Disclaimer: Same as always…I don't own the show.
Note from the author: Forgive the timeline, for it's not entirely accurate. This is the conclusion, finally! Hope you enjoy, and please review!
Chapter 3/3
2:00pm
After hours of shopping at the market for the ripest fruits, and the freshest meats I could find, I wheel myself slowly into my penthouse. I place my purchases in their respectable places and note I only have five hours to prepare the meal, house, and not to mention myself. I know that when I spoke to Max I made it seem as if we were just going to hang out like usual, but I plan to make tonight special. If I hadn't met her, I know that I would have been lost. Meeting her was the best thing that could have happened to me…well, despite the fact that I completely lost the function of two of my limbs. Sometimes I almost wish I never met her, though, just so that I can get rid of this feeling of complete loneliness. At least before, I had the illusion that I was happy. I believe, though, that everything happens for a reason. I muse more on the subject as I prepare for the evening.
7:00pm
Just as I place the candles and vase of roses on the table, I hear a quiet rapping at my front door. "One moment," I call you her as I take one last look in the mirror at my appearance. Except for the wheelchair, everything is in place. I smile sincerely at my reflection, with whom I share an incredibly secret. In the back room, I quickly check that my creation is well covered from the world, then go back to the front room to open the door. What I reveal is astounding. My breath catches in my throat, and I cannot breath, much less utter a solitary word. Max stands in front of me clad in a soft red cardigan turtleneck, her trademark black leather pants, and high heels. Her hair is pulled up in a twist, with little tendrils framing her exquisite face.
With hands on her hips, she gives me a cocky grin and says, "Well, it's about time." I smile genuinely back as I realize she's giving me the once over. I roll out of the way and motion her inside. The lights I have dimmed and my favorite collection of pre-pulse music on the CD player. She glances around my penthouse seemingly amazed at what I've done with the place.
"I'm almost done with dinner, if you want to have a seat," I say as I roll up behind her. Max complies, taking a seat at the dinner table, facing the kitchen. She pours us two glasses of my selection of champagne from the table. "I didn't think you'd actually be on time, so I didn't get to quite finish up our supper…"
My angel places her elbows on the table and holds her head in her hands, while replying, "Well, today is a special day of sorts. Besides, I thought you were always on time."
I simply shrug and pour a little soup into two bowls and attempt to carefully roll toward the table with both in my lap. I'm glad that she doesn't jump up to help. Max knows if I need her to help me, I'm not entirely ashamed to ask for it.
We eat the soup and rest of dinner quietly, merely taking in the atmosphere. Every one in a while, she asks me what's in the recipe, and we talk about our days spend apart. During dessert of tarts, Max asks me about the music I have selected. "It's my favorite pre-pulse collection by Mussorgsky called 'Pictures at an Exhibition.'" I pause, then continue rambling, "My favorite movement is this particular one that's playing. It's called 'The Great Gate of Kiev.' I'm not really sure why…it just has a feel of…" And for once, I'm at a loss for words, not believing that this moment is actually happening. I forget what I'm speaking of as I look deep into Max's coffee colored eyes, and actually see interest. I'm incredibly lucky, for the few other women that I've been in love with would tell me to turn the music off and stop rambling on about this nonsense.
"Hope?" Max finishes my earlier sentence, sensing that I'm probably not coming out of my thoughts unless she pulls me from my dark abyss herself. I smile.
"Yes…exactly. Max?"
"Hmm…?" She looks at me through her lashes, with a mouthful of champagne.
"Can I be honest with you?"
She looks at me disbelievingly, as if I had a third eye forming in the middle of my forehead. "Of course, Logan…you know I'm always here, and willing to see the depths of your heart…" She stops herself mid sentence and urges me with her eyes to share.
I direct my eyes to Max's well manicured hands, almost ashamed to reveal certain parts of myself to her. A conflict rages within me, and she must notice, for she reaches one soft hand across the table to rest upon mine. I do not look up, but instead quickly piece together what I'm going to say to her to tell her how much she means to me…friend or something more.
I sigh heavily and allow my feelings to spill from my heart, "Max, forgive me if what I'm about to say doesn't make sense, but it's difficult to put into words just how much I care for you. I know sometimes it's been tough to put up with one another, especially since we're so different, but we've grown so close in merely a year…whether or not you want to admit it. It's a huge step for you, but mainly, for me, it's been a revelation of sorts. Through you I have realized that I can truly love someone, and that I have more to give the world than just-just intellect. Before you, I had never had so much tenacity or integrity to work on Eyes Only. It's because of you that I can continue with my work. It's because of you that I'm living today. It's because of you that I wake up in the morning, ready for action. It's because of you that I have realized my potential…" I pause, not realizing if I've taken a breath in the few moments I have uttered these words of success of destruction. I look up to see not pity or hatred, but love. I'm astounded, and lose my concentration, also noticing that my dear angel's eyes are watering.
"But Logan, it's because of me that…" She looks down, knowing she doesn't need to finish for me to understand her anguish and guilt built up inside of her.
"No, Max…it was for the quest. And possibly the best thing that's happened to me. Well, besides you. It's opened my eyes to the fact that appearance sincerely doesn't matter…"
"And, Logan…it's never been about you being about to walk or not. I could care less…you're more of a man than any man I've ever known."
"Max, you've made me the man that I am." I smile up at her tear stricken face, revealing to her that everything is and will be all right. She returns it, wiping away her tears with the back of one hand, while telling me she's never actually cried before. I squeeze her hand gently for a moment, silently thanking her for revealing that part of her soul to me. "Know what? I think that's enough intensity for one night. I'm mentally exhausted."
