Domestic
She sat in the darkness, listening to the sound of his breathing. Counting the ceiling tiles had taken over the need for rest. Only in the quiet hours of the night could she reach the sadness of her soul.
At nine she escaped the hell that was Manticore, at nineteen she had her first real relationship, and at twenty-one she was married. Desire for normalcy had made way for dependence and in that time, a part of her eroded. "What would make you happy?" he asked her, only hours earlier. Their argument puzzled her and from the time he laid his head on the pillow, she had been haunted by the question.
Walking over to the large window overlooking Seattle, she saw herself only a year or so prior, riding through the city, laughing, usually with Alec following closely behind...Did she do that with him, Logan, laugh?
"Marry me." His casual demand had surprised her. Only two weeks earlier, they had found the cure. 'They could finally live their life' she recalled thinking. So long ago.
"We can't Logan. There's too much happening right now."
"Says who? There will always be things happening Max."
"I don't know. It seems like too much right now."
"Well, I don't know what the big deal is, I'll be able to help you now that we're together. I'm already doing E.O., and helping out. I'll be able to support both of us...It's got to be now Max, I can't wait forever, not when there is nothing stopping us."
Snapping back into reality by the sudden whine of police sirens in the distance, Max Cale left the window.
When the alarm summoned Logan to breakfast, she had already been up for hours. The near empty coffee pot indicated her lack of sleep.
"So? What is it this time Max? What have I done?"
"Everything is the way it should be Logan. Forget it. Go to work."
His leaving had made her feel empty, though he only moved into the next room. Normally she'd be able to brush off his arrogance, but this time she couldn't.
Panning the kitchen for a familiar image to lose herself in, Max's eye's threatened tears. 'No, not now. There's too much to do.' But she knew that was a lie, there was nothing remaining for her to do here. With her left hand, she instinctively reached for the nearest dishcloth and began wiping the already clean counter top.
Standing alone in the now sterile kitchen, Max poured another cup of coffee, not so much needing it to stay conscious, but to feel the only warm sensation she had experienced in a long time. Stroking the rim of the white demitasse, her vacant gaze fell upon a cheerio, hidden in the corner behind the French door. It had remained there untouched by her furious cleaning habits and yet, knowing it had avoided her efforts, she could not allow herself to remove it.
This is what she had been reduced to. Domestic.
a/n It's a short little intro to the story, it'll work it's way up there, I promise. This is my first WIP, bear with me here. please read and review!...and if anyone is wondering about direction, it should end up M/A, eventually.