Title: To Love1/1
Author: Rhasa
Keywords: violence, Max/Alec may still appeal to shippers.
Category: Angst
Rating: R for disturbing subject matter not graphic.
Summary: Alec sacrifices everything...
Disclaimer: Not mine. Empty pockets.
AN: This piece came from a deep dark place and hopefully it will go back
there when I'm done.
Feedback: I would love to hear from... well anyone. I don't even know if I'm posting this right. I hate what I did to the characters in this piece, but the idea just wouldn't leave me. Let me know what you think Rhasa4@yahoo.com
To Love 1/1 by Rhasa
"So how'd it go?"
"I don't want to talk about it."
"Okay."
I let it go. I could see she was upset. There was no way she was going to open up to me and I'm not sure that I really wanted her to. Well, no, that's not entirely true. Of course I wanted her to open up to me. I wanted her to bare her soul to me but not if it contained any thoughts of Logan.
I still don't understand just what it is about her. What are the qualities that make her so different to any other woman I have ever known. That in and of itself is really a ridiculous thought. Most of the women I have known have had certain qualities that would make a normal man's head spin - but then again I am not a normal man. I've had other breeding partners. Before Max came I had been with half a dozen X5's. But there is something about her... I used to think that it was her sense of justice, her individuality her desire to be free, owned by no man. But that's not really it.
They say she is perfect. She is special. She has something that They desire. Something invaluable, highly prized. the only thing I can think of is her passion. No one else from inside or outside of Manticore has passion like Max. And that passion comes in so many forms. She has a passion for justice, she likes to make the bad guys pay - big time- as she would say - but it's a form of passion. She has a passion for the weak, the hurt, vulnerable, outsiders - Joshua is proof enough of that, but the passion she has for those she's close to is something else altogether.
I never even considered that I would have entered her thoughts when I was going through my own private "Rachel-hell", but somehow I did. She cared. She cared about how I was feeling, what I was going through. She didn't save my ass to prove a point, to make me indebted to her, and believe me I have come across a few individuals who have had that agenda in mind in their dealings with me in the past - she saved my butt because she could see how much pain I was in. She did it just for me. To make me feel better. For my sake. No one has ever done anything for me for just my sake ever before. She has this passion for her friends that is truly unique. But her passion for Logan is something else entirely.
The way she looks at him...
I wish she would look at me that way. To be the focus of her universe is to be in a world all your own. Does that schmuck know how lucky he is? I guess he does, Asha told me that he never gave up on her; that he was devastated by her apparent death but still he never gave up hope...
Talk about dedication.
How pathetic.
But then I can't talk.
I can see what he sees in her.
I would lay down my life for her.
I can't help it. Somehow, and I'm still trying to figure out how exactly, she's gotten so far under my skin, so deep inside that I can't seem to let the thought of her go. I don't know if we belong together, but I sure as hell want her like I have never wanted another woman in my life before. And I'm not just talking about sex here either - yeah aint' that a surprise. I'm talking about... hell I don't know. I want her approval. I want her to be proud of me. I want her to think of me and smile, I want her to hold me and somehow fill that hole inside of me that I have only known existed since my escape from Manticore - that emptiness, that loneliness, that void... I know Max's touch could fill that.
But who am I kidding. That's never going to happen. Not in this lifetime, pal. All her thoughts, all her smiles, her hugs, if she could hug him, are for Logan. Logan is the centre of her universe. Not me.
I'm going crazy thinking of all this stuff. I need a drink. Several drinks. Who knows perhaps I'll run into Asha - she's no Max but I'll guess she'll do. I feel sorry for her. I figure she feels the same way about Logan as I do about Max. Unrequited love is a bitch.
Maybe if I fuck Asha's brains out, I'll forget about Max for an hour or so.
Doubt it.
I could bury myself deep inside her and pray that I would be burying my soul. Who knows I might even find the experience pleasurable, although sex has been all but pleasurable since I was assigned as a breeding partner to Max Guevera.
Before meeting Max, no X5 had refused me. Hell, since meeting Max no X5 or civilian has refused me if I have really tried. I guess if there was all that pseudo psycho bullshit that used to pass for pre pulse therapy around then theories would abound that I'm only infatuated with Max, I only want her badly, because I know I can't have her.
And maybe they'd be right. Part of me hopes they'd be right. I hope that someone will explain this little situation I seem to have gotten myself into. Maybe there's a cure. I thought for a short time that Rachel, back from the dead, could possibly be a cure. I had loved Rachel once. In a lot of ways, Max reminds me of Rachel. hell, wouldn't a shrink have a field day with that little revelation. There are the physical similarities of course, okay so not much of a physical similarity - dark hair, beautiful face, deep mysterious eyes... But there are other things, subtle things, mannerisms that others would have not catalogued and referenced that are only known to me. They share some of those. Maybe it's the familiarity that makes me so smitten with Max. No, Max could never be someone you could become entirely familiar with. She's an enigma.
Oh god, deliver me.
I wish there was a god. Then she would really be an angel. A dark mysterious angel...
