Author's Note: Takes place during "Rising"...Logan's POV; it's interesting writing from a male's first person perspective, let me tell you :) This is my first "Dark Angel" fic, so please be kind. The song is by Lifehouse. I don't own any of it, just borrowing it cuz I like the material. All the "Dark Angel" stuff belong to Mr. Titanic and Co. This is a slightly shipperish fic, I'm not ashamed to say. Please R&R!!!
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Hope.

That's what the doctor, Sam, said. "It's all right to have hope," or something like that. Nevertheless, his caution and efforts of dissuasion told me he had very little for my recovery. But I knew better. Because I had something better than a miracle surgery, better than any drug, better than hope, even.

I had Max.

That night when we were in my apartment, I felt possibly the closest to her I have ever felt since I met her almost six months ago. First, when we were on the couch, my atrophied legs across her lap as she played with my toes in an attempt to get a response that would prove Sam wrong, I felt so close to her, so connected. I could almost feel the warmth of her hands, I saw the glimmer of hope, and joy in her dark eyes when I told her it was her stem cells that were healing me.

Then, later, in the dining room, we were connected in a way he had been only once before, except this time I was conscious enough to enjoy it. I got lost in her eyes as she transfused me again, I'll admit, as we sat across from each other, willing the second transfusion to work. Our bodies moved as one when she leaned forward on to the table, taking my hand in hers. That touch bonded us too. We have grown closer lately, and even if I can't admit it aloud, I know how vital she is a person in my life. When she grew weak and passed out, I remember smiling. Not only because I knew what she was giving me, but also because I knew that this was bonding more so than anything we'd ever been through. I also recall thinking how peaceful and angelic she looked when she slept. She looked almost at rest, as though she felt safe. I truly hope some of that safety I can claim responsibility for.

I don't know why, but I expected her cells to cure me instantly. When I couldn't stand on my own the next day, I was so angry--with her, I'm ashamed to say. It's irrational and foolish, I know, but I wanted so much to walk again. For her. No longer would I have to be the man behind the scenes, the one who provides information, dinner, and the occasional get away car, but in the end always stays home safe and sound while she's out there risking her life for my cause. I wouldn't let Bling help me back in the chair because I knew I had to do it on my own. If she was going to be fighting that cause for me, then I had to be fighting this one for her.

When she came to me and told me the Red supersoldiers were after her again, my heart nearly dropped out of my body. I looked down momentarily, half expecting to see it on the floor next to this damned chair. The only thing on this godforsaken planet besides Manticore that scared Max made me absolutely terrified. The though of losing her to anything-Manticore, Lydecker, the Reds, Zach, the seizures-was more painful to me than anything else, even the prospect of never walking again.

I think I knew at the lab what she would do if she ever had to fight them again, but I was still too angry by the slow process of the stem cells to think about stopping her-not that I could have. Mac cannot be dissuaded from anything, even by me; especially by me. I know that there are many things Max will do for me. Backing down once she has made up her genetically enhanced mind is not one of them.

When I got the phone call that Max had implanted herself with the chip, all my worst fears were realized. I thought that that night I actually might lose her and the pain nearly killed me. I was horrified to learn that I was going to have to pump 5000 volts into her head to save her; I was horrified more to think she might not survive long enough for me to be able to pump those 5000 volts into her.

Knowing she was in danger only strengthened my resolve to stand. Even though I couldn't see what was going on, I could hear it and I knew she did not have much time. I forced myself to stand, forced my dead nerves to live, forced my atrophied muscles to work, forced my weak legs to have strength. I flipped the switch and yelled, "Go Max!" praying I had bought her enough time to save her life.

I know how desperate and pathetic I looked dragging myself across the floor like an infant, but I had to get to her. She needed me. Original Cindy soon joined me, but I hardly registered her presence initially. The only two people in the world were Max, and me and she needed me to save her, instead of the other way around for once. My hands were shaking as Cindy relayed to me the instructions. In the intensity of the moment, I nearly panicked, thinking my trembling hands and her seizing were going to make for a deadly combination and I was going to accidentally cut her spinal chord and paralyze her. The irony of that reality did not escape me. Her seizure was so bad I found myself cursing Donald Lydecker and the B.P. US Government for doing this to her.

It's incredible how much can go through your mind in a split second.

