"He loved you." Max supplies. A man raises a person, brings them up and looks after them. That's love. That's family.
Max reaches to take Edgar's hands, and ends up putting one over each fist, to hold them. And while he does, he considers the question he wants to ask. He's held off, until now. But, maybe it's time. If Edgar wants to talk about it, that is.
Max's fingers lace with his. "...I would do that for you, if I could."
Max doesn't care if it would be worse for himself, but making Edgar relive the moment again might be asking too much. And asking Lucas to do it too? Even though he knows the Medium would probably agree in a heartbeat, Max doesn't know if that's right.
But maybe even talking about it is too much. Maybe it's too big of an ask at all. And today... of all days. It had to be this one. Why must the turn of the year be full of such tragedy?
"You know...actually, today is an anniversary for me too. Not as bad as yours. But, what happened to me happened on new years eve. I've been trying not to... not to think about it too much myself."
Max hums with wry amusement. "Guess we are. But, we aren't alone. So, that's something. And... if it's hard for you to share alone then maybe I can go first?"
If he's going to ask Edgar to relive the possible worst moment of his life, then he needs to be willing to do the same, right?
"I don't think I ever told you what my name was? Before it was Max."
And somehow, in this moment, Edgar can't even find rage in him at yet one more casual violation on the vampire's part. There's a kind of weary, wondering disgust, and that's all; and oh, he knows that feeling too well.
"Jonah," he echoes softly. "Is that ... should I call you that?"
Another shake of the head, faster this time. "No. I'm not really... that guy anymore.
"For better or for worse, Max is who I am now. Everything from before... sometimes it feels like it happened to someone else. I don't think I can ever really go back."
In a symbolic kind of way, Max really does feel like Jonah died that night. At least in spirit.
"Edgar, I want you to know that even thought my master may have picked this name I've... since I've been here, I've made it my own. So, I'm proud to have you call me by it."
Christ, he's heard so many people say things like that over the course of his childhood and adolescence in the Tail: everything from before feels like it happened to someone else. It brings home, in a way, what really happened to Max -- to Jonah: he lost his whole world.
"All right," says Edgar, softly, and squeezes his hand again. "Max."
"Yeah. Taking turns is a good idea." He's encouraged by Edgar's smile.
"I'll admit I'm not sure myself. I know you're on the train, and it was you against the Front people, right? What if you just... start from the beginning?"
[increasingly detailed spoilers for Snowpiercer follow]
Edgar breathes out. "Well. I mean, you know how they treated us, some. Enough, probably. The plan was ... okay, so just ahead of the Tail section was the prison car, right? And there was a fellow in there, a prisoner. Security expert. Nam .... Nam-something."
He should be able to remember the man's full name, he really should. But ... it was almost a year ago, and he only knew the name for a matter of days and only met the man once, and all right, didn't think much of him. And it was mutual, clearly enough.
"The plan was, if we could break from the Tail through the guardroom into the prison car, just get through those gates while they were open and hold them open, then we could break this Nam guy out and he could jimmy the locks to get us through all the rest of the gates. And if we could push all the way forward, we could take the Engine."
Re: [increasingly detailed spoilers for Snowpiercer follow]
"Yeah, that part worked. He made us break his daughter out too." Unconsciously, Edgar makes a face as he speaks, mingled disgust and contempt. "Kronole addicts, both of em. That's how ... Curtis must've traded something for kronole, promised to give em some for each gate they opened. And Nam agreed to it. Took his sweet fuckin time about it too, tell you that for nothing."
Max can't help thinking that he would, if he had a daughter, have bargained for the same in that moment. But, the face Edgar makes catches Max off guard.
"Kronole is a kind of drug, I take it?" Figures, even the end of the world would have a vice like that.
"Yeah. Toxic flammable shite, makes you hallucinate when you sniff it. Use enough of it, it fries your brain." Again that look of disgust. "Both of them high as fuckin kites the whole time, 's a fuckin miracle we got anywhere ... But they did it. Got through -- I guess they were living quarters, but nobody was there? And a sort of factory car, where the protein blocks got made."
He glances up. "I can't remember, did I ever tell you about Paul?"
"Ugh. Yeah, we have stuff like that too." Imagine? Having to put the fate of your whole plan in the hands of such people? Max doesn't blame Edgar for his disgust in the least.
"No, I'm not sure you did. Doesn't ring any bells."
"Paul was from the Tail. He was always good at building or fixing stuff. Making things work when they were broken. And then one day, years back, the guards said they needed a mechanic, and they took him. And that's where we found him, in the car with the protein block machine. They had him keeping it working. But they only needed one guy working on it, so ... he was alone there. Like, all that time."
He leans into Max a little, only about half aware of the movement.
"Curtis tried to get him to come forward with us, but he wouldn't. Said his place was there."
Dimly, distantly, like a memory from his earliest childhood: Nam's daughter Yona screaming don't open it, a moment too late, as the wire sparked and the gate slid open.
"Wasn't anything in it but guards. Dozens of em, with axes and knives and that. Waiting for us. And like -- for a second we all just stood there and looked at each other through the gate, like, oh. okay, this is happening. And then one of em --"
He lets out a cracked huff of laughter. "Felt like I was dreaming for a moment, you know? One of them held up this fish. Never saw a fish before that, just pictures, you know? Size of your arm it was. Just held it up by the tail to show it to us, and then shoved his axe in its belly. Bloodied the blade. And they passed it hand to hand for a bit, nobody said a word, just each one cutting into the fish. Making a show of it, like. Saying we'll do you just as easy."
