Basically, work this week has been nuts, with both of my bosses back from sunnier latitudes—they just have NO appreciation for the importance of fanfic in some people's lives!!!! Plus, I've been re-watching first season Dark Angel (thank you, Denise—you rock!!!), partly in hopes of getting some better insight into Logan before I had to write him again. Sadly, the actual result was twofold and icky: (a) the general Jensen-free tenor of the first season (except "Pollo Loco," which gets creepier and more dramatic and touching every time I watch it) seems to have snatched away my most important muse and virtually epoxied this chapter to the inside of my skull—making it very difficult to get out!—and (b) I've found myself snarking on Logan even more than I did before, to my own chagrin.
*sigh* I've been trying so hard to not become one of those M/A 'shippers who has to suppress homicidal urges every time Logan pops up on the screen…but I think I'm slowly losing ground to my internal happy-go-lucky sociopath…
But all of that's neither here nor there. The ending of this story has been set in stone basically from day one, so none of these intervening oddities have changed it in the slightest (although the unexpected epoxy situation has obviously delayed it more than any of us would have liked).
So again, please accept my humblest apologies for being a putz with
writer's block. :-P And I hope this chapter is good enough to be worth
the ice-pick I had to stick in one ear to finally tease it out of my brain…
;-)
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
{{Spiral}}
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Chapter 7 - Narcissus
I'm high, but I'm grounded
I'm sane, but I'm overwhelmed
I'm lost, but I'm hopeful, baby
I care, but I'm restless
I'm here, but I'm really gone
I'm wrong, and I'm sorry, baby
I'm sad, but I'm laughing
I'm brave, but I'm chickenshit
I'm sick, but I'm pretty, baby
and what it all comes down to
is that everything's gonna be quite alright
'cuz I've got one hand in my pocket
and the other one is playing a piano
—@—@—@—@—@—
It was amazing, really…just how fascinating the television screen could be, when the damned thing wasn't even on.
Alec sat lifelessly on his threadbare sofa, forearms resting heavily on his knees, hands dangling limply at the wrist as his eyes contemplated the dark screen with a glazed expression. All the while, his genetically-enhanced intellect counted each and every one of the fifty thousand four hundred eighty-three seconds that had passed since he sat down. He hadn't moved so much as a muscle since that morning, when he'd plopped down into his current position, after waking up from the dream.
Don't think about the dream. Don't think about Max. Don't think about Rachel. Don't think about anything….
Maybe if I sit here long enough, the World will forget I exist, and I won't have to worry about hurting another person I care about…
It really does all come down to nature versus nurture, doesn't it…
Just how much of Ben did he carry around with him, hidden deep in some unexplored fissure of his fractured soul? Just how much would it take to bring that snarling, slavering monster out of its dank cave, to ravage anything and everything he had come to cherish?
He could feel it, even now…pacing deep within himself, testing the strength of the barriers he had erected to keep it tamed…
He had tried so hard to kill it, to snuff that dark flame that dimmed his heart…the evil glow that he now realized was actually the light of that feral creature's eyes…but no matter how fast his mind sped, or how ruthlessly it searched in the dark corners and dank alleyways of his psyche…always, the black beast that his own flawed genes had spawned was faster, more clever. It continued eluding him, and he continued worrying that one day it would catch him unawares.
He didn't worry for himself—he'd done enough of that in his short time in the World to last for the rest of his lifetime, however long or short a time that might be. The thought that truly haunted him was, if the beast ever broke free, that his friends would suffer.
Everything I touch, dies…everyone I care about, I wound…
Of course, it all began with Rachel. He often thought that everything in his life that was true and honest, had begun with her…and the fact that his touch was poison was no less true than the fact that he had been bred to destroy. In fact, those two truths were probably one and the same…
But even after Rachel—after Manticore had tried to break him, and he'd learned the cocky façade that had melded so seamlessly with his true face that he could no longer tell where one ended and the other began—even when he'd met Max, he hadn't known how deadly he could be. Manticore might have injected her with the virus, but he was the one who stood in Logan's office and gloated while the other man writhed helplessly on the floor…who watched the anguish bloom in her eyes as she snatched her hands away from her love's touch…who tried to force her to return to the place she hated above all others, all the while hiding behind the flimsy excuse of being 'under orders'…
His stomach roiled, at the memory of all the pain he'd caused her, over the past seven months.
