Picking Up The Pieces
By Guardian Angel (eyes_only1@yahoo.com)
1/24/01
*****
She slept for days,
floating in that special world that only the people who have been near death,
and pulled back, can reach. Sometimes
the pain was so great that she wanted to scream, to cry, to beg for it all to
be ended. Fortunately, the pain did not
usually last for long, as either Bling or Logan would notice her distress and
give her more medicine.
At Bling's advice, they
let her sleep uninterrupted for the first day or so. After a close examination, the he had determined that her
concussion, if she even had one, was mild, and she needed that time to start
healing much more than she needed to be kept awake, or fed food or water. After the first 36 hours, though, they began
to take turns feeding her, rousing her just enough to slide a few sips of water
or broth down her throat every few hours. She never fully woke up, and they were both pretty sure that she had no
idea what was going on.
She had no idea that
Logan practically lived at her bedside, doing his damnedest to make her as
comfortable as possible. Despite
Bling's warnings and offers to spell him so he could rest, the worried man
usually exhausted himself to the point where he ended up drifting off to sleep
for brief snatches of time, ensconced in a chair at her bedside. He usually woke up with a giant crick in his
neck, or a lingering soreness in his back at the uncomfortable positions he
often found himself in.
His diligence paid off
when, six days after her abrupt arrival, she finally opened her eyes once
more. As the world slowly began to
invade her senses, she quietly took stock of her body before looking around
her. She ached in a thousand different
places, her throat still burned slightly with each breath, and her arm, lying
splinted at her side, twinged with pain from the partially mended break.
Her sleepy gaze landed on
Logan, and she hid the pang in her heart with a soft smile. He was slumped forward in his chair, his
arms crossed on the bed and his head pillowed on them. With his face relaxed in sleep he looked
decidedly sweet…and decidedly uncomfortable.
She had been away for so
long. During her time at Manticore, she
had often thought of him, wondering what he was doing at any certain moment,
imagining a thousand different scenarios for him. Many of them had included other women; after all, he was a
handsome man. Those images had always
hurt, and as the months began to add up, heightening the chances that he'd
found someone else, she convinced herself that if she ever managed to escape
again, she would not go back to Seattle. She'd make a new life for herself somewhere else, where Lydecker would
be less likely to look…and where memories wouldn't haunt her at every turn.
But when the shit hit the fan, where did I end up? Here. I honestly don't even remember making the conscious decision to come here, all I remember is the pain, and… Abruptly her mind shied away from the vivid images, and she quickly skipped over that chunk of time in her mental ruminations. And I ended up here. Go figure. Logan has always been kind of a safe house for me, and I guess when I needed it most my body went on autopilot, and brought me here. Looks like he came through…as always.
"Logan." Unused for several days, and still bruised,
her voice was a hoarse croak when she finally managed to force words through
her dry throat.
He jolted awake at the
sound, blearily rubbing his eyes and looking up at her. "Max." It was impossible to miss the relief and happiness in the single
word. She had slept for so long that he
had started to wonder if she would ever wake up. He smiled at her; his eyes alight with joy. "You're awake. How do you feel?" He studied her intently, noticing that while
she was still pale beneath her golden skin, she was looking markedly
better. Most of the bruises had either
completely vanished, or faded to a dull gray-yellow. All visible cuts were scabbed over and in various stages of healing.
She shrugged, wincing as
the movement tugged uncomfortably at several healing scabs. "I'm alive, so I suppose that's a
plus." Her initial happiness upon
seeing him began to fade, as memories of what had taken place began to invade
her mind, refusing to be pushed away this time. Reminding her of what she had endured, and what she had lost
since she had seen him last.
Trying to push her
depressing thoughts away, refusing to deal with them for a little while longer,
Max absently shoved a stray strand of hair behind her ear. Dimly, her senses took in the slightly oily
texture of her hair, and she realized that she felt disgusting, dirty. She'd obviously been asleep for longer than
she'd originally guessed. The T-shirt
she wore was wrinkled, and slightly damp from the tortured sweat of her
restless dreams.
Looking back at Logan,
her eyes registered her confusion. "Uck." She plucked
idly at her soiled shirt, craving a shower. That, however, could wait a little longer. "How long have I been out?"
