DISCLAIMER: Dark Angel borrowed; no profits made.
Christmas in July Challenge '09: a Gift for Latenightrain
A/N: the first installment of a Secret Santa entry for our third (annual! :}) Christmas in July Challenge/Story festival. Giftee Latenightrain said, generously, that her wish list was more suggestion than demand and needn't be taken too seriously, but I think I can get pretty close to what she has requested. In the "what to avoid" column she listed songfic (but you know that just makes me want to stick one on at the end as a spoof, right?) As her want-list, she wrote:
1) A Brownout (leave it to me to be technical, but I'm gonna use 'blackout' no matter what they call it on the show, because no one would really notice a brownout... )
2) Maybe a brownout leading to a little romance (see above note)
3) Water, a lot or a little
4) Maybe the line, "Two more minutes and we would have made it"
This takes place in very early S1, a few days after events in Episode 1 x 3, Flushed. Canon for now, but will soon detour into AU-land...
Merry Christmas, Latenightrain and everyone!
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FIGHTING THE POWER: the Blackout Edition
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The blackout had flickered into Crash at 11:47 p.m., and by 12:18 it has pretty well shut the place down. In the case of a blackout lasting more than five minutes, the city's businesses were under strictly enforced ordinances to close any establishment still open after dark, in an effort to enforce Seattle's blackout curfew.
It was a well-oiled drill at Crash, given the city's frequent electrical failures. At the five minute mark, the bartender, Murray, yelled out that it was closing time and his customers, like those around Max's table, finished off their pitchers, unhurried – they knew they had another ten or fifteen minutes before Murray would start manhandling them out the door. Sketchy, in his own well-oiled – and 'well-lubricated' – drill, got up to see which hotties were still lingering around the bar, pretending he was just bumbling in the dark despite the handful of candles along the wall and the kerosene lanterns at the doors.
Max watched him as he wandered off, weaving through the tables with enough avoidance of obstacles, even in his alcohol-assisted haze, that she amused herself by wondering if he could see in the dark as well as she could with her feline DNA-enhanced night vision. He always managed to find the hottest shorties in these blackouts, even under the noses of their boyfriends, sometimes. She wondered how many more times he would manage before he got himself pummeled...
Original Cindy had emptied the table's last pitcher into Kendra and Max's glasses after Herbal declined and said goodnight. Max turned back to the others with a frown, feeling restless and definitely not ready to call it a night. "This sucks," she announced.
"Really sucks if the lights go out before I find someone to spend it with," Kendra giggled. "Did any of you see where that big, dark haired guy went, the one with those arms?"
Max glanced over to the bar where she saw the big biker-type Kendra had ogled earlier, and saw him locked in a steamy, 'let's take this to my place' full-body grope with a local male prostitute. "I think he left already," she lied smoothly, grinning to herself. She drained the little bit of beer she had left and stood, looking at the others. "You ready?"
She waited as the other two finished their drinks and gathered their things, and they began making their way outside. "So, Max – you coming home or are you going to go see if Logan's all tucked in?" Kendra teased, her raspy, little-girl voice not hiding her leering for a minute.
"Why would I go see Logan?" Max snorted, defensively – again. It had taken several days and at least three conversations with Original Cindy, then two more with Logan, but Max had finally discovered, to her discomfort, that Cindy and Logan had made quite a connection a few days ago, and apparently Cindy then shared all she knew with Max's roommate. And on a daily basis since, either one or the other – but usually both – seemed to be hell-bent on getting Max over to Logan's. They acted as if they expected Logan to jump her bones – or her, his – any minute.
The tag-team booty prompts had started when Max had left the pair to go see Logan after she and Original Cindy returned from Langford and regaled a stunned Kendra with stories of Max's imprisonment, Original Cindy's 'undercover mission' to spring Max and their rescue of Maria. While Max was still there, Cindy made it plain that the entire rescue had been engineered by Logan, so she could only imagine what the women had gossiped about after she left to go see him. Original Cindy must have filled Kendra in on whatever had passed between her and Logan as they plotted the jail break, because ever since then it seemed that Cindy was Logan's best advocate, and neither woman passed up a chance to ask about him. And it wasn't only them: ever since they'd sprung Max from Langford, Logan would ask how Cindy was doing, and then also remember to ask, politely, about Kendra and the Jam Pony bunch. It was definitely unsettling.