To be revered and never to be touched.
Untouchable Max. Well she was within arms reach for a moment there. Ten hours may not seem like much to the average Joe but to me it would have been enough. I couldn't believe it when I worked out that they hadn't consummated their relationship within that time frame much less in the year they had known each other before her resurrection from the dead at Manticore. What the hell were they waiting for. I swear if I was Logan I would have taken her right there on the cold floorboards of his apartment in the first five minutes. Damn gossamer. I would have then taken her every other place I could have imagined given a ten hour time frame. What such a blessing would have done to my soul. The act of loving her would have transpired the mere physical release.
But somehow Logan and Max screwed it up - again. Which makes me wonder if they really do want to get together. I mean anyone else in their right mind would have forgone the foreplay. What are they trying to prove to one another? Are they scared of the real thing? Have they made the not having one another so big a deal that to actually have one another would mean only disappointment to them??? What is it with those two??
I may not understand their needs but I respect them. I gave them some privacy in the last few minutes they could hang on to one another. Not much good it did them though.
It was a few hours later that I found Max sitting in an old Chevrolet crying her eyes out.
"So how'd it go?"
"I don't want to talk about it."
"Okay."
I let it go. I could see she was upset. There was no way she was going to open up to me and I'm not sure that I really wanted her to. Well, no, that's not entirely true. Of course I wanted her to open up to me. I wanted her to bare her soul to me but not if her confessions contained any thoughts of Logan.
I wasn't surprised that she kept me at arm's length. It's not like we've ever been close - despite how much I would like us to be. But I had to wonder, did she need me, when a few days later she walked into Jam Pony looking like she had done nothing but sob her eyes out for the past few days.
I couldn't bear it any longer. I knew any attempts at conversation I'd make would be shot down. That was Max's style. But I couldn't help myself. I walked up to her as she leant her forehead against her locker door and asked her how she was doing.
She shook her head. A surprise.
"He kissed me as if he was kissing me goodbye. Who knows. Maybe he was. Maybe this is goodbye. He said that if he had that year back again he would do things different... Maybe he meant that he would never have allowed himself to fall in love with me. Maybe he wishes that I would have never entered his life. Regrets... So many regrets..."
She never looked at me once during her little speech. I don't know if she even really knew that I was there. A tear rolled down her cheek and I can honestly say that in that moment I knew, for the very first time despite my time with and without Rachel, that my heart just broke.
I couldn't play the tough uncaring guy any longer. Her pain was my pain and I didn't want to feel that pain any longer.
I merely reached out for her, tugged her close with an arm around her waist, rested her cheek against my shoulder and hugged her with as much feeling, love and protection that I thought ever existed in my soul.
Her grip on my jacket was tight. She was drowning. The only thing that mattered to me was to save her from the depths she found herself in.
I really don't know what I said to her, or what I said to those around me. I can't remember much except for the lump I found wedged in my throat all the ride back to my apartment, that and her small, but deadly, strong fists clasped against my chest and the wet tracks her tears made down the front of my shirt.
I can't imagine myself whispering soothingly in her ear, but I must have done. She rewarded me with a small smile when I opened the door to my place and half carried her inside. She was in bad shape. I knew that. And that's what I keep telling myself to justify why I took her home with me in the first place. She was in bad shape and she needed someone just like herself to understand what it meant to think you've lost the love of your life. Afterall, I had ample experience in that area, despite her not knowing that. Thinking those thoughts her words brought me out of the fog that I was in.
"...I never thought you would understand," she was saying to me while looking into my eyes with an expression of wonderment on her face. "I guess your time with Rachel taught you that you have to take the moment when it presents itself to you, and not to wait - for anything."
What was she saying? She meant Logan, right? She shouldn't have waited with Logan, for Logan. She should have taken her chance. That's what she meant. I knew that's what she meant but I wanted her to mean something else, something different, something else entirely different.
I couldn't help myself. I leaned forward and I kissed her. I'm vaguely aware of reaching out. I seem to faintly recall my grabbing her by the biceps, gently pulling her towards me and sinking my lips onto her own. And beyond everything else I recall the taste, that sweetness and I don't mean sweetness as in "chaste" but literally the taste of sugar or syrup or honey, a sweetness on her lips that made me want nothing but to sweep my tongue across them time and time again to gather all the nectar that must has resided there. Oh God.
God oh god oh god.
My lips were on fire.
I was burning from within.
I was pure heat, liquid heat and she did nothing to extinguish me.
She should have. She should have doused me with her anger.
But all she gave me was her shock and her confusion.
I don't know how long I was pressed against her. It was both too long and not nearly long enough. It could never be long enough.
A small gasp sent a breath across my cheek, enough to dampen the flames that had begun to blaze there and cause me to pull back. If only slightly.
I thought about apologising. I really did. I thought about saying something lame like, "Max, I'm so sorry. I never meant for that to happen." I thought about it, but that was all. There was no way I was going to out and out lie to her. Of course I meant for that to happen. It may have been evil, greedy, selfish, opportunistic, hell I didn't care what it was, but it was not a mistake and I was not sorry. So while I thought about being noble and saintly and tempering my desires for the sake of decency I decided to hell with being moral and righteous and noble and a gentleman and all those other worldly charms that made nice guys like Logan finish last and I kissed her again.