"About six
days." He met her startled gaze,
seeing the astonishment in her eyes. "You were pretty wrecked, Max. Your body needed the down time, the chance to recover without
interruption and worry."
He stretched, rolling his
shoulders and working out some of the kinks left from his uncomfortable napping
position. Seeing the sadness entering
her eyes, he reached out and gently stroked a finger down her cheek. "What's wrong?" His voice was soft.
She shook her head
slightly, not ready to talk about what she had sacrificed to stay alive. What others had sacrificed for her. She looked away, refusing to meet his
gaze. He was much too perceptive, and
she wasn't quite ready to share her pain with him.
Understanding that she
needed time, Logan just nodded and smiled reassuringly. He wasn't going to press her, she would tell
him about it when she was ready. Not
only was her body still fragile at this point, but so was her mind. Too much pressure, and she might break. He wasn't willing to risk it.
It doesn't take a genius to realize that she must've been through hell.
"Ok." Switching
gears in his brain, he stood up, looking down at her. "Think you could keep a few bites of dinner down if I whip
something up? After six days of water and
broth, I'm sure your body could use some solid food."
She stared up at him,
stunned with the realization that he no longer needed the wheelchair. What little she actually remembered from her
arrival in his penthouse was a blurry fog, and apparently the fact that he
could walk again had not registered in her brain at the time.
"You're
standing!" Despite the hoarse
croak of her voice, the astonishment in her words was clear.
He smiled at her
surprise. "Yeah. They managed to find a way to cure me, about
three months ago. The surgery was
risky, but definitely worth it." His blue eyes sparkled at her, full of happiness and compassion. "How about that food?" He stared down at her for a moment longer,
reluctant to leave. After months
without any word from her, he was almost afraid that if he left her alone for
more than a minute, she'd disappear. But she desperately needed food, her normally slender body had been
whittled away to little more than skin and bones over the past few months,
between the strain of being back at Manticore and going several days without
sustenance while she slept.
"Yeah, ok. After six months of soldier rations, I think
I can probably choke down a homemade meal by Chef Cale." Though the movement was slightly painful,
tearing at the cut in her lip, she smiled back at him, trying to lighten the
mood a bit.
With one last smile he
turned to go. "Good. I'll be back, just yell if you need
anything, Ok?" With one last, long
undecipherable look, he left her alone to prepare dinner.
*****
Twenty minutes later,
Logan walked back into the bedroom, carrying a steaming tray of food. From her
position on the bed, Max was staring out the window. So deep in thought was she that his entrance into the room didn't
even register in her mind.
"Max."
His soft words woke her
from her trance, and she turned to face him. He almost stumbled backwards at the unbearable sadness that filled her
eyes, multiplied tenfold in depth from what he had seen just minutes before. With an almost unbearable desire to make all
of her pain go away, he rushed to her side and sat down on the edge of the
bed. He placed the tray of food on the
bedside table where it was promptly forgotten.
Reaching out a hand, he
felt her forehead. As if her sadness
was caused by a fever, or some such illness. At least then there would be a tangible thing for him to fix, a place to
start. "What's wrong?" Her face was not overly hot, and he began to
gently stroke her tangled hair, absently brushing the strands out of her eyes
and tucking them behind her ears.
At the obvious concern in
his voice and the tenderness of his touch, the tears she had been keeping back
for so long threatened once again to fall. Holding on the last tattered shreds of her Manticore training, she
pushed the useless sign of weakness away once more. "Nothing." Despite her brutal control, her voice broke slightly on the word. "There's nothing you can do."
She sounded so hopeless,
and the shadows seemed to engulf her eyes even more. Smothering her natural life, making her seem dead and empty
inside.
While she had always been
able to share her problems with him before, been able to discuss anything with
him, for some reason it was much harder to open up to him this time. After experiencing what it was like to live
and love, being forced back into training as a Manticore soldier had scared her
even more than she was aware of. In
order to keep even the slightest bit of her soul alive, she'd had to lock that
part of herself away in the deepest corners of her mind, revealing it to no
one. Now, as her mind tried to shut
down and refuse to acknowledge all the terrible things that had happened, it
was almost impossible for her to find that corner of herself and open up
again.
