Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I don't own Dark Angel.

A/N: This story was originally started 2006 but never finished. I decided to restart the project. Every chapter is going to be rewritten because I didn't like the original. So for old fans of the story things are going to be shifted around in the rewritten chapters. Thanks for reading.

Her heart beat against her ribcage trying desperately to get out. She ran the adrenaline coursing through her veins as she pounded through the woods. She couldn't understand—or maybe she didn't want—what had broken him so much.

He didn't see himself as broken or at least that was what he told himself every night to ease his conscious. He was doing exactly what the designed him to do, systematically take lives. It was his mission now and the mission was all that mattered.

He couldn't stop. Who knew what would happen if he ceased. This was the closest to normal he had ever reached. Normalcy didn't exist for people like them.

No killing was the only thing he had. Anyone could kill not just genetically engineered soldiers. It was so simple, so instinctual.

It was habit. It was routine. It was the never ending pattern that all predators followed. Locate the prey, stalk it, hunt, and then use it fulfill your needs and then repeat. His sacrifices at the church were his way of making sure that the human life was valued.

Picking a target this time was too difficult. He never searched out his targets normally they just happened upon him. The hunt this time also had a snag. She was there.

"Ben, why are you doing this?"

"You know why."

Out of all the others that could've found him it had to be. She was possibly the only one that could understand. She knew what it was like to few the itch of the predatory claws digging deep into her. The inner demon that all transgencis had was not dormant in Max as it was not dormant in him. She too could hear her inner animal call out to her to be the predators she was meant to be but unlike him she ignored it. She ignored what she was and pretended to be human.

"Not that I mind your one of the people who could possibly understand."

"That's where you're wrong. I don't understand."

"Come on Maxie! Don't tell me you've forgotten that day."

"Believe me, I tried."

"But you can't can you? Do you want to know why? Because it was the most exhilarating day of your life. For one brief moment you were what you were meant to be—a predator."

She couldn't stop him no matter what they had been to each other before. But she could evoke the one emotion he thought long dead: guilt.

It was guilt and the memory of her eyes that drove him to the confessional. Her eyes had always gotten him to do whatever she wanted. Confession was where a person was supposed to be absolved of their sins and he had a lot of them. There was blood not only his hands but on his entire being. The red stain that he couldn't get rid or wipe away.

Sometimes when he was alone in the dark he felt guilt for the killings. At other times he admitted that it was the natural order of the world, survival of the fittest.

Manticore had taught him that. Kill they had told him and he had happily complied. It was kill or be taken to the Nomalies. Kill or no longer exist. Kill or be killed.

Would this cycle of killing never end? Would one of his victims finally get up the nerve and the strength to kill him? Would they kill him coldly and efficiently or would they torture him?

He wanted it to end. He wanted there to be someone who would kill him coldly like he killed his prey. It would be easier to be dead instead of living. In death he wouldn't be alone. He wouldn't be the only one. Damn Zack for separating them.

He hated being alone.

"I've killed."

He couldn't see the man on the other side. The screen affected his view but he would rather it was an anonymous stranger. Someone who he wouldn't worry about looking in the eye afterwards.

"Go on," the priest said.

"I've taken human life. What more is there to say?"

His anger was beginning to break out of its neat little cage. This man—how could he possibly understand what killing was?

"Murder is a grave sin, yes. But killing in self defense or to prevent an injustice like when a policeman or soldier—"

"I'm a soldier."

Did that justify anything? What else did soldiers do besides kill? He had been a custom designed killer.

"I see."

"Killing is what I was trained to do," he said factually.

"You're troubled by it. That's why you're here now."

"Sometimes I feel the Lady has given up on me."

What would he do if she had? There would be no where to turn. He had left Zack's care long ago and he wasn't willing to crawl back to his CO. The Lady was all he was living for now.

"No, she never gives up on any of us. We have to have faith in her."

"I try."

"We have to put our lives in her hands," the priest said firmly.

His eyes lit up when he heard this.

"Is your life in her hands?" he asked trying not to sound so eager.
"She is always by my side."

"She protects you?"

She had failed to protect Jack and Eva but if she protected the priest—

"She's always there to help me."

His eyes began to turn a feral green-gold.

"Then you've got nothing to be afraid of."

He punched through the grating and dragged the priest out of the confessional. He blurred past the on looking parishioners..

The priest, Destry, was his prey. He taught him to use a gun and tattooed his barcode on Destry's neck. Killing the prey without either one was unacceptable. The gun—it was necessary the prey be armed. The prey had to stand a chance to escape the predator. The tattoo—it was his signature proving he had done this.

He would burn for this. He was committing the ultimate sin by giving the prey and himself false hope. This man would die like all the others had died unless his Maxie intervened.

He had been threatened when he heard her come up behind him but that changed when he recognized her. This was his Maxie after all but it was still strange. Even after ten years of not seeing each other they could still read each other like a book. She knew him by just a glance. One look at her was enough for him to tell that she hadn't accepted what she was.

"Don't tell me that you don't wake up with the sound of your heart beating in your ears."

"Shut up."

"Or the taste of blood in your mouth."

"Shut up!"

"You're like a wolf in sheep's clothing, Max! You're hiding your instincts, every minute of everyday so no one will know what you really are. A soldier…a hunter…a killer."

"SHUT UP!"

Max had known he was the killer when she saw him. He was beautiful and his hazel eyes could cause her to drown if they weren't so tormented. He had a haunted look to him and his insanity was evident. He was beautiful and out of his mind. He had become a killer, a hunter, and a psycho in ten years of separation.

