Never Surrender

In the morning, Kennedy wandered down the stairs in search of Max. She didn't have to go far. The front door was open and Max stood on the step in his shoes, shoes, and sweatshirt. He looked out over the snow-covered acre that spanned the Santos front yard and jabbed a burning cigarette between his teeth, willingly taking in all the bad things as the nicotine calmed his bones and warmed his blood.

When the glass door swung open with a jarring screech, he turned slightly and looked at the barefoot girl as she stepped out to him and crossed her arms. "You're going to freeze," he commented, looking at her ruffled attire.

Kennedy frowned and yanked the bottoms of her sweatpants to her ankles and the sleeves of her sweater to her wrists. "I'm wearing more than you are," she rebutted.

He glanced at her feet as he sucked in another breath of harmful chemicals. Kennedy gracefully stood up on the tips of her toes as he feet grew chilly. "Lets go in the house," she suggested, reaching for his arm, "We'll open the kitchen window if you want to smoke."

Max snuffed the cigarette out on the sole of his boot and followed her across the hardwood floor down into the kitchen at the end of the narrow hall between the stairs and the living room. "I was also thinking, you know," he said as he dropped down into one of the kitchen table chairs, "I wasn't just standing outside in the freezing cold for kicks."

Kennedy moved to the coffee maker and fired it up. She peered over her shoulder at him. "What kind of thinking requires below-freezing weather?"

Max shrugged. "The important kind. They say when your body slows you can think more clearly."

The dark haired woman looked at him as though he'd lost his mind and slid up to sit on the counter next to the coffee machine. She stared at him as his body stopped shaking, although she knew that he'd hardly noticed in the first place, and he rhythmically tapped a pattern with his fingers on the top of the table. She wasn't sure how long he'd been out thinking in the cold, but the temperature of the sheets next to her warned her than it had been quite a while.

"Max, are we alright?" she asked across the kitchen, peering at him as he fiddled with his lighter.

He looked up, stunned, and nodded quickly. "Of course, Ken," he replied, "Why would you even ask that. We're always going to be wonderful." His strange colored eyes met hers and he tried to hide what was really on his mind from sight. He hated that Kennedy doubted them, for even a split second, but he was terrified to tell her of the drastic change that he'd yet to explain to her.

Inquisitively, she dipped her head towards him, her dark air sliding over her shoulder to shield half of her face from him. "Then what is it?" she questioned, not giving in so easily, "The Max I know only gets out of bed at 8am for two reasons; food and band practice."

He shrugged but got up from his spot anyways. "It is kind of related to those things," he answered, watching as she scrunched up her nose and forehead as she tried to decipher his clue.

"Just tell me," she complained, sliding off of the table to stand closer to him. He had moved to the edge of the counter that jutted out in front of both of them and was leaned his arm against it, holding his body weight up. Kennedy stepped right up to him and frowned right in his face, knowing that she could wear him down if she really tried.

"Max, come on," she muttered, wrapping her arms around his skinny waist, "Tell me what is wrong and I'll leave you alone." Without thinking she leaned in and bumped her forehead against his chest, shrinking back when she realized that he was all collarbone and no flesh.

Max laughed loudly. "Seriously? Did you just headbutt me, Kennedy?"

She frowned at his teasing and pushed him away. "Shut up, it seemed like a good idea, I thought." She turned back towards the coffee as Max laughed again. "Jerk," she muttered, reaching to the cupboard for two small coffee cups.

"Oh come on," Max laughed, "You set yourself up for this. You don't just headbutt a guy because he doesn't want to talk about something. Especially in the collarbone. It's just bone Ken, of course it's going to hurt."

"Maybe I thought I could break it, and then in order for me to take you to the hospital I would've made you tell me what was bothering you," she retorted, pulling the hot cup up to her lips.

"Vindictive." He grimaced, rubbing the spot where the top of her forehead made contact. He stepped back so the counter separated him and Kennedy and she hopped up onto it, reaching for his jacket and setting her cup next to her.

"You need to tell me what you're thinking about," she said, grabbing onto both sides of the pouch pocket on his hoodie, "I know something's wrong and even if it has nothing to do with us you still have to tell me. It's practically Christmas."

"It's November," Max argued dimly, giving her a look. He paused for moment, considering telling her, and then shook off the feeling with a small shake of his head. "And anyways, don't we have something more important to be doing today? I thought there was always something going on here."

