Max opened her eyes by reflex and immediately wished she hadn't. "Ow," she mumbled weakly, squeezing them shut again. She was sure they were both ringed with various shades of purple. She heard a low, sympathetic chuckle next to her and felt the pressure of a hand on hers.

"Sorry." Logan's voice was both amused and contrite. She felt him shift, sensed the harsh light receding slowly. She raised one eyelid to a tentative half-mast. Deciding it was safe, she opened both eyes fully, focusing on Logan in the pleasant dimness. It was still dark outside, though she had no idea what time it might be. She was lying on his couch, which was nowhere near the light switch, and he was still holding her hand.

"Wow. How'd you do that?" she asked, her voice scratching painfully out of her bruised throat.

"Remote control," Logan replied, almost sheepishly.

"Bet that was a hit with the girls," she managed.

"Worked on you, didn't it?" He'd dimmed his wicked grin, too, in deference to her weakened state, but couldn't contain it entirely.

"Hmmm," was her only response. "Where's Bling?"

"Went home. He said midnight rescues were above and beyond the call of his duties as my physical therapist, and we owe him one."

She lifted a shoulder, trying a small smile. When her lips didn't crack or fall off or anything, she expanded it into her characteristic grin. "Fair enough."

"Want some tea?" he asked her. "Your throat's gotta be killing you."

She nodded, for once in her life content to rest and be served. Not that she had much of a choice; she wasn't sure she could tell where sore muscles left off and bruises began. She probed the inside of her cheek gently with her tongue, feeling the imprint of her teeth, trying to ignore the cuts burning up her arms and along her ribs. No weapons, my ass, she thought wryly. Though she had to admit that on some level she would've been disappointed if he hadn't cheated. After all, it was a twisted sort of compliment to her abilities that he was looking for that extra edge.

In any case, any major movement was pretty much out of the question. At the same time, she felt oddly cleansed, the exhausted invigoration of having put in a long, hard day of purely physical labor. She'd pushed her body to its limits, and there was a kind of primal satisfaction in that knowledge. Primal satisfaction aside, it still hurt like a bitch, but she'd take what she could get.

"Thanks." She gratefully accepted the tea Logan offered, sweetened with honey and lemon to soothe her throat. She warm liquid slid down like a healing balm, and by the time she was halfway through the mug she felt up to speaking again. "So what happened back there? I thought I was on my way to meet my maker."

Logan snorted. "Do you realize you're one of the few people in the world who could say that and mean it literally?"

"Part of my charm, isn't it? Seriously, what was that shit?"

He shrugged. "Something I'd gotten hold of a while back. It's a serum that stimulates the reflexes. I'd picked it up for obvious reasons." He gestured at his legs. "It's meant to be used selectively, in small doses, specific muscles. I didn't think of what a whole bunch of it could do—especially to genetically enhanced reflexes—until it was around eleven and I was pretty much out of options. It's amazing what abject panic can do for the creativity." Unconsciously, he reached for her hand again, as if to reassure himself she was really there. Because it felt good, she pretended not to notice.

"Abject panic? Didn't have faith in my superhuman powers, huh?"

"Well, I figured a little insurance couldn't hurt."

"How did you know Lydecker was on his way?"

"Got a tip from a source that something major and military was going down near the waterfront. It didn't take much to connect the dots, and when I heard a report of black humvees—well, subtlety isn't exactly Lydecker's strong point."

"That's an understatement." She laughed, then trailed off. She suddenly realized he'd been staring at her since he returned with her tea--she wasn't completely sure he'd even blinked--and now she found herself trapped in those impossibly blue eyes, unable to look away.

"What are you staring at? I must look horrible," she tried, but couldn't seem to get her usual bite behind it.

He just kept staring and smiling. "You do. But I'm still glad to see you. Very glad to see you." His voice was husky with barely-repressed emotion.

What the hell, Max thought. I deserve a break—it's been a rough few days. So, for the first time in her life, she didn't try to dam it up, just let the warmth flow through her veins like sunlight. "Back at you," she replied, and even through bruises and scratches and dried blood, the sheer brightness of her answering smile stunned him. They sat there in silence, frozen. By the time he got his breath back, the moment was over. He saw a shadow pass over her features.

"What?" he asked, almost relieved. The momentary connection had been so intense as to be frightening, and he wasn't entirely sorry it was over. Direct exposure to full sunlight was best in small doses.

"I failed to accomplish the objective." Her eyes went distant. "I couldn't finish the job."

"Max, you made the right decision. A few more seconds and Lydecker would have had you both."

She focused on Logan again. "If I'd killed him, it would've been clean. Now either he's out there, still after me and the rest of my brothers and sisters, or I've been a part of sending him back to Manticore. Either way, it's hard to feel like I won."

Every response that came to his mind was a platitude, a cliché. Finally, he shrugged. "You did your best," he said simply. He knew that it was the first time in a long time, maybe ever, that her best hadn't been quite good enough. Personally, he liked her better for it, paradoxically thought that her weakness made her stronger--there could never be achievement if there was never challenge. But she'd find her own meaning.

She nodded slowly. Then, her gaze flickering back to him, "Thanks. Again."

He smiled, oddly gentle, offering what he could. "Anytime."

After that, there seemed to be nothing more to say. They sat motionless and silent in the half-light, fingers intertwined and forgotten, lost in their separate thoughts.

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In the morning, while Logan was occupied in the kitchen, Max heard a key in the front door. As soon as she saw that it was Bling, she felt her face begin to flush.

As usual, she decided to brazen it out. "Hey," she greeted him, distantly pleased that her throat was healing already.

"Hey. You're looking better than you did last night."

"Well, I pretty much didn't have any place to go but up."

