A/N: This fic was in fact as a scene that I cut out of another story of mine, Poison. Rather than let it go to waste, I expanded upon it (all while trying to reach some kind of point I still don't think I obtained), added a game of chess and hence here we have this lil' standalone. It's just a vignette that is supposed to be about defining.. or rather not defining... uh... something indefinable? (And here we see how Sorrow manages to ramble on and on and still not reach any particular conclusion.) Okay obviously this fic is out of my general story writing comfy zone, but I'm dabbling in writing every angle of DA possible, and 'ship' has come to not really be important to me anymore. I enjoy reading fics of any ship, and don't mind writing them either. So read on and hopefully enjoy... :-D
Friendship.
When had they ever regarded what they had together as a friendship? The word was entirely inappropriate. But then again, 'relationship' had always seemed an overstatement. No. What they had was indescribable. More than a friendship, but never quite a relationship. They simply were.
Over the past year, 'what they were' had become even more of an abstract riddle. They had shifted less in favour of 'relationship', until even their friendship had become shadowed by doubts.
Even before the virus, Alec, and the release of the Manticorians, there had always been something to come between them. Be it an Eyes Only mission to interrupt a romantic dinner, or a long lost sibling. And as was the way with Murphy's Law, help was usually required just as it seemed they were about to make the crucial step that would at last determine what they meant to each other.
But the thing was, it didn't matter so much then. Sure, they'd argue at times, felt frustration at fate's cruel practical jokes, and wonder during the darkest hours if perhaps their magnetism was facing the wrong way - pushing them apart rather than pulling them together. But neither of them had ever been fully sure of what they wanted from each other anyway. For the most part, they were content with their easy going comradeship the way it was. There was no real need to solidify their relationship with something they weren't ready for.
At times they both found themselves silently wondering if the problem that lay before them now wasn't so much the virus, but that they had found themselves trying to define the undefinable - to put a label on something that was never meant to be categorised.
Even when they could touch without risk of deadly repercussions, one of them had always held back. Just a little. Both were used to their independence for so long, they weren't sure how to bond. They feared opening up, and rendering themselves vulnerable. Never realising what they were missing, until the final opportunity was lost.
Watching Max as she studied the chess pieces before them, Logan thought back to the times they had played this game in the past. There had always been comfort in their silences, as if they had evolved beyond the need for speech. Instead they had been content to simply share the space of a room together and fill the air with smiles, and shy sideways glances. Rather than words that needed not to be said.
So what was stopping them now from regaining that tranquillity? The virus? No the virus lay within Max, not within the air that rested between them. The barrier lay in loss of something they had never really placed much importance in anyway. The barrier was a psychological one.
Max missed the comfortable banter she used to share with Logan. It didn't matter that they couldn't 'get busy' together. Since when had their relationship been about that anyway? When she reflected on the way they used to be, touch was a sensation that had rarely been indulged. The fleeting contact of one hand upon another, the even rarer brush of lips… Were such things really that important?
She mourned not for the absence of physical touch, but for the loss of that 'something indefinable' which had once been the summary of who they were. Strange to think that something so abstract was so fitting, but she remembered a time when they hadn't tried to be anything aside from what they were. Now it seemed they spent so much time grieving for what they could never have, that they'd lost sight of the fact such things had never really mattered to them once upon a time anyway.
So maybe a game of chess had been made a little bit more difficult by the presence of the virus. But how much further would they slip from each other's grasp, before they had to admit it wasn't the virus coming between them, but their own stubborn insistence to build walls around themselves?
Meeting Logan's eyes for a moment, Max nearly asked the question out loud. She wanted to confide in him, to tell him she wanted to step back from worrying about their lack of physical relationship, and simply go back to the way things used to be. But the words became stuck in her throat, threatening to choke her with the sudden rise of fear like bitter bile.
She didn't want to hear him make excuses for how he felt, and turn meaningful words into empty lies. It was bad enough that they had slid this far already - always covering their feelings beneath facades. With each stammering excuse they made for what words passed their lips, the chasm between them grew.
It was the two of them dancing around each other all over again, only this time they took deadly care to not step on each toes, and a slow waltz was definitely out of the question.
"So do you give up?"
"Huh?" Startled by Logan's question, Max felt her stomach lurch painfully, half fearful he'd heard her thoughts.
"The game - do you give up?"
Logan wore a playful smile, although his eyes turned down slightly at the corners from a sadness he was not quite able to hide. Still, the laughter in his voice could have fooled almost anyone.
"Of course not." Hesitating for a moment, Max asked, "but if you want to call it quits…"
"Oh no no!" Logan was no longer sure if they spoke of the game of chess or their 'relationship', as was often the case with innuendo's. But he knew which out of the two possibilities he preferred to answer.
"I'm sticking this one out to the end. No matter how long it takes."
Max nodded, a slow smile spreading across her face. "I was hoping you'd say that."
