A/N: Hey! New fandom...quite exciting. So after I saw Across the Universe, I fell in love with Max and was upset that there wasn't more of him...and decided to take matters into my own hands. Enjoy!
Disclaimer: I do not own Across the Universe or any of the characters.
He stared down at the half-burnt paper and wished Lucy hadn't come to New York at all. It wasn't that he didn't love his sister; in fact, he got along better with her than he did with most people.
But that letter...that goddamned letter...
He looked around the apartment to make sure no one had snuck in without him knowing and, once he was sure no one was around, he slid to the floor and held his head in his hands. He was going to die. He was going to die and Vietnam was going to kill him.
This wasn't how his life was supposed to go. Especially after he finally escaped from useless Princeton and was finally living his life the way that he wanted to. He had a job, he had a home, he had friends...he couldn't ask for anything more.
And now, it felt as if God was punishing him. And for what?
For being happy, that's what. Now that I'm finally happy and free from all those Goddamn limits, God wants me dead.
His eyes glanced at the letter again, leaving him disappointed once more. He constantly prayed that the letter would read something else, but no matter how he read it – slow, fast, upside-down – it always read the same thing.
As in, "You might as well kiss your ass goodbye now, Buddy, because you aren't coming back alive."
No one else could see what Max was going through. They understood his fear but fear wasn't something Max would show easily. He usually cracked jokes or used sarcasm to keep those demons of anxiety at bay.
But this time was different. This was fucking life-and-death. And death, Max was certain, was knocking on his door.
His breathing became ragged and tears flooded his eyes, and without realizing it, he opened his mouth to let out the loudest scream he'd ever heard. Once he began, it didn't stop; the more he screamed, the more comforting it was. His scream was piercing and torn and full of despair, but dear God, did it feel good...
Once out of breath, he looked up at the doorway to see Jude. Jude stood there, jaw dropped, eyes red and full of tears. And suddenly, he knew that Jude saw him differently. He was no longer that fun-loving, laid-back, easy-going Max. He was the remnants of a broken and shattered man.
"I'm going to die, Judey." He whispered, holding his stomach and rocking back and forth. "This goddamn war is going to kill me."
Jude shook his head with a pathetic attempt at a smile on his face. "You're probably the craziest person I know. If something hasn't killed you yet, I doubt any man or gun will."
Max looked down at the floor and shook his head. "I don't know about this time, Judey. It seems hopeless."
Jude walked over and sat down next to the man who was so terribly and horribly defeated. "It can't be hopeless because I'm certain that you'll survive this. You can survive anything, Max. I've seen it in you. That willingness to persevere. Nothing is going to hurt you, you understand me?"
Max leaned his head on Jude's shoulder and broke out into sobs again. He still didn't believe the words coming from Jude's lips, but he felt...
Protected.
They sat there, crying together, as Jude held Max and protected him from the possibilities of what lingered before him.