The weight on her shoulder
Pairing: Max/Ninja
Disclaimer: last time i checked, still not mine
A/N: thanks so much to jenwin23 who took care of my barbaric english :D
I love how the wind stings my cheeks and screams thru my hair. There will be hell to pay when I finally check into a cheap, shabby motel and find myself alone in front of a mirror, brush in hand. I know that. But for now, I'm driving my baby as fast as I can (and that means a lot, given the transgenic dealio), the wind roars in my ears and I laugh at the freedom of it, sharing its unburdened euphoria. And for right now nothing else matters.
If someone would have told me, like say... two days ago, that I'd feel that way, that free, being on the run again, leaving my family and my home behind, I'd beat him to a bloody pulp, no kidding.
Don't get me wrong. My heart is bleeding.
But after the last close call with White and his crazies, I realized that my perfect DNA was endangering the newly forming transgenic community a little too much for my taste. I knew the familiars were trying to waste us all, but since I was the chosen one blah blah woof woof, making me their 'primary target', I figured that running away, and thereby leading them away from the others, or at least splitting their attention, could be a winning strategy for the time being.
This time it isn't an escape. I'm not running away. It's a plan, a strategy. It's the best choice on a short list of bad choices. But that doesn't mean it doesn't hurt like a bitch, though.
I said goodbye to my new family in TC. There were pats on my shoulder, suspiciously respectful sounding grunts from Mole, and awkward hugs from people that are still working on the fine art of giving and receiving physical comfort. They asked me to stay in contact, and to be careful. I liked that. I mean... as soldiers, they shouldn't have. It was a given. But they made their requests like friends do, saying something inane but meaning something priceless. In those moments, the heavy baggage of responsibility for 'having let them out in the world' lightened a little.
There were tears too. But I shed with my face hidden in the crook of Joshua's neck, and he held me tight to the point of hurting. When he finally released me, my eyes were dry and my smile, albeit sad, was back in place.
I guess Alec was the only one who caught that little display of emotion. During the whole goodbye gig, he didn't say a word, didn't smirk or mock. Nothing. His eyes remained fixed on me, hard and unreadable. Unescapable. But I could tell he agreed with my decision to leave for a while, and that was enough for me. Or, I tried to convince myself that it was.
After the impromptu farewell party, I packed my few belongings in a duffel bag, and then I took a stroll in the sewer, exiting TC and leaving my new family behind. Walking in the sewers is not something I'll miss. Next stop, Logan, then OC.
I spent a long moment looking at Logan while he slept. He was alone, but Asha's smell still lingered in the air, and I saw the unmistakable remnants of a pre-pulse wine and a pasta-for-two in the kitchen. I wondered if he was moving on or if he had moved on already. I knew for sure I had cuz my only response was that I was happy he wasn't gonna be alone.
Leaving Cindy was hard and easy at the same time. We have one of those friendships that you can walk away from then when you return it hasn't changed at all. She just gets me, and luckily I didn't need to give a long explanation. But, you know, my homegirl is one of the main reasons I called Seattle home, long before it became transgenic central.
No wonder my heart is shattered right now.
So how come, broken heart notwithstanding, I can still feel the wild bliss of pushing my Ninja to the limit racing through my veins? Why is it so easy to enjoy the simple pleasure of being on the run? I left to give them a chance, because I am a danger to them—transgenics and ordinaries alike. So why isn't the despair of being away from them, of leaving my family, again, clinging to me, smothering my soul and choking the life out of me? Why can I still breathe the air around me that smells of freedom and of possibilities?
I know why.
It's his weight on my shoulder.
When I came back to TC to get my bike, he was there, fussing around. As I emerged from the sewer, I saw him casually putting a few of his things and my things into brand new saddlebags. Saddlebags that were now attached to my ride. Taking a quick but graceful step back from the Ninja, he looked at me with his trademark smirk firmly in place, like he deserved praise for the good work, but expected criticism instead. The jerk.
For once he was silent. He didn't ask, or beg, didn't cajole or coax. He didn't say anything at all, just stood there calmly looking at me. Smirking. I simply couldn't, or didn't want to, find the desire to yell and bitch at him like I should have. Instead, I surprised both of us.
Without uttering a word, I mounted my bike, then inched forward a little. He took the hint and was about to climb on, when I saw his smirk morph into a look of triumph in my peripheral vision.
"Next time I catch you messing with my baby you're dead meat, pretty boy. We clear?" I hissed with the coldest tone I could muster.
Alec just chucked. He eased himself onto the seat behind me, casually putting his arms around my waist, like they belonged there. Funny thing was, it kinda felt like they did.
His grin never faltered. Truth was, we both knew the first round was his.
So, here I am, on the run again. But I'm not a real fugitive, well no more than I was before anyways, and I'm not alone.
Alec is half asleep, his head lying heavily on my shoulder, his arms wrapped tightly around my waist. I idly consider letting him fall from the bike to get even, but he knows I like to play dirty. So, even as he dozes, his arms unconsciously tighten their hold on me every time I speed up a little or tilt my baby into a corner along the winding road.
I won't say out loud how much it affects me that even in his sleep he doesn't let me go. That any circumstances we're in, he's got my back.
Nope. At the next stop, I'll just complain about his drool on my leather jacket. I'll bitch and whine, cuz thank you so much for the company! He's just snoring all the time!
First of all, it's not like his over inflated ego needs any help. And then, I suspect he's just trying to cop a feel, anyway...
Besides, he'll know how I feel before I even get my first complaint out. A glance at my eyes, still slightly puffy with unshed tears, but tinged with hope and laughter, and he'll know.
He'll know what makes my days lighter in spite of everything.
It's his weight on my shoulder.
FIN