It's not a date. Kendra's crazy. This is just two... friends? Coworkers? It's just two... people getting together for dinner and that's all. What does Kendra know anyway? I mean, it's not like Kendra goes on many conventional dates anyway. This isn't a date. This isn't a date. This? So not a date.
She would've like nothing more than for Logan to open the door and not look so good and not smell good enough to eat - or jump him, but... he did. And that, she decided, could be a problem. She smiled and followed him into the living room.
"I'm gonna check on the food. Why don't you pick out some music?" He said, then disappeared into the kitchen.
She stood for a moment, then walked over to the stereo. She had already become acquainted with his CD collection, so it was just a matter of picking out the right music. Kendra said something about mood music and dates... well, since this is so totally not a date, I'll pick something that's not mood music. 'Cause this isn't a date, and we don't need mood music. Umm... Sibelius. That sounds like a pre-Pulse alternative rock band. Doesn't it? I hope it is... please be ear assaulting rock, please please... dammit. That's definitely classical. I'll just -
"You know, I didn't picture you as a classical kind of girl."
Max froze and pulled her finger away from the eject button on the stereo. She straightened slowly and turned to face Logan. She smiled softly, then walked over to him and accepted the glass of champagne he had in his hand.
"Well, I figure if I could be a tango type of girl, I could probably be a classical type too."
"Seems logical." He smirked and took a sip of his champagne.
"Well," She grinned. "You know me and logic."
"Speaking of your siblings," He smirked, then grew suddenly serious, and plucked a manilla envelope from the coffee table. "I managed to find something else out. It's another police report, which has me starting to think that your brothers and sisters don't get the meaning of low key, and it has to do with a sixteen year old boy. There's a picture in there and I have to say that you and he really look alike."
"It's gotta be Krit then." She said, now serious herself. She walked over to him and took the envelope from his hand. She opened it and pulled out the police report, then the picture of the boy. It was indeed Krit. She smiled down at the picture of her frowning brother. "We all used to say that Krit and I were brother and sister - for real, because we looked so much alike, ya know? We said it about Syl and Zack too, cause there was a resemblance there. 'Course, now we all know that can't be true."
She paused and looked up at Logan. She continued, a sadness in her voice that she had never allowed before. "We were experiments. We weren't any better than the lab rats to them. We were things. Possessions. They did whatever they wanted to us and we didn't know that we couldn't really be related or that it was wrong to break our bones, batter our minds, and toss us around like rag dolls that were too old and ugly to play with anymore."
Logan took her champagne glass from her and set both of theirs on the coffee table, then moved over to her and gently took the envelope from her hands. He tossed it onto the coffee table then brought her into his arms. "You aren't that anymore, Max. You're a person now."
"For now." She said, blinking back the tears and burying her head in his chest. "At least until they finally catch up with me and put me back in a cage. They won't stop until they have every single one of us, Logan, and then we'll just go right back to rag doll status."
She craned her neck so she could look into his eyes. "I don't want to be a thing."
"You're not." He practically whispered, and both of them couldn't help but feel as if that was some sort of promise.
A/N numero... two: I wanted to pause and thank everyone for the feedback. It's been really great. :D Now, on to finish the next chapter, among other things.