Opened Eyes and Yellow Bellies

So…The announcement had been made.

And that was it. Everyone was free to redact their marriages. After months of parading around, avoiding the whole "make spawn" part of the marriage law, of awkward marriage ceremonies, and uncertain living arrangements, it was all over. Everyone was supposed to go from awkwardly married to perfectly free, just like that.

The news had slowly trickled, and then exploded with a bang that morning after their practice. It was seconds later that she had gotten an owl from Gabby Short, announcing a party to celebrate his reclaimed bachelorhood, date and location To Be Determined. Jack stared at the invite, laughing to herself as she imagined the phrases she could think of him proclaiming, boasting his freedom and happiness. The laugh soured in her throat suddenly, and she paused from pulling off her Quidditch robes.

What the hell was she supposed to do?

Absentmindedly, she changed from her Quidditch garb into her street clothes, waving distractedly at her teammates as they hurried out, all talking about getting a drink, which she graciously declined. Fully changed, she dropped onto a bench, staring forward with knit eyebrows. Some people would go back to normal with their spouses - back to friends, back to strangers. But what did she have to go back to? The transition she and Max had made had been subtle, and she wasn't exactly sure what they had been before. What would change? Had anything changed? Did it have to change again?

The image of a photograph of all of them came to her mind, a photograph she had given Max for Christmas. The frame had been adorned with the word 'Family' and that was the only term she could confidently placed on Max. And she felt like divorce papers would be an official declaration that they weren't really family.

And that was when the crazy idea hit her. Maybe they didn't have to change.

It had been hard to admit she was okay with Max. But it was going to be even weirder to admit she was willing to stay married.

She had to go while she was confident. She gathered her things and immediately apparated back home, pulling out her keys and slipping through the doorway. "Max?" she called, still feeling brave, braver than she had ever been. In her hand was the Daily Prophet article that announced the end of the marriage law. It was going to be clever, if it wasn't super brave. "So, we're ignoring this, right?" So, it wasn't super clever. But it was something.

She stepped into the kitchen, where Goose and Sunny sat, coloring.

"Come on, Goose, we have a quota to meet."

"Boss, there's no way we're meeting out quarterly-"

"Who taught you two to speak like this?" Jack said, grinning between the two of them. They immediately pointed at each other and she smiled. "Where's Max?"

"Hospital," Sunny said, going back to her coloring.

The world momentarily stopped. Jack stared at the two children, her heart pounding. "What?"

Goose looked up. "He said he was going to St Mungo's."

Jack ran a hand through her hair, her mouth gaping. What had happened? Something horrible, something because she had enemies, something that was surely her fault. "Is Charlie here?"

"Upstairs."

Jack nodded, dropping her bag and retrieving her keys. "Okay. Okay. I'll be back."

The two saluted her and she turned on her heel, immediately appearing at St Mungo's Hospital lobby. She hurried to the receptionist table, but the line was horrendous. A Healer by the name of Duncan that she knew from her own multiple visits was strolling by and she jumped out of line, chasing him down. "Duncan!" He turned as she grabbed his forearm. "Max, Maximus Morrison. Where is he?"

"Is there an emergency? Jack, what's wrong?"

Jack shook her head. "Have you seen him?"

Duncan shook his head, looking flabbergasted. “I saw him on the fifth floor, but Jack-“

Jack pushed past him and booked it up the stairs, scrambling onto the fifth floor. Everyone Healer and nurse she grabbed had no knowledge of a patient named Maximus Morrison. Soon, exhaustion slowed her down, and she continued pacing up and down the halls, looking desperately for the familiar mop of black curls when…

She saw it. But he wasn’t it bed.

She saw him through a doorway and a nearly ran into the room, but stopped herself when he saw the hand that he was holding. Jack paused, backing out of the doorway, holding her breath. The woman in the bed looked distant and frail, but she was undeniably one of the more beautiful creatures Jack had ever seen. Her large eyes almost did not seem to see, but there was a smile of complete ignorance adorning her rosy face.

