Reliance
Disclaimer: I hate having to insult everyone's intelligence but the dealio is, I don't own "Dark Angel" – never have, never will. DA belongs to Jim Cameron and his throng of geniuses.
AN: Thanks for all of the reviews for the last chapter! Sorry, it took so long to write this one. School…exams. I don't believe in exams. I mean, how can you possibly gage someone's intellect on a subject from one test? That's just so wrong. Ok…I'll stop rambling. Anyways, enjoy the story. Logan's so hard to write. The guy's a freakin' enigma – way too complex (I more like Max, so it's easier to write her). Hopefully, I'll get feedback? Yes, that is a plea.
AN#2: Ok…I used the same moments as "Dependence," but I'm exploring them through Logan's eyes, k? So a refresher…everything up until "Shorties in Love" is game.
You'd think that a rich kid like me would run to mommy and daddy for everything right? Having people at my beck and call, you'd think that I've got it made. Well, I can't honestly say that you're entirely wrong. That's how my life was ten years ago. Like any blue-blooded teenager, I went to a well-respected college. I had friends, drove a nice car, and seemed to be quite popular with the ladies. I came home to a lavish mansion in the suburbs, where servants would wait on me hand and foot. But that's not how the song goes now.
You've probably heard it all before…loving parents died tragically in freak boating accident. Father left entire estate for only child, mother set up trust fund for said child. So that's how I survived…on my inheritance. When the world was going to hell in a hand basket, I had my tricked-out penthouse in the high-rise district of Seattle, a promising career in journalism, gourmet food on the table, and a supporting wife. I thought everything would turn out all right. But whom am I kidding?
Wife was a gold-digger, my articles ended up putting a price on my head, and the Seattle PD was comprised of a bunch of morons. Suffice to say, I wasn't exactly thrilled with how the cops handled my parents' case. I knew my parents were murdered in cold blood. After all, it was only a year after the Pulse and everyone – anyone – wanted money. And who could resist the money behind Cale Industries? Whoever killed my parents kept their eyes on the prize and never even thought of the repercussions. But that's okay because it was that incident that prompted me to start Eyes Only. The way I see it, if the cops were too blind to catch the murderers, I might as well give it a crack. What's the worse that could happen?
That's how Eyes Only came to be. After I went after those idiots who killed my parents, I went underground and started filing my stories there. I exposed scumbags and revealed just what kind of world we were living in. You'd be surprised at how disgustingly corrupt our government really is. I became more aware and more self-reliant, never letting myself depend on others, always putting them at arm's length. I became an underground cyber journalist, crusader. At least, that's what Max likes to call me, besides her meal ticket.
Max. The name itself is reason enough to wake up in the morning. How can I possibly describe her? I don't even know where to begin. All I know is that when I'm around her, my hands start to sweat, my heart races, and I get all tongue tied. And I am a man of words, so the fact that I can't even string together a proper sentence around her speaks volumes. She's great. She's smart – she can always outwit me. She's beautiful – I always lose myself in those chocolate-brown eyes. She's funny – even when the world is coming to an end, she can still manage put a smile on my face. She's a great friend and loyal to a fault. And I can't imagine life without her. She's everything.
I remember the first time I saw her – I caught her breaking into my house stealing my Bast. "You have good taste," I commented. "French, 1920s, a tribute to Chitarus."
"Whoever that is," she replied nonchalantly.
"Oh, so…what, you liked it 'cause it was shiny?"
"No, because it's the Egyptian goddess Bast, the goddess who comprehends all goddesses, eye of Ra, protector, avenger, destroyer…giver of life who lives forever." I was about to say something else, but I guess she heard the building security outside the door, and decided to make a quick exit through my window. As I watched her land easily on the ground, I knew at that moment that my life would never be the same again. There was just something about her.
So that's how Max and I started. Well actually, I was shot first, but that's not something I want to discuss right now. Basically, I guilt-tripped her into being my legs and from then on she became part of the Logan Cale Brigade for the Defense of Widows, Small Children, and Lost Animals. The deal was that she would help me and I would help her find her sibs. I would page her, she would come over, I would explain the bad guy of the week, and then she would go kick his (or her) ass. She would stop by after the assignments and we'd have dinner. Sometimes we would play chess. Of course she beat me every single time, which is so not fair. "Isn't it against the superhuman code to use your powers to take advantage of we mere mortals?" I teased her after her five-to-one victory one evening. I knew she let me win that one game. Wouldn't want to upset her meal ticket.
As time went on, Max made more frequent visits. She would just drop by for the sake of dropping by. I would find myself sitting in front of my computer, daydreaming about her when I should be doing Eyes Only work. I would restrain myself from blowing up her pager or calling her at work just to hear her voice. I would cook meals for two every night, just hoping that she would be there to eat them. I remember once when I just bit the bullet and invited her over for dinner. I spent the entire day thinking of what to make. It's not everyday that you invite your genetically revved up female friend over for a meal. I scoured the markets for just the right things to make one of my culinary miracles. "You paged me?" she asked, walking through the door.
