An hour later
The door to Max's ward opened, and his mother entered first. She took in the sight of her son,the bandages, the machines, the oxygen mask,and her breath caught for a moment. She walked quickly to his bedside, gently cupping the side of his unbandaged face with her hand. She exhaled softly, her eyes filled with relief and sorrow.
«Алекс, ты проснулся… Как ты себя чувствуешь? Тебе больно?»
("Alex, you're awake… How are you feeling? Are you in pain?") she asked.
"I'm fine, though it does hurt a little," Max replied.
His mother nodded, brushing her thumb gently across his cheek. Max hesitated for a moment before speaking again.
«Когда похороны Дмитрия?»
("When is Dmitri's funeral?")
The room seemed to sadden at the question. His father, who had stepped in behind her, answered quietly.
«Они ещё не назначили дату, но дадут нам знать. Нам очень жаль, сынок, насчёт твоего друга.»
("They haven't set a date yet, but they'll let us know. We're very sorry about your friend, son.")
"It's fine. I just want to be there when the time comes to say goodbye," Max said.
A heavy silence settled over the room for a few seconds. Then his father spoke again.
«Врачи хотели поговорить с нами насчёт твоих ног. Они уже сказали тебе что-нибудь?»
("The doctors wanted to speak with us about the matter regarding your legs. Have they told you anything?")
"No, but I already know," Max replied, his voice steady despite the pain in his eyes. "I won't be able to walk again, will I?"
Before his parents could respond, he continued.
«Но всё в порядке. Я просто рад, что снова вижу вас. Вы даже не представляете, как я по вам скучал.»
("But it's fine. I'm just happy I got to see you again. You have no idea how much I missed you.")
He turned toward his mother with a sad smile. She rubbed his shoulder gently.
«Мы здесь, Макс. Мы никогда тебя не оставим.»
("We're here, Max. We'll never leave you.")
"Did they tell you when I'll be discharged? I want to go home," Max said.
«Они сказали, что оставят тебя здесь ещё на один день, чтобы проверить на любые отклонения и провести несколько тестов, а потом выпишут.»
("They said they'll keep you here for one more day to check for any abnormalities and run a few tests before releasing you,")his father replied.
"Well, I'm kind of hungry," Max said.
"What do you want to eat?" His father asked
---------------
A few days later
Moscow, Max's Home
The journey from the hospital to home had been exhausting. Being pushed in a wheelchair, lifted in and out of the car, and then navigating the stairs had all taken their toll. Finally, with help, Max was settled into his old bed. His room looked exactly as he remembered it, yet it felt strangely foreign after so long away.
His father stood in the doorway while his mother straightened the pillow behind his head.
«Тебе что-нибудь нужно?»
("Do you need anything?") she asked.
«Нет, всё в порядке. Спасибо, мама,»
("No, everything is fine. Thank you, Mom,") Max replied.
She looked at him for a long moment before nodding. His father then spoke.
«Если тебе что-нибудь понадобится, не стесняйся звать нас. Врачи сказали, что тебе нужно беречь себя.»
("If you need anything, don't hesitate to call us. The doctors said you should take it easy.")
«Я знаю, папа. Не волнуйся. Я позову, если что-нибудь понадобится,»
("I know, Dad. Don't worry. I'll call if I need anything,") Max said.
His father nodded, and both parents quietly left the room, closing the door behind them.
Max returned to staring at the ceiling,this one far more familiar than the hospital's. Just as sleep began to claim him, a head-splitting migraine struck without warning. A small whimper escaped his lips as he gritted his teeth and raised his heavy, cast-bound arms to his head. His body shook from the pain, as if someone were cutting open his skull and prodding his brain. It lasted a full minute before slowly fading, leaving him breathing heavily.
He sat up and pressed his forehead against his knees. Then he heard a swirling sound. Raising his head, he looked toward the source and right in the middle of his room, near the desk. The air rippled and tore open, forming a portal.