"Talk to me." His voice was soft as he pleaded with
her. "At least let me give you a
shoulder to cry on…" His
topaz-blue eyes searched her face, looking for some clue as to what was going
on in her troubled head. He wanted to
cuddle her, to wrap her in his arms and promise that it would be all right,
that it would all go away. To protect
her, to hide her away from the world and keep her as his forever. "You're not alone, Max. You don't have to be strong all the time,
not anymore. Let me help
you."
Finally, as the
compassion and concern in those wonderful eyes of his wore her down, she took a
deep breath and forced herself to speak. "Zack. He's dead because of
me." Her voice and face were expressionless as she said this, and she
refused to meet his questioning gaze. Grief welled up in her throat, making it difficult to speak, and she
paused for a moment.
"What
happened?" Gently, he pried for
details. He felt guilty for the small
amount of relief he felt at her words, images of Max being tortured, beaten, or
tormented in a million other ways had been flitting through his head. While he was glad that her sadness did not
stem from something that had been done directly to her, he knew that Max had
loved the annoying man as a brother, and that his death was understandably hard
on her.
"He's dead…he loved
me, gave up his life for me- not once, but twice- and I never even had the
chance to tell him how much he meant to me." These last words were said in a near-whisper, and a single tear broke
past the dam and trickled slowly down her cheek, glittering diamond-bright in
the soft light from the bedside lamp.
At her words, his heart
threatened to break. He had managed to
make it when she had left, fighting through his grief and guilt, eventually
able to move forward with his life. When he had seen her in his hall, bruised and battered, he would have
needed to be dead to repress the hope that had sprung up in his chest. Hope that she was back for good…hope that
maybe, just maybe, they had a chance at a life together this time.
If he found out now that
she had given her heart to Zack, that she viewed him as no more than a friend,
Logan knew that would be the end. Broken hearts could be mended, but there was no way to pick up the
pieces of a shattered heart.
"Wha…what do you
mean?" Unbidden, his voice
stuttered. In the face of his emotional
turmoil, his normally fluent words failed him.
Caught up in her own
thoughts, Max didn't notice the strangled quality of his words. Her eyes were unfocused as she stared into
space, reliving those last moments over and over in her head.
She was silent for so
long that Logan had finally come to the conclusion that she wasn't going to
tell him, when finally her voice broke the quiet, a pain-filled murmur. He had no doubts that she was talking to
herself now, he was pretty sure that she'd even forgotten he was in the room in
the first place.
No longer truly aware of
his presence in the room, she spoke softly, her voice a strained murmur. "I was there for over a month before I
saw Zack again. I knew he was there,
Lydecker had let it slip a few times, but he was keeping us separated…as if he
was afraid that if we were together, we'd undermine each other's training and
try to escape again. Which, of course,
we would have." The last sentence
sounded slightly more like the old Max, dryly sarcastic, and the faintest hint
of a humorless smile crossed her lips for a millisecond before she continued.
While the words had
refused to come at first, once she got started, reliving the painful memories
in her head, she couldn't have stopped the flood of words if her life had
depended on it. "The first full
week he kept me chained up and locked away in a pitch-black room, stuffing
drugs down my throat with the meals that were delivered twice a day by silent,
disgusting guards." Her voice was
carefully bleak, as she refused to let on exactly how much the proceedings had
hurt her.
"When he finally let
me out, I was so doped up, dependent on the shit he had fed me, that it wasn't
hard for him to get me to do what he wanted. I was shoved back into the training program immediately, doing the same
old shit. The combat training, the
strategy classes, the subversive videos. The physical training that bordered on the edge of torture at
times. All the stuff we'd done as
children, only ten times more intensive. And all it took was one mistake, just one, and you were sentenced to a
beating the likes of which you'd never be able to imagine, and rations were
suspended for two days. Of course we
were still expected to train during those days, despite the fact that we were
always weak with blood loss and lack of food.
"After the first
couple times that happened, I learned real quick, and did my damndest to be
good. Locked my heart and mind away in
a tiny corner of my body, and refused to acknowledge them. I would've gone crazy otherwise. Thinking I was the perfect little soldier
again, he finally put me back into the group with Zack and Brin."