And this time she kissed me back.
But to say she kissed me back would once again be a lie. She didn't kiss me, she devoured me. She took possession of my lips, of my tongue and my mouth with such force that I thought she was trying to suck the life right out of me. The heat, the flavour... If this was drowning then I wanted to drown right then and there. There would be no question that I would die that death if she had continued her fevered plundering. Tongues sliding, lips groping, suction, nipping, biting, soothing. Oh god I wanted to climb down her throat. I knew every part of her mouth, my hands buried themselves deep within her hair, helping to anchor my lips to hers. We tilted and we breathed as one and there was no way, no way on earth or in the heavens and universe above that I was ever going to let go.
I have never before felt such total possession over another human being. I owned her in that moment. My hands branded her scalp, my lips seared hers. I felt like climbing inside her skin was the only thing that could save me from total molecular destruction. How on earth could I describe what she was doing to me. It was both the very best and worst of pleasure and pain. And the only words I could say to her, were, "Oh, Max."
To which she began to reply, "Loga-."
I wasn't surprised. She wore a dazed look on her face ever since I first noticed her staring at work in the morning. She was lost in her own world of grief. And to be honest I knew that. I did. I admit it. But hey, it didn't make a damn bit of difference at the time. I'd abandoned all those noble ideals, ethics were out the window, righteousness and morality were long since forgotten, remember? So I leaned in once more, except this time I pushed my whole body towards her. Our chests collapsed against one another, our legs rubbed and entwined and the friction we caused with other parts of our body nearly sent me exploding like a super nova.
Nearly.
My tongue swept over the insides of her cheeks and my thumbs brushed so heavily over her cheeks that I'm sure if she weren't part mutant there would have been bruises. My ears seem to be exploding every second or so with the sheer intensity of my heart beat resounding in their drums. It seemed like every synapse that my body possessed was firing simultaneously. Nothing had ever compared to this moment. It was like I was being born and dying at the same time. Had Manticore planned this all along? Were the sensations I was feeling part of their sick experiments? Had they genetically matched us so that our coupling would produce these results? Or was it our souls and not our bodies that were producing such a miracle that one would be forced to describe it as also a curse.
It was a curse.
No doubt about that. There was no way that I could ever live my life without this feeling. If I was to stop I would die. Sure of that as I was that I was sitting there. To be denied this would be death. Game over. End of Story. That's all she wrote. This had to be something Manticore designed. To become totally dependent on another X5 what a great way to keep us together and hence easier to find. That had to be it. Right?
Nothing felt more right than her gasp when I brought my hand down and cupped her breast. She arched so deeply into my hand that my other hand was forced to leave her hair to provide balance against the back of the sofa. Her fullness seemed to swell against my fingertips. Her passion seemed to mirror my own. But I wondered, as her hands suddenly found themselves on my arms, on my chest, hands tracing the lines of my jaw, was it passion that she was feeling?
Passion. Desire. Want. Need.
I felt all those feelings and so many more that were indescribable. I had been with other X5's when they were in heat and although some would argue that there were all the above emotions coursing through their systems during that "time for them, after their 'heat' period had passed, our coupling would all but be remembered as being passionate, desired, or wanted. It was duty.
Duty.
Obedience.
Loyalty.
Servitude.
So while Max's hand slipped towards my desire for her, I had to wonder. Was it really passion? Was it regret? I'm no Logan. But I never thought that Max was a "any port in a storm" kind of girl. Hell, I know she isn't. There's no way she was thinking of me as a substitute for Logan. She thought I *was* Logan. In her grief, somehow she had transformed me into him.
I could have made her believe.
I could have turned out the lights, shrouded us in darkness and then I could have been anyone she damn well wanted me to be. She'd never been intimate with him, fucked his brains out, whatever you want to call it. She would never know the familiar feel of his lips on her nipple, the pressure his fingers used in coaxing her towards her release. I could impersonate him. Hell, it was one of my training courses - assuming identities, adopting disguises, passing yourself for something you're not. Useful tools as a Manticore soldier. I was a top student. I proved my effectiveness with Rachel and her father. I was a damn good soldier. Thorough. Sentimental, yes, but thorough. I could have fooled her... yeah, even her.
But I couldn't fool myself.
If it was just about need; if it was only about desire, then what was I doing here with her? I could sate my desire, satisfy my "needs" in any number of ways with any number of women. I could have fooled her into thinking it was Logan's hands that were stroking her thighs, his tongue that was delving into her belly button, but that's not what I wanted.
I wanted her to know it was me pleasuring her. I wanted her to find her release while breathing my name, not the name of a ghost, the Logan of Christmas past, impossible future - whatever.
I wanted her eyes to speak of my worthiness... fuck.
I wanted to hear one word. One word would have done it. One fucking word.
"Alec."