Only seven months…two hundred twelve days…five thousand eighty-eight hours…three hundred five thousand, two hundred eighty minutes…
And every one of them a small torture for her, to see me, and know just how much she's lost…just how much I've cost her…
Each minute, a reminder of the brother she'd been forced to kill in order to save—both from Lydecker, and from himself…
Each minute, a reminder of the five large she'd paid in exchange for his life—blood money…oh Max, I'm so sorry—at the cost of her relationship with Logan…
Each minute, a reminder of a whole World of agony that he'd made no easier, with his taunting, his wisecracks, and his every breath…
I could live a thousand lives, and never begin to make it up to her, for all the pain I've brought…
His hours-long tableau of utter stillness was broken by a single, sorrowful tear that slipped silently from his left eye. It slid haltingly, apologetically down his cheek, to stop near the corner of his mouth. It dried there, after a few moments, until all that remained was the bitter trail of salt across his skin, like the tracks of a multitude of regrets across his soul.
His presence was poisonous. There was no denying that.
If he truly cared about her…about any of them…he had to let them go.
It was the only way. The evil that dwelt among the twisted strands of his broken genome would inevitably catch up with him someday…and he could feel it gaining on him. The devil-may-care façade had kept it at bay for a time, but no longer. He had to resign himself to it…to a life lived always alone, always apart from the World that he could never touch, for fear of breaking it…
It was the only way…to protect them from himself.
Deep within, he could feel the beast laughing at him, as it threw itself with ever-increasing strength against the bars of its cage, and he tasted the acid flavor of despair against his tongue.
He missed her already.
For the first time in almost twelve hours, Alec moved. His every muscle screamed in protest…even his eyes refused to shift position, as though they had been cemented into their sockets. But he wasn't asking his body to move far…just enough to lay down on the sofa, settling onto his side, the worn fabric pressed against his salty cheek as its ancient, musty odor invaded his sinuses. He curled into a fetal position and closed his eyes, exhausted by his soul-searching.
His last conscious thought, as he slipped unhappily into a darkness
even deeper than the one he so feared, was a fervent wish for just one
short sleep unmarred by dreams…
—@—@—@—@—@—
The Ninja purred loudly down the twilit Seattle alleyways, swerving neatly to avoid the junk strewn about the pavement—the ragged debris of a brighter, more innocent world.
If I were a pretty-boy X5 with a massive ego and a serious attitude problem, where would I be when I'm skipping work for the day?
Max's generous lips curved into a determined smirk as the answer came to her immediately. Where else?
The motorcycle steered itself unerringly toward Crash, with Max melded to its back as if the two were not separate creatures, after all…but a single, seamless body of steel and flesh. No one seemed to understand the bond between her and her baby—how it could make her feel solitary and free, yet connected…
Anymore, it was rare for her to be able to savor that feeling.
She laughed out loud for the sheer joy of it. The wind of her passing caught the sound like soap bubbles, sending the syllables dancing in her wake on a trail of fairy dust. Amazing, how one little chat can make me feel so much better…
Joshua would be alright—that part of the battle was won. Now she was
out to settle the second half of her personal crusade to stop feeling miserable…which
promised to be much more of a challenge.
~*~*~*~*~*~
The camera finally lost its view of White, as he was shuffled hastily into a waiting squad car. His shocking announcement still rang heavily in their ears…"this is a war…" The waifish girl gripped the mutant's shoulder hard, and the other man's hand even harder, as though they were the only things anchoring her in a world where the television didn't always bring news of doom…a world that was swiftly slipping through her fingers…
The TV coverage broke for a commercial, shattering the stunned tableau. Joshua remained seated at her feet, gaping at the pre-Pulse toothpaste ad chattering cheerily on the screen. The slump of his shoulders said that he wanted to never get up again, as though moving might make the last few moments suddenly real…
But Alec dropped her hand as though it burned him. He stood hastily, neither offering nor asking comfort…and refusing to meet her eyes.
