"Fearful Symmetry"
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: I do not own these characters except for Karen, Brandon, Maeve, and any
others I may make up.
NOTE: This is the sequel to "Possession"; do not read this if you have not read "What Might Have Been" and "Possession" first. This is also the third part in the (so far) four part Alternate Future. It takes place in 2021, right at the end of Possession.
And speical thanks to Rose, Ratty, and my Dark Angel Fans MB pals, and to Meka for her betaing expertise :)
In what distant deeps or skies
Burnt the fire of thine eyes?
On what wings dare he aspire?
What the hand dare seize the fire?
When the stars threw down their spears,
And water'd heaven with their tears,
Did He smile His work to see?
Did He who made the lamb make thee
Tiger, tiger, burning bright
In the forests of the night,
What immortal hand or eye
Dare frame thy fearful symmetry? - The Tiger
Little Lamb, who made thee? - The Lamb
By William Blake
~Part One~
The Plot Thickens
Max easily dismounted from the Space Needle and went to retrieve her bike from where she'd hidden it. The night air was cool, and it played lazily with her hair as she strode over to her baby. "Oh, Baby, are you okay?" she crooned. "Mommy had to do some thinking, but she hates to leave you alone." Taking the bike's silence as a reply, she climbed on and started the engine. "That's my girl," she purred, putting on her sunglasses and zooming off in the direction of home.
Home. Only two years ago, that had been an apartment with Kendra. Then New York. And now, Logan's. Logan's was the only place she'd ever really felt home. Maybe that was because of the man clad in boxer shorts waiting for her in that warm bed. Max smiled to herself, and pushed the throttle a little harder to make her get home that much sooner.
Sitting in a chair in his office, the man in boxer shorts was reading a letter. Max's cat, Sibelius, was perched on his chest, head tucked under his chin. 'Dear Logan, Know that I don't blame you. You loved her, that was obvious from the beginning . . .' He kept reading it over and over again. "It's suicide," Matt Sung's voice echoed in his head, "suicide."
Logan did blame himself, however. 'I should have known that she was desperate. That hysterical display of her's should have been a clue. God, how could I have missed it when I went through the same thing myself?'
Logan thought back to that day that he'd almost attempted suicide. Dr. Adriana Vertes, who he thought was his only hope of ever walking again, had been murdered in cold blood by Lydecker. It didn't matter that she'd been setting a trap for Max. Nothing mattered except walking again. If he couldn't walk, there could never be a future for him and Max. He was convinced of that. The fact that it had been Donald Lydecker who'd taken it from him was another twist of the knife in his heart. That man - no, that monster - had taken everything from Max. Everything except her life.
Max noticed the light on in Logan's computer room. It was a little late for him, but she figured that he'd woken up and, not finding her there, hadn't gone back to sleep. Lost in his work, he wouldn't have heard her come in.
Actually, Logan was too lost in thought and guilt to hear the door open. Sibelius heard it, and knowing it was Max, jumped up and ran for her favorite person. Well, one of her favorite people. Max picked up the tiny kitten who'd come to greet her at the door. "What's wrong sweetie?" Max crooned at the mewing kitten. Sibelius struggled out of her arms and ran back to Logan. Max followed.
Logan's head was on his desk, and he was sitting slumped in his chair. There was a piece of paper under his hand.
Max's heart rose to her throat. He couldn't have. He wouldn't have. She'd kill him if he had. She reached out a tentative hand. Never in her life had Max been this scared, not since the last time . . . .
At the touch of her hand on his shoulder, Logan's head came up. He turned and looked at Max, eyes full of pain and guilt.
"Karen Parker's dead."
Max stared at Logan. "She's dead?" Max felt so many emotions at the mention of that woman's name, but they all faded into a dull shock as soon as she heard Logan's words.
"Suicide," Logan said, his voice strained. Max saw the guilt and remorse in his eyes. She put a hand on his, which he was tightening into a fist.
"Not your fault," she whispered, "not at all. She made that choice for herself."