Jack backed away slowly, her heartbeat pounding heavily in her ears. Her mouth was dry, her palms were sweaty, and her knees felt liquefied. She slowly backed out and sat with her back against the wall, staring forward once again.

Shattered.

She was shattered.

Why? She wanted to punch herself in the face she was so weirded out by these feelings. Why did it bother her so much that… what? What exactly had she seen? Proof that Max’s world did not revolve around her and the kids? Proof that there was more to him than she knew. She was an idiot for having presumed otherwise. For presuming that things could stay the same, for presuming that he would want them too.

Her errand had changed.


The door opened, admitting Max into their home. Immediately, he was charged by children and animals, and Jack continued stirring the huge vat of macaroni and cheese, as demanded by the kids. She gave him his minute, his time to come in and sit down at the kitchen table before he began his usual speech about the day’s trials and successes. He settled at the table and she reached over the counter, grabbing an envelope. She clicked the stove off, and walked over to the table, dropping the envelope in front of him, not able to look him right in the eye.

“Here you go,” she said. “You need to sign too. I already did.”

The washer buzzed and she turned. “Right, laundry.” She wiped her hands on her jeans and through the living room, walking out to the laundry closet.

Now that had not been brave at all. That was as cowardly as she got.

6:45. Alarm goes off. Jack knocks clock off of nightstand in an attempt to snooze it, a noise more effective than the alarm itself.
6:49. Start coffee.
6:54. Shower.
7:16. Get dressed. Yes, even a tie. Make sure the alarm is back in working condition.
7:25. Wake Sunny and Goose. Be extra careful not to wake Charlie.
7:28. Make eggs and toast. Drink coffee.
7:36. Approve Sunny and Gooses outfits. Make alternations if needed.
7:40. Leave the house.
7:59. Drop the kids at school.
8:20. Arrive at ministry.

The day started off like any other and it wasn't until lunch that Max realized something was different. Brown bag in hand, he entered a lunch room that was animated with chatter. Witches from Games & Sports were huddled around a copy of the Daily Prophet and Max witnessed two Unspeakables share a high five. Not that the Ministry was a particularly unpleasant place to work but it was not known for employee satisfaction either. Max made his way to one of the smaller tables and sat down across from Flynn who was staring down into a cup of tea.

"Do you know how much my wedding cost?"

Max blinked at his friend, frowning slightly. "No?"

"You don't want to know. God, I can't even think about it." There was a few seconds pause and Max opened his mouth in question but was interrupted by Flynn's vocalized train of thought. "I told her I didn't want the orchids. The roses would have been fine and half of the cost but oh no she insisted." Another pause and then a higher voice imitating a woman, "I'll only get one wedding."  

Max's face had shifted into a worried frown as he unwrapped his sandwich. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, fine. It's just.. fine. Hey, what did you and Jack decide to do anyway?"

"About what?"

"You know.. The law." Flynn assessed the blank look on Max's face and pulled out a newspaper from his bag. The headline, big and bold, explained everything that was happening and set a panic within the Hufflepuffs chest about what was to come.

Max got very little done that afternoon. He flipped through files and signed papers but most of his brain was dominated by Jack. Jack Dyllan. Well, Jack Dyllan-Morrison. But maybe she would be Jack Dyllan again. Would she want to be Jack Dyllan again? Jack Dyllan-Morrison just sounded better. Didn't it? It did. Sunny was a Dyllan-Morrison. Would Sunny just be a Dyllan? Jack would never do that to him. Jack. Jack who made soup for him that time he got sick and threatened his boss to give him an extra day off. Jack Dyllan-Morrison who would no longer have any interest in being his wife. Why would she? They had protected each other, the Dyllan-Morrison's, so they could some day go back to being Dyllans and Morrisons. Today was that day.

Max packed his bags at 3:00 like he did every Tuesday and made his way downstairs to the fireplaces. Every little conversation he had out of the Muggle Relations offices, in the halls, or on the lift was on a momentary distraction from the bigger problems that now dominated his mind. Part of Max hoped that nothing would be said. That they would ignore the papers and the talk and Gabby's inevitable jabs until everything settled down and they could just keep.. going. Max couldn't lose tucking in the kids or tending the garden. Layabout Lane had become part of who he was in the most basic and important of ways.