The loss of his steely grip was like being torn from her only anchor on a storm-tossed sea. Max was left floating helplessly in his wake, as he grabbed his jacket in a jerky motion and stalked toward the door.
"Alec—wait! Where…" she began, then floundered as he spun tensely on his heel, spearing her with a burning glare.
"Leave me alone, Max." His voice was quiet—deadly and desperate. The sound, and the look in his haunted eyes, made something inside her shrivel. She watched him turn and leave, and felt her world become that much harder and colder.
~*~*~*~*~*~
Max sighed—a frustrated huff that was instantly snatched from her lips
by the wind—and kicked the Ninja into a higher gear. Her baby growled obediently,
and the two of them hurtled ever faster down the narrow streets, trusting
the siren song of throbbing bass and cheap alcohol to lead them onward
into the burgeoning shadows.
—@—@—@—@—@—
Asha leaned forward to rest one elbow on the worn surface of the table, propping up her chin with the hollow of her palm. Narrow, graceful fingers pattered an uneven beat against the milky skin of her cheek as she gazed across the dimly-lit main room of Crash, at the lanky man leaning against the bar.
She fought a sudden, crazy urge to pinch herself. I'm not dreaming, she thought with exasperation. It's not possible to just dream up an entire afternoon. I can't be dreaming!
Can I?
The whole day had begun to seem almost surreal, from the first creeping droplets of dull pink running up the bowl of the sky to herald the sunrise, to Crash's familiar dark wood and cheerful din. She'd caught the news broadcasts on Channel 3 last night—the creepy guy with the beady eyes was up to no good for the transgenics, that was obvious—and made Logan's apartment her first stop that morning, to see if there were any big plans in the works that she could help with.
She'd gotten the feeling that meeting Joshua had sort of sealed her fate, where her involvement with the transgenic situation was concerned. In for a penny, in for a pound, right? The tension in the city was rising with every hour that passed, so the Manticore escapees were obviously going to need all the help they could get, just to be able to get through the next few days. And, after all…if Logan thought that all of Max and Alec's 'furry little friends' were worth fighting for, that was good enough for Asha.
And if joining the transgenic cause means that I get to spend a whole day with him…well, so much the better!
The bartender returned with two mugs of frothy, golden liquid, trading them for the ratty bills in the man's hand. Logan picked up the beers and adroitly made his way back across the floor toward her table. It was still a bit too early for the regular night crowds, so he only had to avoid one or two staggering drunks. Depositing one brimming glass in front of Asha, he threw a glance over his shoulder at the semi-mobile patrons he'd dodged.
"I guess for some people, it's never too early to get the night started," he commented wryly. When he turned back to meet her eyes, there was a good-natured smile on his face.
Asha blinked and stared. Her drink sat untouched in front of her, drops of water streaking down the outside of the glass to puddle slowly in a ring at its base.
Logan really was beautiful when he smiled. It's been so long, I'd almost forgotten… His cheeks were free of their frequent scruffy stubble, and her wondering eyes could trace every line etched on his skin by the rare grin. Most people's smiles had always looked lopsided to Asha, one corner of their mouth higher than the other, as if their happiness was always ever-so-slightly off-kilter…but Logan's smile was perfect and genuine. The corners of his lips curved upward with exquisite symmetry, pushing the muscles of his face higher against his cheekbones, so that his eyes narrowed into pleased rainbows and sparked electrically as though lit from within. For a moment, he looked so carefree…unbowed by the pressures of life, and much younger than his thirty-odd years…
Asha blinked as the amusement slowly drained from his expression, to be slowly replaced by…confusion?
"Asha."
The sound of his voice startled her, and she blinked again, hastily, her eyes wide, as she met his bemused gaze.
"You okay?"
She blushed, an embarrassed smile chasing the sudden pink flush across her face. "Oh…yeah!" She bent her head, only to notice the beer in front of her. She grabbed the mug and took a swift gulp as she composed herself.
