The room was dark when Alec entered. If he hadn't been able to see in the dark, he wasn't sure he would have been able to distinguish the two forms in the room. He could hear them breathing – the first slow and labored, the second slightly fast, and a bit erratic. A wave of sympathy washed over him as he neared the mattress in the corner upon which Max's motionless body lay. Beside her, Logan sat in the exact same place he'd occupied three hours before. As far as Alec could tell, the man hadn't moved an inch.

"Hey," he said quietly, whispering, as if speaking loud would disturb the deeply-slumbering Max.

Logan jumped slightly, and Alec realized he'd entered too quietly. He couldn't help it. The silence of a sickroom is infectious, so to speak. No one wants to make noise.

"Hey," Logan finally answered back, his voice a hoarse whisper. At least his breathing seemed to have slowed somewhat, causing Alec to believe he'd interrupted right on time. Five minutes later and the older man might have had some sort of panic attack, the stress of the dark, silent, room growing too much for him.

"Any change?" Alec asked carefully.

"No." The emptiness in Logan's voice sent a shiver up Alec's spine. He sat on Max's bed and looked at her closely. Her skin was pale, and he could see a sheen of sweat on her brow. He touched her wrist, causing a low moan to escape her lips. Logan tensed noticeably beside him, and for a moment Alec felt that the Logan he knew and talked to, even joked with, on a regular basis was not the Logan sitting in that dark room. This Logan was different. This Logan was almost… primal, like the instinct to protect the woman he loved was the only thing that mattered. Alec withdrew from the bedside and took a seat on the floor next to Logan.

"You don't have to sit here, you know. I can look after her for a while." Alec offered, hoping to urge Logan to get some rest, or at least leave the room that was practically a sensory-deprivation chamber for a few hours to get his head back.

Logan didn't reply. He merely stared at Max's still form. It occurred to Alec that ordinary humans' eyes could also adjust to the darkness. It was possible that Logan was actually looking at Max. Then again, it was possible he was just looking at empty blackness. Not for the first time, Alec wondered just how much better his senses were from those of everyday human beings. At least in this situation, it would help him decide if Logan was just being overprotective or if he was leaning toward losing it.

"I can't." The words, echoless in the small room, left Alec shocked. Had it really taken Logan ten minutes to answer? Had he been thinking over his answer, or was he talking about something else? Had Logan really said anything at all? Sure the raspy, monotone voice sounded like Logan, but maybe Alec was the one who was losing his mind.

"I can't," Logan continued. "I just…" He laughed, and it was humorless and dead, almost frightening in it's lack of warmth. "I can't believe this is happening again."

"Again?" Alec turned and watched the older man, relieved by the sudden animation he found in Logan's expression.

"Once you watch the woman you love die, you don't really want to do it again, but…"

"She's not going to die." Alec replied quickly, but Logan only scoffed.

"That's what I said last time."

"You were there?" Alec asked quietly, but he already knew the answer. He knew the pain in Logan's voice. He'd felt it himself when Rachel died. Logan had been at Manticore when Max and the others had blown up the DNA lab. Logan had watched Max die. Suddenly, a lot of things made a lot more sense to Alec, and he wished he'd been maybe just a tiny bit nicer to the guy.

"I was there," Logan whispered, practically choking on the words. Alec could only guess at the thoughts running through Logan's head as he sat at the bedside of the suffering Max. Was he reliving that night as it paralleled this night of hell? Was he still trying to keep the images out of his mind, forcing the pain to the back recesses of his memory so as not to relive them?

"I didn't know that," was all Alec could think of to say. He watched as Logan clenched and unclenched his fists, an action that had become familiar to Alec, and to everyone who knew Logan, in the last several months. It was Logan's way of fighting helplessness, but Alec had often wondered if Logan even knew he did it.

"You can probably touch her, you know," Alec mentioned. "The virus is attacking her now." He doubted Logan would take the advice, considering any physical contact seemed to cause Max pain. On the other hand, it might comfort her. It might comfort them both.

Logan shook his head and clenched his fists. "Just because this thing is attacking her, doesn't mean it won't attack me."

"Doc doesn't seem to think so," Alec countered. "Besides, it might make her feel better," He knew Logan wanted to, but was holding back for some reason.

"Or it could add to her stress level," Logan replied, sounding mildly pissed. The anger in his voice took Alec by surprise. Stupid. Her stress level? That was just stupid.

"You do realize that this isn't your fault, right?" he asked casually, and Logan's head snapped in his direction. Even in the dark room, their eyes met, or, at least, Alec thought they did. Jesus! He did think it was his fault. "You two spend way too much time together," Alec scoffed. "Both of you have a talent for blaming yourselves for the evils of others – seriously overdeveloped guilt. 'Her stress level?' She's sleeping. How much stress could she be experiencing?"

"I imagine dying is a pretty stressful situation," Logan spat.

"She's not dying!" Alec cried, forgetting to keep his voice low in his attempt to show his exasperation.

"Maybe you've forgotten," Logan said coldly, "but I know what it's like to be the one in the bed with this thing. Let me tell you, it's pretty damn stressful."

"And wouldn't you have felt a hell of a lot better if Max had been where you are; if Max had been able to touch you, and you didn't have to worry about her blaming herself for everything?"

Alec had him there. He'd seen the way Logan looked the first time he'd been infected. He'd held onto Max like she was his lifeline. Why Alec had decided that it was so pivotal that Logan touch Max, he couldn't say for sure, but he felt that it was important. He honestly felt, deep in his gut, that knowing Logan was there, that Logan was okay, that he loved her and wanted her to live, would help Max more than anything else possibly could.

Logan took a deep breath, releasing it slowly. It was then that Alec knew he'd won the argument. He watched Logan's hands, clenching and unclenching, just as they did every time he fought the urge to hold her. Then slowly, oh so slowly, his right hand unclenched and reached forward. He cupped her pale, peaceful face in his hand, and the soft moan that escaped her lips was not one of pain, but one of contentment. She moved toward the warmth of his hand, and a strangled, tragic sigh seem to reverberate through Logan's body.

"My work here is done," Alec said quietly, shooting Logan a reassuring smile that he knew Logan couldn't see. He hoped the smile made it into his voice though. Gently, he clapped Logan on the back, "I'll see you later buddy."

Walking backward toward the door, Alec watched as Logan moved closer to Max. The only thing they could now was wait to see if Max's body fought off the infection. It was going to be a tough night. Alec had done his best to make sure Logan would make it, even if Max didn't. Frankly, Alec believed that Max would probably pull through, but the way Logan had acted when Alec had first walked into the room had been kind of scary. At least Logan was back with the living.

Taking one last look before he left the room, Alec smiled slightly at the sight of Max lying in Logan's arms. He had a feeling that, though Logan was thinking clearer, he was still running on a good amount of instinct. His instincts told him to hold Max, to keep her close, to whisper in her ear, just as Alec's gut had told him that Logan's touch would help Max immeasurably. He opened the door, and left the room. Whatever happened, it was going to be a long night. He could check up on them later.