Disclaimer: We all agree that I do not own any of these characters or any
aspect of Dark Angel, right? If not, just nod your head yes and humor me,
because I promise that I don't.
A/N: This is it, the chapter you've all been asking for. I think I've tormented myself enough over it. Enjoy reading, and be sure to leave a review when you're done. And no, this is not the end of the story.
If Only He Knew
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The impending front door of Logan's apartment stared down at Max in a contest of courage. She wanted to open it. She wanted to walk in and tell him everything, but it just wasn't that simple. The door had become more of a barrier to her than the gateway it used to be. She needed more courage just to cross it this time. And all because she had an idea of what was waiting for her on the other side.
Last time, she remembered, things had been so different. Logan had known her body was in heat and yet he still let her in without any hesitation. They thought they could handle it. After all, Max made it through dinner with no problem. Unfortunately, they both underestimated the power of lighting a few candles. Those candles prompted Logan to turn on a little music; the music led to a slow dance in his living room. And then it was a matter of inches before her lips met his.
Max snapped herself out of her reverie. Reflecting on past memories wasn't going to make her current situation any easier. Besides, no matter how much she thought about that night, things weren't going to change. She had lost control of herself. And so had Logan.
At last Max gathered every bit of her courage, grabbed the silver handle, and turned. She expected him to be right on the other side of the door, waiting for her to show up. She expected to listen to him scream and yell at her for acting so immaturely. But when the door opened she found the apartment desolate, its rooms lit only by the bright orange haze from the setting sun.
He had to be here somewhere, she decided. She'd seen his car parked in the garage downstairs. So as stealthily as she could, Max made her way around the apartment looking for him. In the living room, a mess of newspapers and photographs buried the coffee table that used to be kept spotless. And behind her the computers were still running even though no one was currently around to use them. It was like Logan no longer cared about anything, including his precious Eyes Only. On second thought, she hadn't heard any news of a hack in well over a year. Maybe he had given up.
The rest of the apartment turned up empty as well, leaving Max only one place left to look. Walking down that last hallway, the one that led to the master bedroom, tormented her memory to the point that it almost brought tears to her eyes. She managed to hold them back but it was still painful knowing how that one night changed her entire life. Max didn't really regret it. Jordan was the greatest thing that ever happened to her. She only wished everything had occurred under different circumstances.
After what seemed to her like an eternity of searching, Max ultimately discovered Logan in his bedroom. He sat facing the tall windows, his body slumped over in his chair. An empty bottle of red wine rested on the table beside his bed; the corresponding glass lay shattered on the ground beneath it.
Cast by the hall light, Max's shadow crawled across the room until it reached the floor next to him. He glanced down at it, not the least big surprised to see it, and then lifted his head to concentrate on the outside world again. Ever since he saw her at Crash the night before he figured she would eventually come to see him, even if only out of her own guilt. It was only a question of when she would show up.
"I don't know what you want," he confessed aloud, using the same words he had picked to say to her hours ago. "You have already taken so much from me, what else is there for you to have?"
She cautiously took two steps into the room. "I didn't come here to ask for anything. I—I just wanted to tell you I'm sorry."
The sound of a cold, bitter laugh echoed between the walls. "For what?" he demanded. "For lying to my face? For convincing me you actually had a heart? Or for taking off only once the money ran dry?"
"That's not what happened," she whispered, only half confident. "I wasn't trying to use you."
"No, you just hung around and spent my money until I finally slept with you." Logan turned and looked at her for the first time that night. "It's okay Max, really. I understand."
His hands forcefully grabbed the wheels of his chair and he quickly left the room. She followed him into the kitchen, despite the fact that he obviously didn't want to be near her. She was not going to let him get away that easily. Not when she had already come this far.
"That wasn't me in that bed, Logan," she stated with a little more certainty in her voice than before. "You have to realize that. What we shared was only a result of the Manticore inside of me."
A bottle of whiskey appeared from behind the counter, followed by a fresh glass. He filled it almost to the edge, then immediately downed half of its contents. "You know, you could say the same thing about that other guy you slept with, whatever his name was. Except you didn't leave town after him."
If he had been paying attention, he would have noticed the slight drop in Max's composure. She had never offered the details of that night to Logan and he had never asked, both of them wanting to forget all about it. Four months later, when the next wave hit, they almost had.
"His name is Rafer," Max admitted, though her conscience tried to tell her otherwise.
A look of surprise and sadness washed over Logan's face. "I see," he mumbled, turning away from her yet again. "I guess I didn't realize he was that important to you."
"I never said he was, Logan. You're not listening to me."
"Well then explain, Max." He spun his chair around to look her directly in the eye. "Tell me why you didn't run after you spent the night with Rafer."
Her mind flashed back to that one-room apartment in Miami when she was nine months pregnant and in pain. There was only one explanation to offer him. "Because I didn't get pregnant with Rafer."
For a long moment Logan just sat there, confused. But when he realized what Max was really saying, his expression faded into a simple understanding. His rigid body fell back into the chair, weakly collapsing under its own weight. "You took off because you found out you were pregnant. With my child." Everything made sense to him now. All this time she'd kept running just so he wouldn't find out about the baby. Her fear of an intimate relationship between them drove her away.