Logan raised one dirty-blond eyebrow at her as he sipped from his own glass. "You kind of drifted off on me, there," he commented wryly. "Am I really that boring?"
"No! No…I mean, I was just…" She glanced toward the table top again, with a rueful grin. "You were smiling," she admitted with a self-deprecating shrug. She caught the confused blink Logan tossed her way, and went on. "It's good to see you relaxing a little," she said by way of explanation. "You haven't been much on smiling lately, so…it's nice to see it again," she finished sincerely.
Logan eyed her in amusement as she sipped her drink. "Well, I guess that means we're both happy, then," he said with a teasing wink.
She responded with one of her knowing looks. "Are you? Happy, I mean?"
His grin faltered a bit at her question, and his eyes dropped. They both knew what secret sadness she was referring to. He gave the table an appraising look for a few moments as he thought about how to reply.
"Yeah," he said finally, raising his head again to meet her concerned hazel stare. "I miss her, and it still hurts, but…" He paused and his eyebrows rose, as if he had searched his soul and was surprised by what he found there. "…it was just too much, somehow. It was all weighing me down, and suddenly it's gone." His eyes refocused, and he smiled at her again. "It's like I can suddenly stand up again, after being in a wheelchair."
She nodded in understanding, pleased with his answer.
Then her eyes widened, as he reached across the table to clasp her left hand in his right, his strong fingers curling tenderly around and between her more delicate ones, his thumb skimming over her knuckles in a phantom caress.
"Thanks, Asha." His voice was slow and sincere, and warm like melted chocolate.
She reluctantly tore her eyes away from the breathtaking vision that their intermingled fingers presented, to meet his gentle gaze with her shocked one. "Wha…for what?" she managed to squeak, as she tried with a growing sense of desperation to ignore the way the gentle pressure of his fingers on hers sent tingles down through her wrist and into her forearm, or the way his voice sent alternating droplets of chill and warmth drizzling down her spine, or the way…
Snap out of it, stupid! God, I'm starting to sound like a lovesick teenager…how much more pathetic can I get?
Logan shrugged slightly at her question. "Just…for being there, being my friend. For caring." He was still smiling.
Asha's discomfort melted away almost immediately under the warm glow of that beautiful smile. Hell, even if it is just a dream…enjoy it while it lasts, right? She returned the grin, giving his fingers a gentle squeeze.
"Anytime…" she said, pouring as much of the warmth and sincerity rushing from her soul into that single word as she possibly could. Some words just aren't big enough…
The two blond freedom-fighters simply sat together for a long, long moment, holding hands across the table as they smiled into each others' eyes. Asha was utterly convinced that if there really was a heaven, it must feel like skin against skin when fingers intermingle…and it should surely be the color of Logan's eyes.
"Hey, guys."
They both started at the sound of Max's voice. Logan's fingers jerked from hers in a movement so sharp and swift that it stabbed into Asha's heart with an almost physical pang. She looked up quickly to meet Max's questioning gaze. God, I probably look like a kid who got caught with her hand in the cookie jar…or something…
Something unidentifiable flickered behind Max's eyes for an instant, before it was replaced by mere friendly curiosity…and something like resolve. She smiled briefly, then turned her head to scan the growing crowds gathered at Crash as she addressed them both. "Have you seen Alec?"
Asha blinked. Not quite the reaction I was expecting… She glanced over at Logan, and felt another pang as she took in the look of sadness and loss etched on his handsome features, as he stared up at Max's lovely face…
Her heart screamed at her—not fair, not fair!—but she ruthlessly ignored it, to respond to the other girl's question. "Ahm…no, I don't think so…not since yesterday night, anyway."
Logan spoke up then, a frown compacting his eyebrows. "Is everything okay?"
Max turned back slowly to meet his concerned eyes. "Oh…yeah, everything's fine. I just need to talk to him, that's all." The look between them stretched for an extra moment…then another.
