Dependence
Disclaimer: Do I even have to write this? Anyways…the dealio is, I don't own "Dark
Angel" – never have, never will. DA
belongs to James Cameron, Fox, and God knows who else – but not me. There, I said it, k?
AN: Please be kind and review! I've written before but this is my first DA fic, so please
review. Please, please, please. I'm begging, and I don't like to beg.
AN #2: This is an overview of some of my favourite M/L
moments leading up to "Shorties in Love".
If I get good feedback, I just might write a sequel or something.
***hint, hint, nudge, nudge, wink, wink***
I have never depended on anyone in
my life, I have never really wanted to.
At Manticore we were taught never to show any sign of weakness and
dependence is a weakness – even Zack reinforced this notion. "It's phony sentimentality, and it will get
you killed, Max." I guess in some ways
he's right, and I should listen to him, yeah?
Maybe if I was a good little solider…
I remember sneaking into his
penthouse late that night on a routine lift.
Thanks to the clever folks at Manticore, we were designed to come and go
undetected. So I let myself in through
the skylight, grabbed the Bast, and left.
That was the plan anyways. There
was interference – no big dealio.
Stealing isn't stealing with some ass-kickin', right? So I fought it out with some ex-cop. I put him under and then high-tailed it out
of there…and then he came along…
Logan Cale – cyber-journalist, crusader,
protector of all things that are good.
Who would have thought that I'd break into Eyes Only's apartment? He pointed a gun at my face and asked,
"You're a thief?"
"A girl's gotta make a living," I
answered.
"Thank God," he said, smiling. At first I tried to ignore it, but there was
something in that grin of his that got to me.
So after a quick pro quo I dove out his window. No sense in sticking around to get caught by
building security. I had enough things
to deal with. I seriously didn't need
more people on my ass.
I got home that night, minus the
Bast. I was a little pissed of course –
I could've fenced that thing for a fortune – but it's all good. I crawled into bed after a quick glass of
milk and tried to get some sleep. I may
be a genetically-revved up female, but that doesn't mean that I have enough
energy to stand Normal's incessant "Bip, bip bip".
I laid there, trying to shut my
body down for the night. But every time
I closed my eyes I saw Logan's face – his sapphire blue eyes, the spiky
hair…that smile. I tried to purge that
image from my memory, but I couldn't.
There was just something about that smile. It was so sincere and made me feel warm all over. After a while, I just gave up trying to
fight it. So I drifted off to
sleep…thinking about Logan.
That's how it all started I
guess. Actually, it started when he got
half his ass blown off…but we won't go there.
What can I say? I may be a bona
fide trained killing machine, but I have a heart too. He asked me to help him that day to amp up security but I turned
him down flat, to save my own skin. If
I was there that day to help him with Lauren and Sophie, he wouldn't be stuck
in that wheelchair. It was my
fault. So I tried to make it up to him
by becoming his legs. That's how it
really started.
Logan would page me whenever he
needed something. I did as he asked and
in return he helped me find my sibs.
The routine for a while was he would page me for a job, I'd do it, and
then go back to his place to tell him how it went. Most of the time he would have dinner all ready and who could
possibly resist a Logan Cale culinary miracle?
I mean, the man's a God when it comes to food. Me, I can barely boil water.
So I would stay for dinner and sometimes we would play chess after. I'd even let him win – wouldn't want to
bruise that delicate ego of his.
Over time, the dinners became more
frequent and the late night chess games turned into mind-probing chat
sessions. During the day, I would find
myself willing my pager to go off just to hear his voice and sometimes he would
call just to say "hi". At night, I
would pass hanging out with Original Cindy and the Jam Pony crew to go to
Logan's. Hey, his crib oversees the
entire city! It beats having to climb a
million stairs to get to the top of the Space Needle.
I remember once when my seizures
were so bad (thanks to my messed-up genetics) that not even the Tryptophan
worked. I stopped by Logan's place for
dinner that night and there was a brownout.
Of course, my freak show of a body wouldn't cooperate with me and I had
to lay down. So there I was, a total
lemon sprawled on Logan's leather sofa.
"Stay with me," I pleaded.
"I'm right here," he assured me in
that soothing caretaker tone of his. I
just smiled and closed my eyes as he stroked my face gently. He had that effect on me; just by being
there, he would make me feel better.
Geez, how sappy am I? He took
care of me that night even when he didn't have to. He tucked me under the covers in his room and brought me warm
milk with honey. He wrapped me in
blankets and held my hand through the night, making sure that I was all
right. Now that I think about it, he didn't
get any sleep that night.
The day when I had to leave him was
the worst of all. Good ol' Deck was on
my tail again, forcing me to haul ass to Canada. You'd think with an army of commandos they would be able to catch
me after cornering me on South Market.
Anyways, after a quick game of "Escape and Evade," I was sitting in Logan's
car en route to his uncle's cabin where I would hide out for the night with
Zack before crossing the border to Canada.