He crossed the room to her, holding out a piece of paper. Her letter. "Here. I thought you might want this back, so I picked it up for you."

She snatched at it, ignoring the way her muscles protested at the sudden movement. Something that had been tap-dancing in her stomach all morning seemed to calm as she shoved the tattered paper in her pocket. She'd felt naked knowing it was out there. "Thanks." She cleared her throat nervously, instantly regretted it as she felt fire along her windpipe. Real smooth, Max, she berated herself as she tried to swallow gently and avoid Bling's eyes.

"You should tell him anyway, Max." Bling's voice was quiet, with just a hint of reprimand. "He has a right to know. Before it's too late to do anything about it."

"Mmm," was the best she could come up with, staring fixedly at her feet, stretched out on the couch in front of her.

The sound of voices brought Logan in from the kitchen, wiping his hands on the towel in his lap. "Hey, Bling. Want to join us for Eggs Benedict?"

"Sure."

Suddenly, looking at Bling, Logan remembered something Max had said to him the night before. In his concern for her, it had gone completely out of his head until now. "Hey, Max—what was it that Bling was supposed to have for me?"

Max refused to let her eyes anywhere near Bling's face as she shrugged, tried to sound casual. Her fingers flexed on the paper that seemed to be burning a hole in her pocket. "Just the keys to my baby," she improvised. "I wanted to make sure it had a good home."

Logan raised his eyebrows in mock surprise. "Wow. I'm honored."

She slanted him that saucy half-grin, relieved he'd bought her story. "Well, don't get a big head about it."

"I'm sure you'll keep my ego well-trimmed," he shot back. "Come on, Bling, the princess needs her rest."

Max stuck her tongue out at him, but her smile faded almost as soon as Logan turned his back. She felt vaguely guilty. It didn't help that her augmented hearing picked up Bling's almost imperceptible sigh as he followed Logan into the kitchen.

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Normal was yelling her name again. Persistently. In light of recent events, everything in her regular life seemed just the slightest bit surreal. Delivering packages seemed even more pointless than usual when she'd been fighting for her life a few nights before. At the same time, her friends, the people who meant something to her, seemed carved in high relief, brighter and just generally more than usual. The contrast was unsettling, to say the least. But she was doing her best to readjust. Finally, she decided she'd better answer Normal before she lost her patience and decked him.

"What?" she shouted back irritably over the dull roar of activity that always seemed to fill Jam Pony. Glancing over her shoulder, she noticed he was waving a letter at her.

"I got three more minutes on the clock, Normal, I'm not going out on another run," she told him, preparing to brush by him.

He caught her shoulder, blithely unaware she could've broken his hand six different ways if she'd felt like making the effort. "Your ass is still mine for those three minutes, so you'd go if I told you to, but as it happens, you're in luck. This is for you." He held out the envelope.

She took it, turning it over to check for a postmark as Normal droned something about not receiving personal mail at work. The envelope was blank except for her name and the Jam Pony address. Frowning, she tore the seal open and moved away from Normal, who turned the fire hose of his tirade onto the nearest bystander without missing a beat.

The handwriting was neat and just the slightest bit cramped.

Max, it read.

Sorry I couldn't stick around longer, but I'm sure you understand. You can imagine how surprised our good friend Deck was to find that no one hung around for his post-combat family reunion. Though when I told him to pick you up there, I expected I'd be long gone--it's just too fun to play with him, make him think he's getting close and then take off. But I have to admit, I hadn't planned on chemical warfare. That was some fucked-up shit your friend pumped into me, whatever it was. Fortunately I'm the resourceful type. Anyway, Deck was pissed off enough to call off our little agreement, so this job suddenly became unprofitable. But not to worry, he'll get over it--he always does. Maybe I'll check out some of the other fish in the X-5 sea, see if that'll tempt him. But of course you'll always be my favorite, Maxie. Keep an eye out—I'll be in touch.

Jasen

The noise of Jam Pony faded into the background as Max stared at the words. He'd escaped, then. At first, all she could think was, How the fuck did he get out of that one? Admiration was as reluctant as it was undeniable. Then she felt one shadow of guilt lift as another descended. She'd let him escape, to hunt her siblings, to hunt her. And though she might claim to be amoral, she knew he was the real deal. A chill played down her vertebrae.

"You all right, my sista?" She looked up to see Herbal's concerned brown eyes fixed on her. She shook herself, forced a smile.

"Yeah. Fine." And she was. Or would be. Folding the paper, she shoved it in her back pocket, tossed the rest of her belongings into her backpack. Emotions swirled, a messy mix of relief, disappointment, fear, anticipation, too many and too tangled to sort out. So she wasn't the biggest, baddest, leanest and meanest anymore—damn if the sun didn't keep on rising just the same. And the funny thing was, even though Lydecker and even Zack had always taught them that friendships were tantamount to weakness, she was beginning to wonder if that was true. They'd certainly come in handy last night, during and after the battle. And it wouldn't exactly be the first time she'd found a few holes in Don's Wit and Wisdom. She shrugged, let the idea slide away to percolate on its own. Tomorrow would come, there wasn't anything she could do about that. All she could do was try her best to prepare for it.

But it was fun, wasn't it? that tiny voice in her mind whispered. And, in spite of the pain and fear and uncertainty and outright panic, she couldn't entirely disagree. She shook her head ruefully. God, I must be crazy. A small smile played on her lips as she pushed her bike out the door and headed towards home.

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Well, there it is--what did you think? I'm dying for feedback, positive or negative--this took much longer than I planned to write, and now that it's done I want to know how it all turned out! I may even go back and change a few things, who knows… but for those of you who made it this far, thanks for reading, thanks very much for the reviews, and I hope you enjoyed it! Sorry for any wonky spacing in here, I'm not too clear on the intricacies of html…