Kennedy sighed and pulled her feet up onto the granite. She crossed her legs beneath her and smoothed down Max's jacket as she pulled her hand away. "There is," she answered, allowing him to change the subject, "But that would involve leaving the house and freezing to death."

Max pulled his bottom lip between his teeth and blinked as he looked away from her. If there was hope of another moment like last night, he would've never wanted to leave the house. "Getting out and about isn't so bad," he said instead, knowing that their intimacy was a one time thing, "What is there to do?"

Kennedy turned towards him so her knees were pressing just slightly into his stomach. "We could go ice-skating," she offered, remembering the way that the lake froze over every year, "I'm sure you wouldn't suck too terribly at that."

Max laughed sarcastically and shot her a harsh look. "I'm sure I could figure it out, Kennedy."

She smirked at him. "Are you sure about that Maxwell? I can already picture you on your ass."

"Fine, you're on. Lets go ice-skating."

Kennedy grinned and slid off of the counter. The two of them headed to the bedroom rowdily. All elbows and shoves as they climbed the stairs and squished through the doorway together, neither one wanting to let the other go first.

Kennedy moved to the closet to find something decent to wear and Max searched for the suitcase that was lodged under the bed. "I don't actually own anything warm," he commented, tossing his things onto the unmade bed, "Can you feel the ice through jeans?" He held a pair up and looked back to her, waiting for her answer.

"Yeah, if you're down long enough," she replied, pulling out a pair of her own, "But they're fine. Plus, you don't have anything else to wear."

"I have sweats," Max argued, zeroing in on the exact pair that she was wearing.

"No you don't," she said simply, turning away from him. He grinned and shook his head at the woman. He slipped his shorts on and practically jumped into his jeans before grabbing for one of the only long-sleeved shirts he'd packed.

Kennedy turned around and looked at him while he fiddled with something in his suitcase. He hardly ever wore long-sleeves that weren't connected to a hoodie that was a couple sizes too large. The dynamics were different and fit him differently, hugging his shoulders and falling loosely down his arms. The sleeves were so long that they fell down to the ends of his fingers, and Max curled them up in his palms without thinking about it.

"You have another jacket, don't you? One that will fit over that?" she questioned, causing him to turn around, his socks sliding easily on the hardwood.

"Yeah." He nodded, reaching back through the piles. He pulled out his same hoodie from this morning and another, thicker typical Max-jacket. "I'm good." He glanced at her own attire and raised an eyebrow.

Kennedy realized what she was wearing and turned away with a blush on her cheeks. She quickly grabbed for a shirt and pulled it over, glaring back at Max as he laughed. "Come on, Kenny, you can't be mad at me. You're the one who forgot she wasn't wearing a shirt."

"You're the one who looked," she grumbled, slipping another long-sleeved sweater over.

"It's nothing I haven't seen before," he answered playfully, trying to hide his grin when she went quiet and turned all her attention towards finding matching socks and boots.

After a couple minutes, Max stepped away from the bed and over to Kennedy as she fiddled with the laces of one of her shoes. The bassist slowly stepped beside her and wrapped his arms around her frame, feeling her tense slightly.

"I don't want us to be weird, Kennedy," he said softly, his chin on her shoulder, "You're still my bestfriend. Last night doesn't change anything about that."

She nodded slowly and let him continue without a word.

He pulled her back to him, her back against his chest his arms around her waist. "Everything is up to you," he continued, "We're going to keep on being the same friends we have been and if you decide you don't want that anymore because it's too weird for you, then I'll understand."

"That's not it, Max," she answered, turning around in his arms, his face just inches from hers, "It's just that we've always been so open with each other. We could change in the same room and trust that there was nothing sexual there, now I don't know. I don't want to have to worry about being unfair to you or getting too close to you or giving you the wrong idea."

"Ken, I've always gotten the wrong idea," he answered lightly, grinning as he glanced away from her. He looked back and pressed his tongue into the back of his lip ring to keep from smirking. "I've always been purely attracted to you, Ken, who wouldn't be? But I never thought about jumping your bones or anything like that. You're fucking gorgeous, and I'm always going to notice."

"Yeah but now I notice you noticing," she complained, dropping her forehead lightly against his chest. He flinched, for a moment believing she was going to headbutt him again, and then cooed at her, gently rubbing her back.

"Awe, Kennedy, you poor baby," he 'consoled', "I'm so sorry that you're so attractive and perfect and wonderful that men look at you and you know about it."

