Maxie Morales frowned and sat up in bed. It was two in the morning and she could her her mother twitching and muttering in the next room.

"Mama?" she called out. She whispered to herself. "Mama's having another nightmare."

Max's mother, Jace Morales, didn't seem to sleep much. Often, ten-year-old Max would run into her making herself some coffee when she needed water in the middle of the night. She could be found anywhere in the house- the strangest place had been outside in the blue chair, just looking at the stars.

Thinking about it, maybe it was all that coffee that gave Jace such bad dreams.

She entered her mother's room. Half her mother's blanket was on the floor and she seemed on the verge of falling out of bed. Her sleeping face was tight with fear. "I wonder what Mama dreams about that's so scary?" wondered Maxie aloud.

"No..." stuttered Jace, turning her head sharply. "I want to come with you... can't move..."

"Mama. Mama!" cried Max, grabbing her mother's shoulder and shaking her until she woke up. "Mama, you were having a nightmare. Are you awake?"

Jace saw how concerned Max looked and struggled to give her a smile. "I'm awake, Little Max."

"Are you all right?"

"Yes."

"Why do you always call me Little Max? I'm not little any more. It annoys me," said Maxie. She knew better than to ask her mother what she had been dreaming of. Jace never divulged much. She saw fit to tell Maxie the barest details of her past so the neighbourhood children wouldn't clamour with questions Max couldn't answer.

A few years ago, Jace had sat Max down and told her who her family was. Max's father was named Victor Owen and he was a lab technician for the military. Jace had been born in Gilette, Wyoming and had lived there until she had gotten pregnant with Max. Then she had moved to Mexico with help from a childhood friend. That was basically it.

Jace gave Maxie one of her grim smiles. "You're named for my little sister, Max. She lives in Seattle and used to work as a bicycle courier. She's the one who helped me get to Mexico. Just before I got onto the bus that was gonna take me away, I told her I'd name my baby Max."

"Take you away," repeated Max. "From Dad?"

"If you like. I feel like breakfast, do you want anything?"

"Mama, it's two in the morning. Dontcha want to sleep?"

"I don't sleep," kidded Jace, climbing off her bed. She shooed Maxie off and began to tidy the sheets and blanket. She tucked in the blankets tightly as a shroud and smoothed them down so much you could bounce a coin off them. Max considered briefly where her mother had learnt to make beds like that. She let it go because she didn't find it very interesting.

"Neither do I," replied Maxie seriously.

"Of course you sleep, Max. And that's what you're going to do, Little Max. Sleep."

"Few seconds ago you wanted company, Mama."

Jace gave her daughter a severe look. "Maxie Morales, you're a child like everyone else's child and right now you need sleep. I was joking about breakfast."

"No school tomorrow, Mama. It's vacation, so I don't need sleep. I never need much sleep. I changed my mind; I want to stay up with you."

Jace sighed. "Guess the two exceptional Morales women are going to have an early breakfast, huh?"

"Sure we are," said Max.

Max and her mother went into the kitchen. Jace wasn't a very good cook. One time they had been squabbling and Jace had snapped that, "I was taught other things, more important things!" What these were, Maxie didn't know. Still, Maxie liked spending time with her mother.

Max considered this little sister of her mother's and wondered if they looked anything alike, Jace and Max. Lila (her best friend who lived down the street) looked very similar to her older sister, who she hero-worshipped.

"Mama, tell me about when you were a little girl."

"What do you want to know, Little Max?"

"Where did you go to school?"

"I went to a military school with my sisters and brothers. We were taught... things. Not the things you learn in school. Running, swimming... we used to stay up for days on end. Max almost never seemed to sleep. She could go days without sleeping."

"And then you left and met Dada and had me?"

"Yes."

"Hey Mama, can I do your hair?"

"You say please to adults, Max."

"Please, Mama, can I do your hair?" said Max obediently.

Her mother grabbed a brush off the kitchen counter and handed it to Maxie, who started brushing her hair. Max ran her finger over her mother's old tattoo meditatively and her mother twitched. "Maxie, leave my tattoo alone."

"Sorry, Mama. It's a pretty weird tattoo. What made you want a barcode?"

"Maxie, don't ask questions," said her mother. Jace sounded tired, defeated. It unnerved Max. Jace Morales was a fighter. She never gave up.

Important things weren't secrets between Jace and Little Max. As soon as Max was old enough to understand, Jace had told her where she kept their sector passes, which she renewed regularly in case they were ever to leave suddenly. Maxie knew where Jace kept her money and papers. Jace had even given her daughter a phone number to call if ever she was in trouble and Jace wasn't around. All she had to say was, "My name is Max, I'm Jace's daughter and I'm in trouble.", give her location and Jace promised that someone who Jace trusted very much would come fetch her.

In that idyllic little street, Max thought she would never get into so much trouble that she'd need to call the number. But it was only a matter of time before Max would find out how much trouble she could get into...

It was approximately two days later when Maxie came home from Lila's house. She'd spent the night there and, as usual, she'd won the Who Can Stay Up All Night bet. Max was a good sport and had bought Lila and herself some chocolate with the money. She waved at Lila and then walked right through the door of the house.

