"What?" That confused her. When had she said she wanted him to hit her? Did she? Maybe. That was a bit insane wasn't it?

"Didn't you just complain that we don't fight?" The appalled look hadn't gone anywhere. Hunh.

"GAH! Not…. Hit me… per se…" Logan balked. Not hit her 'per se'? WHAT?

"I mean argue, get worked up, yell at me." And the pacing continued. "You either try to convince me or give in."

Cause I'll start another fight
And you'll say it's all alright

"Yes." This was the most peculiar conversation he'd had with a woman in a long time. She wanted to be yelled at? Perhaps it had something to do with her extremely abusive childhood. Apparently settling down into normal romantic relationships was often difficult. He tried to make allowances.

Max stopped and twisted her body on the spot to look at him. Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. She knew exactly what he was thinking. And she didn't appreciate it.

"I don't want you to make 'allowances' for me, for my bad childhood, for my being unused to making emotional connections." She crouched down, caught his eye and held it. "Logan I want you to yell at me."

"But… why?"

She thought that was one of the most ridiculous questions she'd ever been asked. The answer should be blatantly obvious. Her slack jaw and incredulous expression should convey that to him as well. Idiot.

"So I can yell at you."

I'll wait for the day when you find I'm too much for you, baby

"But why do you want to yell at me?" It was Logan's turn to look like a lost little boy. It was as if he couldn't fathom a reason to yell at her. Why would he want to? She was the love of his life. Who yells at the love of their lives? Apparently Max, he thought peevishly.

She ran her hand through her hair. Again. Then, with the feline grace all her kind were known for, she popped out of her crouching position and into the subconsciously soothing 'at ease' position. For a moment, until the overwhelming restlessness that prompted this outburst demanded a release.

"Don't you ever get angry Logan?"

"Yes, Max I think it's safe to say that we've all been angry at one point in time." His tone was condescending and it was all she could do to breathe slowly through her nose to keep her calm. Or what was left of it anyway.

This was the reason for her exhaustion. It took far too much out of her to try and maintain an even keel. In a lot of ways Logan was flat. Of course he had minor highs and minor lows, but he was mostly somewhere around the middle. Max was not. She had joys and despairs, loves and hates. She was all passion and fire. Manticore had taught her to conceal it, but they had never managed to extinguish it.

"At me?" Logan watched as her eyebrow rose in a delicate arch. What was the proper response to this question? Yes, you irritate me? Now for example, he thought, frustrate with the whole conversation. No, you've never irritated me before? A lie?

"Well, yes." He admitted sheepishly. "Once or twice I've been irritated at you." She huffed. He'd managed to imply that this was one of those times with an eye roll. The rage started to boil inside her. Max's eyes sparkled with righteous indignation. He'd somehow been able to invalidate her question and trivialize her anger all in one brief statement. Not to mention make her look stupid.

"No." She paused. Slow breath. One more. Good. "I mean angry. Terribly, ferociously angry." Logan didn't know how to answer that.

"Max what is this about?" He had never felt more out of his depth in his life.

"Don't you ever feel it? That primal beast coming up and taking over? It could be lust or anger or joy or… anything." She was radiant. Her face was lit up; glowing, her eyes shone intensely and her hands were flying all over, attempting to explain the… bigness of it all. The feeling was everything.

Once again she'd stumped him. He couldn't figure out what was going on. His Max, his gorgeous, funny, if habitually sarcastic Max, was positively raving about the primal beast inside of her. Clearly today was not his day.

She took in his expression. It made her want to hit something. Him mostly, but anything would do.

"Don't you ever want to hit something?"

So lay your hands over me
And feel what you only see

"Not really Max." His face proved it was the truth. He'd always found physical violence distasteful. Unfortunately it didn't help her out any.

"It's like we're living on two different planets. We're vibrations resonating on different levels. we're…"

"Different?" He offered hopefully. She rolled her eyes.

"You like life slow, intellectual, and romantic. It was nice. Really. To be treasured like that was… different than anyone else had ever treated me. Better. I can say that in all honesty. It was you. But…" She didn't know how to explain, how to make him understand. He should already understand. If he was her soul mate he would wouldn't he?

"But?" Apparently not.

"But it's not me. I like to go fast. I like my life dangerous, sometimes scary. I enjoy the fights, crave the rush." Her eyes lit up just saying the words.

"Max, don't you want to settle down? Have a nice quiet, normal life? Isn't that what you've been trying for?" He was so terribly, terribly confused. What had happened to the Max who would sit and drink wine and eat pasta while discussing the latest events?

Max's nose scrunched up and her forehead wrinkled. She was thinking seriously about his question. Yes she had been trying; no, she didn't so much want it anymore. Mostly she was tired, and frustrated and… deflated with that life.

"It's nice when it's quiet and I don't have to worry about White or Lydecker or anyone and I can just relax. Nice yes, but deeply, deeply unfulfilling."

"What do you mean unfulfilling?"

