. But I still love you. Both then, and even more now,” she replied, coming closer and kissing him gently on the lips. He cracked a small grin, looking up at her, his eyes bright with tears.
“I love you too, Green-Eyes,” he murmured. Their lips met again. Neither wanted to let go of this brief look into the past. It was one of the few things that hadn’t changed since Max’s condition was discovered. This pure, innocent love was one of the only things left to him. The mere thought of losing it was just too much. Rachel backed off slightly when she sensed the tears flowing from his eyes.
“Max, what’s wrong?” she questioned worriedly. He had to swallow several times before answering.
“Rachel, just promise me one thing,” he said finally.
“Which is what?” the blonde replied gently, though she had a feeling she knew what it would be. A pause followed that was so long and heavy, she hardly dared breathe. Fearful that the silence would engulf her, would suffocate her.
“Promise me that, no matter what, our love will survive,” he whispered. The tears she had been holding back for so long sprang from Rachel’s eyes, and splatted on Max’s cheeks as she leaned forward, and kissed him deeply, her arms sliding around him as best she could.
“I promise,” she told him softly. A flare of happiness lit up the young man’s eyes, almost to the point of making them too bright to look into.
Too soon after their vow of unending love, Rachel was forced to leave, at the nurses’ insistence. There were more tests to be taken, to try and find a way to extend Max’s life out longer than another few weeks.
“I’ll be back in a few hours with the results,” Berto promised as Max was restationed in his room. The older agent nodded, and grinned. Less than a minute after his Spanish friend had closed the door, it opened again. This time, Jefferson Smith stood in the doorway.
“Hello, son,” the tall African American voice, closing the door and walking to the young man’s side. Max smiled up at his father.
“Hi, Dad,” he greeted. Jeff laid a hand on his boy’s shoulder. A nostalgic look was on the older man’s face.
“Twenty years ago, right before the mission your biological father died on, Jim made me swear on one thing...” the head of N-tek began. Max squirmed to sit up, his interest sparked.
“What did he say?” the young man interrupted eagerly. Whenever his real father was a subject of conversation, the speaker had the young agent’s full attention. This occasion was no different.
“He told me that, should something happen to him, he wanted me to take care of you. Protect you. But I’ve failed him, and you, son. I promised to protect you, and I couldn’t,” Jeff’s voice was strained. He had known Jim since childhood. Seeing the building his friend had been in go up in flames, not seeing him appear outside, the foster-father was reliving the whole thing over again. A soft sob caught his attention. Tears were running down Max’s face. He wiped at them, and looked at his father.
“Dad...you didn’t fail. I did. You couldn’t have known, you couldn’t have stopped this,” there was no malice in the young man’s words, only sadness. Jeff reached forward, and drew his son into an embrace. Tears showed in the eyes of both.
“It’s okay, son,” Jefferson murmured soothingly, patting his son’s back. Max didn’t say a word. He couldn’t have, even if he could think of something to say. Life was unfair. There were so many people who wanted, maybe even needed, him to stay. But, he knew, deep down, that his time was coming, very soon. Not even his intense will for life could counteract this illness. Love couldn’t stop it. There was nothing that could, on this planet, at least. This thought, this realization, only served to make the tears flow harder and faster.
*****
One week later...
Max woke in the middle of the night, by a very bad coughing fit. With difficulty, he turned on his side, and listened and felt as his body tried to rid itself of an invisible obstruction in his windpipe. He felt a sharp pain in the back of his throat. He was still choking and coughing. A moment later, he felt something wet touch his lips, from inside his mouth. The coughing fit receded enough for him to check the liquid out. It was a foreboding dark red that stained his fingers. Glancing down, the injured agent was not reassured to see splatters of the same color covering the mattress and table before him. He coughed, and more blood dampened the sheets. I need help, his brain realized suddenly. A collection of stabbing pains struck him then. Sharp daggers seemed to poke through his heart and lungs. The pain should have been unbearable, but he was cruelly forced to endure it. His panicked blue eyes looked frantically for the nurse call button. It was too late for him, he knew that. But, the last thing Max wanted was for Rachel, of all people, to walking on his lifeless corpse. His groping fingers found the button. As he pressed it, his life flashed past his eyes. His parents, both biological and adoptive. Friends from elementary school, middle and high school. College, and finally, his joining of N-tek. Rachel and Berto, the many other agents he had befriended. The young agent knew his life, short as it seemed, was over. The medical team wouldn’t make it in time. His visions exploded into a black splotch against a background of flaming red. Instantly, the splotch spread, rapidly devouring all the red. That’s the cancer, what it’s done to me, the brunette agent thought. The darkness burst into shining stars. The young man’s eyes shot open. Rachel, Dad, Berto...I’ll miss you guys, he thought quickly, a peaceful expression covering his face. His heart froze in mid-beat a second later. The monitor screamed wildly. As he expelled his last breath, the dead agent’s eyes slowly closed. His hand slid off the table, and dangled over the edge of the bed. His cancer-ravaged heart would beat no more. That was how Berto, flanked by a medical team, found him, a few minutes too late. A nurse gasped, seeing the flat-lined monitor. The staff moved to try and revive the patient. But the dead man’s best friend stopped them.
“It’s too late. He wouldn’t have wanted us to try,” he reasoned softly. The logic made sense. Why try to bring him back, force him to live through the pain and humiliation the cancer pressed upon him? No one moved for a long moment.
“I’m so sorry, Dr. Martinez,” a nurse murmured, touching Berto’s shoulder. The young man didn’t reply. Max had still been on his side when he died. With nearly silent steps, the Spanish doctor crossed the room, and stood by his friend’s body. He reached over, and switched off the screeching monitor. Silence speeded back into the room. The staff took it as their cue to leave. As gently as he could manage, Berto turned his partner onto his back. There was little pain written behind Max’s calm, almost sleep-like look. However he had gone, though, it must have been horrible. The blood is a good enough indicator of that, the young agent thought sadly. Still, Max had managed to change his expression, to help those close to him cope. Berto smiled softly, and said the only thing that seemed appropriate at the time.
“Gracias. Hasta la vista. Adios, hermano,” he whispered, touching his best friend’s shoulder. Max was at peace now. He wasn’t in pain anymore. That was enough for Berto’s mental well-being.
~THE END~
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