Silently Logan listened,
figuring that it would be wiser to just let her talk it out, to say what she
needed to say. His heart clenched at
the pain he knew she must have endured; she was so strong. He knew she had the armored soul of a
warrior, despite her many insecurities and the facade of nonchalance she
presented to the world as she tried to hide those fears. Lydecker believed his children to be
failures, but really, they weren't. Or
at least Max wasn't. To Logan, at
least, she was the perfect blend of soldier and woman; the perfect hybrid.
He was grateful that she
was oblivious to the fact that he flinched every time she said Zack's name. His
heart ached deep in his chest as he heard the longing in her voice as she
spoke, and he found himself fighting down the urge to leap up and shout, to
tell her that Zack could never love her the way he could, that if she'd just
give him the chance, he could be everything she wanted. Everything she needed.
"I remember the
first time I saw Zack again…I was so overjoyed to see him, I almost cried. But to cry would've given me away, broken
down those walls again, and probably would've landed me back in solitary, being
pumped full of drugs. In that first
glance we said everything that needed to be said through our eyes. We never once talked to each other in a
personal way, to do so would've given away the fact that we weren't mindless
little drones again. But still, it was
an understood fact that we'd try to escape the first time the chance arose.
"They learned their
lesson, 'cause it was so much harder to escape this time. Wherever we went there were guards… I'm not
sure how long we went on like that, the days just all blurred together. I was there, and yet I wasn't, not
really. My body was doing what was
demanded of it, no matter how disgusting or difficult the task, but my mind,
that essential part of me was locked
away…" Her jaw was clenched, her
eyes lost off in the distance. Instead
of seeing the warm paneled walls of Logan's bedroom, she was haunted with
images and ghosts from her time at Manticore.
Logan's stomach churned
at her words. Her spirit had always
been such a vital part of her, a bright light in the shadows of their damaged
world. The thought of someone trampling
on that light, causing her to lock it away in some dark hole away from the
world, made him ache. Still, he forced
himself to continue listening, knowing that whether or not she acknowledged his
presence, she needed the metaphorical shoulder to cry on.
"I just did what I
had to do to survive." Her gaze
still lost in the past, oblivious to her surroundings, she shrugged. "After a while, I stopped caring what
they did to me. Didn't matter anymore,
it was just my body. Not my mind. But then…"
Up until this point in
her monologue, her words had been fairly controlled, as if she was just
relating facts of history. Within the
space of a millisecond, though, her tone shifted, her face once again filling
with pain and misery, and her voice breaking with unshed tears.
Unable to bear it any
longer, desperate to know what happened, Logan finally took a risk and prodded
her a bit, trying to get her to continue. His words were tender as he gently tucked a wayward strand of hair
behind her ear. "And then? Can you tell me what happened next,
Max? Please?"
Suddenly she snapped back
to the present, the clouds fading from her eyes and her gaze focusing with
rapid clarity on his face. Her look was
biting as she glared at him, deciding that anger was a better way to deal with
her pain. "And then we tried to
escape, and all hell broke loose." Her anger was short lived, however, as the memories once again swamped
her.
Looking away once again,
she continued talking. As before, her
words were not really directed specifically at Logan; she was just
talking. Reliving the nightmare in her
mind. "One night, we got the
chance we'd been waiting for. A bout of
flu was going around the compound, and a few too many guards were down sick. Security was at a minimum, probably as low
as it was ever going to be. Zack woke
us in the middle of the night, told us the plan. Plan. I say that like
there actually was a plan." Her laugh was bitter at the painful memories
that refused to leave her alone.
"In all actuality,
we were just gonna make a run for it, and hope to hell that there were enough
of us to distract the guards and get out. We didn't go out the window this
time, cause that woulda set off a shitload of alarms and let them know exactly
what was going on. We thought we were
smarter in our old age, or somethin', ya know? Decided to risk sneaking downstairs and out through one of the side
doors, no alarms to set off that way. Not really a big deal, there was a door close by, we just had to play
dodge-the-riflemen 'long the way. Figure, give 'em enough targets to shoot at, draw their fire in several
different directions, they bound to miss more often, right?"
Sensing she needed the
subtle support, he silently slipped his hand in hers, twining their fingers
together and squeezing gently. Letting
her know that he was there; she wasn't alone.