Asha felt her heart crack and crumble beneath the weight of that long stare, and suddenly knew she had to escape. Yet again, she was being relegated to the position of the third wheel, and she wasn't sure she could stand to sit there and watch Max steal Logan's attention away—again.
"Listen, I should go—" she began weakly, reaching for her jacket…but Max's voice interrupted her before she could make a move to stand.
"No—I'm sorry, Asha," the transgenic girl said gently as she laid one hand softly on the other woman's shoulder, her eyes still locked with Logan's. "You guys looked like you were having a moment…I shouldn't have interrupted." Now she turned to meet the blonde girl's surprised gaze. "Please—don't feel like you have to leave…"
Asha was shocked to see a small, pleased smile blossom on Max's full lips, and as their eyes met, it was like a handshake between newly-met friends. The look held for a split second, and just before it broke, Max's hand gave Asha's shoulder a quick squeeze, and her darker head nodded just fractionally in the lighter-haired girl's direction.
"I need to go find Alec, so I'll see you guys later," she said quickly, backing lithely away from the booth, moving in time to the thick, hip-hop beat of the music. Then she turned, and disappeared like a wraith into the milling crowd.
Asha let out a long breath. She had the craziest feeling…like she had just been measured, judged, and found sufficient. Like Max had sized her up, and given her blessing…
Does it work like that? she wondered idly. Can a guy's ex-girlfriend really make it okay for another girl to go after him? Or is the whole world just playing with me?
Asha came back to herself to find Logan watching her, an unidentifiable look on his handsome face. "Well," she said uncomfortably, "that was strange…"
"Yeah," he replied absently, his eyes never leaving her face, as though his thoughts were just as far away as hers had been the moment before.
Then that lovely smile broke across his face again, and she could feel all the little cracks in her heart begin to heal, as she basked in its sweetness and comforting warmth. A lighter, more romantic melody came singing through the club's speakers as Logan's hand reached out to her again, across the scarred wood of the table…and at his next words, she thought her heart might just stop beating entirely.
"Dance with me?"
—@—@—@—@—@—
dear narcissus boy
I know you're not really into conflict resolution
or seeing both sides of every equation
or having an uninterrupted conversation
and any talk of healthiness
and any talk of connectedness
and any talk of resolving this
leaves you running for the door
why why do I try to help you
to try help you when you really don't want me to
—@—@—@—@—@—
A practiced flick of her wrist on the Ninja's ignition, and the comforting rumble of the engine purred down into silence. Max hung her dark riding glasses over one handlebar, pausing to shoot a sidelong glance up at the darkened windows of Alec's apartment.
What if he's not even home? Where the hell do I look then?
She shook herself, with a stern reminder that it was no good trying to puzzle out problems that hadn't presented themselves yet. At Manticore, one of their more inventive drill sergeants had called that tendency "dodging before the shot was fired," and had impressed upon them—in graphic detail—just how self-defeating a tactic it could be.
It wasn't a failing Max planned to fall victim to now.
As she mounted the first few steps, Max thought back to her encounter with Logan and Asha at Crash. She was still a bit confused by how that had played out.
By all rights, and if past experience was any judge, she ought to have been pretty pissed to see the two of them so cozy, not even two days after she and Logan had broken off their non-relationship. But oddly, she hadn't been able to muster any anger at either of them.
In fact, before she'd interrupted, they'd looked…well, pretty happy with each other's company, and somehow, that made her sort of happy, too.
Go figure.
It was probably just her own good mood, after the afternoon she'd spent with Joshua, that made her feel so generous toward the blonde girl. After all, Asha had never been one of Max's favorite people…but just then, she couldn't find it in her heart to make the poor girl suffer any more.
We've all suffered more than enough for one lifetime, I'm sure…
So she'd left them alone with their smiling and their hand-holding.
And damned if she didn't feel kind of good about that, too.
Could I possibly be any more screwed up???
Then, suddenly…there was Alec's door, right in front of her.
Did I really just climb three flights of stairs without noticing?
And really…it was a very nice door…
OH no—not doing this again. Knock on the damned door and get it over with!