Without lifting her head she smacked his side. "You're not funny, Maxwell."

He shrugged. "Yeah well, you're pitiful. Now stop whining and lets go ice-skating." He grabbed her by the shoulders and held her back from him so he could look at her. "Are you ready?"

She rolled her eyes at him and nodded.

"Good," he cheered, letting go of her, "Get your shoes on and I'll meet you downstairs." He quickly leaned in and pressed a kiss to her cheek before turning and tromping down the stairs in his boots.

Kennedy groaned loudly and threw her hands into the air. She turned and slipped her own boots on before following him out of the house, reaching for her jacket at the front as she stepped outside. "Lets go!" she demanded, grabbing the barely lit smoke from Max's mouth and tossing it into the snow that lined the walkway.

Max grabbed for it and then smacked her as it landed in and melted the snow, soaking the cigarette. "I hate you," he grumbled, dropping it back to where it was and following her down to the rental car.

Kennedy drove them across the small town to a medium sized lake that froze over quickly every year. It was such a tradition that a building had been erupted right next to it, where shoes could be rented and snacks bought. Kennedy grabbed for Max's hand and yanked him across the busy parking lot to the large building in the shape of a dome. It had been built as a sports center so it could be used even in the summer.

"Skates are super cheap," she explained as they stepped inside. There were different courts set up and a game of 'beach' volley ball was being played to their right. Kennedy led Max up the stairs and through the people to the other side. The second floor was really just a loft that looked down at everything below. Max was fascinated by all the people, but Kennedy weaved through the tables and chairs and dragged him over to the rental counter.

The girl on the other side wasn't older than eighteen or nineteen. She smiled easily and rested her hands on the linoleum. "What can I get for you guys?" she questioned.

There were rackets of all sorts, cleats that hadn't been used since the summer, bowling balls and shoes that went with the few lanes below them, and numerous pairs of skates dangling from the walls. Kennedy pointed at the wall rack and the girl's eyes followed. "We need some skates, please."

The girl asked for their shoe size and seven dollars as she turned back for them. Max paid, grinning at Kennedy as she joked about him being her knight in shining armor, and then they headed down the stairs to the back of the building where a rink was set up on the small lake.

There were families and couples all over. Even though it was early, people seemed to be out and about due to these festivities and Holiday spirit. Kennedy led Max over to one of the benches that were lined up along the edge and they sat down next to another couple to change their footwear.

"You better not pull me down with you when you fall," Kennedy said as she yanked her heavy boots off her feet, "I don't need more bruises."

Max grinned. "Who says I'll fall at all?"

Kennedy gave him a very Kennedy look. The couple who was sipping from cups next to her chuckled and nodded at her, intrigued in his mock-confidence even though they all knew he'd hit the ice at least a few times.

"City boy," Kennedy said over his shoulder to the others, "He's never even seen a frozen lake before in his life."

Max's jaw fell ajar and he turned to see who she was talking to. "That's not true," he argued, "I've flown over plenty of frozen bodies of water."

The other woman had medium colored hair and a slim face. The man she was with donned matching black snow gear and a buzzed haircut that he quickly covered back up with a hat soon after taking it off. They were young, probably younger than Max and Kennedy's age, and very homey, as though they'd been born and raised right here. And they most likely had.

"Good luck," the woman said to Max as he followed Kennedy to his feet and wobbled slightly on the strangeness of the blades.

"Yeah, if you feel yourself falling, just let it happen. It hurts worse if you tense up," the guy offered, watching as Max took a confident step forward and grabbed Kennedy's hand for support.

"Thanks," Max answered, letting Kennedy lead him away.

The rink was busy and even though the lake spanned out farther than they could see, it was blocked off by railings that had been drilled down into the deep ice. People were everywhere and all heading in the same circular direction. Kennedy and Max made it to only of the openings along the shore and stepped back to let a rush of people out before she stepped in and dragged him with her.

"Stop trying to walk," Kennedy laughed, pulling him by the hand, "Just glide. You don't even really have to pick your feet up, Maxwell."

"I'm trying," he argued, holding onto the railing as people glided past them. He slid his right foot forward and his eyes widened as he teetered away from the edge, leaning down towards the ice. "Shit," he murmured, reaching back to steady himself. He looked up at the smirking girl. "I haven't fallen."

"You haven't even skated," she retorted.