"I never feel more alive then when I'm fighting, or stealing. Honing my skills and using them to the best of my ability is satisfying. It gives me a rush, makes me whole. I thrive on conflict, need the outlet. The sweetness and light is satisfying for a short time but then I get restless, itchy. It's like I'd do anything for that next fix."

"You never used to find it unfulfilling."

"Actually," she hesitated. "Actually Logan, I think I did."

But don't bother wasting your time if you're trying to change me

"It just left me empty. And I don't want to be empty anymore. I can't be."

"What are you talking about Max? Max are you okay?" He was rather bewildered. What was going on? How could their time together have left her empty? Empty.

She glared at him and honestly, if looks could kill… Logan shivered. Max didn't deign to answer his question. Of course she was not okay! Would she be here ranting and raving like a lunatic if she was okay?!

"Like your cousins wedding, Logan. It's a refreshing interlude, but it's not my scene."

Logan had nothing to say to that.

"You fit in just fine at the wedding!" Then again, maybe he did. His voice was getting louder. And, she winced a little, higher too. Max sighed, the deep, frustrated sound of a woman who for all her vocabulary just simply didn't have the words for this.

"I fit in. Yeah. But I didn't belong. I want to be somewhere I belong. That was your scene.

"I don't have a 'scene' Max. Neither do you. We're…"

"Crash. Crash is my scene. Just kickin' it with my homegirl after a long day. Stealing for some extra cash. Running from Manticore and kicking White's ass. That's my scene. And it's not yours."

"You help with Eyes Only. Fighting for Justice."

"You fight for ideals Logan. Some of which I even share. Like not taking advantage of those less fortunate. And I fight for my people. My friends, my brothers and sisters."

"The Eyes Only missions aren't about your people Max."

"Yes, they are. You."

Once again Logan was at a loss. It was about him? Not about the helpless or less fortunate? "You help for me?"

"And the rush, the adrenaline kicks. But yeah, helping out a friend."

"But… you… I… you…" Logan sputtered. And when his brain caught up to the fact that his mouth wasn't making sense, he shut it and simply gawked. Max, seeing this, began to pace again.

"I mean it's wrong. What happens to the innocents in this world is wrong, but not my life. I care about you Logan. A lot. I wouldn't be who I am today without your influence. But we don't mesh Logan."

"Max! What the hell are you talking about?!"

You're kinda cool but I know better than to break the rules
Of messin' with a lesson that I'll never learn

"I'm talking about passion!" It was the loudest she'd ever spoken to him. The word just burst out. Something deep inside of her broke and the anger just seeped away, leaving her emptier than an eternity of quiet interludes and pasta. She had no fight left for tonight. Maybe tomorrow. Or never. Just not tonight. Tonight she was finished.

"Passion?" The way he said the word, it was like he'd never heard it before. Or maybe he had. Long ago in some silly fairytale that had nothing to do with real life.

He took his glasses and rubbed them with the corner of his cardigan, before settling them back onto his face, just so. Everything about Logan was 'just so'. Even his scruffiness had a cultivated look to it. Another thing that was just entirely unlike her. She was beautiful. She knew that. Manticore bred and Manticore raised, she could never be anything BUT beautiful. And yet, her clothes were worn and her hair constantly battling to remain presentable. Haphazardly thrown up for this discussion, her hair was sticking out everywhere. She was beautiful, in a tornado sort of way. 'Hurricane Max' Alec sometimes called her. Deadly, but undeniably appealing. Logan was just…so. She sighed. Even her thoughts didn't make sense.

"I live my life at a visceral level Logan and you live yours at the intellectual. Even Zack functioned mostly on the intellectual level. It was all planning and strategy. What was tactical, not 'phoney sentimentality'. It's not phoney. It's me. From the top of my sarcastic bitch head to the tips of my genetically engineered toes. And to be perfectly honest; I'm really not sorry about that."

I'll go from bad to worse and later back to better
but I'll never better bridges that I'm bent to burn

Enter the kicked-puppy look stage right. She took a deep breath.

"I don't want to be 'allowed' I want to be understood. I need an equal." His face was ashen and he looked suspiciously like one of the 'downtrodden' he was always spouting off about. She felt that niggle of guilt but buried it deep. It had to be done. There was no other way.

"I've gotta go Logan. See ya… later." And before he could summon enough… insight, courage... brain function? Whatever, to look up again let alone respond, she turned to leave. Head held high, she breathed a sigh of relief. It had to be done. He had to know.

He was a rational response. She was a knee-jerk reaction. He was a thought and she was a feeling.

That was all there was to it.

This is a warning.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

A/N2: It's been almost forever, and I have to admit that I'm STILL not really satisfied with this last bit but it's done. So there. :P

I don't know if they broke up, had a fight, or what? And I'm the one who wrote the damn thing. But I have a sneaky suspicion this is the best it's gonna get. So there it is. I'd really appreciate it if you could just drop a line to let me know your response. Like it? Hate it? Confused by it? All's fair in love, war and writing fan fiction.