Original Cindy's unprompted observations came daily, usually variations of the theme that, for a male, he seemed to be unusually perceptive and generous – and clearly enamored Max. When offered in Kendra's presence, they were immediately echoed by her. Earlier that very night, Cindy had reminded Max that she could do far, far worse than Logan, which of course had Kendra again wondering out loud if he were really all that injured, that way, followed by her ready assurances that a man of the world like Logan would certainly have all sorts of ideas for her, even so, if some of his more interesting parts weren't working quite the way they used to...
Max had tried yet again to wave it off, feigning immediate and complete dismissal, in the rapidly fading hope that if she didn't acknowledge their words, they'd lose interest and stop bringing up Logan. But they weren't buying it, and even Max found herself starting to wonder if she wasn't interested in Logan like that, or if there could ever be more than just a working relationship ...
...because, bottom line: how would it feel to be only that to him, just a handy cat-burglar? There had been a few moments, since she'd been helping with Eyes Only, that she thought there was a little more in his eyes, something that made her wonder what he saw when he looked at her – a soldier? A woman? An experiment? What if he just wasn't interested in anything more than her prowess as a sneak thief? Not infrequently, she remembered his unexpected words and her even more unexpected reaction to them...
"'course not. You and I don't have that kind of relationship."
His words had stung; she had no idea why. They kept echoing in her head and she wondered why. He'd used that tone, he said those words ... and she was still aching to know why...
But at that moment, Kendra was voicing her immediate response to the question Max had intended to be more rhetorical than literal – should've known they're not giving up, Max, she kicked herself. "Because it's a blackout and he lives way up on top of a tall building, no working elevator, in a wheelchair. You ever see a cat stuck way up in a tree, Max?" Kendra tried.
"Yeah, and they come down on their own, eventually," Max grumbled, head back in the present.
A commotion interrupted their conversation and they all turned to see Sketchy being physically tossed from the bar, jeans around his knees and his boxers – literally – in a twist. Only seconds later, a very young, very giggly blonde was unceremoniously led out of Crash by the wrist by a very angry looking older woman, who managed to aim a foot and a few curse words at Sketchy as they passed.
He was undaunted. Staggering to his feet, he watched the pair storm away and, seeing that his friends had seen the show and now eyed him expectantly, grinned, "two more minutes and we would have made it."
Original Cindy rolled her eyes. "Get in the car, fool. Kendra an' me will take yo' sorry ass home before you get yourself killed." Without waiting to see if he complied, she looked back to Max to add her two cents, clearly serious in her concern for Logan. "I know I wouldn't like bein' way up there and figurin' I wasn't exactly gonna make it out too fast if I had to."
"He's not gonna have to run anywhere – it's not like he's a squatter," Max drawled. "And there are security guys and all that..." Max still frowned, but her voice had grown softer as she considered Logan's predicament. Oblivious in her consideration, she missed the knowing – and triumphant– looks Kendra and Original Cindy threw each other.
She'd been up there not that long ago when the power when out, and he hadn't seemed all that rattled that he was stuck up there without his own way down. Of course, at the time, she was in such a bad way with her seizures she hadn't thought much beyond herself, first to try to tame the spasms and try to hide the obvious from him. Once he promised her he'd watch over her, all she could sense was her own relief and gratitude. When she awoke, power was back...
"...and he never said it was a big deal," she added, still defensive.
But...did it bother him?
"Max, you think that's something he's gonna say?" Kendra pressed, patiently, again making clear she thought Max was completely naive when it came to the ways of men. "No guy is gonna tell you he's afraid, or feels vulnerable. At least ... not until you make it clear it's safe for him to confide in you," she grinned suggestively.
"Look, Logan is a big boy; he has money and security guys and people working for him. He's better off even in the worst blackout than any of us are on a good day," she tossed. This offensive they were mounting was starting to bug her. What was in it for them, anyhow? Certainly Logan had nothing to do with it himself – did he? "No way it is worth the sector cops makin' me spend the night in lock up while he's up there all fat and happy in his cozy nest." They reached her bike and Kendra's car.
