by iluvaqt@hotmail.com
iluvaqt's notes: This is episodic fiction. There's a continous story here. Involving a lot of characters. Sorry, if sometimes there aren't enough Max and Logan 'moments', but if you want to focus on just that aspect of the Dark Angel world... There are lots of authors listed @ dafans.proboards9.com, who do just that. I've got other fics, 'Blah', 'Girls', 'Living With Ghosts' and 'One Night' that are all or majority, Max and Logan. Please don't read this series, if that's all you're expecting from me.
Chapter 4: Losing
Logan dared not move. He kept his eyelids firmly shut, going over the mental images of the night passed. Not wanting to ever forget a single moment; her giggles, her deep set moans, the screams – his name – from her lips. A beautiful lush mouth; red and full, housed a soft pink, cherry-laced tongue. Tender lips, bruised and puffy from their wild onslaught, searched repeatedly for his. Her high and perfect brow, a smooth plain, beckoned his caress. Deep brown eyes, never once breaking contact, letting him sink into their dark mysterious abyss.
It was hard to imagine that the slender, perfectly formed woman, cuddled up to him was engineered and bred to be a warrior. Her eyes closed, long lashes brushing the tops of her cheekbones, a healthy flush across her cheeks...how could she be anything, but an angel?
Two months ago, he'd been ready to let her go. Seeing her so sad, gazing out the window, as if longing for something...someone...not him. His heart had tightened painfully and his breath had shuddered uncomfortably in his chest. Too many times, he'd put his hope, his faith in her. Blind hope that she'd believe in them too. At that moment - weeks back - looking at her, he'd reluctantly and helplessly set her free.
He felt it would be wrong to hold her back. Tie her down. For them, it had always been a game. Always trying to get on the merry-go-round...At first it was at a stand still, and they were both there. But things slowly got more complicated, things got in the way. At different stages, one of them was on it and the other was trying to catch up. Then for one single moment - over a year ago – one fateful night, they both managed to grab hold...but, not to stay on.
But somehow, through everything, she'd made her way back to him. He was so glad that she chose to stay in Seattle. That she'd chosen to be with him. If he'd given up – after he lost her in those fields of Gillette, when she'd run from Seattle, after he got sick in Dallas City - he'd have missed this now. And what a fool he would have been then.
Last night, they'd made love by the window. The inky sky enveloping them, from the cold and harsh reality of the world outside. Distant city lights glittering above like stars. The rain pouring down the glass outside echoing a soft harmony to their passionate declaration.
Spent, he'd wrapped her in his soft coverlet and carried her to bed. For what seemed like hours lying together, faces inches apart, just watching each other. It had been Max who'd broken the quiet staring contest, with a snicker. He'd seen it coming. It had crept up her jaw-line and across her cheeks, reaching her eyes with a bright spark before it had slipped past her lips.
"I knew you'd break first," Logan informed her smugly.
She'd smiled and bridged the gap between them, kissing him and whispering goodnight. Closing her eyes and falling asleep. But not before she'd felt him, pull her towards his chest and wrap a protective arm around her waist. He'd kissed her forehead and whispered.
"Night, dark angel."
The rays of morning sun tingled against her exposed shoulder. And without stirring, Max knew he was awake. Her chin was resting against his chest and she could feel every heartbeat under the palm of her hand. To prove to him that she knew he was faking, she pretended to sleepily snuggle closer, tightening the arm that was lazily thrown over his waist.
As she expected, he instinctively stiffened, only for a moment. He always seemed to get nervous first thing in the morning. Or any time she woke up for that matter.
They'd only begun a more intimate relationship a week ago, one late night, after long pool session at Crash. In which she attempted to give Sketchy lessons, but failed dismally. Original Cindy assured her it wasn't the technique of the skilled teacher, but the lack of in the student.
Frustrated and totally done, she'd opted to leave around a quarter to eleven. Logan had offered to drive her home, but she'd opted to walk. He'd said something about walking her, and somehow instead of going home, they'd ended up in his apartment and in his bed.
Smilingly to herself, she tilted her head up and nuzzled his neck. Her warm breath on his skin sending a visible shiver along his muscle torso and she started of trail of kisses up his neck, before he stopped her.
"Hey. Not that I don't love a beautiful morning greeting, but I really think I could use a shower." Logan grinned down at her.
The cute blush had begun to creep across her cheeks, at his proposal of a shower. He knew she was thinking of the last time they'd showered together. Or for the better term, not. If he remembered correctly, there wasn't a lot of scrubbing done. Lots of soaping...but the water had gone cold long before they'd fully rinsed off. Oh the wondrous advantages of having an oversized, partly open, shower stall. He never would have thought. But then all the alterations had gone in long before he ever thought anything would eventuate between Max and himself.
"You go ahead. I've really gotta make it to work on time today," she said.
Logan didn't miss the hint of disappointment in her voice and pondered about telling her to forget Normal, but thought better. He knew Max. She loved her independence, not to mention the chance to hang out with the gang, and lately he knew he'd been keeping her to himself a lot.
"How 'bout I start breakfast?" she suggested, the sheet pooling around her waist.
Perhaps she didn't notice, but despite the fact that she was wearing one of his night shirts, her aroused state was fully apparent to him. He stopped the low groan in his throat and mentally scolded himself.
"Sure," he managed, before purposefully heading to the walk-in-robe. "Shower..."
After a warm, hearty serving of pancakes and powered sugar, she'd quickly dumped her dishes in the sink and made for the bathroom. Looking at the bedside clock, she noted that she had about fifteen minutes to get ready and head out.
Throwing her bathrobe over the towel rail, she turned the faucets on full and stepped under the warm spray. She scrubbed and soaped all over before, tilting her head back and letting the water, wash over her.
She was about to turn around and shut off the water, when she felt a sharp jab in her lower abdomen. Cringing and biting her bottom lip, the momentary flash of pain passed. Looking down, she noticed a few spots of blood. They colored the white marble base, before mingling with the flowing water and slipping down the drain.
Paling and closing her eyes, Max turned off the faucets and quickly reached for her robe. Stepping out of the shower, she didn't even bother to step on the mat, which was a mistake. Because one minute she was standing, and the next she was falling. Backward...there was the sink, the ceiling, the overhead lights, then a bright burst of white and skull crunching pain before...nothing.