A/N: Recently re-watched Dark Angel and once more became very distressed by the ending and the need for closure on the Max/Logan front at least. Ideally, I would have done a multpi-chaptered flick with a plot and structure and rounded by the series as a whole, but... I don't have that kind of time. So here is a story about Max and Logan beating the Virus Bitch without any plot. Because ssh.
Presumably set some time after the whole Breeding Cult thing was settled. Or whatever.
Twenty-four hours.
Another temporary cure. Longer than the last. Still not long enough.
They promised that this time that they wouldn't waste it, taking it home to Logan's apartment, administering it there, and waiting all of ten seconds to be sure it had taken before leaping into each other.
There was a flumbling for openings in clothes, and shirtless and trousers fell to the floor. Skin was pressed against skin, hot, electric flesh.
They kissed and the world erupted.
For eighteen hours, they stayed in that very room, twisted up in sheets or nothing at all. Steamed clouding the windows and met with the rain that thundered around them, oblivious to them as they were to it.
They promised each other that they would not sleep. They could not lose this time.
But after nineteen hours, Logan, being a little more human than Max, could feel the tiredness pressing down.
"I won't sleep," he said.
Max kissed him, and lay her head back down against his chest. She stroked her fingers across his lips, traced the lines of his cheeks, his collarbones. Memorised every feature with her touch. The clock beside the bed ticked.
A few minutes later, he dosed off.
Max lay awake, unable to move. Minutes ticked by.
They had two hours left. Ninety minutes. An hour.
Logan's arms were wrapped around her so tightly that she almost felt numb. It was hard to tell where her body ended and his began. But in a matter of minutes, her body would become poison to his. How was that even possible? How could any part of her ever hurt him?
Thirty minutes.
Max screwed up her eyes, wishing and cursing in the same breath, and prayed once more for a miracle.
A few minutes later, she woke up to the alarm beeping softly.
And that was that.
She wanted to wake up Logan. She wanted to kiss him once more, or cry into his chest, but she couldn't. Instead, she wriggled out of him, pulled up the discarded sheets around his sleeping form, and crept away.
She went back to her place. A place that didn't feel like home, because home was the space she filled in Logan's arms.
She crawled into the shower and cried.
Perhaps this was her own fault, for wanting more than she had. For still wanting more. That night wasn't enough. They had both known that at the beginning. Even the little things she wanted now -like just to be able to curl up in his arms, or wake up beside him- were eclipsed by the hard, cold truth.
She wanted to spend the rest of her life with him, and that was never going to happen.
They would try. They had already convinced themselves that life without each other would be more painful than just not being together. So, they would stay together. They would talk on the phone, have dinner over a table, a fair distance apart.
Until something happened.
He'd trip and she'd reach out to stop him. Something would fall over and they'd both make a grab for it. She pass him a drink.
Sooner or later, she would wind up killing him. And that would kill her.
She couldn't do it any more.
He rang, of course, several times before she picked up.
"Hey."
"Hey. You were gone when I woke up. Missed you."
"Timer ran out."
"You should have woken me up."
"I fell asleep too."
"Not like you."
"It was a busy day."
Logan chuckled weakly. "Max, last night..."
"I wish we'd had longer." Max rushed out the words, like they'd slipped out without her knowledge.
Logan paused. "They'll be another time, Max."
Max was silent.
"There will be another time, won't there?"
Max's throat tightened. "It wasn't a mistake," she said. "I'm glad we did it."
"Me too. Last night was... well. I don't think they've quite come up with a word that accurately summarises what it feels like to finally consummate two years of unbridled sexual tension with the girl of your dreams."
"I..." Max couldn't speak. "I have to go to work."
"Swing by later?"
"Maybe."
She didn't. She dodged his calls for two weeks, ran out the window when he came round, or out the back door and onto the roof if he tried to corner her at work. Standard stuff.
"Girl, you have got to talk to the boy." Original Cindy advised. "What the Hell you runnin' from anyhow?"
Max couldn't bring herself to answer, couldn't explain it. She felt sick, physically ill. It was awful being apart from him, but she wasn't sure she could ever see him again without wanted those twenty-four hours back. She pined for them until she thought she would explode.
It was shortly after that that Krit called.
"I need your help."
She called before she left the city.
"I'm going out of town," she said briskly. "I may be gone a while. Syl's gone missing. Krit needs my help."
"Anything I can do to help?"
"No. Stuff I got to do on my own."
"Will you... call? Let me know what's going on?"
"I... I'm not sure that's a good idea."
"Max, please. Think about it the other way around."
