Title: Tell Me Where It Hurts

Author: Cheeza
Rating: PG-13

E-mail: cheeza84@aol.com

Disclaimer: After extensive therapy I can finally say I don't own DA, Max or...Alec

Genre: Angst/Romance

Summary: Alec finds Max trying to drown her sorrows and tries to open her up.

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"You know what I really hate about being an X-series?" I ask, knowing he's behind me before I see him. I've noticed that recently. I can feel when he's around. It's like a sixth sense. And it's not as unpleasant as it used to be.

He pulls up on the stool beside me and signals to the bartender to bring us more drinks and faces me, "Hmm, having White and his goons on your back constantly? Or how about having to hide who you are from everyone? Or maybe because Manticore seems to have screwed with you at every opportunity?"

"Our complete inability to get so drunk you can't think straight." My throat burns as I down the amber liquid in my glass. My fourth…fifth…or maybe sixth of the night, I'm not really keeping track. I turn to look at him for the first time tonight and see his trademark smirk in place, "Well there's always that."

I slump further onto the bar, if possible. Usually I love Crash. It's familiar. A place to hang with my friends, maybe win some money beating some bonehead at pool. Tonight, it just seems…detached. Or maybe that's just me. I'm detached, cut off, disconnected…

I pick up my glass, which seems to having magically refilled itself, and swirl the contents around. I figure that maybe if I look hard enough, the answers I'm looking for will suddenly appear on the bottom. God I'm pathetic.

"So come on Maxie, you gonna tell me what's up?" he asks after awhile. I'm actually surprised he's managed to stay quiet for this long. If I was in a better mood, I might even laugh at that. But as it is, my head droops closer bar. It's not a question I want to answer. Hell, I may be pathetic but that doesn't mean I want him to know that. Right enough, he's never been one to go away just because I ignore him so I figure avoidance is the best tactic here.

"I'm fine." I see his eyebrow rise out of the corner of my eye. I look over and find him staring at me, waiting for an answer that isn't bullshit. Should have known avoidance wouldn't work. Hmm, what to say?

I could feed him the virus line. 'Woe is me, I can't touch my non-boyfriend in case I kill him' But the truth is, I don't even buy that anymore. Sure, it's not exactly great that I could kill Logan by touching him but I'm pretty much over it. If I'm being honest, it's just another excuse to push people, namely my drinking buddy here, away. Not really working though since he's sitting here next to me.

It would never have worked between Logan and me. I mean, sure, he's a great guy what with saving the downtrodden and repressed, but that won't exactly keep a girl warm at night. I thought we could make it work. For the longest time, I thought that's what I wanted but I was fooling myself. Logan and I lack…chemistry. You know that feeling, when your blood is rushing through your veins so fast it makes you dizzy and no matter how much you want to, you can't stop thinking about him. He gets under your skin and you feel like you're about to burst every time you're around him. The air around you feels charged and sometimes you don't know whether to punch the guy or just…kiss him all over. Passion. Logan and I didn't have that. Hell, I didn't' know what it was until a few mont hs ago.

I don't need Logan . As horrible as it sounds, I don't want him anymore. I need someone who'll push me to my limit. Someone who can make me so mad that every nerve-ending in my body screams, who can make me laugh so hard it hurts. Someone who can bring me out of my darkest moods just by being there. Someone who's always got my back. Someone who understands what…no who…I am. And that's not Logan . He doesn't understand me. Not really. It's not his fault, he tries, but there are some things I've done, seen, that he just couldn't accept. He doesn't understand Manticore. He can't. It's like…have you ever had a friend that tells you something so bad that happened to them that you wish they hadn't? You can sit and be supportive and nod along like you know how it feels but at the same time you can't comprehend how they're feeling. You can't relate, because you've never experienced it. Anyway, that's how it is with Logan and me. He can't understand the dark parts inside of me. And I don't show them to him because, in all honesty, I don't think he'd be able to even pretend to understand. He's get that self-righteous, disgusted 'oh god, I can't believe she could be so merciless, how could she do something that terrible' look on his face before telling me that it's all in the past and that I'm a different person now. Like he has to justify why he wants to be with someone like me. But he's wrong, it's still in me. It might be buried deep, but it's still there. And some part of me enjoys the darkness, revels in it. I don't like to think about it, but it's true.

