Title: Six Cycle Carousel (1/7: Shock)
Author: Angelus
E-mail: angelus1317@hotmail.com (Please put "Carousel" on the subject
line.)
Subject: Dark Angel
Category: A, carachter death
Rating: PG for a tiny little bit of language.
Summary: Logan experiences the six stages of grief in an alternate ending to "And Jesus Brought A Casserole".
Spoilers: "AJBAC"
Archive: Anywhere, just ask first.
Disclaimer: Max & Logan do not belong to me or any other fanfic writer out there. If they did, we'd be making it a better show rather than wasting our time writing up plots that will never happen, now would we?
Author's notes: I just saw a list of the six stages of grief somewhere while on a Lifehouse overload, sat down at the computer, and this poured out. It's jusr basically the thoughts running through Logan's head right after he finds Max's body in the forest. Not much of a plot, but watch out for a large time leap between the third and fourth chapter, then again between the fifth and sixth. All of the chapters are very short, and make the most sense when you read them all at once, one right after another. Enjoy the 'fic, and buy the Lifehouse CD.
Dedication: To Mari. I can't believe I haven't dedicated a 'fic to you yet!! I can't wait until we start our video. Lots of Matt fun! And remind me again how we're planning on putting '17 Macintosh Apples' together again? American Pie eat your heart out. *This* will be the smut movie of the year. Yeah, Matt! And Jason, we're counting on you: "If you were really my friend, you'd strip and make out with another guy!"
**********************************************************************
"I haven't been alone with a man in my bedroom since I spounge-bathed my uncle." -Saturday Night Live.
**********************************************************************
Oh, God. This can't be happening.
But it is. I'm sitting on the ground in a forest somewhere outside of Manticore, with Max's limp, bloody body resting in my lap. As much as I want to believe that she'll make it; that she'll survive somehow; I can't ignore the fact that she's not breathing and I can't get a pulse.
All I can think of is that it shouldn't be happening this way. If Max is to die, it should be quick and painless, and while she's surrounded by her friends and siblings that love her unconditionally.
Not that it's possible to love her any other way. It's very hard to recieve love from Max, but it's not hard to fall in love with her in any way. Much as she tries not to, she just has this endearing quality about her that I, for one, couldn't resist, and couldn't help but be attracted to. Even at her maddest, she's just so damn cute that I have to contain the urge to smile at her in the midst of any argument.
Will I ever be able to smile at her again? She certainly doesn't look cute now. Her skin is pale and waxy, washed out to an unusual, unnatural, sickly shade of gray in the moonlight that beams down upon us. Not at all like the bright, vibrant young woman that I once loved.
*Love*. I still don't know if she's gone or not. There's still that little glimmer of hope. Oh, God, I never told her. She's never heard it from my lips just how much I care about her. In this moment, I realize that there are a million things that I wanted to say to my dark angel that I may never get the chance to say.
I wanted to tell her how beautiful I think she is; that she made my life complete; that she's not just my personal cat burglar; that she means more to me than just a pair of legs; that she's the only woman to have made me feel like a man again since the accident; how much I appreciate that she never pitied me while I was in the chair; how much I also appreciate it that she always treats me the same, wheelchair or no wheelchair; how mind-blowing it is when she kisses me. But most of all, I wanted to tell her that I fell in love with her the day she crashed through my skylight like an angel falling from heaven to save me from my own lonliness.
Oh, God. This can't be happening.
Can it?
Author: Angelus
E-mail: angelus1317@hotmail.com (Please put "Carousel" on the subject
line.)
Subject: Dark Angel
Category: A, carachter death
Rating: PG for a tiny little bit of language.
Summary: Logan experiences the six stages of grief in an alternate ending to "And Jesus Brought A Casserole".
Spoilers: "AJBAC"
Archive: Anywhere, just ask first.
Disclaimer: Max & Logan do not belong to me or any other fanfic writer out there. If they did, we'd be making it a better show rather than wasting our time writing up plots that will never happen, now would we?
Author's notes: I just saw a list of the six stages of grief somewhere while on a Lifehouse overload, sat down at the computer, and this poured out. It's jusr basically the thoughts running through Logan's head right after he finds Max's body in the forest. Not much of a plot, but watch out for a large time leap between the third and fourth chapter, then again between the fifth and sixth. All of the chapters are very short, and make the most sense when you read them all at once, one right after another. Enjoy the 'fic, and buy the Lifehouse CD.
Dedication: To Mari. I can't believe I haven't dedicated a 'fic to you yet!! I can't wait until we start our video. Lots of Matt fun! And remind me again how we're planning on putting '17 Macintosh Apples' together again? American Pie eat your heart out. *This* will be the smut movie of the year. Yeah, Matt! And Jason, we're counting on you: "If you were really my friend, you'd strip and make out with another guy!"
**********************************************************************
"I haven't been alone with a man in my bedroom since I spounge-bathed my uncle." -Saturday Night Live.
**********************************************************************
Oh, God. This can't be happening.
But it is. I'm sitting on the ground in a forest somewhere outside of Manticore, with Max's limp, bloody body resting in my lap. As much as I want to believe that she'll make it; that she'll survive somehow; I can't ignore the fact that she's not breathing and I can't get a pulse.
All I can think of is that it shouldn't be happening this way. If Max is to die, it should be quick and painless, and while she's surrounded by her friends and siblings that love her unconditionally.
Not that it's possible to love her any other way. It's very hard to recieve love from Max, but it's not hard to fall in love with her in any way. Much as she tries not to, she just has this endearing quality about her that I, for one, couldn't resist, and couldn't help but be attracted to. Even at her maddest, she's just so damn cute that I have to contain the urge to smile at her in the midst of any argument.
Will I ever be able to smile at her again? She certainly doesn't look cute now. Her skin is pale and waxy, washed out to an unusual, unnatural, sickly shade of gray in the moonlight that beams down upon us. Not at all like the bright, vibrant young woman that I once loved.
*Love*. I still don't know if she's gone or not. There's still that little glimmer of hope. Oh, God, I never told her. She's never heard it from my lips just how much I care about her. In this moment, I realize that there are a million things that I wanted to say to my dark angel that I may never get the chance to say.
I wanted to tell her how beautiful I think she is; that she made my life complete; that she's not just my personal cat burglar; that she means more to me than just a pair of legs; that she's the only woman to have made me feel like a man again since the accident; how much I appreciate that she never pitied me while I was in the chair; how much I also appreciate it that she always treats me the same, wheelchair or no wheelchair; how mind-blowing it is when she kisses me. But most of all, I wanted to tell her that I fell in love with her the day she crashed through my skylight like an angel falling from heaven to save me from my own lonliness.
Oh, God. This can't be happening.
Can it?