Max did. Logan going off on his own, into danger. Not hearing from him for weeks. She'd go crazy.
"I'll let you know I get there safely."
She sent him a brief message when she got to Canada, and then another to know they were on Syl's trail. Then she called him once more to let him know she'd been found. She'd been captured, hurt, but she was alive.
"So, that's it? Mission accomplished, you're coming home?"
Home. Just the way he said it made her want to cry. Salt and sickness rose inside her.
"There's... there's something I'd like to try, first."
"What?"
"Syl, and Krit... they're pretty settled, here. They've got a good thing going. It's a nice town. Some good people."
"So?"
"So, I don't have to fight here, and..."
One of the reasons she had never left Seattle; she didn't want to be alone. She couldn't imagine life without the family of friends she'd made there, but with Krit and Syl and there people... she had a chance. A chance at moving on. Seattle was full of Logan. It was their city. It would always be. She could barely breath in the air there without thinking about him. It was different here. Not different enough, not easier... just less hard.
And there was another reason, too. Another reason she need to start afresh. She felt sick again. She should tell him, but there were too many worms in that can. Too many questions. Too many uncertainties.
"You're coming back, right?"
"Some day. Some day I'll..."
"Max?"
"I love you, Logan."
That was the last thing he heard from her. Months of silence followed. Once or twice, he'd head down to Crash, hang with her gang like he was a true part of it and hope for a tidbit of news. Occasionally Original Cindy would oblige, but it was all, "she's doing well, Boo, don't you worry." Vague, empty comments. Nothing of substance to hold on to.
He thought about following her. He thought about it a lot. But each plan was half-baked; she hadn't even told him where exactly she was going. Canada was too big, and he only had a handful of contacts there.
Most nights he'd sit on his sofa, staring numbly out of the window, and remembered what it felt like when she'd died.
She's alive, he told himself. Someone in the world, she's alive. She's safe. She's happy.
He liked to believe she was happy, but she was not with him, and he rather felt like happiness for either of them was impossible.
Ten months to the day she left, Logan was at his computer late at night. He'd been sitting there for hours, and every light in the apartment was off save the glare of his screen. Blue light littered the floor.
He remembered the time she had come back to him, how he'd felt her presence behind him. Later, he'd tricked himself into believing he'd seen her reflection in the screen. It wasn't that. He'd just felt her there.
He felt her there all the time, now. Ten months, and he couldn't shake that feeling.
"Hey," said a voice softly.
Logan turned.
He knew at once he must be dreaming. He'd had the dream before. He fell asleep at his desk all time, and he'd wake up and she was there, a miraculous cure for the virus in tow.
"I'm dreaming," he said.
Max's dark silhouette shook her head. "No, you're not."
"That's what the dream version of you says as well."
"I'm sorry Logan."
"Yup. Definitely had this dream before. Any minute now, I'll wake up. But I guess I should enjoy this dream while it lasts."
Logan took a stepped towards her, and she automatically jumped back.
"What are you doing?"
"Making the most of things."
It was at that moment that Max burst into tears, and Logan realised he wasn't dreaming.
"You're... you're here?"
"Logan, something... something happened in Canada."
"What? What happened? Did someone do something to you?"
Logan hated this. He hated not being able to touch her, to reach out and yank her into his arms. He knelt down uselessly by her side.
"I... no... I'm saying this all wrong. I've been trying to work out who to explain this to you for days and I still can't... I don't even know where to begin..."
"It's all right. Take a breath breath. I'll get you a drink-"
He stood up to go to the kitchen, but Max's let out a yelp and grabbed his arm. She grabbed the fabric of sleeve and skimmed the skin of his wrist, but he realised she was wearing gloves. Of course she was. She would never risk his life.
"No!" she said. "Don't go! Just... just stay in here. Please."
"All... all right." Logan knelt back down on the floor. He heard Max sighing, breathing deeply. He had never seen her like this; nervous, jittery. The girl could take down a small army without breaking a sweat.
"OK," she said. "Something... something happened to me..."
"You got that part out. In Canada."
"No, not in Canada. Here. I just... I just didn't know until after we rescued Syl."
"Not sure I follow."
"Logan, that night..."
"Yeah?"
"Well, I know we were prepared for it, but... we forgot something."
"Something...?"
"Logan, I got pregnant."
Logan's face paled, and he swallowed deeply. Max had been pregnant. Max had been pregnant. He was trying to process some rational following thought, some anger, perhaps -why hadn't she told him?- or some sorrow -what must she have been through alone?- but all he could think about was Max had been pregnant.