After Cindy have her the shock, Max stopped trembling. It took he longer to stop, however. My heart soared when her breathing returned to normal. I kept smoothing her hair and touching her face, talking to her gently. "I'm here, Max, it's all right, you're okay now." I remember learning in my college psychology lecture that touch is comforting to sick people and it helps them heal faster. I hardly doubt the touch of my hands were any great healer as opposed to all the Manticore technology that coursed through her body, but the way I figured it, it couldn't hurt. And I couldn't stop touching her. I wanted to take her in my arms and kiss away her pain. But then reality hit and I remembered I was a cripple sitting on the floor of a trashed office and Cindy was giving me strange looks.

"You love my Boo, don'tcha Wheel Boy?" she asked in such true Original Cindy fashion that I couldn't help but laugh. I looked at her, but was unable to answer. She seemed not to care though. Looking at Max, curled up in a fetal position, slightly snuggling into my touch, Cindy asked, "How did she do all that?"

I sighed, resting my fingertips along Max's jaw line. "That's something I think she needs to tell you. It's not my place, nor is it my right."

Cindy bowed her head for a while, and I think she was trying to hide from me that she was crying. After a time, she looked at me. "We need to get my Homegirl home."

I shook my head, "They might have her apartment under surveillance."

"I meant yours," Cindy said with the slightest hint of exasperation. Her statement, I admit, took me by surprise. As I dwelled in my shock, Cindy leapt to her feet and put her hands on her hips, reminding me of Max. She asked, "Where's your chair, Boo?"

I mumbled to her that it was out near the lobby. She went and got it for me, graciously allowing me to be alone with Max. It sounds slightly perverse, but with Max unconscious, I could say everything I needed to say to her without worrying she was going to blaze. Getting on my stomach, I dragged myself closer to her, positioning myself so I was on my side facing her. Reaching out I brushed my fingers over the cut on her eyebrow. As best I could, I wiped the blood from her eyes.

"That was incredibly stupid of you, Max Guerva," I said, surprised at the shakiness in my voice. "How could you run off without any back up?" I know she does it all the time, but that doesn't mean I have to like it. "You could have been killed and I--" I could hear Cindy coming back with the chair. "I don't think I could stand that. I need you."

"Aiight Boo," Cindy announced. "Let's get your skinny white ass back in this chair."

She was surprisingly strong and helped me back in my chair without much difficulty. As she stooped to gather Max's limp form, I ran my hands over the shiny steel bars of the chair, wondering how much longer I would be its prisoner, how much longer it would be until I no longer needed it. Original Cindy huffed a little under Max's dead weight and handed her off to me. We settled Max into my lap, her arms around my neck, her head resting against my shoulder.
I wrapped my arms securely around her waist and held her tightly as Cindy wheeled us towards my car.

It was a long night watching Max, waiting for her to have another seizure, wondering if she was going to stop breathing, or if the incision I made in her neck was going to start bleeding again. Cindy slept fitfully in the guest room, while I remained in my chair by Max's side, or in my office on the computer, seeing what else I could discover about the soldiers. I could not stay in there for long though, and wheeled myself back out to her. I fell asleep in the chair around five, only to be woken by dawn's light and the sounds of Original Cindy banging around in my kitchen in an attempt to make coffee. She didn't look any better than she had the night before; she was still obviously worried about what she had seen in Max.

When Max finally woke, it took all my strength and resolve not to take her in my arms and crush her in an embrace. Instead, I silently thanked God and asked, "How are you feeling?" Her response of sarcasm in an attempt to cover her obvious pain was music to my ears. Her eyes were still bloodshot and her skin was still slightly ashen, her hair still slick with sweat, but I thought she looked beautiful.

"I nearly got my best friend killed," she exclaimed and my heart broke. I could see something hidden behind her eyes, and heard the deeper meaning in her statement. Cindy was not the only one she had nearly gotten killed. At that moment, I ached to tell her how wrong she was. It wasn't that she had nearly gotten me killed; it was that she had saved me, numerous times, and in more ways then I could mention.

I'm slightly ashamed to admit it, but I listened to their discussion from my office. I somehow knew though Max would appreciate it, once she got over the initial anger, if she ever found out I was listening to her private conversation. On the other hand, maybe she did.

"You're not even human," Original Cindy said.

I winced. *Ouch* I thought. I remembered similar words I had uttered to Max when we had first met. I called her a "genetically enhanced killing machine." Not exactly a term of endearment. I made a mental note to begin calling her something that would not draw attention to nor remind her of her Manticore Family childhood. I could hear them both crying and wanted nothing more than to take away all of Max's pain, kill anyone who would make her cry. I smiled to myself when I heard Cindy say, "You're my Boo, for life."