"Wish I could believe that, Max. I really wish I did. But I used her. I used her, stupidly trying to get over you, and the minute you came back, I dumped her. She'd been left by all the men in her life. He dad left when she was eleven, Brandon's father was a one night stand, her husband died, and then I treat her like was a . . ." his voice failed him.
"Logan, you can't blame yourself for the actions of others. Just because they left her doesn't mean that you're responsible for it." Max resisted the impulse to add why she thought they'd left Karen. There was no point in name calling when the woman was dead.
Logan took Max's hand in his and pulled her to him. She settled herself gently in his lap as he wrapped his arms around her. "Max, before I met you, before the, uh . . ." He could walk again, but he still didn't like talking about the shooting. He cleared his throat, "I was, well, what you'd call a 'playa'. I was a spoiled rich kid who could have anything, or anyone he wanted. And then, when I couldn't have what I really wanted," he paused and looked at Max, "I reverted back to that bad habit. I used Karen."
"Logan," Max said softly, "I saw the look on your face that night, you really had thought you were in love with her until she tried to make you choose. You didn't use her."
Logan tightened his arms around Max. "Thank you," he whispered. Max laid her head on his shoulder and looked up at him. "No big dealio," she said, running a hand through his hair. Her hand paused, resting on his head and she looked at him. "You need sleep."
Logan was about to protest, but she firmed up the corners of her mouth, making that little 'no arguing with me, mister' frown. He knew he'd lost. "You're right. This will make more sense in the morning." He eased out of the chair, pulling himself up to his full height. Leaning down, he kissed her on the forehead.
Max took his hand and led him back to the bedroom. Tucking him in like he was a small child, she gently took his glasses off his face and laid them on the bedside table. She climbed in beside him and wrapped her arms around him.
Logan fell asleep quickly, despite the heavy feeling of Karen's death. Max lay awake a long time, however. It wasn't the fact that she had insomniatic sleep patterns ingrained in her DNA, there was something on her mind keeping her awake.
There was something in the back of her mind, something she wasn't putting together. It had to do with something Logan had said . . . and something else, but she couldn't quite place it. Max replayed their conversation in her head on mental fast-forward. What was it? Something about Karen, that was for sure.
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: I do not own these characters except for Karen, Brandon, Maeve, and any
others I may make up.
NOTE: This is the sequel to "Possession"; do not read this if you have not read "What Might Have Been" and "Possession" first. This is also the third part in the (so far) four part Alternate Future. It takes place in 2021, right at the end of Possession.
And speical thanks to Rose, Ratty, and my Dark Angel Fans MB pals, and to Meka for her betaing expertise :)
In what distant deeps or skies
Burnt the fire of thine eyes?
On what wings dare he aspire?
What the hand dare seize the fire?
When the stars threw down their spears,
And water'd heaven with their tears,
Did He smile His work to see?
Did He who made the lamb make thee
Tiger, tiger, burning bright
In the forests of the night,
What immortal hand or eye
Dare frame thy fearful symmetry? - The Tiger
Little Lamb, who made thee? - The Lamb
By William Blake
~Part One~
The Plot Thickens
Max easily dismounted from the Space Needle and went to retrieve her bike from where she'd hidden it. The night air was cool, and it played lazily with her hair as she strode over to her baby. "Oh, Baby, are you okay?" she crooned. "Mommy had to do some thinking, but she hates to leave you alone." Taking the bike's silence as a reply, she climbed on and started the engine. "That's my girl," she purred, putting on her sunglasses and zooming off in the direction of home.
Home. Only two years ago, that had been an apartment with Kendra. Then New York. And now, Logan's. Logan's was the only place she'd ever really felt home. Maybe that was because of the man clad in boxer shorts waiting for her in that warm bed. Max smiled to herself, and pushed the throttle a little harder to make her get home that much sooner.
Sitting in a chair in his office, the man in boxer shorts was reading a letter. Max's cat, Sibelius, was perched on his chest, head tucked under his chin. 'Dear Logan, Know that I don't blame you. You loved her, that was obvious from the beginning . . .' He kept reading it over and over again. "It's suicide," Matt Sung's voice echoed in his head, "suicide."