The route to the hospital and too her room was also engrained. His mind was free to wander up until the moment that he knocked on the door and then let himself in. Max mostly talked to Daisy about the weather or how the garden was doing or how Quidditch teams were doing. It was rarely anything too deep or heartfelt but there was something comforting in only discussing the mundane. Because, to be truthful, in most respects Maximus Morrison's life truly was unremarkable. He man went school, graduated, went to work, and had stayed there ever since. Day in, day out, sleep, work, sleep, work. The only extraordinary thing that had ever broken in to his ordinary existence.. Well everyone knew who that was.

After the visit Max returned home, walking up the path at just about the time he came home most days from work. The extra couple of hours were hidden away in a carefully created crook of his routine where no one would notice or think to look. Max quickly settled in to the warmth of Layabout, dropping his briefcase and coat by the door and heading to the kitchen where the smell of cooking cheese was wafting from. He got comfortable at the table and began to put his daydream into action - ignoring everything that was wrong. He talked about the reports that he had skimmed (what he could remember) for a few minutes until he gradually died off into silence and kept calm only by sheer force of will.

Then the envelope hit the table. Jack spoke. Max froze.

Oh.

She left the room quickly and Max was grateful. For several seconds he couldn't pick up the paper, only stare blankly at her familiar signature, the same one that was scrolled across their wedding certificate. Oh. Max stood and then sat again. He couldn't go to their room. It was her room now. Max watched the pasta cook relentlessly on the stove. Numbly, he stood to turn down the heat and then returned to stand next to the table. He reached down and in a single stroke Maximus Morrison signed himself back in to bachelorhood. Leaving the papers sprawled gently across the table, Max moved to the living room where he pulled out his briefcase, opened a file, and began to work. Oh.

A lump of salt bobbed in her throat as she opened up the washer lid, reaching in and fumbling with damp socks and wrinkly sweaters. She had to get this laundry done anyway because Goose had dirtied his last shirt and Sunny was always running out of socks for some reason. They had school tomorrow. Goose needed a clean shirt, Sunny needed two socks, Max needed a fresh undershirt. There was things to be done, tasks to be completed, errands to be fulfilled. The world was still turning. Life was still going. And Jack had to continue to fit into it, regardless of... regardless of the face that it would all be going back to normal. She tossed the last of clothes into the dryer and sighed.

Merlin, she hated normal.

Fabric softener poured, something she had never used when it was just her and Nemo. Back in their old house, she had not felt domestic. The house had always been a mess, always smelled like burnt food, always a good few hours away from being somewhat clean. And she had not minded. Now, rings from cold glasses on the table and a syrup stain that would not come out from her baggy sweater were immediate issues. She came in and could tell there was a broken lamp somewhere in the house. She knew when Sunny had actually cleaned her room and when everything had just been conveniently dropped out of a window. And she had not figured out why.

Living with Nemo had been sharing a bachelor pad, for them both. They were working, sure, but there had been no effort to really build a life. Their Friday nights were usually composed of them ordering bad Chinese takeout, sprawling across the couch, watching bad horror movies, and drinking until they were lulled to sleep.

Now, Jack worked very hard for her Friday nights. Throughout the week, she panicked and rushed to get ahead so her family could sit down and eat together, so she and Max could at least ignore their work for a little while why the small family all unwound in the living room. Max would read, Jack would tinker with her fireworks, Goose and Sunny would play, Charlie would play with a plant if she was home, and the animals would snore in the corner. And everyone obeyed when Sunny inevitable dragged some board game from the shelf and demanded they all be cheated by her at it.

And that was why she kept the house clean. She was not just living in coordination with another person anymore. She was living within the lives of others, and they were living in hers. They were all past surviving. They were building a life. No. They had built a life.

And they were supposed to deconstruct it now.

