DISCLAIMER: Again, borrowing from Dark Angel for amusement only; no profits made. My thanks to She-Who-Falls-Down-Hills, for the extra nudge, and to Kyre, for confirming canon, even though this leaves canon behind.
A/N: With too many irons in the fire already, naturally something else started pulling at my attention. Apologies to those waiting for other stories' chapters; they will arrive, too. And for those of you who think kissing is "gross," well...you may want to cover your eyes...
I.
He'd called her for dinner, as he had so many times before...but in his voice, his words, somehow, she knew this was different, and had felt a funny, unsettled anticipation as she waited for the day to crawl by to evening. And when Max came into the familiar penthouse, she knew her feelings had been right. Logan's long dining table had been set at one end for dinner, but not as she'd come to expect–tonight, the place settings were china she'd not seen before, the glasses his fine crystal. Lighted tapers flickered in silver candlesticks, and fresh flowers floated in crystal bowls. Beyond the table, over the shoulder of the man who sat before her, smiling gently, Max saw several gifts wrapped in glittering silver paper...and with them...
"Logan...what is all this?" Max let the sight draw her into the dimmed living room, the tiny flames of twenty one little candles bouncing light and shadow from the top of a lacily decorated cake, making the metallic, silvery paper and shiny red ribbons cast lights of their own. Turning to look back up at him, wondering that he'd forgotten, she shrugged, "I thought you told me to pick a day, so I did–and I told you..."
"I know."
His smile was warm; his eyes wouldn't leave hers. She knew the look, and tipped her head in question, trying to read what he was up to. Whatever it was, it was something big–his preparations, decorations ...gifts, like a birthday... "Logan, what is all this?" She shrugged, giving up, her smile echoing her curiosity. "My 'birthday' was four months ago..."
Without a word, Logan came closer, eyes shining with a look of hope and affection that made Max even more uncertain. Stopping in front of her, he lifted a gleaming, slim leather binder from his lap. When she didn't take it in that first moment, he bobbled it a little. "Go on, " he urged, his voice soft. "Take a look..."
She reached for the folio and kept her eyes on him, suddenly feeling that this was Important, and hesitated, afraid to hope too much. When she saw his eyes flicker with his own anticipation for her reaction, she opened the folio slowly, to find it that it opened to two frames, leather around documents. She read with growing emotion: on one side was an official-looking certificate with a gold seal, one that with dawning understanding she would know was yet another, artful, "Logan Cale-genuine" article, this time, the reasons for it obvious. But the other...
Her breath caught as she recognized the document, even if she'd never seen one exactly like it...the format, the department name...names of the attending doctor, even two nurses were known to her. Below the opening lines, a boxed off section bore the black, lined image of a tiny, perfect footprint, with notation below it spelling, she knew, genetic shorthand for a DNA reference. Under that, on a line noting "date of birth" was the entry, "January 17, 2000."
...and below that...
Her eyes darted up to Logan's in impossible hope, filling with moisture more quickly than she'd have expected, even though she hoped for something like this, so very, very long...Logan had watched as she read, saw as it dawned on her, what she held; saw her stunned reaction and her look back to him in disbelieving gratitude...
"Happy Birthday, Max..."
..and all she could do, throat too thickened to allow speech, was throw her arms around the one person in her life now who could understand what this meant to her, one who knew her deepest, most shameful secrets and would not be shaken from his trust in her...who would move heaven and earth–who did just that–to find this for her...
His arms were gentle and strong around her, all at once; even though she'd always known she could overpower him in a moment she felt again the strength with which he held her and, again, realized that for the very first time in her life, she'd found someone in whom all her trust could be placed, that she could rest in his protection and he would keep her safe, she could let the world go and he would stand guard...
She pulled back a little, still overwhelmed but needing some control...and nearly spilled new tears when she raised her eyes to his and saw such love, there, for her...
She smiled, through the mist still in her eyes; his own settled to see it, and she laughed out her held emotions, sounding a little shaky as she did, but both of them understood... Still with his arms around her she looked back down to the open folio, the tiny footprint drawing her eye again...and the date beneath that... and below it all...
...her bar code...
II.
She'd been quiet through dinner but happy, smiling her delight with the gift, and the deep, unexpected emotions that came with it. He understood and was quiet, too, speaking only occasionally and then, softly, letting her absorb her new self. She had a beginning, now...a time frame, a reference...she had been born; she had a birthday...
As the meal wound down, the usually exuberant Max didn't eat more than Logan had, surprising him but not causing worry. He felt himself smile yet again, tender for the woman who sat still processing the information he'd found for her. "You know, Max...there are presents..."