"Yeah, me too. Do you have any pre-pulse flicks I haven't seen?" Suddenly a light is flicked somewhere, and I remember what I've been waiting for weeks to show Max.
"I have a few you'd like, but first I've got something to show you that's taken months of dreaming and weeks of work. And, it's also the reason I had you retrieve that chip for me." Instead of being angry for using her for personal reasons, she seems anxious for what I have to show her. "Okay, take a seat on the couch, and I'll be right back!" Giddy as a schoolboy, I race into the back room and shut the door.
The drumming of raindrops on the roof and windows begin to sing to me as I equip myself with my creation. I again situate myself in my wheelchair as if nothing has changed, and rolls back into the main room. I stop a few feet from the couch, where she's waiting.
"Logan Cale, what have you got up your sleeve?" Max grins smugly at me, oblivious to how excited I am.
"Okay, enough with the wisecracks," I plead happily. "Now you've got to close your eyes, and stand up." Max gives me the impatient look, yet she complies, adding in the hands on hips routine. I slowly back my wheelchair away from her, and stealthfully stand. If her perfect hearing didn't pick it up, she could surely smell my cologne as I step so that my face is just centimeters away from hers.
I can feel her warm, sweet breath upon my cheek, and I feel like crying. But, this time it's because of joy, not sorrow or pity. I know she can feel me standing there, but makes no indication of such. Max is probably standing there in disbelief. I debate on what I should do, for I've never imagined a situation quite like this. Hell, I didn't think I'd ever walk again.
Before I can decide, my instincts over-take intellect, and I place my hands on her cheeks, and give her a silent friendly kiss upon her pouty lips. My angel opens her eyes, so amazed at the sight that tears fall for the second time tonight. I notice the rain is coming down more violently, but I no longer need their company. I'm looking deep into her eyes, with my hands still cupping her face as thunder and lightning scream, begging me to pay attention to their cries of misery. I silently tell them that I've got my angel right here...I no longer need their advice
All the while, we're just smiling and staring. This time, she initiates the kiss, but it's more passionate. I finally taste and smell the real Max. It's more than I could ever have hoped for. The kiss is heavenly, but a loud crack of thunder startles us both, breaking the kiss like the lovers I saw at the park. Lovers. I sigh, already missing her warmth.
"Logan? I-I think this feeling I'm experiencing…that I've been experiencing, I've come to realize now, is love…" A tear streams down my own face, and I pull her into a warm embrace.
"Max, I've loved you for so long." She squeezes my waist a little tighter at my comment. The storm is still raging on outside, contradictory to our feelings. All of a sudden, a muscle in my leg spasms, and I fall flat on my back to the hard ground. My creation begins to violently shake my legs for a few moments before shorting out. Max is to my side in an instant as I begin rolling up my legs on my pants to see if I can quickly fix the problems. I nervously start shaking when I realize it'll take me longer than a few minutes to fix it. Full of shame, I stare straight ahead, hearing my hope shattering around me.
Max places her hand upon my shoulder, offering comforting words, "Logan? Logan. Look at me." I blink, and turn my head slowly to face her's. "Whether or not you can walk doesn't make a difference to me. Remember I said that. The only thing I dislike is how you pity yourself. Ya know, it takes more energy to mope around than to be happy. Be assured that if I ever left, it wouldn't be without you."
My heart swells with pride and love at her comment, finally realizing she truly means what she says. I give a peek on her cheek, knowing she's not fully ready for the relationship ordeal. But, I'm more than will to wait until the next millennia for her.
Throwing one of my arms around her shoulder, she begins to help me up. I don't protest, but she knows it's difficult for my to rely on someone, so she lightens the mood. "You know, though, Original Cindy will nev'r stop callin' you roller boy." We both laugh and heave at the same time, both dragging my sorry body over to the couch. We collapse together.
Max sees my poetry book on the coffee table, but doesn't make a move to snatch it right away. Instead, she grabs the remote to the television and kicks off her heels, pulling her feet up on the couch. Our shoulders lean against one another, both lost in our own thoughts, and listening to the quiet whispers of the raindrops.
"Speaking of poetry…"
"…we weren't talking about it…" I reply smugly. She playfully slaps me on the knee, and continues.
"Anyway…I remember once reading a poem. I'm not sure what it was, or whom it was by, but one sentence is very…well, appropriate for us." Max takes my poetry book and pen off the table, flipping to the blank inside cover. She sneakily turns it away so I won't see, and writes something. After handing it to me, I open it up, reading aloud.
"If ever two were one, then surely we…" I look up at her, not quite sure what to say to the beautiful terse words that are now unspeakably ours. I guess she knows what I can't say, for my angel places her delicate powerful hand on my arm. For the first time, I notice that her eyes are cloudy with sleep, and she stifles a yawn. I flick off the television and wrap an arm around her shoulder, bringing her head to rest on my chest. I kiss the top of her head as she asks, "Can I stay the night?" I chuckle and she joins in.
"Max, you may have anything you please."
"I've got everything I need right here," and Max snuggles closer to me, if that's possible. "…but, is there anything you want?"
I consider her question and reply, saying, "The only thing I've ever wanted is to love someone like you, Max."
"I guess good things only come to those who wait, huh?"
"Indeed. Sleep dreams my dark angel…"
As my conscious brain fogs and dreams crowd my mind, I think of how happy I can make my beloved. My love for her is not obsession as it has been suggested by others. I'm not in love with the image of my perfect match, but instead the quintessence of Max. She is my savior. Max has covered up the dark abyss that is my pessimism and depression. And through anticipation and decades of waiting, the truth that I am able to love and be loved has finally been revealed…
*FIN*