She closed the lid on the dryer and gripped the sides of it, taking a breath. She raised her head and walked back through the house, saying nothing as she reentered the kitchen. She forced her eyes to stay on the stove as she approached it, grabbing bowls and forks. "Dinner," came the call. Goose and Sunny appeared almost immediately, collected their meals, and ran off to the living room. Every Tuesday night, they had to watch their favorite show, an educational show about space narrated by a a very dry-mannered man that no one else in the house enjoyed. But the little sociopaths loved it.

Jack flicked her wand and sent Charlie's bowl floating off to her and she walked to the kitchen, her own small portion (never so small, because macaroni and cheese was secretly her own favorite) weighing heavily in her hand. She sat down, stared at the envelope, and managed to courage to pick it up. She reviewed the new addition, her hand throbbing, her mouth dry. It was practically done. Just needed to be sent it. But as far as she and Max were concerned, they were no longer married. Barely anything to each other.

Just as it should be.

He entered the kitchen to retrieve his own food and she immediately dropped the paper, picking up her fork and beginning to eat, though she tasted absolutely nothing on her tongue. She chewed as though she was chewing through leather, even though the noodles were tender and cheesey.

She had to break the silence. Had to let him know that it was okay. That it was whatever. That she cared as little as he did.

"The good thing about this is you're free to do as you please now," she said, mixing her macaroni. "Nothing holding you back, you know."

Max stared blankly at his bowl of pasta. The yellow goo was beginning to blur slightly under his gaze. He could hear the TV on in the living room a loud enough that the announcers dull voice carried into the kitchen but quiet enough that it was muffled into a grumbly undertone that mixed with the hum of the fridge and the clacking of dog nails in the hall. A piece of pasta was being taken by gravity down the side of the bowl, slipping slipping slipping down the side and leaving a shiny trail in its wake. Max poked it lamely with his spoon.

Jack spoke and Max's eyes flashed up like lightning. He stared at her wide eyed and petrified, thrown back to the days when his house mate had been some strange enigma ready to explode at any moment. Her words weren't bombs but they might as well have been. Max felt his insides lurch at an odd angle as he stared across the table at his ex-wife as he poked his noodles as he processed exactly what was happening.

"Okay." he replied emptily. So maybe he wasn't really processing at his highest intellectual capacity but what else was he supposed to say? Was he supposed to tell Jack that there was nothing to get in the way of? That everything he wanted was already here in this house? That he had been happier in the last few months than any other time in his life? That would be just plain stupid.  Despite her eccentrics Jack was a woman of reason. After all, they had gotten married out of convenience and nothing has changed between them so those papers were just another meaningless gesture and nothing would have to change again. So why had wedding vows (ish) been no big deal but a little divorce paper felt like Max's world was crumpling and it's foundation?

By the time Max decided he was being stupid it was too late. The nerves had kicked in, forcing his posture straiter and his mouth dry as he quickly glanced away from Jack and back to his untouched bowl. Silence settled over the table in the face of one-sided conversation so the voice of the TV host could just be made out if one really strained their ears.

It was just as Max took his first bite of the rapidly cooking dinner that a thought burst in to his head. Nothing holding you back, you know. What if.. Was he.. Was Max keeping Jack from someone? Max began to breathe more deeply and his stomach was no longer just twisting but it was churning and spinning and when he looked at Jack it gave a single, giant, heart crushing lurch. It wouldn't be that surprising. Jack  was young and single in all the ways that counted (no matter what any court said). She was funny, spontaneous, terrifyingly brave, clever. And her hair. The way it bounced in his face when she was reading. Max understood how some guy would find little things like that completely irresistible..

"I guess I go back to the old room then?" The realization had been darting around his mind for awhile now and he couldn't help but voice it. Max felt like a child. He hadn't slept on his own for months now and more than anything else a part of him was dreading the lack of reckless limbs and cold feet that always reminded him of the protection that came with the presence of another person. Sharing a bed had literally and figuratively removed space between the adults and Max could already feel himself pulling away in the light of their new situation. Jack would always be there right down the hall but it still felt like he was losing something. Like he was losing her.

