AS 2.08 Pong by Star 24

Disclaimer: Dark Angel and its characters are Ó 2001-2002 Twentieth Century Fox Studios and James Cameron and Charles Eglee. This original story is Ó 2003-04 Star24.

Chapter Thirteen

Once they passed the Sector checkpoint, sped along by Logan's impeccable paperwork, they reached Max's apartment in what seemed like no time. Logan pulled the car to the side of the road. "We're here," he said unnecessarily.

"Yeah." Max opened her door and climbed out of the low slung sports car. When Logan didn't immediately follow she turned to look at him. "You coming? 'Cause I really need to get this gunk off of my face. It's gotta be toxic."

Logan climbed out of the car and locked it behind them. "Will the car be okay here tonight? I have to return it in one piece tomorrow."

Max glanced around and then let out a shrill whistle. In seconds a boy, who appeared to be about sixteen, appeared out of what seemed like nowhere.

"Hey, Max, wassup?" he said, exchanging a high five with her.

"This set of wheels belongs to my good friend here. You wanna make sure it's still here in the AM, with all its parts intact?" Max asked him.

"For you, Max, not a prob."

Max gave him one of her rare smiles. "Thanks, boo. How's your mom doin'?"

"She's been good ever since you got her those meds she needed."

"Make sure you let me know if she needs more, k?"

"You got it."

The boy melted back into the darkness and Max turned to Logan impatiently. "C'mon. The car'll be fine."

Logan nodded and silently followed her into her building. The silence continued until they reached her apartment and she pushed open the door and walked inside. It was dark but Max walked unerringly to the kitchen area and switched on a dim light. "I'm going to wash my face. Make yourself comfortable."

Max vanished into her room and Logan shrugged out of his jacket and then walked over to look out of the windows. Max's apartment wasn't on as high a floor as he occupied at Fogle Towers, but there was still a decent view of Seattle and he stood looking out over the city as he waited for her to come back.

The sound of soft footsteps alerted him and he turned to see Max standing there barefoot, her face washed clean of makeup and hair brushed out. She had changed into a pair of soft gray sweat pants and a tank top. She looked young and innocent, certainly not the soldier that she had been raised to be. Logan, as always, struggled to reconcile this Max with the one he had seen an hour earlier. The one who had quickly and brutally dispatched a thug who outweighed her by at least ninety pounds without breaking a sweat.

"So?" Max said softly. "Where do we start?"

"Do you ever wish we could go back to that night you broke into my place and start all over from there?" Logan answered her with a question.

"I never thought about that," Max said, "I was taught that you can't second guess yourself; you deal with the current situation and move ahead." She shrugged and moved to perch on her battered couch, "Unless you know about some kind of time machine technology that I never heard of."

Logan laughed shortly, "No, I can't say that I do."

Silence fell as he continued to stand by the windows and Max waited.

"What do you want me to say, Logan?" She finally broke the silence.

Logan ran a finger through his hair, making it spike more than normal. He sighed. "Why did you do it, Max? Did you honestly think I'd want you to sell your soul to Deck just so I could use my legs again? Did you think I'd be able live with the knowledge that my walking came at the cost of another man's life?" He stopped, seemingly shocked at his outburst.

"Is that what you really believe happened, Logan?" Max looked more sad than angry. "You think that I killed someone in cold blood, just like that?"

"What am I supposed to think?" Logan tossed out. His frustration was evident in his voice and stance. "You've never denied it. You didn't stay and tell me anything different that morning at the Steinlitz. You just left."

"You told me that you loved me. How could you love someone who you believe is capable of that?" Max asked softly.

Their eyes met and she could see the struggle in his. He turned to the window once again and didn't answer immediately. When he finally did speak, his words were so soft that she never would have heard them without her enhanced hearing abilities. "That's what I've been asking myself. Because I do love you, Max. No matter what, I don't think I can ever stop loving you. So what does that make me?"

Max didn't answer him and he finally turned, to see her sitting there with tears in her eyes. "Why do you hate yourself so much, Logan?"

"I don't," his denial was automatic.

"Look at you. You have to convince yourself that I'm some kind of monster, because if I wasn't I wouldn't be with you. I thought Manticore did a job on my head, but someone did a better one on yours."

There was an arrested look on Logan's face as he stared at Max.This time it was her turn to look away from him. Her shoulders slumped and she looked defeated, something Logan wasn't used to seeing in Max. Unable to help himself, he walked over to the couch and sat down next to her. He reached out and gently pulled her into his arms. Max didn't resist but neither did she look at him. She buried her face in his chest and allowed him to gently stroke her back and hair. The two sat like that for a long time, each lost in their own thoughts.

"Max?" Logan finally said softly. "Deck played you, didn't he?" There was conviction in his voice, making what he said more of a statement than a question. "I should have known that the minute I read that note. He played you and he played me, and he's still out there planning how he's going to do it again. That's the real story."

He felt Max sigh and then she raised her head. "Pretty much," she paused and then continued, "it was my fault though. I should have known better than to go to him. I thought I could use him, for you, but instead he used me. It was stupid on my part, but when Sam told me about your spine, that it was deteriorating and was only going to get worse over time, I panicked."

"It meant that much to you that I wasn't ever going to get out of that chair?" Logan asked her.

"No, damn it. I never cared about the stupid chair." Max was suddenly angry. "I was afraid of what you were going to do. That one day I might not get there in time and I'd come home to find that you'd offed yourself over it. That was what panicked me." She glared at Logan.

"I'm sorry, Max." Logan's voice was low. "I'm a selfish prick. I don't deserve you. I wouldn't blame you for telling me to get out of your life."

"Logan, stop it. This isn't all about you. Didn't you listen to me at all? I did a stupid thing. I knew Manticore had technology to stop the deterioration of your spinal column and I wanted it for you. I thought I could play Deck, only he was better than I was and he played me. And if you don't stop doing this, he's still playing us and he's the one who's gonna have the last laugh."

Logan looked down at her. He could feel the warmth of her body against his. Her eyes sparkled with anger and her lips were parted. Going on impulse and instinct, he drew her even closer and then buried his hands in her hair and pulled her face to his. Their lips met and he greedily drank in her taste and scent and feel.

Max responded readily. He deepened the kiss, using it to tell her what he didn't know how to say with words. Max stayed right with him, taking what he gave and giving it back. When they finally broke apart, they were both breathless. Logan could feel a racing pulse, and he didn't know if it was his, or Max's, or both of theirs.

"Let me love you, Max. Let me make it up to you." Logan's voice was hoarse with emotion and desire. His hands were gently stroking her, causing thrills of electricity to run through her body.

Max shivered slightly in his arms, but didn't answer. Her eyes searched his intently. He met her stare head on, not turning away this time.

"Please, Max. I love you. I never stopped loving you for one minute. Please don't say that I managed to make you hate me."

"I could never hate you, Logan," Max answered softly.

Logan leaned in and kissed her again, gently this time. When he pulled away he looked at her and waited for her decision.

Max stood and held out a hand to Logan. He rose and took it and she led him to her bedroom. When she pushed back the drapes that separated it from the main room she paused; she looked doubtfully at the mattress on the floor that she called a bed. "It isn't Fogle Towers, Logan, or even the Steinlitz."

Logan didn't answer. He simply pulled her along with him to the bed. Together they tumbled onto it and then there was no more talk. For a long time the only sounds were the rustle of clothing being discarded, followed by the soft murmuring shared by two lovers. And then finally there was silence, as they slept in a tangle of limbs and bedclothes, illuminated by a single shaft of moonlight that made its way through the window to slant across their bed.

End of Chapter Thirteen