Disclaimer: No money is being made off this story. The characters belong entirely to their creators James Cameron and Charles Eglee.
Circular
By Abby Russell
On a clear night you can see forever. Maybe that works in other places, but in Seattle you can only see a few miles around. Even on top of the old Needle. I always come up here to think, to see things clearly, but like the clouded sky, my thoughts just keep gettin' fuzzier.
Would you listen to me, gettin' all philosophic. I've been hangin' around Logan too much.
He's the reason my life's gotten even more complicated than usual anyway. Before him I just did my thing, kept my head down. Then I meet him and 48 hours later I'm gettin' chased by Lydecker and those bastards. I never used to spend my time helping the downtrodden, fighting for truth, justice and the American way, whatever the hell that means.
And were does he get off, tryin' to guilt me into help him on his idiotic crusade? All I ever wanted was to get on with my life, and find the others. Maybe find my mom. Now he thinks that just because he blames me for getting his ass shot off, I have to help him.
Just today he's got me going all over Washington to bring to justice some drug runner who was "making his fortune off the suffering of the innocent." Someone should tell him that the innocent don't exist and that justice crashed along with the computers back in '09. But that's not gonna' be me. And I waist all this time 'cause he says he's got some info on the others. Turned out it was a lead on some drugged up runaway living in one of the slums that used to be a suburb.
I don't care what he thinks I owe him. Or what he thinks is right. I also don't care what stupid ideas he's got about being love with me. I know he's got it in his head that he is; I've seen him watching me when he thinks I don't know. I've known the guy, what? Three weeks? Crap like that only happens in bad movies and old soap operas. It's not like his unbelievable flattery meant anything to me, not really. Who does he think he is, anyway, blackmailing me into working for him?
And around my thoughts go and away the hours pass in my place above a crippled city. After a while a shrill beep interrupts my thoughts. It's Logan, I gotta' go.
______________________________________
Author's groveling request: Please review. Any response is good, even if you think I'm a raving psychotic who wouldn't know a good fic if it bit me on the ass. Remember; the review box is your friend.