But there was one thing that he couldn't comprehend. "You never told Cindy anything?"
She dropped her head, ashamed. "I wanted to get out of Seattle. She would've tried to stop me."
"She had a damn good reason to, Max!" He waited for her to look back up at him before he continued. "How could you do this to me? How could you leave without even saying goodbye?"
Because by the time she realized what she had done, Max wasn't willing to turn around. "I couldn't stay here, Logan. I couldn't see your face knowing I was carrying your child. Knowing such a wonderful thing was only the result of a hormone induced, meaningless night of sex."
"Meaningless," he muttered, shaking his head to himself. That certainly wasn't the impression he had gotten. "Just… just leave, Max. Please. I think I've had about as much of this as I can take for one night."
She turned to go, but decided she couldn't leave without at least having the last word. "I'm not asking you to be a part of this. I can do just fine on my own if I have to." She swallowed, trying her best to hide the lump in her throat. "But then someday I'll have to tell your daughter why her father doesn't want to see her. You need to ask yourself if that's what you really want."
Logan watched as she walked away from him, knowing it was probably for the last time. He'd waited for her to come back for months and now that she had, he'd just let her disappear again. Distantly he heard the slam of the front door followed by the chime of the elevator. He drifted towards the window, feeling the need to at least watch her drive away. But it wasn't the Ninja that pulled out of the parking lot with Max behind the wheel.
Those first few weeks after she'd left, once he finally understood that Max was gone forever, Logan developed a deep, dark depression. She had become his entire life. Everything he did had revolved around her in some way. And when she took off, he let alcohol consume him so that at least the pain wouldn't. Eventually he pieced his life back together, but only enough to make it appear normal from the outside. It was never really the same. He was always standing on the edge of a cliff, waiting for the force that would throw him into the oblivion below.
Seeing Max at Crash again was enough to pull him back into the darkness. In his mind he felt useless and unwanted, rejected. He knew Max was only coming to see him out of pity, and he didn't want that. So he acted like a jackass.
But then she hadn't felt sorry for him or tried to comfort him. And she hadn't ridden off carelessly into the night on her Ninja, either.
He almost couldn't believe she'd given up her motorcycle. The one thing of value that she'd held onto and cherished like nothing else, and she'd given it up. For his child. A child whose name he didn't even know, because he'd been too preoccupied with his own selfishness to ask. She'd spent the last two years raising his daughter. All he'd done was wallow in his own self-hatred.
It suddenly occurred to Logan that Max wasn't the same woman that left him nineteen months ago. She was better.
A/N: This is it, the chapter you've all been asking for. I think I've tormented myself enough over it. Enjoy reading, and be sure to leave a review when you're done. And no, this is not the end of the story.
If Only He Knew
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The impending front door of Logan's apartment stared down at Max in a contest of courage. She wanted to open it. She wanted to walk in and tell him everything, but it just wasn't that simple. The door had become more of a barrier to her than the gateway it used to be. She needed more courage just to cross it this time. And all because she had an idea of what was waiting for her on the other side.
Last time, she remembered, things had been so different. Logan had known her body was in heat and yet he still let her in without any hesitation. They thought they could handle it. After all, Max made it through dinner with no problem. Unfortunately, they both underestimated the power of lighting a few candles. Those candles prompted Logan to turn on a little music; the music led to a slow dance in his living room. And then it was a matter of inches before her lips met his.
Max snapped herself out of her reverie. Reflecting on past memories wasn't going to make her current situation any easier. Besides, no matter how much she thought about that night, things weren't going to change. She had lost control of herself. And so had Logan.
At last Max gathered every bit of her courage, grabbed the silver handle, and turned. She expected him to be right on the other side of the door, waiting for her to show up. She expected to listen to him scream and yell at her for acting so immaturely. But when the door opened she found the apartment desolate, its rooms lit only by the bright orange haze from the setting sun.
He had to be here somewhere, she decided. She'd seen his car parked in the garage downstairs. So as stealthily as she could, Max made her way around the apartment looking for him. In the living room, a mess of newspapers and photographs buried the coffee table that used to be kept spotless. And behind her the computers were still running even though no one was currently around to use them. It was like Logan no longer cared about anything, including his precious Eyes Only. On second thought, she hadn't heard any news of a hack in well over a year. Maybe he had given up.
The rest of the apartment turned up empty as well, leaving Max only one place left to look. Walking down that last hallway, the one that led to the master bedroom, tormented her memory to the point that it almost brought tears to her eyes. She managed to hold them back but it was still painful knowing how that one night changed her entire life. Max didn't really regret it. Jordan was the greatest thing that ever happened to her. She only wished everything had occurred under different circumstances.
After what seemed to her like an eternity of searching, Max ultimately discovered Logan in his bedroom. He sat facing the tall windows, his body slumped over in his chair. An empty bottle of red wine rested on the table beside his bed; the corresponding glass lay shattered on the ground beneath it.