Max rolled his oddly shaded eyes and stepped away from the rail all at once, latching onto Kennedy's hands instead. She skated backwards and he slid along with her, grinning as he found some semblance of balance.

They remained that way for a few minutes before Max figured out the technique and then she moved to his side and held just one of his hands as they joined the flow of clockwise traffic.

"You're actually not too bad," Kennedy allowed, sliding around him and coming back to where she started at his side, this time facing backwards so she could look at him straight on.

"I'm a quick learner," he answered, his eyes on her.

She raised her eyebrows. "Or I'm a good teacher."

Max started to respond but became distracted by the group of kids that had stopped just a few feet in front of them. Max, unknowing how to stop, cut Kennedy off and tried to turn her around quickly. "Ken, we're going to collide," he muttered, trying to change directions and failing miserably as the words took a minute to register in her mind. She turned around and tried to pull them around, but instead they darted to the right, out of the flow, and Max lost is balance, sending them both tumbling onto the rock-hard ice.

"Fuck," Max grunted, lifting his head up and touching the tender spot there, "I hate ice-skating." He opened his eyes and looked at the girl next to him. She'd tripped over one of his skates as he held onto her and landed face down, sliding all the way into the railing. "Ken, you alright?"

She groaned loudly. "Yes, Maxwell," she answered, rolling over to face him, "I'm fine." She huffed a little bit and got to her feet using the rail. She held her hand out for him.

He sat up and peered at her outthrust, gloved hand. "You expect me to get back up?" he questioned sounding as if the idea was ludicrous.

"Well, even if you were quitting you have to get up and move over to the gate," she answered, jutting her hand back down at him again.

"No, I'll just slide my broken ass over there and crawl back to the car," he answered, yanking his glove off and reaching back to press his fingers against the sore spot. When he brought his hand forwards there was blood smearing the length of this fingers.

"Holy fuck, Max," Kennedy said instantly, dropping down on her knees beside him, "We have to get you over to the medic. You're bleeding, for Christ's sake."

"I'm fine," he argued, wiping the blood on his pants as if that would make it all go away, "It's just a little sore. Come on, lets go skate." He moved to get up using the rail, but Kennedy grabbed his arm and yanked him back down.

"We're going to the medic," she answered with a glare, "Even the smallest head injuries could be dangerous, Max. I don't want to have to worry about you not waking up in the morning. That would completely ruin my Christmas holiday."

Max rolled his eyes. "Wouldn't want to do that," he said sarcastically. He got up and let her lead him over to the opening for them to get out. When they stepped off the ice, Kennedy yanked her skates loose and then made him sit down so she could get his boots. He complained, saying that he wasn't helpless nor hurt, but she didn't listen.

She sprinted over the best she could to where they'd tucked their boots under the bench and offered the other couple a pitying smile. The girl frowned. "Is he alright?" she questioned, looking through the groups of people walking over to where Max sat, his arms crossed and apathy on his face.

"Yeah, I'm sure he is," Kennedy answered, sitting down to slip her feet out of the skates and into her boots, "But he hit his head pretty hard when he fell so I'm going to run him up to the medic just to be sure."

"Maybe you should've taught him how to fall before learning how to skate," the guy answered both jokingly and honestly.

"We sort of tripped each other," she replied, gathering up his boots, "He just happened to land on his head." She smiled once more and darted back across traffic to Max. She sat next to him as he changed his footwear and when he leaned forward to undo his laces, she peered at the back of his head and the blood matted in his hair.

When she reached up to touch it, Max sat up and slapped her hand away. "Stop it," he grumbled, "I'm fine. Honest."

"Lets just go have them look at it," she argued as they both got to their feet, cradling their skates under their arms, "I'll sleep better knowing you'll wake up in the morning. Plus, they should probably clean it or something."

Max huffed and let her lead him back into the sports center. "We can just buy a bottle of Vodka. At least I can drink that to ease the pain."

"You said it didn't hurt!"

Max closed his mouth as he walked him more quickly up the stairs to the second landing where the Medic station was located. When they walked through the doors, a man was looking at a little boy's ankle and a teenage girl was bandaging her scraped knees, obviously from the volleyball game.

Another paramedic walked over to Max and Kennedy. "Hi, what can I help you guys with?" he questioned, looking them over politely for any sign.

"We fell ice-skating and Max hit his head pretty hard on the ice," Kennedy explained much to Max's dislike, "And I thought he was okay, but he's bleeding." She grabbed a fistful of his jacket and yanked him around to show the medic the back of his head.