Her eyes darted to his from where they'd been, off, imagining; she smiled again, beautiful in her rebirth, and sounded almost awkward when she nodded, "I know, but...it's almost too much..."
"Nah..." he encouraged, softly. "Girl's gotta have presents. A twenty-first birthday is special, Max...and I was selfish..." his eyes had glanced away, gathering himself, before looking back up. "I know you might have wanted to share this with everyone, with Cindy and the others, you know, a real party. But I wanted it to be here, just us, when you realized..." He trailed, then shrugged. "Would you have rather had the group here? Because we could call..."
"Not this time..." She shook her head, " it's not special because it's my twenty first, but..." the soft brown eyes held him. "It's my first..." Thought voiced, it made her eyes swim again and as a tear spilled its way down her cheek, Logan found himself reaching over to brush it away, gently. His fingertips lingered as they traced the soft skin, pulse quickening as Max covered his hand with hers...
"If I had a way, to thank you..."
"Just your expression was enough...I wanted to do this..."
"Not fair..." she whispered. "I'll find a way, Logan; I promise..."
"You're way ahead on that, Max, trust me..." Turning his hand under hers to cup her cheek gently, for the moment, he traced her lip very lightly and nudged, "c'mon...what happened to the feline DNA–no curiosity left?"
"Plenty–just overwhelmed" she admitted with her smile growing again.
"Well then–you go in and shake the packages...see if you can guess. I'll bring the coffee."
"Okay..." But he'd barely moved before she spoke again. "Logan...?" She moved close and, before he could find an excuse to discount her feelings, to protect his, she kissed him sweetly, achingly, full of longing and hope and...
...or was it his feelings on their lips?
Moments passed and, parting, he saw that his genetically engineered warrior blushed like the brand-new twenty-one year old she was...
..and so it fell to him to lift her hands to his lips, brush them softly, and raised them so she would stand, too. "I'll be right there..."
III.
As he'd hoped, by the time Logan came in with a carafe of coffee and mugs, Max had knelt at the low table and was carefully lifting and shaking each small package. She took the tray he lifted off his lap and set it on the table next to the display, and poured him a mug. As she handed it to him she asked, "is there a special order I should follow?"
"Mmm. Well..." Logan leaned over to consider the several packages, then pulled out the smallest to set it aside. "This one should be last..." At her hum of interest at that, Logan chuckled. "The others..." he shrugged. "No real order."
And so lifting each, opening carefully, Max found touching, funny, lighthearted memorabilia of her newly-discovered birthdate–a tiny stuffed kitten with a tag that said "January," and a stocking cap, and scarf around its neck, a delicate porcelain carnation in a little box that explained it as January's flower, a coffee mug emblazoned with "Capricorn" in which he'd tucked a small book that would tell her all she needed to know about herself, based on her astrological sign...
They laughed; Max vowed to read her horoscope every day and he went back to the table to bring her one of the flowers from the table that she now realized were carnations, both large and small...and they both let their eyes fall on the one remaining package. "Go ahead" he urged, softly. With no more urging needed, Max pulled away the wrapping on the last, small package and moved to lift the lid. And Max saw, winking up at her, a deep red gem in a delicate gold setting, simple and elegant, allowing the facets to do their work and steal her breath away...
He had been watching closely, nervously now. Too much? Not her? She didn't wear jewelry, really: no desire...or no opportunity? He waited...
"Ohhh...Logan..." she began, lifting the necklace out of the box. "It's beautiful..." she breathed again, finally.
"...it's a garnet. January's birthstone. I thought you ought to have something; I wasn't sure what you'd want..."
His tone was soft and hesitant suddenly; a retreat, apologetic. Max looked up to his face in question, closely now, began to see past what this all meant to her, to what it had cost him, to dare this. Heart melting, she felt herself being born over and over on this day: this day, her birthday, a real one...for a real human woman... A woman who was born into the knowledge of what in her life, after all, was good and true...
She stood, the tears yet again threatening to take her over. Knowing now most assuredly what she wanted, she stepped over to the man waiting for her absolution, and pushed herself into his lap, curling into his arms. "This," she managed, with a shiver. "This is what I want..."
IV.
Max looked over at the tousled head, the sculpted chest, the graceful hands, and felt herself smile. Cyberjournalist? Playboy? Unflinching crusader? Hopelessly cynical optimist, or hopelessly optimistic cynic... all of it faded into the background. He was Logan Cale, the man she'd known all along and the man who opened her eyes tonight...
...the gift he'd given her, the gift of humanity, the gift that made her more a human child and less a scientific experiment, had moved the universe: from this day on, she saw with new eyes–appreciative, humbled...human. And her eyes were for his, only...
...the beginning...