I watch, as Logan carefully pulls into the driveway of the modest two-story home, and shifts the car into park. "This is it, Max," he says glancing over at me.
He reaches out and gives my hand a squeeze, but when he tries to pull it back I refuse to let go. I'm drawing off his strength. "I'm scared," I whisper, "Look at me. I'm shaking like I'm having a seizure and we have yet to get out of the car."
Logan chuckles softly to himself, and with his free hand he brushes a curl off my face. "It's natural to be nervous. You're meeting your parents for the first time in your life. But you do have to try to relax. They'll love you, Max."
"How do you know that?" I ask imploringly.
"How could anyone not love you," he smiles and squeezes my hand one final time before withdrawing and turning off the engine.
"Let's get this bitch over with," I tell him, saying it more for myself than for Logan.
"See you're already back to normal," he replies as we exit the car and walk towards the door.
Hesitantly I reach out and ring the doorbell. Where is that tough as nails, fear nothing soldier attitude I usually carry around with me. Oh yeah, I left her at home hiding under my bed. I feel to feel kinda funky, almost faint. I reach out blindly for something to sturdy me and find Logan's hand. He looks at me a little strangely, but slips my fumbling hand into his.
"Relax. I told you, they're going to love," he says bringing our clasped hands to his lips.
The only thing I can do is stand there dumbstruck, and then the door opens. Suddenly, there is not enough air entering my lungs. "Logan, I think I'm gonna…" and my world goes dark.
I am lying on something really soft and comfortable—must be the couch—I feel something cold and wet being pressed against my forehead, and I can hear voices. Logan. He's the one touching me, pressing a washcloth against my forehead. Now, what's he saying?
"Dr. Scully," a woman interrupted. I hear a masculine snort somewhere to her left.
"Dr. Scully, we are journalists. I work for a paper, and we—my assistant and I—are interested in doing an expose on you and your husband. About your life as FBI agents."
That's my Logan, quick on his feet. But why do I always have to be the assistant. I think it's time for me to put in my two cents.
"Mmmm. What happened?" I ask, even though I know exactly what occurred. I shut down. I do this sometimes; it's another one of those great genetic flaws. You know, pass out when you get to nervous. It's really fun.
"Hey," Logan says softly stroking the side of my face. "Welcome back. How are you feeling?"
I glance around the room and see a petite once-upon-a-time redhead sitting in a chair opposite me and Logan and a very tall, awkward looking gentleman perched on the left arm. Logan helps me sit up on the couch, and I feel like I'm going to faint again. His face is about two inches from mine, God he looks gorgeous. "I'm fine Logan," I finally reply.
Mulder snorts and Scully's eyes glimmer upon hearing Max's response, "I always said that to Mulder."
"So, exactly where are the two of you from, again?" Mulder inquires.
"We're from Seattle."
"And you expect us to believe that you came all this way to interview two former FBI agents," Scully probes. "That's highly doubtful."
"Our editor likes us to do in-depth interviews—" Logan begins.
"No, Logan," I interrupt. It's now or never Maxie. "We don't work for a paper in a Seattle. I'm looking for my parents."
Mulder immediately tenses, "And you believe we know where they are? Or, perhaps have the power to find them?"
I reply shaking my head, "No, I
believe the two of you are my parents." There's no going back now.
"I'm very sorry Miss—er—"
"Guevara," Logan supplies.
"Miss Guevara, we only have one child, Will," Scully states firmly. "I would remember…"
"I wasn't born," I begin. "I was created in a lab, more specifically in a petri dish. Your eggs and his sperm," I say nodding my head toward Mulder. "The two of you are—were—evidently the crème de la crème."
"I'm sorry, but I really don't think this is possible," Scully begins only to be interrupted by Mulder.
"Oh come on Scully, this is the government we're talking about. They screwed us over so many times, why not use us to create a child?"
"I understand your doubts, I have them, too," I state calmly. Wow, I'm being calm. That's a new one; Logan must be rubbing off on me. "I know that my coming here has disturbed you, but I have to know. And so do the two of you. I'll submit to a blood test."
"No, Max. I don't have the equipment out here," Logan says harshly. He had been relatively quiet during the conversation, but this was one topic where he had to intercede. "Your blood will set off all sorts of bells and whistles, Lydecker will find you."
"I know, but Logan—"
"I don't really understand what's going on, but we won't have to go to a hospital," Mulder interjects. "I can make a phone call," Mulder glances at Scully uncertainly, "they can be here by tomorrow with all the necessities."
"I trust them."
"Trust whom?" Logan asks. "This has to be handled very delicately," he states glancing worriedly at me.
"This is my call Logan." Looking from Logan to Mulder, "Call your friends and tell them to bring on the needles."
"Be back here tomorrow around two o'clock," Mulder says walking out of the room to call his friends.
"I'll show the two of you out," Scully says standing up. At the door, she hands me a business card, but I'm too far-gone for the gesture to register. "This is our phone number in case you need to cancel."
"Thank you. We'll see the two of you tomorrow afternoon," Logan replies taking the card from Scully.
I'm so glad Logan is here. I'm a soldier; I should not be acting like this. It's completely out of my character. I'm strong. I'm smart. I'm brave. But today, right now at this moment, I'm scared. "Logan," I begin as we walk down the drive. "I want you to know that no matter what happens with them, I'm glad you're here with me. I'm glad that you found them."
Pulling me into a hug, he whispers into my hair, "I told, whatever you need, whenever you need it—you'll always have me. Don't worry about this. Like Herbal says, 'It's all good all da time.'"
I tighten my arms around him, drawing off his strength. His scent fills my being, "They won't want me after they find out who I am," I confess, allowing him to see my fear. That was the one thing Manticore could not prepare us for—rejection. I've had enough of that to last a lifetime.
Pulling back a little from the hug, Logan brushes my hair away from my face and tilts my chin up. "I've told you before, you are not Manticore. You are wonderful. You are smart, and beautiful. You are perfect, and they will love you. If not, we'll have to put the smack down on their asses." He says grinning at me.
"I'm glad you're here with me."
"Me, too. Now let's go find a place to stay tonight," Logan says softly.
I look up into the sky, and see how blue it actually is. I can see the clouds here, and birds—not crows or ravens, but actual birds. Martha's Vineyard seems so untouched by the bleakness of the pulse. I could easily spend my life here, but is this where I belong? I think as I slide into the car next to Logan.