"I... I couldn't tell you. For so many reasons. I knew I was going to miscarry. I mean, the virus was designed to target your DNA, right? I was going to kill the child inside me, like I was designed to kill you. It was only a matter of time. And then... and then I started to get bigger. I could feel something fluttering inside me. A life. A life that wouldn't go away. That I wasn't killing. I had never, even for a minute, thought it possible. I wouldn't have thought my revved-up body could have a kid, let alone yours, but... but it looked like it was going to happen. Syl told me I should tell you, but then I was scared about another thing. What if the... the baby carried the virus too? It was enough for you to have a girlfriend you couldn't touch- but a kid too? It wasn't fair to you. I couldn't... I couldn't do that to you as well. And I was still sure that something was going to go wrong. I mean, me, a mom? Can you imagine?"
She paused for a moment, half laughing, as if she expected Logan to reply. He was still trying to unravel her words, as if she were speaking another language. Was it possible he was still dreaming?
"I kept on denying what was going to happen, right up it happened. Until I held her in my arms."
Logan swallowed. "She?"
Max nodded. "You have a daughter, Logan."
She waited for him to say something else, and when he didn't, she continued.
"It took me a while, but I finally tracked down a decent scientist to help me test her. She how different she was. She's... she's fine. He couldn't tell how much like me she'll be, but... but she's not a carrier of the virus."
Finally, Logan found something like his voice. "Where... where is she?"
Max smiled, her eyes studded with tears. "I brought her with me."
Max took Logan into the sitting room. On the couch was a small, wiggling bundle, loosely wrapped in a woollen blanket. Logan turned on the light with numb, shaking fingers.
A tiny little face looked up at him, with a shock of dark hair and tiny, full lips, round as a rosebud. Her mother's daughter, all right. She opened her large eyes and blinked in the light. Logan stood, stunned. He had been expecting her to have Max's eyes, deep and brown and warm. Instead, they bright and blue.
His eyes.
He had a daughter. He had a daughter. He really wasn't sure how he felt about that, other than shocked, amazed. He had a daughter.
He and Max had a child.
Max took a seat next to her, and Logan sat, half-tumbled, onto his knees. He reached out a hand, gingerly extending a finger towards her cheek.
She was soft and warm, her skin as smooth as caramel, easily the prettiest child he'd ever seen. He stroked her head, then she grabbed his finger in her little fist and shook it. She was so strong for such a tiny thing, and yet almost large enough to fill the space between himself and Max.
Logan had not thought it possible that he could love anyone as much as he loved Max, but here he was, falling in love with a girl he'd known mere seconds.
Where have you been all my life?
"Max..."
Max, she's perfect. Max, I love you. Max, Max, Max...
Tears were rolling down Max's face, but she was smiling too.
"There's something else you should know."
"She doesn't have a twin, does she?"
"No, but... when I was with the scientist, he... he had an idea. She's immune to the virus, even though she shared some of your DNA, so..."
"So?"
"He thought he might be possible that she could be a cure. That he could extract something from her blood and use it to fight the virus in me."
"And... and can he?"
"Yes," Max said quietly. "He could. He did."
Logan lurched forward slightly. "He... he did it?"
Max nodded tearfully. "I had to wait a few days to make sure it was gone, but then I came right back here. I'm free, Logan. It's gone. It's gone for good."
Logan reached over and grabbed her, pulling her into his arms. He wrapped his hands inside her hair, and breathed deeply. Max.
A tiny cry escaped the child between them, and they inched apart, crying and laughing.
If this is dream, Logan thought, don't let me wake up.
He would have other questions for her, but right now, there was only one.
"What's her name?"
"I was hoping you might help me with that. Been toying with a few. Truth. Freedom. Angel."
"Well, she's certainly the later," said Logan, but he was looking at Max.
"Hmm, Angel Cale," Max stroked her cheek. "Yeah, I could live with that."
Logan leaned across and kissed Max, deep and long as drink. Then he kissed her again.
The clock on the wall ticked away, but he ignored it. They had more than minutes now, more than hours. Years together, a lifetime. A lifetime of treasuring each moment like they had those few precious hours almost a year ago. The hours that made her.
When did he stop and she begin? It was impossible to tell. Logan was knitted to her, knitted to Angel, fastened to them in a way impossible to unravel. He wove his fingers into Max's and used the others to cup his child's head.
The glare of lights, the rain of the city, the blaring horns of the traffic all melted away, until nothing else but the three of them remained, held in the crystal snow-globe perfection of the moment.