Her knuckles made a satisfyingly hollow thunk as they made contact with the wood of the door, stained an almost unidentifiable shade by years of chipped paint, and mysteriously-colored stains that the fastidious feline in her didn't even want to contemplate the origins of. She listened, hoping to hear his annoyed voice calling out to 'hold on,' as his footsteps crossed the floor, coming closer, the bolt sliding back…
Nothing.
She rapped again, harder. Maybe he's in the shower? She listened again, more intently, for the sound of water rushing through ancient, corroded piping.
Still nothing.
She finally gave up on propriety and pounded heavily on the door. It creaked on its hinges, protesting the abuse, as she called at the top of her lungs, "Alec! You in there?!?"
A faint noise came from within the apartment, and she froze, listening with every fiber of her genetically-augmented being. She waited for several seconds, each one stretched thin and taut with suspense, for that first, quiet noise had not been a pleasant one…
…there it was again. An indistinct moan, almost like a whine of protest…
Followed by a louder, more articulate groan of pain.
"Nooo…."
It would have been inaudible to a normal human, but her sensitive ears caught the sound, and recognized Alec's voice…in pain, or in trouble.
Or both.
She didn't think, and she didn't hesitate. Taking a swift step backwards, away from the door, she raised one booted foot, and in a blur of motion, planted it violently against the solid wood of the door, right next to the doorknob.
The old, much-abused wood never stood a chance. It splintered around the lock and burst open, sending her flying into the apartment like a mightily pissed-off dervish, ducking and rolling across the floor toward the kitchen to avoid any gunfire that might be directed at her sudden entrance.
Nothing.
Very cautiously, she poked her head up over the counter to survey the living room for potential hostiles.
Still nothing…
…except Alec, lying curled up on the couch, obviously asleep.
The relief that surged through her at the sight of him, alive and unharmed, was followed almost immediately by a wave of anger. How dare he scare me like that?!? She came around the counter into the living room, opening her mouth to yell at him, when something else registered.
He might have been sleeping…but it was not a quiet, restful nap. He was twitching, his head rolling anxiously against the lumpy seat cushion, his fingers clenching and unclenching in tense, jerky motions. As she stepped closer, she was shocked to see that his cheeks were wet—mute testimony to the many tears he had shed over whatever horrors his mind was envisioning as he slept.
It didn't take a genius to figure out what those horrors were. She was no stranger to the nightmares…the unconscious moments where Manticore still haunted her…where she would never be safe, and would always be alone…
Max felt a sudden flood of compassion for the man before her—a beautiful, tortured man, who was obviously in more pain than he would ever admit to anyone. She knew everything he must be feeling, because she'd been through it all herself…but had she ever reached out to him, offered him the helping hand she'd once wished for so fervently? Only once—in the days after Rachel Berrisford's death, and even then, he'd kindly turned her away.
I shouldn't have given up so fast, she berated herself, as she crossed swiftly to his side, leaning over him as he tossed in the throes of his dreams. I should've known he wouldn't accept help so easily…he's just as closed off as I used to be.
With a tenderness she'd never expected to feel toward the other X5, she stroked the sweat-dampened hair off his forehead with her fingertips. He seemed to calm slightly under her gentle touch, encouraging her to go on to say in a low voice, "Come on, Alec…just let me help…"
She was totally unprepared for his eyes to fly open, wild and haunted…or
for the desperate cry of "No!!" on his lips…or for the hand suddenly
latched onto her throat with a grip of steel.
—@—@—@—@—@—
"…just let me help…"
Let me help…
The two voices echoing in Alec's mind melded into a single plea too poignant to bear. He thought he was going to shatter again, with the sheer force of resisting that voice…the one voice that seemed to know what he was feeling, and cared…
He wrenched himself away, reaching blindly for her throat…anything to get that terrible, lovely voice to stop…stop torturing him with the care and concern he could never accept, out of fear for her safety…
His fingers closed around her throat, then, as his eyes refocused on her face…
…his apartment…
Wait…this is wrong…
His eyes flickered frantically toward the television, the over-stuffed chair, the greasy walls… Where had the forest gone? Where were the marks on Max's forehead? And more importantly, why did Max suddenly seem to be choking?