She would name me and I really would have been born. The day she named me at Manticore was probably my conception if you want to get all psycho analytical about it. She had planted the seeds, the thought of me existing as an individual, a human being with his own personality, his own right to life. But to hear her say my name, in the throes of passion, in ecstasy, while she came so hard from her orgasm that she saw stars, that would be my birth. I would have arrived in this world, right at that moment.
My whole fucking existence would have been acknowledged. By someone. By the only one.
And all of the pain of living, all of the misery, that I had never known until she was the one to show me otherwise would have been worth it at that moment.
At the moment she said my name.
"Logan," she whispered, as my hand snaked between her legs.
Shit.
If ever a male Manticore soldier such as myself had felt like crying, it was then.
Who was I kidding.
I couldn't do this, just as I knew that she shouldn't do this.
I pushed her away from me.
"No."
That was all that was needed. One simple word. One forced simple word, that seem to shock her to her senses.
I looked into her eyes. Really looked into her eyes, for the first time since we had been in my apartment.
"We can't do this." I said.
And I hated myself for saying it. For so many reason, Of course we could do it, if only we denied that we each had a soul for a moment or two. Of course we could do this if there was no way we'd ever remember it afterwards, but there was no way that was ever going to be likely. Of course we could do this, if Max was still immersed in her grief-induced delusion that made her think that I was the love of her life. I hated myself for saying those words to her for all those reasons - but mostly because it released the tears that now flowed freely down her cheeks.
She was crying.
She was sobbing.
She was breaking.
She was dying.
And there was nothing I could do to resurrect her... because I wasn't Logan.
"I can't believe I..." she trailed off.
"No. Max, *you* didn't." I began
"I can't believe... Logan... Oh god..."
Talk about crushing a guy's ego. But I knew how she felt.
She loathed herself.
Betrayed.
She had betrayed him, or she thought she had betrayed him.
Just like I felt like I had betrayed Rachel. The difference being she had an excuse and I didn't. "I was just following orders," just doesn't seem to cut it in retrospect, not when you were talking about one of the people you had loved during your lifetime.
"How could I?" she was asking herself. Funny. I had asked myself that same question.
"Max-" I tried.
"He'll never forgive me... forgiveness... huh... I have no right to ask for his forgiveness..."
And that's when I couldn't stand it.
That's when it happened.
I killed myself. Right then. Right there. I made the decision to lay my life, my existence on the line. I took a bullet. And I welcomed the pain. Hit directly through the heart. I could not allow her to blame herself for something that was not her fault. She hadn't planned it. She hadn't asked for it. Hell, she hadn't even thought about being with me, she had been thinking about *him* all the damn time. And yet she was taking full responsibility. Forgiveness? She was asking for his forgiveness? I should have been begging for her forgiveness.
There was no way she was going to release herself from the self torment that was going to follow. I knew - from experience I knew this. It was always going to haunt her. She would lie awake at night and think of this time. She would hate herself, loath herself, question her place on the face of the earth, question her place in the lives of those around her, one person in particular, question her very existence. And no matter what she did from now on she would force herself to try and measure up somehow... whatever she did she would compare it to this moment... the one moment when she truly failed... failed him... failed her... failed their future.
Unless...
Unless I could make this not about *her*. Not about what she did or didn't do... If it wasn't about her then she couldn't fail. She wouldn't be measuring herself against her actions. She wouldn't be questioning herself for the rest of hr life. She wouldn't need to avoid Logan's gaze for fear of what he may see lurking in her eyes... for fear that he may see the horrendous truth about herself... for fear that he wouldn't look back at her with forgiveness. He could forgive her ... if this wasn't about her. She could forgive herself if it wasn't about herself.
And so I died a death ... as I have lived a life.
I took her.
There are no words other than those to describe it. I made this all about me, not her. The hate she would feel would now be for me, not herself. The hate that Logan would feel would now be for me. I sanctified her at he same time as damning myself. It was what I had always hoped for... but it was also the things my nightmares were made of. I can't describe what happened, other than to say it was torture. More so for her than for me. Having someone dominate you like I did her would have to have been worse - no question. But I wasn't surprised to find that through my grunts, my tears mingled with her own. My eyes screwed themselves shut as tightly in force as every part of her body did... And as much as she hated me, as much as she protested, fought, screamed, begged, cursed, it was not nearly as much as I screamed and cursed and even begged myself deep down inside.
A part of me wished that I could have enjoyed a single moment of the experience but that would never be the case. As my release came upon me, my hands tired from their grip on her wrists, there was no sense of fulfilment other than it was finally over.
Over...
Everything was over.
Any chance I had at being a friend of hers... over.
Any chance I had of living a normal life... over.
Any chance of ever being her saviour was over.
I thought I was... saving her, that is. Saving her from herself. But as she cried, her heart breaking in tones that could never be heard with the perceived loss of Logan's love, there was no way that she was saved.
She was as damned as I was.
No. I had damned her more.
What had I been thinking?
There was no way that she could hate me more than I hate myself.
She cried , sobbed and the rest of me, the remnants of my being, shattered when she dressed and fled. She knew. I knew.
