AN: I've always wanted to do a Dark Angel fic but never really had a story idea for it. Then
this came to me last night. Its not the most original thing in the world, I agree, but I felt
compelled to write it.*shrugs* I'd be eternally gratfeul for anyone who feels *compelled* to
leave a review behind. =) Thank you for reading... ~Kei
Disclaimer: I disclaim, I disclaim already!
********************************* Wildflowers ************************************
He shouldn't have brought flowers he thought as he held the rumpled bouquet in his clenched
hands. Max was, hadn't been a flower sort of girl. Hadn't really been any sort of girl.
Maybe that was why he had loved her. Why she had been so damn fascinating to him. Because he
couldn't wrap her up and put her in a neat little box like everyone else. He couldn't
stereotype her. He could never, no matter how hard he tried, really understand her, or figure
her out.
And he wanted to so badly. Alec had never wanted to solve another mystery like he had wanted
to solve her. Just when he had decided that she was cruel, or kind, or motherly... Just when
he decided that she was a biker chick, or a messenger, or a leader she would surprise him.
Would tear through the boundaries and limits he tried to give her in his mind.
It was frightening sometimes because she had been born and raised and trained just like him.
His twin had been her brother and she had killed him because it was merciful. You think they
would have been more alike. Soldiers perhaps... But Max was too kind to be a true soldier.
Max didn't believe in killing in cold blood, even for necessity.
It might have saved her if she had.
And through their years together he had never once come up with a nickname for her, even in his
mind, for the woman who had captivated him with her beauty and her damn stubbornness. She was
simply, and always had been, Max.
Max the filler of a thousand roles. Max, who had held a special place in everyone's heart.
Alec swallowed and knelt in the damp, green earth. His sigh crystallized in the crisp dawn air
as his hand reached out and clenched the warm, red dirt, trying to touch, in some small way,
that raven haired angel who had been created on earth and made for heaven.
He thought briefly of the others, gone before her, and waiting, perhaps for him. Of those who
had fallen in the war and battles that had remade the world. A war against hate and
intolerance. A war made impossible to stop merely by their faces. By the tattoos on the back
of their necks. By the differences in their faces.
Humanity had always been so damn frightened of what it didn't understand. History should have
taught them that war, and death, was inevitable when they, Manticore's children, finally stepped
into the light.
But oh how heavily each death, human and transgenic, had weighed on Max. She blamed herself for
every drop of blood spilled, every moment of misery shared. But she would have blamed herself
for the pain and suffering if she had let their prison stand. She would have hated herself if
she hadn't torched Manticore that fateful night. Of the two evils Alec had always thought she
had chosen the lesser one.
At least now they were free, or free to fight for freedom. Max, Max had been free for so long
Alec thought she halfway forgot what it was to be free. To be that white dove soaring on Joshua's
tattered flag. I don't think, as much as she had learned about life and herself, that Max ever
truly understood what kind of precious, precious gift she gave them. And how fiercely they were
ready to fight to keep it.
He felt his chest tighten as he thought of Sketch, fallen early. Or Normal who had become the
transgenics' great friend and one of humanity's most hated enemies. Of Asha, blonde and
fighting, to the end. Of poor, lost Zack, who found death in the arms of an angry mob. Of
Original Cindy who had fallen beside Max, her boo till the end. He thought of Joshua, and
wondered if he would live to see him lowered into the earth as well. Wondered if Logan, who
had done this battered world so much good, would die as anonymously as he lived. Alec hoped
not. Enough of his friends had fallen over the years. Enough of the precious few he had
allowed himself to love.
And now Max was dead too.
His calloused hand convulsed as it gripped the muddy earth and he was surprised at the burning
tears that clouded his sight. Alec dashed them away, leaving streaks of dirt smeared across his
haggard face. He bowed his head for a moment, part prayer, part supplication, part... Part
weariness and pain.
He rose after a long moment, unsteady, but managed to carefully place the flowers he had brought
on the austere grave. They looked out of place, their blooms wilted and partially torn by his
unconsciously rough handling. When it came down to it Alec wasn't really much of a flower kind
of guy either.
Wasn't really much of any kind of guy but Max's guy.
He titled his head and studied the grave for a moment. Studied the unmarked patch of earth
that would be his Max's final resting spot. Studied the small rise of the ground and the
flowers that broke the monotony of clay red. And suddenly they didn't seem so out of place, so
foreign.
Perhaps if they were roses or lilies or, god forbid, orchids, it might be different. But
suddenly, in the light of dawn, the wildflowers looked as if they belonged there, with Max as
she slept the great dream she could never wake from.
After all Max had, and hadn't been so many things. Perhaps Alec should have thought of the two
things she always was earlier- beautiful, and wild. It would have made anniversaries a hell of
a lot easier.
He brushed shaking hands on his worn and faded jeans. "Goodbye Max," he whispered, feeling
foolish but not caring. "I'll come by tomorrow, after the raid, and let you know how it went.
Joshua... Joshua thinks it, that we can get some supplies and food from the human base." He
paused for a minute, and collected his courage. "I... I love you." His voice broke then, in
that moment, and Alec turned tail and ran.
