Chapter 9 #2
Maddox stepped inside and closed the door behind her. The click felt too loud. "Hey," she said quietly, lowering herself to the floor across from him. Far enough to give space, but close enough to be present. "Thanks for letting us in."
Connor didn't look up from Zeus.
"You doing okay?" Maddox asked.
Connor’s fingers threaded through Zeus’s fur. "They called the cops. Like I'm some kind of criminal."
"They called because they're scared. It doesn't mean you're in trouble."
"I didn't take the guns."
"Okay."
"I thought about it." His voice cracked. "But I didn't."
Something cold slid down Maddox's spine. She knew that edge, the place where thought and action blurred, where the weight became unbearable and ending it felt like the only way to make it stop.
"Thinking about it doesn't make you bad," she said, and her voice came out rougher than she intended. "It makes you human."
Connor's hands tightened in Zeus's fur, his knuckles white. Zeus leaned harder into him, steady and solid. "School's shit," Connor said. "Everyone's shit. I can't— I can't do this anymore."
The words landed like a fist to Maddox's sternum. She'd said those exact words once. To no one, to herself, to the empty room where she'd sat with her service weapon on the table and Zeus whining at her feet.
"Today was bad?" she asked, keeping her tone level.
"Every day's bad. Today was just worse."
Maddox nodded but didn't offer solutions or minimize, just held the space for him.
"My parents think it's easy," Connor continued, words spilling faster now. "Just go to school, get good grades, be normal. But I can't. I can't breathe there. Everyone hates me, and I don't even know why."
Everyone hates me and I don't even know why.
The pressure in Maddox's chest expanded. She'd felt that too—the fundamental wrongness, the certainty that something inside her was broken beyond repair and everyone could see it. After Titan died. After Leah left. When breathing felt like dragging razors through her lungs.
"That sounds exhausting," she managed.
"It is." Connor finally looked at her, eyes raw and desperate. "And they'll make me go back. They'll say I'm fine and that I just need to try harder. But I'm not fine."
"No," Maddox agreed. Her throat felt tight. "You're not. And that's okay."
Connor blinked. "What?"
"You're not fine. You're struggling." She had to swallow before continuing. "That doesn't mean you're broken, though. It means you need help."
"They'll put me in a hospital."
"Maybe. Or maybe they'll get you a counselor who actually understands.
Someone who can help you figure out how to deal with the shit that feels impossible right now.
" She forced herself to hold his gaze. "You know what I’ve learned?
Asking for help doesn't make you weak. It makes you smart.
Because doing this alone is the hardest fucking thing in the world. "
Do as I say, not as I did.
Zeus huffed softly, and Connor's mouth twitched briefly.
"Your dog's cool," he said.
"He is. He’s saved my ass more times than I can count too." Maddox paused, measuring her next words. "Connor, I need you to come downstairs with me to talk to your parents and let them get you help. Can you do that?"
He looked at Zeus, then back at her. "What if they're mad?"
"They're not. They're scared. There's a difference." She kept her voice steady despite the way her hands wanted to shake. "I'll walk down with you. Zeus will too. You're not alone."
Connor didn't answer immediately. Maddox watched him think, watched him weigh whether living was worth the pain of another day. She'd made that calculation herself, had come terrifyingly close to choosing differently.
"Okay," Connor said finally, uncertainty threading his voice. "Okay."
Maddox stood and offered her hand. He took it, and she pulled him up, feeling how light he was, how young. Zeus rose, too, positioning himself at Connor's side like he knew the kid needed an anchor.
"One more thing," Maddox said. "There are people who can help. Counselors, therapists—people who know how to deal with this. Will you let your parents find someone?"
Connor nodded, but stayed silent.
"Good. Let's go."
She opened the door and keyed her radio. "Situation has de-escalated. Subject coming down voluntarily. Crisis counselor needed for family intervention."
"Copy," dispatch responded. "Counselor already on scene."
Right. Jade.
Maddox led Connor down the stairs, Zeus between them. Each step felt heavier than it should. Her breathing stayed controlled, but her chest felt like it was caught in a vise.
The parents rushed forward when they saw Connor, but Maddox held up a hand. "Give him space. He's okay, but he needs room to breathe."
They stopped. The mother was crying harder now, and the father's relief was palpable.
"Connor's going to talk to a counselor," Maddox said and was grateful her voice came out steady. "Someone who can help him work through what he's feeling. Right now, he just needs you to listen, not try to fix anything.”