So much pain.
Pain that would never go away.
And I shall die a death as I have lived a life...
The End
Feedback please, I need to cleanse my soul after this. Rhasa4@yahoo.com
Feedback: I would love to hear from... well anyone. I don't even know if I'm posting this right. I hate what I did to the characters in this piece, but the idea just wouldn't leave me. Let me know what you think Rhasa4@yahoo.com
To Love 1/1 by Rhasa
"So how'd it go?"
"I don't want to talk about it."
"Okay."
I let it go. I could see she was upset. There was no way she was going to open up to me and I'm not sure that I really wanted her to. Well, no, that's not entirely true. Of course I wanted her to open up to me. I wanted her to bare her soul to me but not if it contained any thoughts of Logan.
I still don't understand just what it is about her. What are the qualities that make her so different to any other woman I have ever known. That in and of itself is really a ridiculous thought. Most of the women I have known have had certain qualities that would make a normal man's head spin - but then again I am not a normal man. I've had other breeding partners. Before Max came I had been with half a dozen X5's. But there is something about her... I used to think that it was her sense of justice, her individuality her desire to be free, owned by no man. But that's not really it.
They say she is perfect. She is special. She has something that They desire. Something invaluable, highly prized. the only thing I can think of is her passion. No one else from inside or outside of Manticore has passion like Max. And that passion comes in so many forms. She has a passion for justice, she likes to make the bad guys pay - big time- as she would say - but it's a form of passion. She has a passion for the weak, the hurt, vulnerable, outsiders - Joshua is proof enough of that, but the passion she has for those she's close to is something else altogether.
I never even considered that I would have entered her thoughts when I was going through my own private "Rachel-hell", but somehow I did. She cared. She cared about how I was feeling, what I was going through. She didn't save my ass to prove a point, to make me indebted to her, and believe me I have come across a few individuals who have had that agenda in mind in their dealings with me in the past - she saved my butt because she could see how much pain I was in. She did it just for me. To make me feel better. For my sake. No one has ever done anything for me for just my sake ever before. She has this passion for her friends that is truly unique. But her passion for Logan is something else entirely.
The way she looks at him...
I wish she would look at me that way. To be the focus of her universe is to be in a world all your own. Does that schmuck know how lucky he is? I guess he does, Asha told me that he never gave up on her; that he was devastated by her apparent death but still he never gave up hope...
Talk about dedication.
How pathetic.
But then I can't talk.
I can see what he sees in her.
I would lay down my life for her.
I can't help it. Somehow, and I'm still trying to figure out how exactly, she's gotten so far under my skin, so deep inside that I can't seem to let the thought of her go. I don't know if we belong together, but I sure as hell want her like I have never wanted another woman in my life before. And I'm not just talking about sex here either - yeah aint' that a surprise. I'm talking about... hell I don't know. I want her approval. I want her to be proud of me. I want her to think of me and smile, I want her to hold me and somehow fill that hole inside of me that I have only known existed since my escape from Manticore - that emptiness, that loneliness, that void... I know Max's touch could fill that.
But who am I kidding. That's never going to happen. Not in this lifetime, pal. All her thoughts, all her smiles, her hugs, if she could hug him, are for Logan. Logan is the centre of her universe. Not me.
I'm going crazy thinking of all this stuff. I need a drink. Several drinks. Who knows perhaps I'll run into Asha - she's no Max but I'll guess she'll do. I feel sorry for her. I figure she feels the same way about Logan as I do about Max. Unrequited love is a bitch.
Maybe if I fuck Asha's brains out, I'll forget about Max for an hour or so.
Doubt it.
I could bury myself deep inside her and pray that I would be burying my soul. Who knows I might even find the experience pleasurable, although sex has been all but pleasurable since I was assigned as a breeding partner to Max Guevera.
Before meeting Max, no X5 had refused me. Hell, since meeting Max no X5 or civilian has refused me if I have really tried. I guess if there was all that pseudo psycho bullshit that used to pass for pre pulse therapy around then theories would abound that I'm only infatuated with Max, I only want her badly, because I know I can't have her.
And maybe they'd be right. Part of me hopes they'd be right. I hope that someone will explain this little situation I seem to have gotten myself into. Maybe there's a cure. I thought for a short time that Rachel, back from the dead, could possibly be a cure. I had loved Rachel once. In a lot of ways, Max reminds me of Rachel. hell, wouldn't a shrink have a field day with that little revelation. There are the physical similarities of course, okay so not much of a physical similarity - dark hair, beautiful face, deep mysterious eyes... But there are other things, subtle things, mannerisms that others would have not catalogued and referenced that are only known to me. They share some of those. Maybe it's the familiarity that makes me so smitten with Max. No, Max could never be someone you could become entirely familiar with. She's an enigma.
Oh god, deliver me.
I wish there was a god. Then she would really be an angel. A dark mysterious angel...
To be revered and never to be touched.