Ran from the tears in his eyes. Ran from the hurt in his heart. Ran from the resting place of
the only other woman he had managed to love with all he was. Ran from the bouquet of wilted
wildflowers he had brought to Max's grave and the reality of her death. Ran back to war, back
to blood, god help him, ran back to life.
this came to me last night. Its not the most original thing in the world, I agree, but I felt
compelled to write it.*shrugs* I'd be eternally gratfeul for anyone who feels *compelled* to
leave a review behind. =) Thank you for reading... ~Kei
Disclaimer: I disclaim, I disclaim already!
********************************* Wildflowers ************************************
He shouldn't have brought flowers he thought as he held the rumpled bouquet in his clenched
hands. Max was, hadn't been a flower sort of girl. Hadn't really been any sort of girl.
Maybe that was why he had loved her. Why she had been so damn fascinating to him. Because he
couldn't wrap her up and put her in a neat little box like everyone else. He couldn't
stereotype her. He could never, no matter how hard he tried, really understand her, or figure
her out.
And he wanted to so badly. Alec had never wanted to solve another mystery like he had wanted
to solve her. Just when he had decided that she was cruel, or kind, or motherly... Just when
he decided that she was a biker chick, or a messenger, or a leader she would surprise him.
Would tear through the boundaries and limits he tried to give her in his mind.
It was frightening sometimes because she had been born and raised and trained just like him.
His twin had been her brother and she had killed him because it was merciful. You think they
would have been more alike. Soldiers perhaps... But Max was too kind to be a true soldier.
Max didn't believe in killing in cold blood, even for necessity.
It might have saved her if she had.
And through their years together he had never once come up with a nickname for her, even in his
mind, for the woman who had captivated him with her beauty and her damn stubbornness. She was
simply, and always had been, Max.
Max the filler of a thousand roles. Max, who had held a special place in everyone's heart.
Alec swallowed and knelt in the damp, green earth. His sigh crystallized in the crisp dawn air
as his hand reached out and clenched the warm, red dirt, trying to touch, in some small way,
that raven haired angel who had been created on earth and made for heaven.
He thought briefly of the others, gone before her, and waiting, perhaps for him. Of those who
had fallen in the war and battles that had remade the world. A war against hate and
intolerance. A war made impossible to stop merely by their faces. By the tattoos on the back
of their necks. By the differences in their faces.
Humanity had always been so damn frightened of what it didn't understand. History should have
taught them that war, and death, was inevitable when they, Manticore's children, finally stepped
into the light.
But oh how heavily each death, human and transgenic, had weighed on Max. She blamed herself for
every drop of blood spilled, every moment of misery shared. But she would have blamed herself
for the pain and suffering if she had let their prison stand. She would have hated herself if
she hadn't torched Manticore that fateful night. Of the two evils Alec had always thought she
had chosen the lesser one.
At least now they were free, or free to fight for freedom. Max, Max had been free for so long
Alec thought she halfway forgot what it was to be free. To be that white dove soaring on Joshua's
tattered flag. I don't think, as much as she had learned about life and herself, that Max ever
truly understood what kind of precious, precious gift she gave them. And how fiercely they were
ready to fight to keep it.
He felt his chest tighten as he thought of Sketch, fallen early. Or Normal who had become the
transgenics' great friend and one of humanity's most hated enemies. Of Asha, blonde and
fighting, to the end. Of poor, lost Zack, who found death in the arms of an angry mob. Of
Original Cindy who had fallen beside Max, her boo till the end. He thought of Joshua, and
wondered if he would live to see him lowered into the earth as well. Wondered if Logan, who
had done this battered world so much good, would die as anonymously as he lived. Alec hoped
not. Enough of his friends had fallen over the years. Enough of the precious few he had
allowed himself to love.
And now Max was dead too.
His calloused hand convulsed as it gripped the muddy earth and he was surprised at the burning
tears that clouded his sight. Alec dashed them away, leaving streaks of dirt smeared across his
haggard face. He bowed his head for a moment, part prayer, part supplication, part... Part
weariness and pain.
He rose after a long moment, unsteady, but managed to carefully place the flowers he had brought
on the austere grave. They looked out of place, their blooms wilted and partially torn by his
unconsciously rough handling. When it came down to it Alec wasn't really much of a flower kind
of guy either.
Wasn't really much of any kind of guy but Max's guy.
He titled his head and studied the grave for a moment. Studied the unmarked patch of earth
that would be his Max's final resting spot. Studied the small rise of the ground and the
flowers that broke the monotony of clay red. And suddenly they didn't seem so out of place, so
foreign.
Perhaps if they were roses or lilies or, god forbid, orchids, it might be different. But
suddenly, in the light of dawn, the wildflowers looked as if they belonged there, with Max as
she slept the great dream she could never wake from.
After all Max had, and hadn't been so many things. Perhaps Alec should have thought of the two
things she always was earlier- beautiful, and wild. It would have made anniversaries a hell of
a lot easier.
He brushed shaking hands on his worn and faded jeans. "Goodbye Max," he whispered, feeling
foolish but not caring. "I'll come by tomorrow, after the raid, and let you know how it went.
Joshua... Joshua thinks it, that we can get some supplies and food from the human base." He
paused for a minute, and collected his courage. "I... I love you." His voice broke then, in
that moment, and Alec turned tail and ran.
Ran from the tears in his eyes. Ran from the hurt in his heart. Ran from the resting place of
the only other woman he had managed to love with all he was. Ran from the bouquet of wilted
wildflowers he had brought to Max's grave and the reality of her death. Ran back to war, back
to blood, god help him, ran back to life.