"Mama? Mama, are you home?" She wasn't. Max wasn't worried. Jace would always leave a note saying she was shopping or visiting a friend, or the doctor. It would say what time she expected to be back and usually ended with the words, "Don't call the number." She went into the kitchen and looked around.

Everything appeared to be orderly, just the way Jace liked it. Everything was in the right compartment or drawer. Max made herself a sandwich and sat at the table. Although she admitted to Lila alone that she was curious about her father and other family members, she didn't really have any particular interest in them. Everything in Max Morales' life was made for two. There were two chairs at the table, two rooms in the house. Lila had remarked once that it reminded her of a fairy tale sort of house. Jace never had boyfriends like other single mothers, which Maxie liked very much.

Max went to find a mug and make herself some tea when she spied her mother's note. She sighed in relief and picked it up. Just like usual, it had MAX written on the front. At the most, it would have MAX AND LILA written on it when Maxie had Lila staying, but the notes were always primarily intended for her.

She opened it up and blinked in surprise, because Jace had written only two words. CALL IT.

Call it.

Call it? Well, Max would assume that meant the number, but it couldn't be. Jace had always told her daughter that the number was meant only for the direst emergencies, the kind that came along but once in a lifetime. The life-threatening kind. Surely Jace didn't mean the crisis number?

One thing Max had learnt over the course of her life was to always take her mother seriously. She went to find her mother's mobile phone.

Curious. It wasn't in its usual place. Max decided her mother must've taken it with her and went to the other phone.

All the while, Maxie expected her mother to come bursting in the door like that time when she was seven. After an hour-long lecture about why she shouldn't call the number unless it was a complete and utter emergency, Max had waited until her mother had gone out. It had taken her fifteen minutes to psyche herself into dialling the number, just to see what would happen. Her mother had walked in and from the guilty look on Max's face, deduced that she was calling the number. She'd been grounded for three weeks.

She picked up the phone and went to dial the first number, but there was nothing. Confused, Max punched in a random sequence of numbers. Someone had cut the phone line.

Max was afraid. Her one backup plan was out the window in a second. She wished she hadn't spent the bet money on chocolate- now she didn't have any change.

There was the payphone at the end of the street... but that had been vandalised last month.

She considered going to Lila's and asking to use the phone. But she'd have to say what for. Visions of police searches and foster homes popped into Maxie's head.

Max didn't want that. It made everything seem far too real.

Max considered to whom she could go. It had to be someone who wouldn't ask dangerous questions, who wouldn't shove her into care and who would understand and keep her safe until her mother came to get her.

Jace's voice flickered momentarily in Maxie's head. "You're named for my little sister, Max. She lives in Seattle and she worked as a bicycle courier. She's the one who helped me get to Mexico..."

She'd mentioned more than one sibling in that late-night conversation, but this Max was the only one who'd been named. They must have been pretty close if Jace named her first and only child after her.

"Sorry Mama," she muttered. "I can't stay here by myself..."

Max knew she was more than capable of taking care of herself. She only slept a few hours a night and was stronger than any other girl of her age that she knew, although she tried to hide that from her mother. But soon the neighbours would start talking like they always did. How often did they discuss the fact that Max hadn't any present father? Plus the money would soon run out...

There was nothing for it. She'd have to leave right away.

Max dressed in her most sturdy jeans, the ones someone had sent to her mother for her years ago. They were a little short in the ankle, but it couldn't be helped. She found her mother's papers and sector passes and the money in the space behind that old black and white photograph of WW2 soldiers that Jace had hanging in her room. Maxie found a sweatshirt of her mother's and pulled it on over her t-shirt.

She felt slightly ridiculous doing all this preparing, as if her mother was going to walk in the door at any second. But then again, she told herself- her mother never would have instructed her to call the number unless it was a huge emergency.

Max found her school backpack and put in some clothes, the papers, money, sector pass for one MAX MORALES and a large map of the United States. Her mind was yelling at her.

What's the map for? You're not gonna walk across the States, are you? You're a crazy idiot, Max Morales. Any second now Mama's going to come home and yell herself stupid at you for filching her things and you're gonna get into soooo much trouble!

"Shut up," said Max fiercely to the empty house. She often got worked up like this before she did something important.

After much deliberation, Max managed to put in a picture of Jace and three sandwiches. Finally, she wrote out a note to her mother.

"Dear Mama," she read aloud as she wrote. "I found your note about calling the number, unfortunately the phone is not working. I can't stay with Lila or one of the neighbours because they'll ask too many questions, so I have taken my sector pass, the travel papers, some money for travelling and one of your sweatshirts. I am going to go to Seattle to stay with your sister Max. If I run into trouble along the way I'll call the crisis number. Please don't be mad. When I get to Aunt Max's place I will call you. Don't worry, I will be more than fine and I'll not take any stupid risks. I hope you are safe and you have my love. Your Daughter, Max Morales."

She read it over one last time. Yes, it read well. She hoped it didn't sound too much like she was begging Jace not to kill her for running away.

Max took all the keys she could find in case anyone got into the house while she was away. She locked everything up and stood outside for a moment, wondering why she didn't feel more afraid.

"Mama," she said quietly. "Mama, I'm giving you one more chance to walk through the gate before I leave."

Nothing. Max Morales hitched up her bag and left.

* * *

DISCLAIMER: 'Dark Angel' belongs to Fox and James Cameron. Not me. So don't sue.