by: tlgirl
Rating: PG-13 for language
Category: M/A shipperness (eventually), but it has a lot of Max
Disclaimer: I don't own Dark Angel . . . don't sue me . . . blah blah blah.
Summary: Max's thoughts and POV post Freak Nation. Forget the Logan-and-Max- latex-gloves-hand-holding-thing. It never happened. Now it's just Max, Alec and the other transgenic in Terminal City. In the beginning of the fic, Max locks herself up in one of the rooms and hasn't come out for days.
Note: If it doesn't seem coherent, I apologize. In reality, no one has a coherent stream of thought, I'm trying to make this fic somewhat realistic. If it seems like my writing is random and you don't understand what's happening, please tell me. I'll try my best to make myself clear.
Feedback: Please send feedback. I read and appreciate every piece of feedback that I get. I don't care if it's a simple "good job" or "you suck" just tell me what you think. Thanks.
valĀ·or
n.
Courage and boldness, as in battle; bravery.
It's been a week. A week since my whole world has crashed right on top of my head. How could this all have happened just seven days ago? I sent Sketchy, OC, and Logan away. They're not "freaks" like us. They don't belong in this hellhole. I don't think I can stand it if their blood was stained on my hands. We found a way to smuggle them out of Terminal City and I was given word that they got out safely.
I've lost everything. A week ago. Seven Days.
What is there to fight for now? There must be hundreds of police officers outside the city boundaries just waiting for their chance to come in here and slaughter us. Kill the freaks God never intended to create. But they don't understand that we were man-made, just like evil. And because we don't look "normal", they won't take responsibility. "They" as in the normal people.
Funny thing human nature is. One would think that our species would learn from history, learn from our mistakes. As the past has shown us though, we repeat our mistakes every time. The same problem might come back in a different form, in a different circumstance but ultimately, it's the same mistake. Want examples? Slavery. The Crusades. The Holocaust. Terrorism.
I never asked to be "the one." Just because I have these weird tattoos appearing all over my body doesn't mean that I'll save the human race. It doesn't mean anything. I'm just so scared. So scared that I'm going to fail.
For years I have lived a semi-normal life, whatever normal means anyway. But for my kind, the transgenic, I was able to hold a job, I had a place of my own, and I found true friends. Minus the midnight cat burglaries and the destroying of Manticore, by this society's standards, my life was pretty normal. That's more than a lot of the people here can say. So I consider myself lucky.
I snap out of my meditative trance as a figure behind me approaches. I don't have to turn around; I know who the person is. It's Alec. I could smell him from across the room. Not that Alec smells bad, for getting shot and running around and kicking White and his men's butts all week, he smells pretty damn good. I can't quite put my finger on it. Alec smells like sweat and something else that is . . . uniquely Alec.
Anyway, "What do you want dickhead?" I ask as I acknowledge his presence.
I expect the usual smartass comment, but Alec surprises me when he says, "I'm sorry, Max."
I quickly spin around. Did Alec actually fall off his high horse and apologize or was it just a figment of my imagination? I look into his eyes and I see sincerity and truth. It's the only hint of hope that I've seen in the past few days.
"For what? You didn't do anything."
"For everything." he says as I look away, his piercing stare is making me uneasy, "Max I know you don't want to hear this but I'm going to say it anyway. Shit happens! You can't just lock yourself up in this room after you made the whole speech about fighting for our rights and lives! You can't just be a leader only when you want to. It's a full-time job and you're on call all day, all night, 24/7. I understand how scared you must feel, Max. You must be scared as hell. But you started this thing, go out there and end it."
I just stand there like a fool, glued to my position. A tear falls down my cheek as I begin to take in Alec's words. As much as I don't want to admit it, he's right.
After a silence that seems like forever, he gently puts his hand on my shoulder.
"Get away from me Alec!" I lash out vehemently. I can't accept his logic. Not yet at least.
He understands that I need to be alone right now. And with a small sigh, Alec leaves the room and softly closes the door behind him. Leaving me with my thoughts. Leaving me with my fears.