His eyes had roamed her body and searched her face. Gone was the little girl he had made shadow puppets for. Here was a grown woman—beautiful. Her brown eyes still held the same passion, fight, and spirit but he could see that they were beginning to dim. Something was making her change. Something was trying to enhance perfection but was only destroying it.

She followed him through the woods. Her heart was beating fast as she chased after him. He was faster not only due to his design but also to his continual training. He led into the woods that would become the background of her nightmares. She fought to save him and perhaps to save herself.

She too was slipping. There was a part of her that wanted to do what they were made to do. She wanted to run as fast as possible and due physics defying acrobatics. She wanted to stop hiding and just live without the shadow of Manticore.

She could hear his hard harsh breathing as they fought. She didn't want to fight him. She had tried to reason with him but how could you reason with a madman? She had to stop him before he got himself killed. She didn't care about the risk of exposure. She was more afraid for him.

Not only because he was insane but because he was her Ben.

"Max, are you alright?"

Logan's voice pulled out of the memory.

"Sorry Logan, I was just lost in some memories."

"We're they good ones of us?"

It was their weekly dinner. It was a dinner that Max had almost canceled because of what today was. The anniversary of—She could see his smile and the shadows dancing on the walls. The shadows that had chased away her childhood nightmares and lured her to sleep.

She couldn't think about this now. Logan was looking at her wondering why she hadn't answered.

"It's not something I want to go into."

Logan frowned she wasn't supposed to be thinking of anything other than them and this moment.

"Max, we need to think about our future," he said grasping her hand.

She should've suspected something like this. Part of her had hoped, and prayed that Logan would remember what today was. It wasn't something she could pretend had never happened. For two years she had dealt with the fact that she was killer. That woods—

It haunted her nightmares and was ingrained into her soul. His pleading was still the back her mind. She could see his eyes burning green gold. She could see his smile, a smile so innocent it was difficult to believe it belonged to a killer. She could not forget. Never could she forget Ben.

Why should she expect Logan to notice something like this? He didn't even notice that she had distanced herself from him. She avoided his calls and coming to his apartment except for their weekly dinners.

Instead he kept trying to offer her things like the apartment. When she refused he just assumed it was because she wasn't ready.

The virus was no longer an issue. They had gotten the cure months ago. At first, Max couldn't contain her excitement. At last she could be with the man she loved. At first it had been amazing just to hold his hand and to sit next to him and not worry about accidentally touching but then the novelty of it all had worn off.

Finally they gave in to their desire and consummated their love. But afterwards Max had felt empty and incomplete as if she had made a huge mistake. It was the beginning of the end of the relationship.

Logan continued to think their relationship was fine. He came to TC or Jam Pony to see Max. He had shown up at her apartment with his list of plans to compare with OC. For months he had planned this dinner.

It was April 17th, eighteen months since he and Max had began officially dating. He felt the ring grow warm in his pocket. He couldn't wait to slip it on her finger.

Max sat there trying to drown her troubles in her champagne. She continuously refilled her glass knowing full well she wouldn't get drunk.

It was April 17th, two years since she had killed Ben. She couldn't wait to leave the table and go home to the silence of her apartment. Max felt extreme pain as she tried to fake having a good time at the dinner.

Logan's plans for the dinner had reached the utter romantic. He had bought Max the black silk dress she was wearing. It was low cut and somewhat revealing.

Max shivered in her dress. The fabric was barely keeping her warm and the heels on her feet were a size too small.

All day Logan had cooked. There had been his famous pasta smothered in pesto sauce with chicken on the side. Then there was caviar and shrimp. His last bottle of prepulse champagne was on the lace covered table. There were rose petals covering his bed. Tonight was the night though that they would finally show how committed they were to each other.

She heard the crack in horror. When he stumbled she thought he was trying to lure her in closer but when he kept trying to stand and his face—she would never forget that expression of helplessness. He kept falling and she watched the pit of her stomach rebelling.

What had she done?

She pulled him closer to her. He was scared and so was she. This wasn't Zack she was fighting. This was Ben.

She cradled his head in her lap. His hazel eyes were terrified. She wanted to say it was alright. She wanted to make so that they had never come to this point.

The whirling sound of helicopters didn't allow her time to come up with a plan. Their eyes met knowing full well what that sound meant. Manticore was coming.

"Don't leave me here. Don't let them take me," he begged his eyes gazing into hers.

"Ben, I can't carry you. We'll both get caught."

"I know."

He didn't ask her out loud but his eyes pleaded for her to do it.

"Ben, I can't," she replied her voice etched with grief.

"Please, you know what they'll do to me. They'll put me down there with them, the nomalies. Please," he begged sounding like a terrified little boy.

"Tell me about the good place," she said.

He smiled before replying, "Where no one gets punished."

"And no one gets yelled at," she said softly.

"And nobody disappears. And when you wake up in the morning, you can stay in bed as long as –"

CRACK!

She stared at her hands in horror. She couldn't do anything. She couldn't drag him with her. She ran leaving the body behind knowing that she carried this new sin.

"Max, are you alright?"

Max didn't look Logan in the eyes. The memory played over and over again in her head. "Logan, do you know what today is?" she asked in a shaky voice.

"Yes, it's our year and a half anniversary," he answered dropping down on one knee.

Max stared at him in horror. She felt herself becoming sick as she watched him reach into his pocket and pulled out a ring.

"Max Guevara, I have loved you for a long time. I want you to be my everything. Will you be my wife?" Logan asked hope shining widely in his eyes.

Max did the one thing she could do. She ran.

"What's the matter, Maxie? You afraid to remember?"

"I don't want to remember."

I really don't want to remember, Ben.

To be continued…