His hand on her throat.
Wait…what…?
He took in his surroundings…her wide-eyed face…his racing heartbeat…
…and suddenly flung her away from him—but not so forcefully that he might actually hurt her. She bounced against the edge of his sofa table, her eyes wide and shocked, as her hand went reflexively to her throat and she gasped for air.
Oh god…I hurt her…
"Max?" His voice was a harsh, rasping whisper…half-pleading, half-apologetic. He still wasn't entirely sure that she was real, that he might not still be dreaming. He reached out to her with one hand, the gesture both offering assistance and begging for it…
…only to watch her shrink away from his touch, the memory of his hand squeezing her throat still too fresh in her mind to permit otherwise. His heart broke to see the fear in her eyes, then broke all over again at the pity that immediately sprang up to wash away the fear. His breathing was still ragged as he whispered, "Oh god…" and sprang up off the couch, moving away from her as quickly as he could on his unsteady legs. He wound up facing the ledge between the living room and the kitchen, both hands braced against it, stiff-armed, as he tried to get his trembling limbs under control.
He heard her stand up behind him, and willed her to come no closer.
God…I hurt her…again…
"Alec…are you alright?" One cool hand came to rest lightly on his shoulder.
He spun away from her as if her touch burned him, laughing crazily, in the tone that said he had to laugh or else he might find himself crying instead. "Am I okay?" he repeated maniacally. "Am I okay—ha!" He forced another panicked laugh as he backed desperately away from her. "I just tried to strangle you to death, and you're asking me if I'm okay!" He shook his head—maybe at her, or maybe just to clear it, he couldn't be sure. "Anybody ever tell you, you've got some really wacked-out priorities, Max?"
She just blinked, and frowned at him in concern. "What's wrong?" She reached out to him again, one hand extended between them in a silent plea to let her help.
"No!" he shouted, shaking his head violently and taking several more steps backwards. "Stay away from me, Max!" He hated the desperation he could hear in his own voice, even more than the sudden hurt that blossomed across Max's lovely face.
But Max was remembering…
~*~*~*~*~*~
Ben looked up at her, a pleading expression on his face, making him look suddenly like a lost and scared little boy, instead of the grown soldier he wanted so badly to be. "Please—you know what they'll do to me…"
The look on his face begged her to help—a desperate appeal that he would not permit himself to voice aloud…
~*~*~*~*~*~
She saw the shocked look in Alec's eyes, as he realized exactly what that five thousand dollars was meant to pay for. For all that he'd only known her for a couple of weeks, he knew how important Logan was to her…how desperately she wanted to get rid of the virus that plagued them.
So she watched him steel himself…forcing himself not to beg…
…except with his eyes. Those hollow, imploring eyes, pleading with her from Ben's face, making him look suddenly like a lost and scared little boy, instead of the grown soldier they'd trained him to be…
~*~*~*~*~*~
He had the same haunted, desperately frightened expression on his face now, that Max had seen that night in the lab tech's apartment…and that afternoon, so many months ago, in the woods outside the city…on another face entirely.
That night…that expression… aside from the first time he'd walked into her cell at Manticore, that was the one and only time she'd ever looked into Alec's eyes, and seen Ben gazing back at her. It scared her, to realize that the exact same expression on the exact same face, could seem to say 'please kill me' and 'please don't let me die' at the exact same time…
But in that moment, that look was saying neither of those things. There was fear there, and a desperate, pleading request…stay away from me…
It was almost as if he was afraid of hurting her.