The man slid his hands into a pair of rubber gloves and parted Max's hair, trying to get a better look. "We should get that cleaned so I can get a better look at it and then make sure that you don't have a concussion," he said as Max turned back around, "When it comes to head injuries you honestly can't be too safe. Did you lose consciousness?"

Max answered him, No, as he lead them back to one of the small rooms beyond the desk and the people up front. He let the couple in first and then shut the door behind him, reaching for antiseptic to clean away the blood.

Kennedy turned him in his seat to gently part his hair away from the spot that was bleeding. He sat quietly, unhappy but not defiant, as the medic walked over and dabbed his head with a cotton ball.

"Is it really tender?" he asked and moved his fingers to prod along the edges of where the blood was smeared.

"Yes," Max grunted, biting back another reaction.

"And you're sure that you didn't blackout? A lot of times people do and don't even realized that the slightest amount of time has passed." He looked to Kennedy. "Was he coherent when you turned to him?"

"He was talking the whole time," she answered, "Even before I got up. He was the one asking me if I was alright."

The medic nodded and finished cleaning the excess blood from Max's scalp. He pushed his hair back and shined a little light on the spot. "Good news is that it's just the skin that split open. Your skull seems fine." He asked Max to turn around and he looked at his eyes. Max blinked and squinted against the light before his eyes finally closed and he pressed his fingers into his temples.

"Are you dizzy or were you when you first sat up? Nauseated? Could you walk straight?" he questioned, waiting for Max's reply once he finished.

"A little," Max answered, "But I didn't get up right away so I didn't notice. There was no nausea and I walked all the way here without topping over." He bit back another answer and leaned his shoulders back against the seat.

The medic, whose nametag read Daniel, turned to Kennedy. "Is he usually very irritable or that something new?"

Kennedy pressed her lips together and looked at him. "It's hard to say…" she trailed off, "He was in a pretty good mood right before we fell, but he's very emotional anyway."

Max didn't even bother arguing with her. Instead he turned his attention to the paramedic. "I'm fine," he answered, putting his hands on the seat beside him as to push himself up, "Can we go?"

"I've got a couple more questions for you," Daniel answered, "Have you had a concussion before? People who have had one are more prone to having another."

"He has," Kennedy answered for him, "Once when he fell off a riser and smacked his head on the crowd barrier and another time when he and a friend were messing around and he tripped on the bus."

"I think you might have a minor concussion," The medic said to Max, "just due to your light sensitivity, irritability, and history. So just take it easy tonight, keep the painkillers on hand, and stay off the ice."

"That won't be a problem," Max answered, "Thanks." He shook the guy's hand and they headed out of the station hand in hand. Kennedy gripped his fingers tightly as they bounded down the stairs and back outside into the snow. She winced as they passed the rink.

"I'm really sorry, Max," she said, turning around to walk in front of him, "I shouldn't have challenged you and I should've just taken an easy out there."

He wrapped his arm over her shoulders and pulled her into his side. "It's not your fault, Ken. Plus, it's just a mild concussion. It'll probably wear off in a couple of hours." They split up as they walked to opposite sides of the car, Kennedy in the driver's seat once again.

"Yeah, well the back of your head is still going to be sore for awhile," she answered when they got inside, "I should've taught you how to fall."

Max chuckled. "There's a technique for falling?"

She nodded and started the car. "Yeah, land on your ass, not your head."

Max glared at her over the center console. "You're so funny, Kennedy Santos. I don't know why you're not a fucking comedian."

"Probably because I'm so busy taking care of you."

They headed back to the Santos house with a mix of jokes and sarcasm pointed at each other. Their plans were to stay home from now on, eat food, and watch movies on the couch. Kennedy banished Max to either bed or the couch and then went to make them something to eat. She joined him in the living room a little while later and that's where they stayed until Sam came walking through the front door with a buddy.

He was surprised to see his daughter and her friend cuddled up so close on his furniture, but it didn't bother him. Kennedy laid on her back with her head on the armrest and Max sprawled out on his stomach, halfway on top of her with his chin on the space between her chest and shoulder. She was lazily playing with the man's hair.

When Sam and Markus came through, Kennedy looked back and gently pushed Max up. The bassist, in just sweats and a t'shirt, sat up on one end of the couch as Kennedy hopped up and welcomed her dad home.