Disclaimer: Don't own the, don't make money from them, just like to play with them
A/N : Logan take on Max's reaction to his poem. Shipperish fluff but enjoy.
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I can't believe I let her read the poem. But she wanted to so much, I could tell, and deep inside I wanted her to. I can't come out and tell her how I feel about her yet. I'm afraid to. Afraid of how she would react. Afraid of putting myself out there to get hurt. The poem was a way to test the waters without taking the chance that she would outright reject me. If she didn't like it I could tell myself it was the poem she didn't like, not me.
I used to be so confident with women. But then again I never really cared what they thought of me. Max is different. There's something about her, some connection I have to her that I've never had before with anyone else. Problem is there are so many complications. My wheelchair, (I know she says she doesn't care but it still presents a problem) Manticore, my insecurities, her insecurities. Add the fact that I'm 32 to her 19 or 20 and sometimes I feel like it's just plain hopeless.
But then she walks into my place and I forget all of the above. She makes one of her smart-ass wisecracks and I feel the laughter welling up inside of me. The day lightens even if it is one of Seattle's eternally rainy days. She was so cute the other day when she came over. I'm telling her (or trying to anyway) about the latest Eyes Only mission I need her to do and she's standing there waving her newly manicured fingernails in my face (yes I noticed, I notice everything about her) and telling me about Cindy and her new/old squeeze. I was already flustered because she caught me writing in my poetry notebook (there's a question for Freud – I paged her to come over, I knew she would walk in unannounced so why did I have the book out? Freud would say I wanted her to see it and ask me about it. Maybe he would be right.). Anyway all I really wanted to do was to say to hell with Eyes Only and sit and listen to Max tell me her story but I'm scared to do that.
I think she likes to come over to see me for more than just missions and meals but I'm not sure and I'm afraid to ask because she might say she doesn't. Max has her own insecurities, I know that. She's been conditioned against caring and involvement. She reminds me of a young, unschooled foal. She wants that human contact and connection and she moves forward, lets you touch her lightly but then jumps back away, skittish if you try to move too close too fast. I keep telling myself, patience but it's hard. Especially when I'm dealing with my own insecurity around her.
One positive note though. I'm tired of her saying that I only care about her as my legs or as my cat burglar or some such. She came by again after those goons tried to jump her (How many people are after her anyway? I think I need to make her my next Eyes Only project and figure out a way to get some of these guys off her back before she is forced to leave Seattle for real this time.) I was doing some bicep curls and feeling pretty good about my progress with them. (Have to admit I was hoping she'd notice – for once she didn't catch me in front of the computer. I remember high school when the girls would walk by the weight room and pause outside the door, my friends and I would do some extra flexing for them to see.)
Anyway I told her I'd trace the gun for her and she walked around to sit back to back with me on the table. Lately she's getting more comfortable with touching. The feel and scent of her so close to me kind of threw me and without intending to I heard myself blurting out "It's worth noting that, though saving the world is the primary mission, I do worry about you." She came back with something about worrying not being useful but that she was happy to know that I cared about her as more than my cat burglar, I think it was. So next thing I say "Way more" and I leaned back against her. Instead of running away she asked if that meant her name was in any of my poems and when I told her maybe she said something about "living off that for a few days". That's progress for us. I manage to tell her I do care in a casual kind of way and she lets me know in an indirect way that she likes my saying that.
What a relationship! Two people scared to come out and say what they feel so we dance around it. Maybe by the time we're old and gray we'll actually be able to express our feelings to each other?
So anyway, after the whole Diamond episode, Max came back over to see me. I was feeling pretty good about things, about the fact that I had actually managed to make a move (albeit a small one) and she hadn't totally rejected it. We're having one of our brownouts again so I figured why not light some candles, we do need the light after all, not to mention that it does set a certain mood. We were drinking wine and Max spotted my poetry book on the table (another Freudian slip on my part?) and brought it up again.
I had really mixed feelings about her reading it. I've never let anyone read my more creative writings. Being something of a perfectionist I've always been really self critical of them and haven't wanted to open myself up to anyone else's criticism. Not to mention my early conditioning about what constitutes a "real man", poetry not being one of the acceptable qualities.
She was actually flirting with me about it and I found myself giving in. I can't resist her when she turns those brown eyes on me full force. Besides I'm still afraid to say too much to her but I really wanted to do something. I gave her the poem "Forever Eyes" wondering as she began to read it if she would realize I was writing about her. Of course she did. I'll never forget the look in her eyes or the tone of her voice as she said "You wrote this about me?" It sounded like she was about to cry.
I thought she liked it but I had to be sure so I said "Depends. Do you hate it?"
"It's alright" was her response but the tone of her voice told me what I needed to know. She liked it. So I admitted to her "Well then yes it's about you."
I don't know what I expected her to do. Throw herself into my arms or something? But that wouldn't be Max. I forget sometimes that she's only 19 and that's she's had an anything but normal upbringing. She never went to her high school prom, never giggled with girlfriends over boys, and never had a first love. It's amazing that she survived as well as she did with so much love intact inside of her. I know it's there; it comes out in crisis, when Cindy is in danger from the Red soldiers, when she thinks I'm in danger, even when Normal is in trouble. But she has a hard time when she has to think about expressing her feelings. I know that.
I should have expected her reaction and not been surprised when she suddenly said "Gotta bounce" and grabbed her jacket and took off. At the moment I was feeling too vulnerable though and was kicking myself for showing her the poem. At least that was my first reaction. It's only now that I've had time to think about it that I can realize Max did exactly what I should have known she would do. Another step in our dance.
Anyway, I found out something after she left, and after I threw the book, and after I got through kicking myself for showing it to her. I went to read over the poem again and it was gone. The little witch tore the page out of the book and took the poem with her. So instead of being down and depressed and feeling like an idiot I'm on top of the world. She really did like my poem, so much so that she took it. I would have given it to her if she asked but Max isn't ready to do that yet. I don't care.
We have communicated in our own unique style and I feel like we've taken a giant step forward in our journey. I don't know where we'll end up but I feel better about us (yes I do think we're an "us"). I'm worried about the immediate future. I have a bad feeling that dark clouds are gathering and we are in for some tough times but together we can get through them I remember what I said at my cousin's wedding,
"…crossed paths by chance, partners by choice and together embarking on the greatest adventure two people can share." Strength lies in numbers, in human connections and, together, Max and I will keep each other strong.