"I thought you might want to join me for dinner."
"I don't want to put you to any trouble."
"Well, it's nothing fancy. Just one of my run-of-the-mill, spur-of-the-moment culinary miracles," I said, smiling at her…and then the lights went out. Me, Max, alone, with no lights. You have no idea how many times I've dreamt about this. But thanks to the people at Manticore, she started shaking uncontrollably in obvious discomfort, and had to lie down on my couch. They sure know how to ruin a moment. She looked so vulnerable and helpless. "What can I do?"
"Stay with me," she pleaded.
"I'm right here."
"You won't leave?"
"I'm not going anywhere." I caressed her face softly, as she closed her eyes trying to relax. I did whatever I could for her. I moved her into my room, and tucked her into my bed. I brought her warm milk with honey, a remedy that my mom always gave me that when I wasn't feeling too well. I wrapped her in blankets, and sat by her bed until dawn, holding her hand in mine. I made sure that she knew that she wasn't alone – that she had me.
The day that Max had to leave was almost unbearable. I felt like someone pulled out of heart, ripped it into two, threw it on the ground, and rolled over it with a MAC truck. But I knew that she couldn't stay. Lydecker was on her tail again, she had to leave with Zack to Canada. She had no choice. We listened to Sibelius' Valse Triste as we headed to my uncle's cabin. It was a sad song, which suited my mood perfectly. I wanted to ask her to stay, but that would be selfish. I had to let her go, for a thousand different reasons. "I'll miss you," I told her softly.
"You could always ditch it all and go on the lam with me. Great way to visit exotic places, meet new people," she suggested hopefully.
"I'd just slow you down..."
"It's okay."
"…I have to go back…someone has to watch out for the downtrodden. Blah, blah, woof, woof, right?" I answered her, trying so hard to keep the tears forming in my eyes from falling.
"Right." I winced inwardly as I heard her reply. I could hear the sorrow in her voice and I mentally hit myself upside my head for having to have something to do with it.
"Take care of yourself."
"You too," she said got out. I watched her as she walked away from me, from what might have been, what could be. I repeated in my head over and over again that I was doing the right thing, letting her go. But somewhere inside me I knew I was making the biggest mistake of my life. Suddenly, amidst the battle raging inside my conscience, Max came up to the window. She grabbed me and kissed me. I kissed back – full of longing and lust – running my hands through her dark curls. I knew I had to make the best of it because I knew that the kiss was goodbye…I could feel it. I was kissing the love of my life for the first, and last, time.
Is she the love of my life? I mean, I thought I was in love with Valerie, and look how that turned out. Even if I did love her, how can Max ever love me back? Why would she want a fraction of a man, when she can have a suped-up superhero like Zack. Sometimes I wonder why Max sticks around anyways – this isn't her mission. Before me, she was just a regular girl, living off a small salary and hanging out with her friends. She never had to worry about saving the world and all. She had fun. She was safe. She wasn't risking her life for some stupid assignment. All of this Eyes Only stuff will just get her killed. And I know that I'll regret it for the rest of my life if I was the one responsible.
Max put her life on the line for me so many times. She jumped off a building to save me from being defenestrated by the May 22nd. She rescued me when Gerhardt Bronck held me hostage in some airstrip. She could have easily left me to fend for myself, but she didn't – she risked exposure and getting caught by Manticore just so I can live to see another day. She prevented me from putting a bullet through my head when I was depressed because my legs would never work again. She saved me from myself – she gave me a reason to wake up in the morning, she gave me a reason to go on.
I don't know exactly how or when it happened, but somewhere along the way our relationship changed. We are no longer business partners, like we both claim to be. We are more than that, and I know that somewhere in her heart, she knows it too. We're both just too scared to admit it. Bling once asked me, "You've got a thing for this girl, don't you?" to which I blatantly denied. If he asked me that again now, the answer would definitely be different.
Forever eyes. Dark. Somebody's angel. That's how the poem I wrote about Max goes. Funny, now that I think about it, I haven't seen that one since I showed it to her. And that's exactly what she is – somebody's angel. Someday, hopefully mine. I remember saying to her, "It's worth noting, while you're right – my mission is saving the world – it doesn't mean that I don't worry about you." Her Manticore wit kicked in and she said something along the lines of worry accomplishes nothing, but that it's good to know that he thinks of me as more than his own private cat burglar. I nudged her gently and assured her, "Way more." Because of all the times she has been there for me and especially after that conversation I know that she can help me through this idealistic life of mine. Thank you Max.
I've never relied on anyone in my life…but I guess I do now.