DISCLAIMER: Dark Angel is not mine and no copyright infringement is intended—I'm not getting paid for my little fantasies. This is my first attempt at a double drabble: I'm not used to limiting my words, sorry in advance.
Knowing
While watching the man kick firewood in half it occurred to Alec that neither of them knew anything. Logan didn't really know the woman he was talking about.
Alec didn't know Max either. Her confession of fratricide had come straight from the black sky. But maybe he knew Max well enough to guess that he was the only person who'd ever hear the whole of Ben's death, and that Logan couldn't know too many of Max's stories.
Alec once had a neat little file folder of Max-In-Brief. He'd been told what methods of persuasion had been utilized prior to his acceptance of the mission. Psy- Ops hadn't broken her. Four months of re-indoctrination had barely made the brassy bitch pretend with the gauziest of covers. They might have killed her. Some thought she wanted it—she would rather be dead than broken. Alec respected that file—the unbreakable beauty—but it wasn't Max.
Logan had broken her. Alec didn't know how anyone could housebreak a transgenic. Not easily: even now she wanted to run. She couldn't because even if he didn't know her, he knew what Max needed. He offered love like a bone.
And she'd asked for Alec's help.