Untouchable Max. Well she was within arms reach for a moment there. Ten hours may not seem like much to the average Joe but to me it would have been enough. I couldn't believe it when I worked out that they hadn't consummated their relationship within that time frame much less in the year they had known each other before her resurrection from the dead at Manticore. What the hell were they waiting for. I swear if I was Logan I would have taken her right there on the cold floorboards of his apartment in the first five minutes. Damn gossamer. I would have then taken her every other place I could have imagined given a ten hour time frame. What such a blessing would have done to my soul. The act of loving her would have transpired the mere physical release.
But somehow Logan and Max screwed it up - again. Which makes me wonder if they really do want to get together. I mean anyone else in their right mind would have forgone the foreplay. What are they trying to prove to one another? Are they scared of the real thing? Have they made the not having one another so big a deal that to actually have one another would mean only disappointment to them??? What is it with those two??
I may not understand their needs but I respect them. I gave them some privacy in the last few minutes they could hang on to one another. Not much good it did them though.
It was a few hours later that I found Max sitting in an old Chevrolet crying her eyes out.
"So how'd it go?"
"I don't want to talk about it."
"Okay."
I let it go. I could see she was upset. There was no way she was going to open up to me and I'm not sure that I really wanted her to. Well, no, that's not entirely true. Of course I wanted her to open up to me. I wanted her to bare her soul to me but not if her confessions contained any thoughts of Logan.
I wasn't surprised that she kept me at arm's length. It's not like we've ever been close - despite how much I would like us to be. But I had to wonder, did she need me, when a few days later she walked into Jam Pony looking like she had done nothing but sob her eyes out for the past few days.
I couldn't bear it any longer. I knew any attempts at conversation I'd make would be shot down. That was Max's style. But I couldn't help myself. I walked up to her as she leant her forehead against her locker door and asked her how she was doing.
She shook her head. A surprise.
"He kissed me as if he was kissing me goodbye. Who knows. Maybe he was. Maybe this is goodbye. He said that if he had that year back again he would do things different... Maybe he meant that he would never have allowed himself to fall in love with me. Maybe he wishes that I would have never entered his life. Regrets... So many regrets..."
She never looked at me once during her little speech. I don't know if she even really knew that I was there. A tear rolled down her cheek and I can honestly say that in that moment I knew, for the very first time despite my time with and without Rachel, that my heart just broke.
I couldn't play the tough uncaring guy any longer. Her pain was my pain and I didn't want to feel that pain any longer.
I merely reached out for her, tugged her close with an arm around her waist, rested her cheek against my shoulder and hugged her with as much feeling, love and protection that I thought ever existed in my soul.
Her grip on my jacket was tight. She was drowning. The only thing that mattered to me was to save her from the depths she found herself in.
I really don't know what I said to her, or what I said to those around me. I can't remember much except for the lump I found wedged in my throat all the ride back to my apartment, that and her small, but deadly, strong fists clasped against my chest and the wet tracks her tears made down the front of my shirt.
I can't imagine myself whispering soothingly in her ear, but I must have done. She rewarded me with a small smile when I opened the door to my place and half carried her inside. She was in bad shape. I knew that. And that's what I keep telling myself to justify why I took her home with me in the first place. She was in bad shape and she needed someone just like herself to understand what it meant to think you've lost the love of your life. Afterall, I had ample experience in that area, despite her not knowing that. Thinking those thoughts her words brought me out of the fog that I was in.
"...I never thought you would understand," she was saying to me while looking into my eyes with an expression of wonderment on her face. "I guess your time with Rachel taught you that you have to take the moment when it presents itself to you, and not to wait - for anything."
What was she saying? She meant Logan, right? She shouldn't have waited with Logan, for Logan. She should have taken her chance. That's what she meant. I knew that's what she meant but I wanted her to mean something else, something different, something else entirely different.
I couldn't help myself. I leaned forward and I kissed her. I'm vaguely aware of reaching out. I seem to faintly recall my grabbing her by the biceps, gently pulling her towards me and sinking my lips onto her own. And beyond everything else I recall the taste, that sweetness and I don't mean sweetness as in "chaste" but literally the taste of sugar or syrup or honey, a sweetness on her lips that made me want nothing but to sweep my tongue across them time and time again to gather all the nectar that must has resided there. Oh God.
God oh god oh god.
My lips were on fire.
I was burning from within.
I was pure heat, liquid heat and she did nothing to extinguish me.
She should have. She should have doused me with her anger.
But all she gave me was her shock and her confusion.
I don't know how long I was pressed against her. It was both too long and not nearly long enough. It could never be long enough.
A small gasp sent a breath across my cheek, enough to dampen the flames that had begun to blaze there and cause me to pull back. If only slightly.
I thought about apologising. I really did. I thought about saying something lame like, "Max, I'm so sorry. I never meant for that to happen." I thought about it, but that was all. There was no way I was going to out and out lie to her. Of course I meant for that to happen. It may have been evil, greedy, selfish, opportunistic, hell I didn't care what it was, but it was not a mistake and I was not sorry. So while I thought about being noble and saintly and tempering my desires for the sake of decency I decided to hell with being moral and righteous and noble and a gentleman and all those other worldly charms that made nice guys like Logan finish last and I kissed her again.