Jack was angry.

Firstly, the Ministry had ruined everything. If they had never made the stupid law in the first place, she and Max would have continued on. Something else would have developed. He would have casually mentioned the girl in the hospital bed, and she would have been supportive like a roommate should be, and that would have been it. She wasn't sure what she would have done. Perhaps her answer to Albus might have changed. Perhaps she would have had less reason to scare people away and someone would have tricked their way into her life. Perhaps there would have been more fruit out of her reunion with Ariel Greyback. Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps... But one thing was absolutely certain. They would not have grown close, and they would not have had to suffer through... whatever this was.

Secondly, it was Max's stupid fault too. He was the one who had decided to back out of his thing with Claire Bishop (who certainly had her hefty share of the blame, but Jack tried not to think of her if she didn't have to.) But it had been his idea that it would have been easier, EASY, to just get married so nothing would have to change. He was older, more emotionally stable... how had he not foreseen that things simply could not change? How could he have asked her to do something like marry him and not consider just how screwy everything was bound to get?

But she knew that the blame fell very squarely on her shoulders. She could have fought the law - if there was anyone who could have single-handedly derailed the stupid thing, she knew it would have been her. But, no, she had been preoccupied, had been busy. Strike one. And then she had said yes. YES. She had punched the first guy who kissed her, but she had said yes to the first man to propose to her? Practically a stranger, practically her opposite, and she had said yes. Strike two. And then she had allowed things to continue, and progress. She had played pretend with Max. They had played house. They juggled the kids' schedules, they took turns cooking dinner, they debriefed at the end of the day, they kicked each other in bed, and they exchanged meaningful Christmas gifts - strike three. And then she had brought the stupid divorce papers home. HOME-FREAKING-RUN.

She had not through any part of this ordeal, and it really hit her when Max suggested he move out of the room. Her head lifted and she stared at him, pasta slowly falling off of a stringy strand of cheese off of her fork. So... what? No more talks at the end of the night? No more kicking him up. No more waking up and scooting away as subtly as possible after realizing they had almost snuggled up. That was all over now, though, which was... fine. It was fine. Whatever.

"Yeah, I guess so," she said, plopping the fork into her mouth. She chewed, chewed, and swallowed, swallowing down her regret.

"But, I mean... probably not right away," she added, picking at her food. "'Cause, you know, Charlie is in your room. I don't want to just... disrupt her. You know?"

"Yeah, of course. Give her however long she needs. What's another night or two, right?" Regardless of how he intended them, the words sounded wrong coming out. Max wasn't sure what he could handle at this point - if sharing a bed or not sharing a bed felt like the more traumatizing blow. Everything needed to just.. stay the same. Just this morning their life had been set in stone with plans for birthday parties and babysitting duties but suddenly everything felt uncertain.

Max didn't understand where the fault was in a situation like this where nothing was technically wrong. They had agreed to get married, had the same expectations, known a divorce would come as soon as the law was repealed. So maybe they had played their parts a little too enthusiastically. The perfect picture of a family: Mr. Dyllan-Morrison reading a newspaper as Mrs. Dyllan-Morrison cooked eggs for breakfast as kids ran between them. But what else could they have done with the situation? Been pleasant but distant, a neighbor who happened to share your toothbrush holder? They had done everything right and Max couldn't quite grasp why their carefully laid plans were falling apart now.

They just needed to make it through tonight and then.. things would work out, right? They always did.

- - -

Things were not going to work out. Max left the two oldest Dyllan girls in front of the television to get ready for bed with the excuse that he was in the middle of a good book. It had been a few hours since he had signed the doomsday divorce papers and the shock had subsided substantially. To an outsider things seemed almost normal between Jack and Max, they spoke about who would clean dishes, what movie to watch, and tomorrow's weather but every word was harder, more distant, and controlled. They had memorized their lines by now.