Cast by the hall light, Max's shadow crawled across the room until it reached the floor next to him. He glanced down at it, not the least big surprised to see it, and then lifted his head to concentrate on the outside world again. Ever since he saw her at Crash the night before he figured she would eventually come to see him, even if only out of her own guilt. It was only a question of when she would show up.
"I don't know what you want," he confessed aloud, using the same words he had picked to say to her hours ago. "You have already taken so much from me, what else is there for you to have?"
She cautiously took two steps into the room. "I didn't come here to ask for anything. I—I just wanted to tell you I'm sorry."
The sound of a cold, bitter laugh echoed between the walls. "For what?" he demanded. "For lying to my face? For convincing me you actually had a heart? Or for taking off only once the money ran dry?"
"That's not what happened," she whispered, only half confident. "I wasn't trying to use you."
"No, you just hung around and spent my money until I finally slept with you." Logan turned and looked at her for the first time that night. "It's okay Max, really. I understand."
His hands forcefully grabbed the wheels of his chair and he quickly left the room. She followed him into the kitchen, despite the fact that he obviously didn't want to be near her. She was not going to let him get away that easily. Not when she had already come this far.
"That wasn't me in that bed, Logan," she stated with a little more certainty in her voice than before. "You have to realize that. What we shared was only a result of the Manticore inside of me."
A bottle of whiskey appeared from behind the counter, followed by a fresh glass. He filled it almost to the edge, then immediately downed half of its contents. "You know, you could say the same thing about that other guy you slept with, whatever his name was. Except you didn't leave town after him."
If he had been paying attention, he would have noticed the slight drop in Max's composure. She had never offered the details of that night to Logan and he had never asked, both of them wanting to forget all about it. Four months later, when the next wave hit, they almost had.
"His name is Rafer," Max admitted, though her conscience tried to tell her otherwise.
A look of surprise and sadness washed over Logan's face. "I see," he mumbled, turning away from her yet again. "I guess I didn't realize he was that important to you."
"I never said he was, Logan. You're not listening to me."
"Well then explain, Max." He spun his chair around to look her directly in the eye. "Tell me why you didn't run after you spent the night with Rafer."
Her mind flashed back to that one-room apartment in Miami when she was nine months pregnant and in pain. There was only one explanation to offer him. "Because I didn't get pregnant with Rafer."
For a long moment Logan just sat there, confused. But when he realized what Max was really saying, his expression faded into a simple understanding. His rigid body fell back into the chair, weakly collapsing under its own weight. "You took off because you found out you were pregnant. With my child." Everything made sense to him now. All this time she'd kept running just so he wouldn't find out about the baby. Her fear of an intimate relationship between them drove her away.
But there was one thing that he couldn't comprehend. "You never told Cindy anything?"
She dropped her head, ashamed. "I wanted to get out of Seattle. She would've tried to stop me."
"She had a damn good reason to, Max!" He waited for her to look back up at him before he continued. "How could you do this to me? How could you leave without even saying goodbye?"
Because by the time she realized what she had done, Max wasn't willing to turn around. "I couldn't stay here, Logan. I couldn't see your face knowing I was carrying your child. Knowing such a wonderful thing was only the result of a hormone induced, meaningless night of sex."
"Meaningless," he muttered, shaking his head to himself. That certainly wasn't the impression he had gotten. "Just… just leave, Max. Please. I think I've had about as much of this as I can take for one night."
She turned to go, but decided she couldn't leave without at least having the last word. "I'm not asking you to be a part of this. I can do just fine on my own if I have to." She swallowed, trying her best to hide the lump in her throat. "But then someday I'll have to tell your daughter why her father doesn't want to see her. You need to ask yourself if that's what you really want."
Logan watched as she walked away from him, knowing it was probably for the last time. He'd waited for her to come back for months and now that she had, he'd just let her disappear again. Distantly he heard the slam of the front door followed by the chime of the elevator. He drifted towards the window, feeling the need to at least watch her drive away. But it wasn't the Ninja that pulled out of the parking lot with Max behind the wheel.
Those first few weeks after she'd left, once he finally understood that Max was gone forever, Logan developed a deep, dark depression. She had become his entire life. Everything he did had revolved around her in some way. And when she took off, he let alcohol consume him so that at least the pain wouldn't. Eventually he pieced his life back together, but only enough to make it appear normal from the outside. It was never really the same. He was always standing on the edge of a cliff, waiting for the force that would throw him into the oblivion below.
Seeing Max at Crash again was enough to pull him back into the darkness. In his mind he felt useless and unwanted, rejected. He knew Max was only coming to see him out of pity, and he didn't want that. So he acted like a jackass.
But then she hadn't felt sorry for him or tried to comfort him. And she hadn't ridden off carelessly into the night on her Ninja, either.
He almost couldn't believe she'd given up her motorcycle. The one thing of value that she'd held onto and cherished like nothing else, and she'd given it up. For his child. A child whose name he didn't even know, because he'd been too preoccupied with his own selfishness to ask. She'd spent the last two years raising his daughter. All he'd done was wallow in his own self-hatred.
It suddenly occurred to Logan that Max wasn't the same woman that left him nineteen months ago. She was better.