Logan put on Sibelius in the car – Valse Triste to be exact. It didn't faze me one bit that Logan was the
classical music type, I mean, the guy spends most of his time sitting in front
of his computer. The music was sad,
just like the mood. I didn't want to
leave and I wouldn't have if he had asked me to stay. But he didn't. "I'll miss
you," he told me.
"You could always ditch it all and
go on the lam with me. Great way to
visit exotic places, meet new people," I suggested thoughtfully.
"I'd just slow you down..."
"It's okay," I softly assured.
"…I have to go back…someone has to
watch out for the downtrodden. Blah,
blah, woof, woof, right?"
"Right," I answered, avoiding his
eyes. I didn't want him to see the hurt
in my eyes. I never like showing my
vulnerable side and I wasn't about to start.
"Take care of yourself."
"You too," I said quickly and got out
of the Aztek. I looked straight ahead
and walked away – away from my life…away from Logan. But I just couldn't quite make it all the way. Even with all of the focus techniques
Manticore planted in my head, I couldn't just walk away – I'm still part human
after all. So I turned back and kissed
him. I grabbed his head and pulled him
in. He ran his hands through my hair. I kissed him like there was no tomorrow –
full of longing and lust. I've got to
give major props to Kendra. She's
right, kisses are better when you share it with someone you love.
Love? What the heck am I talking about? I mean, how can someone ever be in love with me? I'm a genetically enhanced killing machine,
bred to kill quickly, efficiently, and happily. Who in their right mind would want me? I'd only get them killed.
I live life constantly on the run, always looking behind my
shoulder. I've got too much baggage –
Lydecker and his G.I. Joes are always looking for the opportunity to chopper me
back to Manticore.
I'm trouble. I know it.
I almost got my best friend killed once. Some guy from South Africa decided he wanted a perfect soldier. Gee, I think I should set him up with Deck,
they would hit it off so well. So he
came here with some of his soldier boys, the Red Series, to hunt me down so he
can perfect his prototype. He wanted me
to play mommy to a whole army of those guys.
The Reds tailed Original Cindy to get to me, so I laid a smackdown on
their asses. But the Reds were only a
warning sign. I know they are still
looking for me, I can feel it. Call it
feline intuition, or whatever. I know
that they won't stop until I'm either back at Manticore, or dead. And that's why I can't get close to
anyone. But it's already too late.
Logan has put his ass on the line
for me a million times, risking his neck to save this little life of mine. He distracted Lydecker and his commando boys
when I went to get Hannah from Sedro Island.
He helped bust my ass out of jail when I got caught stealing Tryptophan
from Metro Medical. He traded himself
for a bunch of hostages, (myself included) when some crazed terrorist named
Darius held the genetics conference hostage.
He even performed amateur brain surgery on me to remove a nanochip from
my cerebellum before I stroked out from a neuro-chemical overload when I went
up against the Reds. God knows with his
condition, the Reds could easily snap him in two. He even defended my honor in Cape Haven and saved my genetically
revved up ass from BC and his friends.
It's good to know that when the superhero is busy that the sidekick is
ready to step in.
Is Logan really just a sidekick? Before him I was just trying to be a normal
girl, scraping by on meager paychecks and kickin' it with my peeps, but now
it's different. I'm part of Logan Cale
Brigade for the Defense of Widows, Small Children, and Lost Animals. I've become Logan's partner, confidante,
friend. Of course I would never say
this to him, but Logan's one of those people that you just can't not think
about, care about. He gets to you, no
matter how much you try to fight it.
Zack told me to get my ass out of Seattle, but did I listen to him? Hell no.
This isn't Manticore and Zack's not my CO anymore. Besides, I can't leave Logan high and dry
after all he's done for me.
Forever eyes. Dark.
Somebody's angel.
Whatever. I never thought that
Logan would actually write about me, let alone allow me to read one of his
poems. I mean, the guy got all
over-protective and defensive when I found out he wrote poetry. But I'm glad that he let me because now I
know that even if someone wants to cage me or put a bullet in my head, that
I'll still live on because of these words.
So Lydecker, you can kiss my genetically engineered ass. Your perfect little soldier's developed a heart.
I remember Logan saying once, "It's
worth noting, while you're right – my mission is saving the world – it doesn't
mean that I don't worry about you."
That honesty caught me off guard.
But of course my automatic Manticore wit kicked in and I fired off some
smart-ass comment something along the lines of worry accomplishes nothing, but
that it's good to know that he thinks of me as more than his own private cat
burglar. He nudged my back and
confirmed, "Way more." I couldn't help
but smile. Because of all the times he
has been there for me and especially after that conversation I know that he'll
help me through this bitch called life.
Thank you Logan.
I never thought I'd see the day I
would depend on someone. But now I
guess I do.