It broke Max's heart to see Alec so…diminished, so humbled by his fears. For as long as she had known him, he'd always been strong, cocky, obnoxious Alec. Even if it was just a mask he wore, to protect himself from the cruelties of the World, he'd never before allowed it to falter in her presence…
No, that's not quite true…
That night in the Berrisford mansion, when she'd saved him from the grieving father with the shaking gun, the mask had been cracking around the edges. His voice had been ragged, before he'd gone off to sit at the bedside of his dying love…and then, too, he'd told her to stay away…
He doesn't want anyone to see him like this, she realized suddenly, finding the idea strikingly familiar. He doesn't realize what a comfort it can be, to get things off your chest…
"Come on, Alec," she said gently, as if trying to coax a skittish animal. "Just talk to me…I want to help you, but I can't if you don't…"
Alec's eyes were clenched tightly shut, and he shook his head violently from side to side, raising his hands as though to fend off her kind words. "Dammit, Max—can't you just leave me alone???" he cried out, in a frenzied panic. When he opened his eyes, he couldn't see her lovely face, or her gentle hands…all he could see was the livid red marks of his fingers, where he had gripped her neck…
"Why do you always have to butt into my business?!?" he raged at her. "I never asked for your help, and I don't want it!!! Why can't you ever just leave me alone?!?!?"
Seeing the fury in his eyes finally sparked Max's own temper, which she'd been holding firmly in check up until that moment. "You want me to leave you alone?" she said incredulously, her voice rising. "I never forced you to stay in Seattle, or get a job at Jam Pony, or spend every goddamned hour of your life around me!! Did you ever think that maybe my life would've been better if you'd never shown up?? That maybe everybody would've been happier without you around?? Huh?!? Did you?!?"
"Yes…"
She missed his quiet reply amid the hissing of the blood in her ears, and the growing momentum of her own anger. It was just like it always was with Alec…she hated the foul things spewing from her mouth even as she said them…but she couldn't stop. He just made her so mad…!!!
"I don't know why the hell I even bother with you!" she raged on. "Every time I start to think you might be making some progress towards becoming an actual human being, you have to go right back to being a complete jerk!!!"
She never noticed how he took several more steps backwards, in the face of her ire, to bump against the wall behind him. She never noticed how he seemed to crumple in on himself with every hateful word that fell from her lips. She never noticed the fresh tears glittering on his cheeks.
"Tell you what—I give up!!! I'm sick and tired of following you around, picking up the pieces every time you go off half-cocked!!" Max finally spat at him. She pointed one index finger, trembling violently beneath the weight of her fury, directly at his nose. "The minute you decide to grow up, and learn to care about somebody other than yourself, let me know! Until then—I'm washing my hands of you!!!"
With that, she turned furiously on her heel and stalked out of the apartment, slamming the ruined front door in her wake.
As the splintered wood banged hollowly against the doorframe, Alec felt his strength give out, and he slid down the wall to the floor, sitting hunched up with his forehead resting against his knees, as he silently cried.
He had never felt more alone in his entire life.
And the beast only laughed louder, as it felt the bars of its cage weaken…
—@—@—@—@—@—
THANK GOD, IT'S DONE!!!!!!! No, not the story, just this infernal chapter that's been rubber cemented into my head for the last week!!!!!!! I swear, it was like my car's windshield after one of those lovely Central Illinois winter ice-storms…you know the glass is under there somewhere, but you can chip at the ice forever and never actually get to it… :-P
A hundred thousand heartfelt thank-you's, to everyone who's been waiting ever-so-patiently for me to get over this damned case of writer's block I've been wrestling with—can you call it writer's block, if you know exactly what you're supposed to write, but just can't make yourself sit still long enough to do it???
Anywho…once again, I'm terribly sorry for making you all wait so very long for this installment. *sheds a few tears* I'll try to do better…really I will!!!! You guys have all been great, and when you say you want more, I want to give it to you!!!! :-) I hope this part meets with your approval…I know it doesn't exactly end happily, but give me another couple of chapters, and that will change.
I'd love to be able to drag out the angst as well as some other authors (*cough* *girltype!* *fergus80!* *cough*), but there's just too much of the hopeless romantic in me…I wanna see the happy ending as much as you guys do, so I won't make you wait too many more chapters. Although most of the rest are gonna be loooooong ones, there should only be about 15 in total…
…though I'm already thinking that there's potential for a sequel. ;-)
Okay, enough of my babbling! Please review, and thanks again for all
your patience!!!!! :-)
Coming soon!!!!!!!
Chapter 8 - Utopia