And this time she kissed me back.
But to say she kissed me back would once again be a lie. She didn't kiss me, she devoured me. She took possession of my lips, of my tongue and my mouth with such force that I thought she was trying to suck the life right out of me. The heat, the flavour... If this was drowning then I wanted to drown right then and there. There would be no question that I would die that death if she had continued her fevered plundering. Tongues sliding, lips groping, suction, nipping, biting, soothing. Oh god I wanted to climb down her throat. I knew every part of her mouth, my hands buried themselves deep within her hair, helping to anchor my lips to hers. We tilted and we breathed as one and there was no way, no way on earth or in the heavens and universe above that I was ever going to let go.
I have never before felt such total possession over another human being. I owned her in that moment. My hands branded her scalp, my lips seared hers. I felt like climbing inside her skin was the only thing that could save me from total molecular destruction. How on earth could I describe what she was doing to me. It was both the very best and worst of pleasure and pain. And the only words I could say to her, were, "Oh, Max."
To which she began to reply, "Loga-."
I wasn't surprised. She wore a dazed look on her face ever since I first noticed her staring at work in the morning. She was lost in her own world of grief. And to be honest I knew that. I did. I admit it. But hey, it didn't make a damn bit of difference at the time. I'd abandoned all those noble ideals, ethics were out the window, righteousness and morality were long since forgotten, remember? So I leaned in once more, except this time I pushed my whole body towards her. Our chests collapsed against one another, our legs rubbed and entwined and the friction we caused with other parts of our body nearly sent me exploding like a super nova.
Nearly.
My tongue swept over the insides of her cheeks and my thumbs brushed so heavily over her cheeks that I'm sure if she weren't part mutant there would have been bruises. My ears seem to be exploding every second or so with the sheer intensity of my heart beat resounding in their drums. It seemed like every synapse that my body possessed was firing simultaneously. Nothing had ever compared to this moment. It was like I was being born and dying at the same time. Had Manticore planned this all along? Were the sensations I was feeling part of their sick experiments? Had they genetically matched us so that our coupling would produce these results? Or was it our souls and not our bodies that were producing such a miracle that one would be forced to describe it as also a curse.
It was a curse.
No doubt about that. There was no way that I could ever live my life without this feeling. If I was to stop I would die. Sure of that as I was that I was sitting there. To be denied this would be death. Game over. End of Story. That's all she wrote. This had to be something Manticore designed. To become totally dependent on another X5 what a great way to keep us together and hence easier to find. That had to be it. Right?
Nothing felt more right than her gasp when I brought my hand down and cupped her breast. She arched so deeply into my hand that my other hand was forced to leave her hair to provide balance against the back of the sofa. Her fullness seemed to swell against my fingertips. Her passion seemed to mirror my own. But I wondered, as her hands suddenly found themselves on my arms, on my chest, hands tracing the lines of my jaw, was it passion that she was feeling?
Passion. Desire. Want. Need.
I felt all those feelings and so many more that were indescribable. I had been with other X5's when they were in heat and although some would argue that there were all the above emotions coursing through their systems during that "time for them, after their 'heat' period had passed, our coupling would all but be remembered as being passionate, desired, or wanted. It was duty.
Duty.
Obedience.
Loyalty.
Servitude.
So while Max's hand slipped towards my desire for her, I had to wonder. Was it really passion? Was it regret? I'm no Logan. But I never thought that Max was a "any port in a storm" kind of girl. Hell, I know she isn't. There's no way she was thinking of me as a substitute for Logan. She thought I *was* Logan. In her grief, somehow she had transformed me into him.
I could have made her believe.
I could have turned out the lights, shrouded us in darkness and then I could have been anyone she damn well wanted me to be. She'd never been intimate with him, fucked his brains out, whatever you want to call it. She would never know the familiar feel of his lips on her nipple, the pressure his fingers used in coaxing her towards her release. I could impersonate him. Hell, it was one of my training courses - assuming identities, adopting disguises, passing yourself for something you're not. Useful tools as a Manticore soldier. I was a top student. I proved my effectiveness with Rachel and her father. I was a damn good soldier. Thorough. Sentimental, yes, but thorough. I could have fooled her... yeah, even her.
But I couldn't fool myself.
If it was just about need; if it was only about desire, then what was I doing here with her? I could sate my desire, satisfy my "needs" in any number of ways with any number of women. I could have fooled her into thinking it was Logan's hands that were stroking her thighs, his tongue that was delving into her belly button, but that's not what I wanted.
I wanted her to know it was me pleasuring her. I wanted her to find her release while breathing my name, not the name of a ghost, the Logan of Christmas past, impossible future - whatever.
I wanted her eyes to speak of my worthiness... fuck.
I wanted to hear one word. One word would have done it. One fucking word.
"Alec."
She would name me and I really would have been born. The day she named me at Manticore was probably my conception if you want to get all psycho analytical about it. She had planted the seeds, the thought of me existing as an individual, a human being with his own personality, his own right to life. But to hear her say my name, in the throes of passion, in ecstasy, while she came so hard from her orgasm that she saw stars, that would be my birth. I would have arrived in this world, right at that moment.