"So off we
went. Zack took out the guard outside
our door, easy. He went ahead,
scouting, while I brought up the rear with Brin. We made it out of the dorms and into the main hallway without
much problem; most of the guards were out sick."
Without even realizing
it, she was clinging to his hand, desperate for any shred of reassurance. Proof that she wasn't alone anymore, that
she didn't have to face this hell by herself.
"We were just at the
door, thinkin' maybe this wasn't so hard after all, when the shit hit the
fan." Her voice, earlier almost
inaudible at times in her pain, now vibrated with scarlet fury.
Unable to control herself
any longer, she tossed back the covers and sprung up from the bed. Her body was still inordinately weak, and
she stumbled a bit, sagging back against the edge of the bed for a moment,
before ruthlessly yanking back control of her recalcitrant body. Beneath the borrowed T-shirt she wore, her
body shook with an exhausting combination of rage and both emotional and
physical pain. She stalked around the
room for a moment, like a caged panther looking for an escape, before whirling
around to face him. Her hands fisted in
her hair as she looked at him, desperation oozing out of her every pore.
Her face twisted in
agony, tears finally breaking free to stream, unheeded, down her cheeks,
trembling violently, she faced him.
"It was a trap, all
a fucking trap! A test to see if we
really were loyal."
She shook like a loose
leaf faced with a strong wind, and the image of his Max, so weak, scared Logan
to death. She was still far from
healed; in fact as she stood there he noticed a thin trickle of blood making
its way down her leg. One of the cuts
on her thighs had reopened. He was
afraid she was going to collapse, and rising from the edge of the bed he held
out a hand to her again.
"Max. Come sit down, please. You're hurting yourself."
She stared at him blankly
for a few seconds, unreacting, until he reached out and took her hand in
his. Or tried to, anyway.
Incensed by his touch,
she leaped backwards. "Get
the fuck away from me!" Her chest heaved as she spat the words. "Don't touch me! Don't you dare touch me!" She was
hysterical at this point, her eyes wet with tears and her body about jumping
like it had been connected to a live wire from the strain of her emotions.
"I watched them gun
down the man who has saved my life more times than I can count. I watched my brother take a bullet through the fucking brain, trying to deflect the fire from me 'n Brin so that
we, at least, had a chance at escape."
Stunned at the depth of
her pain, as well as her anger, Logan stumbled back a step, deciding it was
wise to do as she asked for now. Despite her rage, she looked as fragile as spun glass, he was afraid
that one wrong move would send her shattering to the floor.
As her hot fury at the
injustice of what had happened gave way to unbearable agony, she whimpered
softly, clutching at her hair. As if
holding on to the silky strands with all her strength would save her; keep her
from tumbling headlong into the abyss.
"I loved
him…" The words were accompanied
by a soft moan. "I loved him, so
much…and he's dead, because of me. I killed him. And Brin. She was shot in
the leg, still might have made it, but she stopped, distracting them long
enough for me to get away. I tried to
take her with me, but she wouldn't…She died for me, too. Just like him." Her words ended on a soft cry, her eyes
desolate.
"I killed my family…" She stared at him, the majority of her
volatile emotions spent. One hand
covered her mouth, as if to stop the flood of words, or in horror. Finally, the energy from adrenaline spent,
her legs collapsed beneath her and she sunk to the floor with a strangled
sob. "Oh God. Oh God oh God oh God. Zack…I love you. Oh God Zack…I need you…my brother…" The words were a soft litany as she
shuddered, drawing her legs up to her chest and wrapping her arms around
them. With her head resting on her
knees, she closed her eyes and began to rock back and forth.
His heart breaking with
shared pain, he knelt next to her. With
a tentative hand he reached out and gently stroked her hair, prepared to jump
backwards if she struck out at him again. She didn't, merely continuing to keen softly to herself and rock,
ceaselessly rock.
After a few moments,
gaining courage by her acceptance of his touch, Logan sat down on the floor
next to her and silently scooped her up. Leaning back against the bed, he placed her in his lap. He wrapped his arms around her, gathering
her close and resting his cheek atop her hair. Knowing no words that could dull her pain, he simply offered his
strength and presence as comfort.
