Disclaimer: I'm not making any money from the use of characters. The Dark Angel Universe belongs to the powers that be.
A/N: This is an answer to Lelu's halloween challenge, a one chapter ghost-ish story. It's made a nice break from my other story, which should be updated soon. Enjoy!
Indebted to Bast*** Fogle Towers, NIGHT ***
Logan saved his work and turned off the computer screen sighing. He wasn't coping. As much as he tried to get over Max's death and on with his life, every part of him still ached for her. He buried his head in his hands. He had to deal with it. She wouldn't be coming back this time. This time there was no Manticore to bring her back to life, no magical answer to his problems. He'd watched her die and seen her buried.
It had been four months.
Exhausted, Logan laid his head down on his desk, thinking of the events that had passed since she was taken from him. He sighed again heavily, the hair on the back of his neck sticking up when he heard his sigh echoed by another.
He knew who it was there before he saw her, watching him quietly and looking as if nothing had happened.
"Max?" He asked, glad he was sitting down.
"In the flesh." She replied, then grinned. "Well, almost."
"What are you doing here?" he asked incredulously.
"Couldn't sleep." She replied simply, looking around the apartment and ignoring his stunned expression.
"How did you…?" Logan began, staring at her. She had crossed the room and was standing in front of his makeshift desk.
"Remember the fun we had with this?" She asked, waving her hand back and forth through the Bast statue. His eyes stared at her hand floating through the solid object.
"What are you?" He demanded in a harsh whisper.
"I'm Max." She answered simply.
"Are you a ghost?" She smiled at him and turned back to the statue.
"I thought this would get me a week's worth of dinners." She turned to look at him. "It got me so much more. I gotta figure I owe Bast a fair bit." She traced her hand through the statue again slowly, and he watched in disbelief. His mind was racing, running through every logical thought that he'd ever had, trying desperately to make the dead girl standing in front of him make sense.
Ignoring science and logic, Logan shook off the thoughts and looked at the statue briefly before shifting his gaze back to Max.
"Indebted to Bast." He smiled finally, deciding that seeing Max again, even in this state, was worth believing in ghosts.
The reunited couple had moved to the sofa and were staring at each other, each unsure of what to say.
"Does dying hurt?" Logan asked suddenly, breaking the silence. Max frowned and rolled her eyes.
"That's what you want to know? Not the answer to the universe's unsolved questions, not the meaning of life, just 'does dying hurt?' Men are such babies." Logan smiled, relaxing.
"What's the meaning of life?" He asked eagerly.
"How the hell should I know?" She grinned wickedly, and he laughed. The ice broken, Logan brought up the subject that he'd long been regretting not discussing with Max while she was alive.
"I meant it when I said I loved you Max. I love you. I've missed you." He shifted his eyes to the floor uncomfortably, afraid to look at her, and immediately regretting his emotional outburst.
"Logan." The X5 replied, and he looked up into her eyes. He smiled sheepishly.
"I didn't know ghosts could cry." He teased softly.
"Wanna find out if they can kick your ass?" She shot back. Her face softened. "I love you Logan." She rushed the words out, then met his eyes and mirrored his smile.
"Is this a dream?" He asked in a voice just above a whisper.
"Do you want it to be a dream?" She asked softly, reaching up to stroke his forehead. Logan shivered as her hand passed through his skin.
"No. I want you to be here with me, like it used to be." He replied.
"I am here with you." She pointed out. He smiled sadly, running his hand through hers as she had with the statue.
"I want to be able to touch you." He continued, staring into her eyes.
"We haven't been able to do that in a long time." She pointed out with a smile.
"How long will this last?" Logan asked, blinking again to make sure she was still there.
"As long as you need it to." Max replied softly.
"Is it real?" He slid his hand closer to her, and he watched it pass through her own.
"Feels real to me." She grinned, looking into his eyes. He nodded slowly.
"Will you stay?"
"Not even White himself could get me to leave here tonight."
They sat comfortably for hours, reminiscing and discussing endless topics, sidestepping the events that had led Max to tell Logan it was over. Inevitably, the conversation turned, and Logan brought it up.
"About you and Alec…" he began with hesitation. She raised her eyebrows in surprise.
"About me and Alec?" She repeated.
"After you were gone, he told me it was a lie." Logan finished, staring into his lap.
"Did you believe him? She asked with a teasing smile on her face. The tone of voice she used immediately convinced Logan that Alec had been telling the truth.
"Do you believe anything Alec tells you? He challenged with a grin.
"Good point." Max laughed.
The pair discussed their friends and enemies, Logan describing his family and breaking into wickedly accurate impressions of his aunt and uncle, and Max smiling sadly when discussing the lives she imagined for her brothers and sisters.
They continued long into the night, moving around the apartment, changing the topics and location regularly. Max grinned when she saw the chessboard, still set up with the positions of their last game. Logan had taken his turn, and the board stood waiting for her move.
"I move the knight to king four and it's checkmate." She grinned cockily, gesturing at the chessboard. Logan's eyes widened in disbelief, and he stared at the game in dismay.
"That may work," he replied slowly, "except that you can't move the chess piece. So I guess you forfeit the game." He grinned widely.
"Ahh, the male ego. Can't ask for directions or lose at chess." Max observed dryly, though unable to hide a smile. She continued to wander the apartment, Logan following closely.
"How long will you stay?" Logan asked.
The couple were stretched out on the bed facing each other. Logan tried to stifle a yawn, but Max noticed.
"Go to sleep." She nagged gently.
"I don't want to." He protested, yawning again. She met his blue eyes with her own, smiling.
"Tomorrow's another big day in this broken world." She said softly as his eyes drooped.
He saw her smile before he closed his eyes, and met it with a sleepy smile of his own. "Will you be here?" he asked sleepily.
"Always." She whispered, running her hand along his jaw. For a moment, he was sure he could feel the softness of her touch as it traced along his face.
*** Fogle Towers, DAY ***
Logan struggled to stay asleep in protest to the uncharacteristic sun streaming through his Seattle window. Groaning, he buried his face deeper into his pillow as the waking world caught up with him.
He remembered the events from the night before, and was immediately awake. He pulled himself to a sitting position, his eyes darting around the bedroom.
"Max?" He called hesitantly, realising how ridiculous it sounded. She was gone, not here, ghosts weren't real, and he was alone.
Angry at himself for believing in an impossibility, Logan let his head fall back to the pillow, jamming his fist angrily into his eye to stop the tears that formed there. With a sigh, he turned his head to stare at the wall.
His eyes widened in disbelief at the sight of the Bast statue on his nightstand.
"Indebted to Bast." He whispered, a smile spreading across his face.
With the Bast statue in his lap, Logan made his way to the computer to face another 'big day in a broken world.' He stopped suddenly when he remembered the chess game, and made his way over to it.
Max's knight was at king four, the game having ended in checkmate.
With a smile, Logan continued to his computer with a statue in his lap, replaying memories of the angel that he had Bast to thank for.