Max was gone. She'd been knocked out for an hour, and woke up to find that Max was gone.

Out of sheer desperation, she called her step-douche to help her. The car ride to the Prescott barn was too long, even though she blew every red light possible. Time seemed too slow. It took him too long to get there, too long to get into the damned place, and when they finally got there, the person waiting for them was none other than Mark Jefferson. And he had a weapon. But she stole Nathan's gun and hid it in her car where an ambusher wouldn't find it. Step-dick was struck by what seemed to be a folded up tripod, making him drop his gun. She winced, and took the moment of distraction to fire a bullet into Jefferson's arm. Okay, not the best target, but it would do. He fled to the other side of the room, but Max pulled on a cord with her foot and he fell to the floor, a pistol clattering uselessly to the tile.

Maybe Sergeant Shithead wasn't that bad after all.

She rushed to Max's side, freeing her from the tape. Max tumbled lamely into her arms, trembling like a newborn kitten.

"Max! Fuck, are you okay?" Hot tears slipped down her face, despite her attempts to try and stop them. Shit. She hadn't cried the whole way here, the whole time waiting, not knowing if Max would be okay, and know that she knows.. now is the time she can't stop crying?