Hope's
Just Not Enough
Elora
Salecite
AN: This is my vision of what the first episode
or two of Dark Angel will be like next season.
I will not be surprised to see some of the plot structures be true.
Disclaimer: I do not and never could afford to own Dark
Angel, though sometimes I really wish I could trade spots with Jessica
Alba(i.e. dream scene in AJBAC).
Scene
One
Cold rain pattered against the window
pane. Logan sat looking out at it,
wishing it to stop, but knowing the sun could never come out again. Since Max had died, he had given up on the
exoskeleton. Who was he trying to kid,
anyway? He would never walk again, and
now that she was gone, there was no reason in trying. The light in his apartment was dimmed to a perpetual twilight. He had become the very esscence of a vampire,
remaining in darkness and giving up on anything the real world could
offer. Life just wasn't worth living
any longer.
Glancing back over his shoulder at the
computer room, he remembered the last time that thought had entered his
mind. Only then, Max had been there to
shock him back into reality a make him find enough sense to put the gun
away. No gentle hand would reassure him
now, no loving woman wrap him in a tender hug of relief. He thought desperately about ending it then
and there, but knew it would not be what Max wanted. She would have liked him to move on with his life, though he
hadn't been doing much of that respect lately.
It had been four months since that fateful
day at Manticore, and Logan remained in deep mourning. Bling had told him many times that he should
let it go and "go on with his life like she wanted," but it just
didn't feel right. His entire plan to
bring the world back to the light by means of journalism had collapsed out from
under his useless feet. The thought of
carrying on Eyes Only without Max was too much to bear. So the equipment sat in the computer room
collecting dust like everything else from his former life. He had settled into the rhythms of the
recluse, and was beginning to get used to it.
Every so often Bling would come by
unannounced. Logan suspected it was to
make sure no guns were aimed at depressed brains. Bling kept him eating and taking care of himself, at least
physically. He also had a visitor every
other day on a regular basis. Original
Cindy and Kendra had taken it upon themselves to keep Logan company since the
sudden death of their close friend.
Only Cindy knew the truth about Max's death, although Logan often
suspected Kendra knew the tale she was told had not been accurate. Cindy had told her that Max was shot by a
lunatic driving past her while she was on her motorcycle, and she had rolled
off into the ocean. Not a very
believable story, but Kendra hadn't asked any questions.
Logan often found himself running out of
things to do. He had read every book in
his library five times, but nothing could distract him from thoughts of
Max. He often thought about all the
times he felt close to her, felt their relationship grow. First and foremost in his mind was the kiss,
both of them, actually. The first had
been rushed and franctic, for the fear of losing a love never known, but the
second had been drawn out and passionate, almost as intense as those trashy
romance novels his sister had always loved.
Even more tender than the kiss, though, was the time when he had given
Max the poem to read. He had felt
bashful and unsure as he handed her the book opened to the verse about her, but
had grown more confident as he heard the quiver in her voice and saw the tear
in her eye. Never before that had he
felt that his poetry had meant something.
Not that any of it mattered anymore, though. Sighing, he turned his chair around and rolled sedately into the
computer room, and endlessness beyond.