I catch Alec still staring at me and realise I've disappeared into my own dark little world and by the looks of it; he's waiting for an answer. What was the question again? I raise my eye-brow, expectantly, hoping he'll repeat the question. All the while glaring slightly, don't want the bitch façade to crack. His brows furrow and I notice for the first time just how much he talks with them.

"Yeah, you're fine. That's why you're sitting alone at a bar trying, unsuccessfully, to get drunk. Hell, I do that all the time." The sarcasm is evident in his tone and I try to suppress the corners of my mouth from twitching up. Damn him! How does he do that? Maybe he won't notice. Of course he does. I give him a knowing look and he grins, one of those full blown, the cat that got the cream grins that only ever see to be directed at me.

"Well, okay, maybe I do. Can't blame a guy for trying right?" He glances past me and smiles at the blonde to my left. I feel a twinge in my stomach and send him my best 'I'm so going to kick your ass' glare. He holds his hands up in apology and gives me that look. You know that look. The one that says, 'please forgive me, I can't help it. I'm just a guy.' And I decide, just for the hell of it, to punch him on the shoulder. He smirks again before sobering up and I feel a kind of fuzziness knowing that the blonde is forgotten and I've got his complete attention again.

"Thing of it is, Max. You don't. Sit trying to drown your sorrows." He tone turns teasing, "So come on, tell Uncle Alec."

That's right; he wanted to know what was wrong. So I've ruled out the virus excuse. The White thing won't work. Maybe I should tell him work's getting me down. Right enough, he'd never believe that I care enough about that to try have to be sitting here like this. Umm…how about ' Cal l me crazy but I think I might be in love with you.' No, true as it may be, that's not what's bothering me. It should be, but I guess I've accepted it. Maybe, I should just throw out a combination of all the crappy things in my life and hope he buys it. Yeah. That's me, genetically-modified-killing-machine girl with a plan.

I open my mouth to sprout of a load of crap when I catch the looks he's giving me. It's intense. Understanding. Like, if I told him what was really wrong, it'd be okay. He wouldn't try to fix me or tell me that whatever's wrong is in the past. I've nev er seen this look before. It's like he, I don't know, he needs me to confide in him. He needs me to trust him. Like he's desperate for my acceptance. And all the times I've been a bitch to him flash past my eyes. The only time I've ever seen him look this vulnerable was when he had that bomb attached to his brain stem. I know what It's like to strive for approval, acceptance so before I even realise what I'm saying, I open my mouth and ask quietly,

"Have you ever woken up one day and realised that you hate what you've become? Like you've become the epitome of everything you despise?"

I swallow the rest of my drink and hesitantly look up into his face, my eyes begging him to understand. And that's when I see it. He does understand. He knows what I'm talking about and, unlike Logan , he's not pretending. He pulls some bills out of his pocket and throws them on the bar before taking my hand, "Let's get out of here."

I raise my eye-brow, feigning annoyance. Oh come on, I may be depressed, but even I can't let that one go. He's lips twitch upwards and he chuckles slightly, his warm brea th hitting my cheek and for a second I let myself think about the possibilities of his request.

"You need to talk, and you can't do it here. Do you really want to lose your tough girl exterior in the middle of Crash?" I glare at him although there's no real feeling behind it. He knows I'm not tough. He's seen through me. And that scares me almost as much as it makes me tingle. He can see me. Not the soldier, not the kick-ass girl, but me "Come on Maxie, I've got lots of alcohol…"

I laugh, for the first time in a while. He sounds like one of those pathetic guys who have to beg a girl to come home with them. Although this is Alec, not the type of guy who has to resort to begging. My guess is he's been on the receiving end a time or two though.

I narrow my eyes and try to keep the grin from appearing across my face, "This better not just be an excuse to get me alone in your apartment." He rolls his eyes and chuckles again, "You wish Maxie, you wish."

He takes off towards the exit, pulling me behind him by the hand. I figured I better keep up appearances and say, "Keep your hands to yourself or I'll kick your ass."

"Always the ass, ain't it Max?" He smirks over his shoulder. "You should start a website… 'Alec's Ass'" And I let myself be pulled up the stairs thinking that might not be such a bad idea.

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