Max brushed his teeth and changed into pajamas, a matching flannel set for winter, before slipping into the bed that was his for one more night. Max put on his glasses and set his wand on the nightstand, exchanging it for his book. He opened to a marker and began to try to read with all of his might in an effort to forget everything else.

Jack was a hard worker. She always had been. She had that natural talent thing going on, but the things that she had worked at had always been the things she actually cared about. She worked harder than any Beater she knew, working out and waking up early for morning runs, working her team longer than most did during the off seasons. And the effort she had put into Wheezes had been enough to break her heart upon leaving - she couldn't help but return sometimes to just be around he environment she had put so much into. Every werewolf she met held a special place in heart, because she had worked and worked to make sure they were at least given a chance. Letting go of Vito and Nemo had broken her because she had worked so hard to make them... okay. Contrary to popular belief, Jack did not fear failure. She only hated failure in something she had actually cared to make work.

And without realizing it, she had put work into her marriage.

It wasn't what she thought marriages were supposed to look like. Marriages were full of tired men and women who looked forward to their romps in bed. Marriage was sitting down together and talking about issues that arose - he looked at another woman, she gets naggy, blah, blah, blah. Marriage had that spark of one coming into the room and the other just wanting to take them right there. None of this was something Jack had wanted with Max. She was too busy and too complicated to live like that.

But their schedules had worked out. They made adjustments. The kids had been technically adopted under Jack's name, but there was complete equality in child rearing, and it had just happened that way. An unspoken language had arisen, and Jack could hand Max a spatula without him even having to ask. No one had asked the other if it was okay if they dropped lunch by their office, but it had happened, again and again.

Jack didn't care about everything she did. Paperwork - care less. Classes in school - care less. Taxes - care less. But somehow, her marriage had become one of the things she had cared about. And it was ending - well, according to that paper downstairs, it was over. Sure, no one else knew it. It had not been made official. But as far as she and her husband were concerned, they were not married. No need for a hyphen. Jack Dyllan-Morrison was Jack Dyllan again.

And that was okay. Because who married someone they hadn't even ever dated? Hadn't even ever kissed. At least she had kissed Ari, told Nemo she loved him. No real promise had been made to Max, and none had been given. What gesture had been made? What was the point when they stopped being strangers and started being people who needed each other around?

Jack climbed the stairs and entered her bedroom - Max was already reading. Her eyes did not lift as she crossed to grab some pajamas, before retreating into the bathroom to change and brush her teeth. She capped the tube on winterfresh and paused, looking at the words scrawled across the bent tube. Winterfresh.

She blinked. There had been one thing. Just that one.

She spit out her toothpaste, exiting the bathroom clad in a tank top and long pajama pants. She paused in the doorway, looking at Max reading in a bed, a sight that had become familiar and would be leaving. But first, she had a bone to pick.

"Max? Could I ask you something?"

She carried the jeans and shirt she had been wearing over to the hamper and through it in, her mind telling her she was asking the wrong question. She should be asking the logistics of what happened next. Asking why he had signed the document. Ask about St Mungo's, and the withered angel with the kind face. But she had a much different question to ask. She straightened up and turned, looking at him hard in the face.

"When I went to Eis... Why did you come back? I mean, I get it - I pay half the rent, Sunny's your friend, you're a good guy and don't want to see someone destroy themself. But, that could have been your out. Why didn't you take it?"

Max heard Jack come up the stairs and he refused to look up. The door closed behind her and his eyes fixed firmly on the page. He heard the water turning on and her brushing her teeth but still he would not give in to glancing over. There was a long pause after the water shut off but then out of the silence came the voice he feared. Max’s hands slipped, letting his book come down to rest on his legs as he looked up at the figure standing menacingly in the doorway, ever so slightly blurry through his reading glasses.

"Max? Could I ask you something?" Max did not want to be asked anything but he nodded anyway. He pulled his glasses off with a hand quivering ever so slightly and folded them closed on top of his book, preparing for whatever could be coming. But as soon as the word ‘Eis’ fell from Jack’s lips Max knew that there was no way he could have braced himself. There had always been a tendency for the pair (that was really observed as a rule) for neither to bring things up until it was absolutely unavoidable. Any conversations that had meant anything had been brought on by outside forces. Dementor? Check. Certified villains? Check. Runaways? Check.