Logan did blame himself, however. 'I should have known that she was desperate. That hysterical display of her's should have been a clue. God, how could I have missed it when I went through the same thing myself?'
Logan thought back to that day that he'd almost attempted suicide. Dr. Adriana Vertes, who he thought was his only hope of ever walking again, had been murdered in cold blood by Lydecker. It didn't matter that she'd been setting a trap for Max. Nothing mattered except walking again. If he couldn't walk, there could never be a future for him and Max. He was convinced of that. The fact that it had been Donald Lydecker who'd taken it from him was another twist of the knife in his heart. That man - no, that monster - had taken everything from Max. Everything except her life.
Max noticed the light on in Logan's computer room. It was a little late for him, but she figured that he'd woken up and, not finding her there, hadn't gone back to sleep. Lost in his work, he wouldn't have heard her come in.
Actually, Logan was too lost in thought and guilt to hear the door open. Sibelius heard it, and knowing it was Max, jumped up and ran for her favorite person. Well, one of her favorite people. Max picked up the tiny kitten who'd come to greet her at the door. "What's wrong sweetie?" Max crooned at the mewing kitten. Sibelius struggled out of her arms and ran back to Logan. Max followed.
Logan's head was on his desk, and he was sitting slumped in his chair. There was a piece of paper under his hand.
Max's heart rose to her throat. He couldn't have. He wouldn't have. She'd kill him if he had. She reached out a tentative hand. Never in her life had Max been this scared, not since the last time . . . .
At the touch of her hand on his shoulder, Logan's head came up. He turned and looked at Max, eyes full of pain and guilt.
"Karen Parker's dead."
Max stared at Logan. "She's dead?" Max felt so many emotions at the mention of that woman's name, but they all faded into a dull shock as soon as she heard Logan's words.
"Suicide," Logan said, his voice strained. Max saw the guilt and remorse in his eyes. She put a hand on his, which he was tightening into a fist.
"Not your fault," she whispered, "not at all. She made that choice for herself."
"Wish I could believe that, Max. I really wish I did. But I used her. I used her, stupidly trying to get over you, and the minute you came back, I dumped her. She'd been left by all the men in her life. He dad left when she was eleven, Brandon's father was a one night stand, her husband died, and then I treat her like was a . . ." his voice failed him.
"Logan, you can't blame yourself for the actions of others. Just because they left her doesn't mean that you're responsible for it." Max resisted the impulse to add why she thought they'd left Karen. There was no point in name calling when the woman was dead.
Logan took Max's hand in his and pulled her to him. She settled herself gently in his lap as he wrapped his arms around her. "Max, before I met you, before the, uh . . ." He could walk again, but he still didn't like talking about the shooting. He cleared his throat, "I was, well, what you'd call a 'playa'. I was a spoiled rich kid who could have anything, or anyone he wanted. And then, when I couldn't have what I really wanted," he paused and looked at Max, "I reverted back to that bad habit. I used Karen."
"Logan," Max said softly, "I saw the look on your face that night, you really had thought you were in love with her until she tried to make you choose. You didn't use her."
Logan tightened his arms around Max. "Thank you," he whispered. Max laid her head on his shoulder and looked up at him. "No big dealio," she said, running a hand through his hair. Her hand paused, resting on his head and she looked at him. "You need sleep."
Logan was about to protest, but she firmed up the corners of her mouth, making that little 'no arguing with me, mister' frown. He knew he'd lost. "You're right. This will make more sense in the morning." He eased out of the chair, pulling himself up to his full height. Leaning down, he kissed her on the forehead.
Max took his hand and led him back to the bedroom. Tucking him in like he was a small child, she gently took his glasses off his face and laid them on the bedside table. She climbed in beside him and wrapped her arms around him.
Logan fell asleep quickly, despite the heavy feeling of Karen's death. Max lay awake a long time, however. It wasn't the fact that she had insomniatic sleep patterns ingrained in her DNA, there was something on her mind keeping her awake.
There was something in the back of her mind, something she wasn't putting together. It had to do with something Logan had said . . . and something else, but she couldn't quite place it. Max replayed their conversation in her head on mental fast-forward. What was it? Something about Karen, that was for sure.