My whole fucking existence would have been acknowledged. By someone. By the only one.
And all of the pain of living, all of the misery, that I had never known until she was the one to show me otherwise would have been worth it at that moment.
At the moment she said my name.
"Logan," she whispered, as my hand snaked between her legs.
Shit.
If ever a male Manticore soldier such as myself had felt like crying, it was then.
Who was I kidding.
I couldn't do this, just as I knew that she shouldn't do this.
I pushed her away from me.
"No."
That was all that was needed. One simple word. One forced simple word, that seem to shock her to her senses.
I looked into her eyes. Really looked into her eyes, for the first time since we had been in my apartment.
"We can't do this." I said.
And I hated myself for saying it. For so many reason, Of course we could do it, if only we denied that we each had a soul for a moment or two. Of course we could do this if there was no way we'd ever remember it afterwards, but there was no way that was ever going to be likely. Of course we could do this, if Max was still immersed in her grief-induced delusion that made her think that I was the love of her life. I hated myself for saying those words to her for all those reasons - but mostly because it released the tears that now flowed freely down her cheeks.
She was crying.
She was sobbing.
She was breaking.
She was dying.
And there was nothing I could do to resurrect her... because I wasn't Logan.
"I can't believe I..." she trailed off.
"No. Max, *you* didn't." I began
"I can't believe... Logan... Oh god..."
Talk about crushing a guy's ego. But I knew how she felt.
She loathed herself.
Betrayed.
She had betrayed him, or she thought she had betrayed him.
Just like I felt like I had betrayed Rachel. The difference being she had an excuse and I didn't. "I was just following orders," just doesn't seem to cut it in retrospect, not when you were talking about one of the people you had loved during your lifetime.
"How could I?" she was asking herself. Funny. I had asked myself that same question.
"Max-" I tried.
"He'll never forgive me... forgiveness... huh... I have no right to ask for his forgiveness..."
And that's when I couldn't stand it.
That's when it happened.
I killed myself. Right then. Right there. I made the decision to lay my life, my existence on the line. I took a bullet. And I welcomed the pain. Hit directly through the heart. I could not allow her to blame herself for something that was not her fault. She hadn't planned it. She hadn't asked for it. Hell, she hadn't even thought about being with me, she had been thinking about *him* all the damn time. And yet she was taking full responsibility. Forgiveness? She was asking for his forgiveness? I should have been begging for her forgiveness.
There was no way she was going to release herself from the self torment that was going to follow. I knew - from experience I knew this. It was always going to haunt her. She would lie awake at night and think of this time. She would hate herself, loath herself, question her place on the face of the earth, question her place in the lives of those around her, one person in particular, question her very existence. And no matter what she did from now on she would force herself to try and measure up somehow... whatever she did she would compare it to this moment... the one moment when she truly failed... failed him... failed her... failed their future.
Unless...
Unless I could make this not about *her*. Not about what she did or didn't do... If it wasn't about her then she couldn't fail. She wouldn't be measuring herself against her actions. She wouldn't be questioning herself for the rest of hr life. She wouldn't need to avoid Logan's gaze for fear of what he may see lurking in her eyes... for fear that he may see the horrendous truth about herself... for fear that he wouldn't look back at her with forgiveness. He could forgive her ... if this wasn't about her. She could forgive herself if it wasn't about herself.
And so I died a death ... as I have lived a life.
I took her.
There are no words other than those to describe it. I made this all about me, not her. The hate she would feel would now be for me, not herself. The hate that Logan would feel would now be for me. I sanctified her at he same time as damning myself. It was what I had always hoped for... but it was also the things my nightmares were made of. I can't describe what happened, other than to say it was torture. More so for her than for me. Having someone dominate you like I did her would have to have been worse - no question. But I wasn't surprised to find that through my grunts, my tears mingled with her own. My eyes screwed themselves shut as tightly in force as every part of her body did... And as much as she hated me, as much as she protested, fought, screamed, begged, cursed, it was not nearly as much as I screamed and cursed and even begged myself deep down inside.
A part of me wished that I could have enjoyed a single moment of the experience but that would never be the case. As my release came upon me, my hands tired from their grip on her wrists, there was no sense of fulfilment other than it was finally over.
Over...
Everything was over.
Any chance I had at being a friend of hers... over.
Any chance I had of living a normal life... over.
Any chance of ever being her saviour was over.
I thought I was... saving her, that is. Saving her from herself. But as she cried, her heart breaking in tones that could never be heard with the perceived loss of Logan's love, there was no way that she was saved.
She was as damned as I was.
No. I had damned her more.
What had I been thinking?
There was no way that she could hate me more than I hate myself.
She cried , sobbed and the rest of me, the remnants of my being, shattered when she dressed and fled. She knew. I knew.
So much pain.
Pain that would never go away.
And I shall die a death as I have lived a life...
The End
Feedback please, I need to cleanse my soul after this. Rhasa4@yahoo.com