The flatmate that Max knew did not willingly talk about feelings. The closest they had come had been the Christmas before when she had offered him the picture that now sat on his desk at work. Max couldn’t remember a single time Jack had willingly asked about something.. real. Especially not something real that directly involved him. So why was she asking now? And why was she asking about something that had happened so long ago he had almost forgotten its importance, chalking it up to history.

]Yes, Jack had run away. Yes, Max had gone after her. The event had been an important development in their relationship but no longer that relevant with Jack solidly booked in to their life schedule and in no danger of disappearing. It was at that thought that Max realized he had to stop himself. That was no longer true. Wasn’t that exactly what was happening now? The divorce papers had erased their plans, silently putting everything back on the table for renegotiation. This was Jack’s out.

It was perfectly fair. He had nothing to complain about. They had gotten married. The law was over. They should get divorced. But the way she had shoved the papers across the table? The way she had avoided his eyes the entire night? She was gone. Pulling out of all of it.. not just their marriage but their life. It was so clear. What other reason could she possibly have for bringing Eis up again besides easing some guilt or trying to push it on him?  Wouldn’t Jack just love that. If he just repeated some bullshit about him not wanting her to leave her responsibilities so she could wave him off as just another nobody to leave and forget.

What had he said back at the mansion? You can’t leave your life behind. What bullshit. Max remembered standing in the castle kitchen yelling and trying to pull her back with everything he had.  He remembered throwing out that the team needed her, the school needed her, the store needed her. But it was really just Max who had needed her. Yes, Sunny was his friend, of course he had come as soon he called her. But in the days, weeks, before that fateful letter had arrived at his door it had not been Sunny that had filled his thoughts.

Jack had left a hole in his house and his life by leaving, an action that she was multiplying tenfold by trying to repeat now. Looking back now it seemed he had barely known her back and yet he had still needed her. Now? She was a necessity. While she had never come close to being a lover, or even a best friend, she was still an other half to his life. And Max knew for a fact that he was another half of hers. He had to be.

“My out?” Max repeated slowly, trying to calm the rapid train of his thoughts in to a suitable reply. “Why –?” The budding anger made everything stick in his throat, leaving him speechless and flustered.

She was definitely playing with him. Or maybe she was playing with herself, hoping that he would just confess that he had only kept her around for the cooking skills. Jack either had to be looking for an excuse to leave or an excuse to stay and Max knew there was absolutely no way it was the latter. Was it really so unreasonable that after all this time she didn’t give a shit? Of course Jack meant everything to him. She was an eternal supernova, outshining galaxies as she exploded, at constant threat of dissolving into a black hole. She was magnetic, electric, and Max had no right to trespass on her existence any longer than he had already been allowed.

Why had he gone back for her? He was selfish.

"Jack, I –… Why would I want an out?"

Jack didn't know what she wanted to hear. She honestly had no idea what sentiment she most wished to hear out of Max's mouth. She had not presumptions of why he would come back for her, and the thought had nagged her on more than one occasion. Logically, she could find some reason. His duty towards the little girl who won over every heart she encountered was the most obvious. Half of the rent check wasn't a horrible reason either. Then there was that whole common decency. Max, the epitome of the hard-working, good-natured Hufflepuff certainly would not just allow someone to self destruct if he could not at least offer to help clean up the pieces.

That was another thing - he had asked her permission to allow him to help her. He had tried to help her. She had given it and then given little to no instruction on how he could help following her escapade at Eis. They had just slipped back into normalcy, though it was a timid one full of uncertainty and fear. But eventually, things had just continued on as though Jack had not lost her mind, had not given up the fight, had not fallen victim to addiction and self loathing. He had helped by not making a big deal of it.

But he hadn't run.

