He sat alone in the dark. His whole world had stopped spinning on its axis the moment Max had disappeared from it. Ryker wasn’t sure how much time had passed. He only knew it felt like an eternity. Although the others were equally in pain, they were faring a little better. More because there was so much to be done and someone had to step up to calm the chaos that was now their society. If he still retained the ability to feel anything he would have been so very proud of the lot of them. But as it was, all he could feel was grief. The kind of grief that sucks at your soul and buries you alive under a mantle of razor-tipped pain. And under the grief? There was numbness.
The first few days after Max had disappeared, he had done nothing but rage until his voice was gone and his throat was raw. Then had come the wretched despair – his sorrow too intense even for tears. But now? All he had was this sense of nothingness. He idly wondered if this was how the chades must spend their days; alive on the outside but dead on the inside with no hope in sight.
Not that there were any chades anymore, he acknowledged, his dead eyes staring at the wall in front of him. Max’s little supernova routine had evaporated every chade simultaneously. And not just the chades on top of that cliff either. No, every single soulless chade in existence had been poofed out of it. Reports were coming in from all over the world. The scourge of their society was gone. And those chades still clinging to a piece of their soul? They were cured, wholly and completely, free to be men once more. Likewise, all over the world, chadens were revealing themselves. Many had made their way there, to Ryker’s log house by the sea, to give their thanks and offer their eternal loyalty to a deity that no longer existed.
How did Ryker know all this? His damnable Order – ex-Order now, he corrected. They were a constant blight to his already dreary existence. No matter how much he yelled, or punched, or threw things, they just kept coming back. He couldn’t make them understand that seeing them only made things worse. Or perhaps they didn’t care. Perhaps they only wanted to join him in his misery.
Mordecai had stayed and the man had been a true blessing. He had pulled everyone together and kept the house functioning. He never gave up on trying to get Ryker to leave his room, to eat, to drink, to sleep. The man was a real mother hen, nagging at him all the time. It didn’t even seem to faze him when Ryker punched him – something he did almost daily. Ryker knew the older warden had even tried to take his pain and his heartache. But even the most powerful Death Warden in the world, responsible for healing the sorrow, depression, and grief of millions, hadn’t been able to penetrate Ryker’s pain.
“Ryker.”
Speak of the devil, Ryker thought, his eyes automatically straying to the man.
Mordecai squatted down in front of him, cool green eyes holding both compassion and pity as they raked over his face. Once upon a time, such a look would have pissed Ryker off. Now? He was too far gone to even muster annoyance over the pity. Ryker didn’t bother to answer. He knew his silence wouldn’t deter the man – it never did. But Ryker didn’t care. Mordecai could hover over him and mutter all day. Ryker didn’t care. I. Don’t. Care, he thought.
“Ryker.” Mordecai called his name again. “Cali’s in labour.”
Ryker felt himself blink. Now that did catch his attention and he looked at Mordecai once again.
“She’s asking for you,” Mordecai said.
Ryker tried to open his mouth. He tried to reply, he really did. But nothing came out. Maybe his voice-box had been hollowed out the same as his heart.
“Ryker,” Mordecai’s voice was firm. “It’s a bit early but not so much that the doctor is worried. She’s sure it will be safe for Cali to have the baby here. But Cali’s scared. She’s asking for you.”
Ryker shook his head. He barely saw Mordecai move, the man was so fast. He gripped Ryker’s head hard between his palms. He was expecting the warden to pump some of his element into him, or perhaps suck some of it out. But he didn’t. He simply forced Ryker’s gaze up to his;
“It’s time. I know you don’t want to. I know it hurts. But it’s time to return to the land of the living,” Mordecai whispered.
“I can’t.” The two words sounded garbled but Mordecai had no trouble understanding him.
“You can. You have to,” came the firm response.
“Won’t leave her.” He knew he wasn’t forming whole sentences but that didn’t seem to bother Mordecai. The man was apparently able to decipher broken-man speak.
“That’s not what this is. You deciding to breathe again? To live again? It’s not the same as leaving Max behind. In fact, it’s the opposite. It’s you trying to find her.”
Ryker nodded his head, even though it felt incredibly heavy and hard to hold up.
Mordecai smacked his palms together, “Now, what do you say you take a shower and wash the month of grime off your body? Maybe put on some pants, huh? Then get your butt into your sister’s room and hold her hand as she pushes out your nephew.”
Ryker allowed the older man to yank him to his feet and push him to the shower. Mordecai then turned on the water hot enough to boil Ryker’s balls and shoved him inside. Ryker remained stiff and unmoving for a few minutes before the hot water and steam worked its magic. Then he simply slid bonelessly to the tiled floor. He stayed like that until the water began to cool and he was forced to move or risk becoming a shrivelled prune. He made a half-arsed attempt to mop some of the water from his body with a towel, only to be startled like hell when he looked in the mirror.
“What? What is it?” Mordecai swiftly appeared next to him.
“I look like shit,” Ryker admitted, not recognising the person staring back at him.
Mordecai snorted, “Yeah, you look like shit. Not even warmed up shit. But like, old, dried out, caked on, shit that’s been left to rot in the bowels of some foul beast’s intestines.”
“Geez, man. Don’t hold back. Tell me how you really feel.”
A small chuckle left Mordecai’s lips and Ryker leaned forward, fingering the new, brutal scar on his face. For some reason, the return of the scar didn’t bother him. In fact, it made him feel closer to Max for some stupid reason. Knowing his ugly, shitty appearance wasn’t going to magically get better just by staring at it, he made his way into his room and looked around it hopelessly for a few minutes. What was he supposed to be doing again?
Fabric hit his face and he caught it instinctively. Holding up the black and white material, he realised they were a ratty pair of old track pants and a tee shirt.
“Put that shit on, will you? I don’t want to keep seeing the junk you’re sporting,” Mordecai griped, turning away and staring out the window.
Ryker grunted, stepping sluggishly into the clothes. He hadn’t even noticed he had been standing there stark naked.
“She knew.”
Ryker glanced over at Mordecai as he yanked on the white tee, “What?”
“Max. She knew this was going to happen. The day before Emmanuel – we talked. She made me promise I wouldn’t leave – that I would stay for as long as it took. I knew something bad must have been on the horizon. But a small part of me hoped she asked me to stay so we could get to know each other. Turns out, it was for you. For all of you.”
Well, what do you know? Turns out Ryker could feel shittier. Max had told him about her talk with her father, and then she had cried. But Ryker knew they had been happy tears – tears of hope. She had wanted a chance at the relationship which had been denied to them for so long. Walking over to his father-in-law, he placed a comforting hand on the man’s shoulder. He had to reach up a little, which was novel. Not many people were taller than him.
“Mordecai. She trusted you with her greatest possessions – her family. If that doesn’t prove she trusts you – that she loves you – I don’t know what does.”
Mordecai turned around, searching Ry’s gaze for a moment before clearing his throat and nodding his head. “Thank you,” he murmured.
Ryker shook his head, “No. Thank you. Thank you for making Max.”