*Finally here once speak to me
I want to feel you, I need to hear you
You are the light that's leading me to the place
where I find peace again*

Life.

Max gave me mine back. I paged her, knowing she probably thought I had a new case for her. I led her into the main room, in front of the big window that beheld the not so picturesque Seattle nighttime skyline. I made her cover her eyes. "I have a surprise for you," I told her, reveling childishly in the pleasure of teasing her. Slowly and silently, I locked my chair and stood, never once taking my eyes off her face. Her cat DNA sensed my new, closer presence, and her hands fell from her face, her eyes popping open, wide with shock. We were inches apart, even less, and I could feel the warmth of her breath on my face. I smiled down at her.

*You are the strength that keeps me walking
You are the hope that keeps me trusting
You are the light to my soul
You are my purpose
You're everything*

"It's a miracle," she breathed, unable to find words. I had to smile at that, for Max Guerva was not a woman who was easily silenced.

*And how can I stand here with you
And not be moved by it*

"You're the miracle," I told her softly, meaning every word of it. "You did this. You gave me my life back." I reached out to her, placing my hands along her forearms. She stepped a fraction of an inch closer to me and once again, I felt the irresistible urge to take her in my arms.

*Would you tell me how could it be any better than this
You calm the storms and you give me rest
You hold me in your hands
You won't let me fold*

"I'd forgotten how tall you were," she said with a slight chuckle as we stood there, staring at each other, so close out faces were nearly touching. I slowly leaned down, perfectly intent on kissing her when...my legs gave out and I sagged a little. She immediately caught me in her arms, as I knew she would, and now it was her face that was above mine. She tenderly helped me back into my chair. "Gotta take it easy," she said with a mischievous grin.

"I don't want to take it easy," I replied, smiling. "I want to go fast."

*You still my heart when you take my breath away
Would you take me in take me deeper now
And how can I stand here with you and not be moved by it
Would you tell me how could it be any better than this
And how can I stand here with you and not be moved by it
Would you tell me how could it be any better than this*

"There's been something I've wanted to do with you since the day I met you," Max said, an evilly mischievous glint in her eyes. The possibilities in that one statement made me break out into the biggest grin I have ever worn in my life and I knew that something unspoken passed between us there, an admission of our deepening relationship.

I had no idea, however, what it was that she wanted to do with me. And I might not have guessed if she had given me a thousand years. She got my coat for me and wheeled me to the elevator, which we rode in silence. She was tight lipped about what we were going to do. When the elevator opened, the wheeled me to the lobby doors and locked the chair. To my surprise, she tore the handle off the door and bent it easily, molding it into a lock that would prevent my wheelchair from being stolen. Gently, she slipped an arm under my shoulders and I draped one of mine across hers, as she steadied me and I took my first ginger step. It took a while, but we made it outside.

*Cause you're all I want, you're all I need
You're everything...everything
You're all I want
You're all I need
You're everything...everything*

"You've wanted to walk with me?" I asked incredulously.

She smiled again, "Oh no, Logan Cale, I have something much better than just walking in mind." She propped me up against the exterior wall and said, "Don't go anywhere, I'll be right back." Before I could answer, she took off like a shot.

Moments later, my heart began to pound as I hear her motorcycle come around the corner from the parking garage. *She wouldn't* I thought to myself. Then I saw her taking the helmet off her head and holding it in my direction.

*You're all I want
You're all I need
You're everything...everything
You're all I want
You're all I need
Everything...everything*

As we sped through the streets of Seattle, Max seated behind me, her arms around my waist as she yelled instructions in my ear, I screamed with outright joy. Not only had she given me back my life and my legs, she had given me the power to fly. The wind whipped past us and roared through our ears. I knew that, just as we were driving into the dark streets of Seattle, we were also headed for some dark times, into things she and I had never faced before. I just knew it, in my gut. Maybe it was my journalistic instincts talking to me, or maybe it was the despair I had seen in Max's eyes when we were talking about the Reds.

*And how can I stand here with you and not be moved by it
Would you tell me how could it be any better than this
And how can I stand here with you and not be moved by it
Would you tell me how could it be any better any better than this*

Nevertheless, just as I knew something was coming, and that we were going to possibly need all the miracles we could get, I also knew that together, we could face anything.

*And how can I stand here with you and not be moved by it
Would you tell me how could it be any better than this
Would you tell me how could it be any better than this *