At first she was stiff in
his arms, but after a moment she relax against him, her slight weight sagging
against his chest as she burrowed her face into his shoulder and clung.
Neither had a clue as to
how long they stayed like that, cuddled together and drawing support from each
other. Max found comfort in the feel of Logan's strong arms around her,
reassuring her to the point where she let the walls fall and began to truly
grieve. Sobs wracked her frail body as Logan held her close, feeling tears
sting his eyes too as he gently rocked them both. His heart yearned to touch
hers, as if it was physically possible, while at the same time finding comfort
in her nearness and the weight of her in his lap. She was home.
Finally, her tears were
spent. Exhausted, she stayed where she
was, her head resting limply on his shoulder, her arms encircling his
waist. Her body ached, all of her
wounds throbbing painfully after the whirling storm of her emotions.
After a long while, Logan
stood up, Max still in his arms. She
stirred slightly, but quieted as he softly hushed her, placing her gently on
the bed. Propping her against the
pillows, tucking the covers around her, he turned to the meal that sat at the
bedside, long forgotten. The food was
all cold, but luckily some of it was still edible. He knew that she needed fuel more than anything right now, her
body needed energy to be able to repair itself.
Scooping up a bite of
cold chicken, he held it out to her. "Open up."
Obediently, her lips
parted and he slid the morsel into her mouth. She chewed mechanically, the delicious taste of the chicken never
registering. The process was repeated
several times, until finally Logan deemed that she had eaten enough for
now. Setting the tray aside once more,
he helped her lay down, making sure she was comfortable, and turned out the
light.
Leaning over her in the
darkness, he quietly pressed a soft kiss to her forehead. "Goodnight, Max. Sleep well."
As he was about to leave,
her voice stopped him. "Logan?" Her hand
groped for his in the darkness, and once she found it she clung to his strong
fingers. "Don't leave me,
please? I don't want to be alone, not
yet…" The words were nothing more
than a soft whisper, a barely discernable plea.
Sitting down in the chair
by her bed once more, he murmured softly to her. "Of course. I'm
right here, I'm not going anywhere."
Reassured that he would
watch over her while she slept, keeping the demons at bay, she finally drifted
into an exhausted slumber, their fingers still linked.
***
Hours later, Max
woke. The silvery light of twilight
created soft shadows in the room, making her surroundings appear almost
ethereal. Logan was still at her side,
slumped in the chair, asleep.
As she stirred slightly,
he jolted out of his light doze. Seeing
her awake, a tender smile curved his lips. "Hey." He reached out,
gently brushing tendrils of hair off her face. "How are you feeling?"
She was silent for a
moment, taking another silent inventory of her body. She still ached, but not nearly as badly as before. Sleep, coupled with the food he had stuffed
down her, had done her good. "Better."
He studied her for a
moment, silently drinking in her presence. He had to admit that she looked much healthier, color had returned to
her cheeks, and there was life in her eyes again.
As he stared at her,
drinking in her appearance, confusion ate at his gut. Despite her ordeal, and her haunting thinness, she was still
strikingly lovely. Finally, unable to hold
back the questions any longer, he spoke. Looking away, he was unable to meet her gaze, afraid of what he might
see on her face. Taking a deep breath,
he braced himself for the pain that was likely to come. Still, he had to know.
"Max…I know this
probably isn't the best time… But I need to know. Your feelings for Zack…was he just a brother? Or was he more than that?" Forcing himself to look back at her, he
waited for her answer. Waging a war against
a dead man, and unsure of who was winning.
"He was- is- the
only family I have, Logan." She
sat up, willing him to look at her. After waiting a moment, with no result, she continued. She had a lot of time to ponder her life,
her relationships with Logan and her other friends, while trapped in Manticore,
and she knew what he was asking now, even if he wasn't quite able to spell it
out. "He'll always be part of my
life, and he'll always have a piece of my heart. How can he not? He's my
big brother, the one who looked out for me and protected me when I wasn't able
to do it for myself."
Finally, his gaze swung
back to hers, and she smiled slightly at him, willing him to believe her. "But no, I never considered him to be
anything more than a brother."
The relief in his eyes
was palpable, and he returned her tentative smile. "Ok. I can deal with
that." He stroked her hair again,
smoothing the silky tendrils. Her hand
came up, catching his, and their fingers twined together, coming to rest in her
lap. "I missed you." The words were soft.
