Disclaimer: I don't own Dark Angel.
A/N: Many thanks to Shywriter for suggestions and corrections and helping me out with her huge mental thesaurus.
Despite reading this through twice before posting, I'm sure there are still mistakes left… so if you find them please tell me.
Fogle Towers, the anteroom in front of Logan's penthouse, 11 PM:
Max stood in front of Logan's door, the fitting picklock from her varied collection in hand, ready to make short work of his high-end security system. Yet she hesitated, hands hovering in midair, unsure how she'd find the inhabitant of the penthouse.
You're pathetic, Max. Taking out a whole bunch of Lydecker's goons without breaking a sweat but afraid of the reaction of one single, ordinary male.
She sighed, letting her hands drop, to lean against the massive, unquestionably very expensive red wood of Logan's door, wondering if it wouldn't be wiser to leave now while she still could.
Right, Max, coming here was a bad idea anyway. Save yourself the trouble, go home and have a hot, relaxing bath.
And risk having Bling find Logan dead in the morning. Bad idea.
Twenty minutes earlier, the Space Needle:
As so often Max had spent her late evening hours here, overlooking nightly Seattle, seeking some distance from the messed up life of a Manticore refugee. Tonight though, after the extremes of the last days, her attempt was in vain.
The craziness had started with that badly timed call of Zack. Although leading her away from a much anticipated evening with Logan, it had brought news Max had hoped for against all common sense: After giving up his freedom for her, her brother had managed the impossible and had escaped from Manticore for a second time.
And then, out of the blue, after ten years of searching, the one thing suddenly came true, that, for a long time, had been Max one and only wish: to find her siblings, the only ones like her, who could understand what it meant to live in constant fear of recapture. After a decade of wondering all the time if they were even still alive it had finally happened – in the last week her brothers and sisters had literally dropped in on her. It had been like in one of her more realistic day dreams, Max mused, an incredulous grin crossing her features: Manticore still menaced their freedom and very existence, but the united force of the X5s triumphed in the everlasting 'escape and evade' game.
With the help of Logan's Eyes Only hack Max had not only learned that Zane, Syl, Krit, Tinga, and Jondy were alive and well, but she had also been given the privilege of short catch-up meetings with Tinga and Jace. Even better, from one moment to the other she had become Aunt Max of Tinga's little son, Case. And soon, with Jace's pregnancy, there would be another niece or nephew born into freedom. The idea of her siblings having a normal, ordinary life with children and a home – as threatened as they might be – brought a look of excited happiness on Max's face.
This happy news alone would have been sufficient to shake Max's usually steady equilibrium, which – as she was well aware – was a precondition for her survival. Yet the joy about seeing her siblings had been mingled soon with a disconcerting encounter with one of the characters populating her nightmares: The mysterious doctor with the exclusive treatment to keep Logan on his feet proved to be Adrianna Vertes from Manticore, one of the perverted scientist, whose masked face still, in a twisted proof of Pavlov's experiments, flashed before Max' inner eye every time she felt physical pain.
As if all this hadn't been enough for her to deal with, in the same recent days Logan had regained the use of his legs by virtue of her, transfused blood – and had lost them again, also thanks to her screwed up genetics. All this courtesy the jerk who had designed her to be an universal blood donor, but, ironically, hadn't managed the same adaptability for the highly useful pluripotents flowing through her veins. It was an unwelcome reminder that she, Max Guevara, or – more fitting – X5 452, was no real human being, but was merely the whacky product of erratic scientists.
Damn Manticore.
To distract herself from her flaws, Max turned to an evasive pattern which had proven to be increasingly effective in the last eight month: conjuring up the many different moments she had shared with Logan in quiet contentment, the many times his smile had fueled her spirits for getting through another gray and rainy Seattle day. The previous week had been especially productive in this department as being able to walk again had brought surprising changes in Logan. The obsessed crusader had gone for a holiday and in exchange an astonishingly careless, almost boyish Logan was revealed. Those memories still brought a shy smile to Max's face, accompanied with the delight she had felt at seeing his flirtatious attitude from their early relationship come back in full force. It had encouraged her hidden hope that finally, with this boost to his self-confidence, the attraction underlying their every move and word could grow into something bigger – that she and Logan could become an "us".