A man stepped through as casually as if walking through his own front door. He appeared to be in his mid-twenties, wearing a sharp black tuxedo, a fedora tilted at a stylish angle, black gloves, and carrying a cane in his right hand. A toothpick rested at the corner of his mouth. The portal closed silently behind him.
The man regarded Max with a calm, attentive expression. Max stared back.
«Кто ты, чёрт возьми?»
("Who the hell are you?") Max demanded.
The man's expression remained unchanged. He removed his fedora with his free hand and tilted his head in a gesture of acknowledgment and respect.
«Добрый вечер. Прошу прощения за неудобное время визита,»
("Good evening. I apologize for the inconvenient time of my visit,") he said in Russian as he settled into the chair at Max's desk. «Что касается твоего вопроса, называй меня Никто… по крайней мере, пока.»
("As for your question, call me Nobody… at least for now.")
'Nobody, huh.'Max was familiar with this tactic. He had used something similar himself before choosing the name Tobi back in DC,a deliberate way of withholding identity to control the conversation and a polite way of telling a person that your identity is irrelevant to them.
«Чего ты хочешь?»
("What do you want?") Max asked.
The man tilted his head. "Wrong question."
Max simply stared at him, waiting.
The man elaborated. «Правильный вопрос: чего хочешь ты? Поскольку ты сейчас явно в состоянии внутреннего конфликта.»
("The right question is: what do 'you' want? Since you appear to be in a state of conflict at the moment.")
Max narrowed his eyes. If he hadn't already suspected the man was extraordinary, he did now. Either the stranger could read minds, or he possessed some form of omniscience,neither of which seemed far-fetched after everything Max had been through.
«Ладно. Тогда зачем ты здесь?»
("Fine then. What are you here for?") Max said.
A small smile graced the man's face. «Вот теперь это правильный вопрос.»
("Now 'that' is the right question.") He removed the toothpick from his mouth and pointed it at Max. «У меня есть предложение для тебя.»
("I have a proposal for you.")
«Мне не интересно,»
("I'm not interested,") Max replied flatly.
The man laughed heartily, then replaced the toothpick. «Я так и ожидал. Точнее, я знал, что ты это скажешь. В конце концов, ты сейчас не в том состоянии, чтобы вести осмысленный разговор,и это вполне понятно. Я вернусь, когда у тебя будет время подумать. К тому моменту ты будешь более чем готов услышать меня.»
("I expected as much. More precisely, I knew you would say that. After all, you're not in the right state of mind for a meaningful conversation right now,and that's understandable. I'll return when you've had time to think. By then, you'll be more than ready to hear me.")
He stood, placed the fedora back on his head, and tapped his cane on the floor. «А пока, в качестве жеста искренности по поводу нашей будущей договорённости…»
("And in the meantime, as a token of sincerity for our upcoming arrangement…")
He snapped his fingers.
Warmth flooded through Max's legs as sensation returned. He involuntarily looked down. When he raised his gaze again, the man was already moving toward the spot where the portal had appeared. Black flames suddenly ignited across his body.
«Подожди. Насколько ты уверен, что это произойдёт?»
("Wait. How certain are you that this will happen?") Max called out.
The man paused and turned, smiling. His black eyes flashed red for a split second.
"A full one hundred percent," he replied in English this time. He adjusted his fedora. «До встречи, Александр Макс Шиллер.»
("Be seeing you, Alexander Max Schiller.")
The flames engulfed him completely. When they dispersed, he was gone.
Max sat on his bed for a long moment, stunned. Then he slowly turned his attention to his legs. He willed his toes to move,and they did. These same toes had been completely unresponsive for days. The doctors had told him he was paralyzed from the waist down. Now everything felt normal, as if the accident had never happened.
He swung his legs over the side of the bed, stood up, and took a cautious step. Then another. He walked to the window and looked out at the streets of Moscow below.
After a long silence, he murmured quietly to the empty room in English, "Just who are you?"
End of Chapter
Chapter 56:Confession
Chapter 57:The End