"You just think about it, Boo, and what the boy might be feelin' – that's all I'm sayin,'" Original Cindy walked around Kendra's car to the passenger side. "See you tomorrow?"
"Yeah," Max finally smiled a little. Real sisters, these two, she thought. On my nerves just like real ones are supposed to be...
"So you're coming right home?" Kendra asked, still teasingly skeptical – and still highly motivated to get her over to Logan's, apparently. Max could see her hopes were up.
"Don't know, Mom," Max drawled. "Don't wait up." She tried to ignore the smile of success. Let her think I'm headed right over to see him, Max muttered to herself. Whatever...
She started up her bike, calculating as she did the best streets to reach the Space Needle without drawing the attention of cops looking to enforce the curfew. She took the first alleys in that direction, but as she did, her casual, 'he's a big boy' attitude started to fade. It wasn't so much Kendra's unbelieving look that bothered her, but something about Cindy's, as if she'd let her down – as if Max were letting Logan down...
... again.
Max hated the feeling that she hadn't been there for Logan when she could have been, and even before Cindy made her rather good point, concern had started nibbling away at her: he'd gotten his penthouse back when he was on his feet, when thirty five flights might be a hassle in a blackout, but no more than that. Now...
She slowed slightly and made another tight, efficient u-turn in the darkened street, then stopped to think.
After the first job she'd done for him, once he was back at it – and after he'd not only found Hannah but managed to fool Lydecker into letting her slip past him, Hannah in tow – he'd confessed to her that he'd "always been terrified of heights." At the time, she wasn't too sure whether or not to believe him. Between the million dollar smile and the thirty fifth floor penthouse where he sat as he told her that, it just seemed unlikely, and from what she'd seen from him so far, she'd figured it was probably just what he thought was a charming feint.
But what if he was afraid of heights? And now, up there, no elevator for a fast escape on wheels? Wouldn't it scare the piss out of him? And even if he wasn't all that afraid of heights under normal circumstances, what about without electricity, thirty five floors up and no easy way to get down, if he needed to?
With an irritated huff, she started up the engine again and headed back toward Sector 9. She wasn't sure what she'd say to him, just dropping in on him so late. And maybe he'd just done what every other person did during a nighttime blackout – just go to bed.
Yeah – I can see that, she snorted to herself. She had a hunch he was one of those 'up 'til dawn' types...
Destination in mind now, Max rode through the back streets less favored by law enforcement, cutting back her speed to let her engine run a little more quietly, and finally let her thoughts go places she had managed to avoid this far – at least directly. She hadn't known Logan more than a few hours when he was shot, really; when she'd seen him since, he appeared to be stubbornly unwilling to treat his injury as anything more than an irritating inconvenience. She wondered if he really felt that way, underneath.
Given his Eyes Only thing and the need he'd have for secrecy, he must have done a lot of the investigations himself, and that would mean getting in and out of tough spots, dealing with some pretty rough players – wouldn't it? Hell, he was shot while running one of his ops, himself – she refused to give in to the little voice in her head reminding her who else should have been along for that one – so being stuck in a wheelchair now had to be a pretty different thing for him. From active and mobile to ... to hours at a computer. From running things himself to waiting for others to do them?
...and wasn't that what she hated the most about her seizures, really? Moving in minutes from being revved up and super-human and stronger than anyone on the block, to being completely immobilized?
Frowning, Max leaned over her bike and increased her speed just a little more. Take away the guy's mobility and it must be hard on him – but he clams up and moves to the 'Net to investigate and do his deals. And when the blackouts take that away, too...
She had no idea how Eyes Only – or Logan – would be taking things. She just knew how much she hated Manticore and her seizures for the feeling of impotence and helplessness that swallowed her as her body thrashed with uncontrollable spasms, even if short lived. And now – thanks to him – she knew how much it meant to have someone to be there for her, after all this time, beside her, patiently watching over her while she was in the throes of helplessness...
And all that was finally enough to make it really important, at the moment, for Max to go see just how Logan Cale was taking this one...
To be continued.