"I missed you
too…" She bit her lip, debating
with herself for a moment. The words
she wanted to say echoed in her head, tormenting her, but she wasn't quite sure
that she was brave enough to actually say them to his face. While all his actions indicated that he felt
the same way she did, still, the possibility of rejection terrified her. After losing her family, she wasn't sure she
could stand losing Logan, too, if things went wrong. She had a feeling that would be one blow too many.
Taking a deep breath, she
finally forced herself to speak. "At night, I used to lay in my bed, in the barracks. I could hear the others breathing around me,
but I usually couldn't sleep, even worse than normal. So I would lay there, and I would think of you. I would make up scenarios in my head,
imagine what it would be like when I finally came back. Imagine the look on your face, your
reaction, what you would say… And I would hope." She paused for a moment, gathering her thoughts. "If it hadn't been for my memories of
you, and my dreams of you, I would've have survived it in there, Logan. You kept me sane, reminded me what it was
like outside…what it could be like, if I wanted it badly enough." Hoping he could understand what she was
trying to say, she found herself battling tears once more. It was absurd, how often she cried these
past few hours.
Meeting his cobalt eyes,
she couldn't hide the hope in her eyes. "I want it badly enough." The words were a mere whisper.
His heart aching with a
confusing mixture of pain and joy, Logan found himself strangely
speechless. "Max." At a loss for further words, he moved to sit
on the edge of the bed, lowering his forehead to rest against hers, his hands
framing her face and his eyes closed.
Her arms twining around
his neck, she leaned into him, content with his nearness. Eventually they would both need the words,
but for now, this was enough.
"Stay with
me?" Her voice was muffled
slightly against his throat.
"Yeah." He pulled back slightly. "Just let me… One minute."
Rising from the bed, he
walked over to a handsome cabinet made out of cherry wood. Opening one of the doors, he revealed a
small, but powerful, stereo set. He
flipped through CDs for a moment, before choosing one and pushing play.
As the opening notes of
the song drifted through the air, he toed off his shoes and crawled into bed
next to her. Gathering her into his
arms once more, he touched his lips to hers. The kiss was soft, a quiet promise of what was to come, once they were
both ready.
After taking a moment to
get comfortable in his embrace, cuddling against the hard length of him, arms
wrapped around each other, the haunting words of the song he had chosen began
to register in her brain.
Hello,
I've waited here for you,
Everlong.
Tonight,
I throw myself into
And
out of the red, out of her head she sang.
Come
down and waste away with me,
Down
with me.
Slow
how, you wanted it to be,
I'm
over my head, out of her head she sang.
And
I wonder
When
I sing along with you,
If
everything could ever feel this real forever,
If
anything could ever be this good again.
The
only thing I'll ever ask of you-
You've
got to promise not to stop when I say when
She
sang.
Breathe
out,
So
I can breathe you in, hold you in.
And
now, I know you've always been
Out
of your head, out of my head I sang.
And
I wonder
When
I sing along with you
If
everything could ever feel this real forever,
If
anything could ever be this good again.
The
only thing I'll ever ask of you-
You've
got to promise not to stop when I say when
She
sang.
And I wonder
If
everything could ever feel this real forever,
If
anything could ever be this good again.
The
only thing I'll ever ask of you-
You've
got to promise not to stop when I say when
She smiled, realizing
what he had done. While neither was
quite ready to say the words, Logan had managed to find a song that echoed his
sentiments exactly, telling her without words how he felt. With her lips still curved in a smile, she
turned her head slightly to kiss his neck, letting him know that she
understood.
***
Wrapped in each other,
the loving couple talked throughout the night, sharing hopes and dreams, tears,
thoughts and laughter. Picking up the
pieces, and trying to move on.
*****
DONE! Finally! I struggled with this damn piece for almost 4 weeks…*grrr* Yeah!
*lol* If anyone's curious, the song I
used is "Everlong," by the Foo Fighters. (Dan: when I went to go change the song, and couldn't find one I
wanted to use, I *almost* broke down and used that Evan and Jaron song. I *fully* blame you for my almost-lapse!
*snicker*)