The father nodded. Maddox stepped back, turning Connor over to his parents, and moved toward the door. She saw officers dispersing outside. The immediate crisis was over.
She spotted Jade on the front lawn, talking to Captain Scott. Jade glanced over and caught her eye, giving her a small nod—I've got this—and turned her attention back to the captain.
Maddox led Zeus to her vehicle and let him jump into his compartment. She closed the door and stood there for a moment in the afternoon sun. Her hands weren't shaking, her breathing was even, but something under her ribs felt like it was splitting open.
I thought about it. But I didn't.
Everyone hates me, and I don't even know why.
I can't do this anymore.
She knew those thoughts intimately, had lived with them even. Sometimes she still did on the worst days. But she'd learned to reach out for a lifeline instead of reaching for an ending. It took a lot of time, but she eventually learned that asking for help wasn't a weakness.
She’d learned it from Jade.
Maddox opened the driver's door and slid into the seat. She should clear the scene, resume patrol, and move on to the next call.
But her hands stayed on the steering wheel, gripping tight enough that her knuckles went white. She focused on breathing. In for four, hold for four, out for four. Behind her, Zeus whined softly.
"I'm okay," she said. The lie tasted metallic on her tongue.
Through the windshield, she could see Jade moving toward the house with the parents and Connor, doing her job and being exactly what that family needed.
Maddox closed her eyes. Connor's voice echoed in her head. I thought about it. How close had he come? How close had she come, once upon a time?
Too close. Way too fucking close.
Her radio crackled. "Unit 12, status?"
She should respond. Her hand moved to the radio, then stopped.
A knock on her window made her flinch. Jade stood there, her expression careful. She made a gesture—Can we talk?
Maddox nodded and unlocked the doors. Jade opened the back door and slid into the seat behind her. The vehicle felt smaller with someone else in it, cozier.
"Hey," Jade said quietly. "You okay?"
Maddox's hands were still locked on the steering wheel. "Yeah, fine."
"Maddox."
Something in Jade's voice made her throat tighten further, but she didn't turn around. She couldn’t.
"It’s just a standard debrief," Jade continued, her voice gentler now. "You went into a potentially volatile situation. I need to check in and make sure you're good to continue your shift."
"I'm good," Maddox said. Her voice sounded distant to her own ears.
"Can you look at me?"
Maddox's fingers flexed on the wheel. She made herself turn slightly, meeting Jade's eyes in the rearview mirror.
Jade's expression shifted. There wasn’t pity, just understanding. "Talk to me," Jade said. "What's going on?"
"Nothing’s going on. Connor's safe. That's what matters."
"Connor's safe because you were good at your job." Jade paused. "But that doesn't mean it didn't impact you."
The pressure in Maddox's chest expanded, threatening to crack her open. She looked away, staring through the windshield at nothing.
"He said—" Her voice caught. She swallowed hard. "He said things I've thought before, things I—"
She swallowed the rest of the words, unable to vocalize them. Jade was quiet for a moment, then she opened her door and got out, circling to the passenger side. She opened that door and slid into the front seat beside Maddox.
"Come here," Jade said softly.
Maddox shook her head. "I'm fine."
"Maddox, come here."
And suddenly she couldn't hold it anymore. The professional mask cracked. Her hands came off the wheel, and she turned toward Jade. Jade's arms came around her immediately, pulling her close despite the console between them.
Maddox pressed her face against Jade's shoulder and just breathed. The tightness in her chest didn't ease, but Jade's hand moved through her hair, steady and grounding.
"I've got you," Jade murmured. "You're okay. You did good."
Maddox's breath shuddered out. She wasn't crying—she couldn't afford that here—but something in her was unraveling. Jade just held her. She didn't ask for more words or need explanations.
Time passed. Maddox didn't track it. Eventually, the vise around her chest loosened enough that she could breathe again. She pulled back slowly, wiping her face even though no tears had fallen.
"Sorry," she said roughly.
"Don't." Jade's hand moved to her cheek, thumb brushing her jaw. "You don't apologize for this."
Maddox met her eyes. Jade wasn't looking at her with pity or concern, just seeing her, all of her. The broken parts and the ones still fighting.
"I needed—" Maddox started, then stopped and tried again. "I needed you."
The words felt too big and vulnerable.
Jade's expression softened. "I'm here. Whenever you need me."
Maddox nodded. She couldn't speak past the lump in her throat.