But no, Max brooded gloomily, trust Manticore to spoil it all. Only barely she could suppress the overwhelming, helpless fury washing over her every time her being an artificially-produced being interfered with having a real life.
Damn, damn Manticore.
Back in the chair, Logan had again retreated into his protective shell – as if nothing had ever happened between them, as if there was nothing left to live for. As if his extraordinary self wasn't worthy of life any longer.
So, beneath that thin veneer of joy at seeing her siblings again, Max was thoroughly shaken by Logan's attempt at killing himself today. Over and over again her mind played the appalling sequences: The diagnoses of "depression" and "suicidal urges" she'd found in Dr. Vertes notes, the flashbacks to his calm vow of "I'm not gonna live my life like that" accompanying her horrified race over to Fogle Towers, hoping with all her might she wouldn't be too late… then the heart-stopping shock of seeing the ambulance in front of his house.
Standing at Logan's grave, Bling by her side, listening to the rain's monotone rhythm on his coffin.
Max shuddered, tightening the self-comforting hug around her knees. The mere thought of how close she had been to losing him gave her a sick feeling, the sensation only intensified by the fact that today – almost – she would have entered his apartment to find the bloody mess the gun would have made of his body.
She didn't get it. Despite mulling it over repeatedly for the last several hours, for Max, Logan's being back in the chair and committing suicide just didn't hold the same inevitable connection it seemed to have for him. Max knew how much he despised being a paraplegic, could imagine how hard it must be for someone as proud as Logan to have to relearn to do even daily tasks in new ways. But despite all that, he seemed to be coping. Not exactly well, sure, but he hardly ever gave her a clue of how difficult it really was to him either. So, when the miraculous cure had failed, she had just assumed he would, somehow, deal, as he'd done before.
Now she berated herself for ignoring the signs, for not listening to Logan's determined ultimatum in the car the evening before.
He should have told someone with more talent at deciphering human emotions.
The most frightening thing though, the one thought that topped her blood failing Logan and another narrow escape with Manticore was that today Logan hadn't stopped on his own volition. The only reason he was still alive had been the lucky-unlucky coincidence of Mrs. Moreno needing him at exactly that crucial moment. It meant Max wasn't only confronted with his past attempt but also with the very real, dreadful possibility that Logan might again try to end his life if left to his own devices. It meant she was haunted by the image of coming over one evening to find his body.
As if I hadn't enough ingredients for nightmares.
Arms still around her knees, absently rocking herself back and forth, Max finally allowed herself to listen to this tiny voice in the back of her mind that persistently asked a very interesting question, one she wasn't sure she wanted to be answered: How in the world could he have done this to her? Leaving her alone? Logan's attempted suicide left her deeply puzzled, confused why a guy like him, who could only be described as the most altruistic person she'd ever met, could be so totally self-involved not to contemplate the consequences of his death on others – on her.
Because he doesn't know how important he is to you, little Ms. 'I don't need anybody'. You never bothered to tell him.
Yet, to herself, in that best-hidden secret corner of her mind that nobody ever was meant to know existed, Max could confess that the idea of having to live without Logan was the most terrifying thought she'd ever known.
And here I thought Manticore was my biggest problem.
With all these utterly disturbing thoughts spinning around in her head, not even the Space Needle could offer Max the tiniest bit of insight and composure. And so, after an hour of fruitless pondering, Max had climbed down from her sanctuary to make the short drive over to Logan's. Here she was now, lingering in the hallway of his apartment for a good couple of minutes already, anxious Logan might not be exactly welcoming her with open arms. His dismissive behavior that afternoon had made it very clear he wished to be alone. But then, Max reminded herself, that the prospect of being forced to wait in uncertainty until Logan managed to come out of this dangerously depressive mood – or did not – wasn't particularly tempting either. The latter idea had led her to the conclusion that it was better to take things into her own hands, better to call Logan to account about why he was willing to give up on life than to feel guilty when he finally was successful with his death-wish. Max couldn't claim she felt really comfortable with the idea of confronting Logan with his inner demons, especially since that could easily lead to a discussion about her feelings for him. Of them.
Come on, Max, what is a bit of humiliating opening up compared to losing Logan?
With that last thought Max eventually picked the lock and sneaked into the penthouse.
To be continued…