On his knees, his hands tense into fists, unnoticed.
Max's grip tightens on Edgar, reflexively. His breath catches in his chest and a chill runs down his spine, while dread settles in his belly like lead.
"They wanted to scare you," Max says with mournful certainty. He's seen fear tactics play out before. He can recognize the intent even if the act is different.
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Max reaches to take Edgar's hands, and ends up putting one over each fist, to hold them. And while he does, he considers the question he wants to ask. He's held off, until now. But, maybe it's time. If Edgar wants to talk about it, that is.
"Edgar can you... tell me how it happened?"
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Finally, a touch hoarsely: "How I died, you mean?"
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"I dunno," he says softly. "Be easier to show you, if I could do that thing Lucas does. Might be worse like that though."
A tiny huff of breath, not really a laugh at all. "You know what's funny? It was today. Sort of today. New year's. We'd just crossed the bridge."
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Max doesn't care if it would be worse for himself, but making Edgar relive the moment again might be asking too much. And asking Lucas to do it too? Even though he knows the Medium would probably agree in a heartbeat, Max doesn't know if that's right.
But maybe even talking about it is too much. Maybe it's too big of an ask at all. And today... of all days. It had to be this one. Why must the turn of the year be full of such tragedy?
"You know...actually, today is an anniversary for me too. Not as bad as yours. But, what happened to me happened on new years eve. I've been trying not to... not to think about it too much myself."
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"How about that," he says, and squeezes Max's hand. "Aren't we a pair of sad cases, now."
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If he's going to ask Edgar to relive the possible worst moment of his life, then he needs to be willing to do the same, right?
"I don't think I ever told you what my name was? Before it was Max."
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And the moment he says it, he realizes that no, that's not what happened, and his hand goes very still in Max's.
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"Erik changed it after he took me in. I had to fake my own death so my family wouldn't know where I went."
His grip on Edgar tightens just a little. "Jonah. That was my name before. Jonah Lewis."
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And somehow, in this moment, Edgar can't even find rage in him at yet one more casual violation on the vampire's part. There's a kind of weary, wondering disgust, and that's all; and oh, he knows that feeling too well.
"Jonah," he echoes softly. "Is that ... should I call you that?"
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"For better or for worse, Max is who I am now. Everything from before... sometimes it feels like it happened to someone else. I don't think I can ever really go back."
In a symbolic kind of way, Max really does feel like Jonah died that night. At least in spirit.
"Edgar, I want you to know that even thought my master may have picked this name I've... since I've been here, I've made it my own. So, I'm proud to have you call me by it."
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"All right," says Edgar, softly, and squeezes his hand again. "Max."
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"Thanks."
Now, Max favors Edgar with an open and encouraging expression. "Do you feel up to talking about what happened or should I... Should I share more?"
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"I'll admit I'm not sure myself. I know you're on the train, and it was you against the Front people, right? What if you just... start from the beginning?"
[increasingly detailed spoilers for Snowpiercer follow]
He should be able to remember the man's full name, he really should. But ... it was almost a year ago, and he only knew the name for a matter of days and only met the man once, and all right, didn't think much of him. And it was mutual, clearly enough.
"The plan was, if we could break from the Tail through the guardroom into the prison car, just get through those gates while they were open and hold them open, then we could break this Nam guy out and he could jimmy the locks to get us through all the rest of the gates. And if we could push all the way forward, we could take the Engine."
Re: [increasingly detailed spoilers for Snowpiercer follow]
"Okay, I follow you so far. Break into the prison car, free Nam and get him to help you through the next sections. Seems like a decent plan.
"But... did it work? Were you able to break him out?"
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"Kronole is a kind of drug, I take it?" Figures, even the end of the world would have a vice like that.
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He glances up. "I can't remember, did I ever tell you about Paul?"
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"No, I'm not sure you did. Doesn't ring any bells."
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He leans into Max a little, only about half aware of the movement.
"Curtis tried to get him to come forward with us, but he wouldn't. Said his place was there."
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"Isolation can... it can do weird things to people. I'm sorry he didn't feel like he could leave."
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Dimly, distantly, like a memory from his earliest childhood: Nam's daughter Yona screaming don't open it, a moment too late, as the wire sparked and the gate slid open.
"Wasn't anything in it but guards. Dozens of em, with axes and knives and that. Waiting for us. And like -- for a second we all just stood there and looked at each other through the gate, like, oh. okay, this is happening. And then one of em --"
He lets out a cracked huff of laughter. "Felt like I was dreaming for a moment, you know? One of them held up this fish. Never saw a fish before that, just pictures, you know? Size of your arm it was. Just held it up by the tail to show it to us, and then shoved his axe in its belly. Bloodied the blade. And they passed it hand to hand for a bit, nobody said a word, just each one cutting into the fish. Making a show of it, like. Saying we'll do you just as easy."
On his knees, his hands tense into fists, unnoticed.
"And then we were fighting."
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"They wanted to scare you," Max says with mournful certainty. He's seen fear tactics play out before. He can recognize the intent even if the act is different.
"I'm so sorry."
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