Andrew had bolted as soon as things got too complicated with her. Chase had withdrew because Jack had been much too dangerous. Ariel had run for the hills as soon as he connected the title of monster with Jack's face. She couldn't exactly blame Nemo, or even Vito, for their absence, but she also knew that they had not stuck out as long as they had for her sake. They had stayed until things got too complicated. All of them.

Max was a simple guy. Dementors, werewolves, ex-criminals, poltergeists, Death Eaters were all much too complicated for him, but he had not once given an ultimatum or run. And Jack had thought that maybe it was because there was the chance that he just... wanted to stay. Not out of convenience or laziness but because he genuinely wanted to stay. For the house, for the pets, for the kids, maybe she had even entertained the thought that she had something to do with it. Not a lot, but... something.

Jack didn't know what she expected to hear. But she needed the truth. So she could reconcile it and make it okay within her before she let that part of her that had hoped for better times die inside.

What she had not expected was that flicker of anger in him. Or so she thought it was anger. She couldn't be sure - she very rarely saw Max anger. There was even something good-natured about the way he booed her rival Quidditch teams. Real Max anger was something she was not acquainted with and she felt herself shifting her feet, as though preparing to brace herself against it.

It was only six words, but she had no idea what to do with them. Why would he want an out? Well, she knew the answer to that question. She could give him an essay. So why was he asking her? Did he want her to feel so shitty as to face everything that was wrong with her? She knew her issues, and she knew HE knew that she knew her issues. So what was he playing at? She drew her arms up and crossed them, lifting a shoulder. "Um, between the top-secret dangerous work and the criminal connections and all the people who want me dead and my bad habits and my drinking..." She scoffed, shaking her head as she dropped it. She certainly was something. Who wouldn't want to stick around for that. Especially when... Especially with...

She toed the doorframe with her holey-sock-ridden toe, chewing on the words threatening to come up. "There's also that woman at Mungo's." She raised her head, lolling it lazily against the doorframe, trying to look unperturbed, failing ever so slightly. And without a trace of resentment, only gentle understanding, she said, "She seems like a very beautiful reason to leave me in the snow."

It had been a rhetorical question but she answered him anyway. Two years ago everything she said - all the criminal activities and dangerous enemies - would have sent him running for the hills but now he couldn't imagine life without them. Max's life had been extraordinarily ordinary before the Dyllans had entered it and while in some ways that had been easier he was beginning to realize how boring had everything had been. Sure, he did most of the same stuff today, the office hours and paperwork hadn't changed, but now there were bedtime stories about Quidditch teammates and uncooperative dragons too.

Then Jack sprouted a reason he hadn't expected. In true Max fashion the surprise was clear on his face, shown in everything from a slightly opened mouth to gently raised eyebrows. Then, in a not so Max fashion, his mouth shut in a hard line and his eyebrows crinkled in something very close to anger.

"You followed me?"

The words came out harder than he intended them. There was an undoubtable twinge of betrayal about the whole thing. Not only had Jack somehow found out about Daisy but she hadn't spoken to him about it immediately and chose instead to bring it up like this. Her air of nonchalance as she leaned against the doorway was painfully insulting to him. What could Jack possibly pretend to know about her? About what she meant to him?

"Why were you sticking your nose in? If I didn't tell you there's obviously a reason." Truthfully, Max wasn't quite sure of the reason himself. At some point over their time together he had told her almost everything else - from embarrassing stories from his childhood to problems he was having at work. But his visits to Daisy had always been private, intentionally so without him realizing how intentionally so. Explaining why he spent so many hours talking to someone who never spoke back, never acknowledged his existence, would open the doors of 'real' that they both kept tightly closed.

Daisy was his Vito, his Chase, his Nemo. But compared to the horrors Jack had gradually revealed to him her story became something for Max to bear in silence. Who was he to complain when his demon was really more of an angel? He would have felt pathetic opening up to Jack about it, the woman who could carry the world on her shoulders, who had seen hell firsthand. Max felt a bit pathetic now too. Annoyed and nervous and every so slightly ashamed. Max hadn't quite snapped but for the first time he found himself pushing back in a way that was much more characteristic of his roommate than him.