Disclaimer: Don't own 'em.
A/N: Thank you so much to everyone who reviewed. (Hugs everywhere!) Ya'll should see the ridiculous smile that comes across my face anytime someone reviews my story and say they like it. It just makes my day. Sorry Sam, if you were indeed late to school. ; )
CHAPTER 2
He was going to kill her.
Max stared at her reflection in the dingy mirror, using her thumbnail to scratch away at the crust film covering it. She almost wished she had a camera at this point, to take one last shot at her face. That way when Alec beat her to a bloody pulp - which he undoubtedly would - she could still have an open casket at her funeral. Tape the picture to her unrecognizable face. But then again, she might not need to worry about being recognizable. Alec was a creative enough guy, they might never find the body.
Max had changed over seven minutes ago. She had rinsed her body - courtesy of a rusty sink and tattered paper towels - in thirty seconds. The bus was leaving in a couple minutes. Maybe if she cracked the bathroom window, snuck out, and suddenly became invisible, she could whip around the truck stop and be safely inside the Greyhound without Alec or Logan ever noticing. Nah, that wouldn't work. The window was stubbornly wedged shut.
She'd tried it.
Not like she could really leave Ray to their mercies anyway. Logan would be infinitely more easygoing, but he knew next to squat about kids. Most likely he'd be left to the pity of the transgenic females inside Terminal City. And how benevolent would they feel when they discovered he was the spawn of their archenemy? But then again, it wasn't like Ray had really run from the two men either. It took him less than two minutes to freshen up and then he was out the door to greet his adversaries. From what her enhanced hearing could pick up, Logan and Ray had been chatting quite amiably.
Little traitor.
Sighing for the umpteenth time, Max made a start for the bathroom door. She hadn't quite followed through on the eleven steps to the door yet, but she was slowly working up to it. One round she actual took seven steps before veering in the other direction.
Chicken.
Max leaned against the doorway of an empty bathroom stall and let the truth flow over her. Back and forth it drifted, numbing her. It would almost be relaxing to stop trying to outrun the truth, if it wasn't so painful.
She was a chicken. Things got too tough and she bolted. She couldn't shoulder the burden of being the leader of Terminal City, so she delegated the duties to her unwilling second-in-command. In some sense, Max seriously doubted she hadn't been wrong in that one decision: Alec. He'd probably taken over their troop with his charismatic, businesslike attitude. He had the aura of a leader; he would be a strong CO. He was strong where Max could now see herself as weak. The entire female population of Terminal City would definitely follow him into Hell itself.
The last few months had given Max more than adequate time to take a good, harsh look at herself. Since Original Cindy could no longer be her doctor, Max had to resort to doing her own self-prognosis. Her conclusion: she had spent the majority of the last year and a half being wrong. The only potentially right thing she'd really done was keep the residents of Manticore from being char-grilled. The extra six month sabbatical tramping around the East Coast with a six year old in one hand and her guilt in the other only added to her damnation.
And now it was time to face the music. Logically, it made sense in her head: "do the crime, do the time" sort of thing. But by the way her heart started galloping in her chest like a hummingbird on speed anytime she even thought of facing her old friends' hostility or Alec's flat out hatred, she guessed her heart hadn't quite grasped the logic.
She deserved every bad thing anyone would say to her. She had been completely hypocritical, telling everyone it was best to stay in Seattle together and then being the first to run off. Psyching herself up for battle, Max crossed toward the door - making it all the way this time. She turned the knob, flung open the door and strode out of the restroom.
Right into Alec.
He'd caught her by the forearms, preventing her from bouncing away as she undoubtedly would have done. Afraid to look him in the eye, she made a great show of observing her shoelaces. His anger reverberated between them, a wintry fever piercing her to the core. Mere inches from the one man she'd hoped never to confront again, her heart flopped to the cement pavement of the truck stop.
Obviously she wasn't as well psyched as she'd originally hoped. Another three minutes in the stall might have done the trick. She glanced toward his eyes and his grip tightened its already bruising hold on her forearms. Then again, maybe not. Glancing back down at her sneakers, she did something abominable by her standards. She wilted. He hated her, she could feel it flowing from every pore of his form.
And yet at the same time, Max drew inner strength from the acknowledgement. She was a coward. He hated her. There was no place lower she could go in her own eyes or his. There was no comprehensible chasm digging any lower than this. She was in the pits. Well, admitting the problem solves half the problem. She could only make the long, arduous trek up from here. Pasting a brave half-smile on her face she looked him eye-to-eye.
"Don't worry, the window was stuck, even by transgenic standards. Breaking the window would only draw your attention, and you had obviously posted yourself guard outside the restroom. Therefore, there was no logical escape."
Alec wasn't amused. If anything, his glower seemed only to deepen, if possible. Max was quickly losing ground here. She could feel herself slipping, but her pride refused to let her take the fall and apologize. Not just yet. She had just admitted to herself that she was a coward and thoroughly hated by one of her closest friends - yes, she could now freely admit it, he had been a friend. There was only so much transgenic pride could take. She was tired of being weak. She flatly refused to crack before Alec.
Yet. But the longer she could feel his heated gaze scalping the top of her head, the more her resolve began to weaken.
Thankfully Ray chose that particularly tense moment to come a callin'. God bless this child. Leaping into Max's arms, he wrapped himself around her like a koala bear in a tree, as tradition dictated. This seemed to be his favorite traveling position; either that, or piggyback.
When her human shield was firmly tucked in place, she felt much stronger. Someone needed her.
Deciding that Alec was still standing too close, - she could feel his hot breath on her neck, with or without transgenic senses - she made her way across the now bare parking lot to the much more understanding Logan, who slumped casually against Ol' Bessie. The car showed some recent developments in character, even a couple of new eye wrinkles. Logan saw her glancing at the scratches next to the headlights and explained it merely as "another Eyes Only mission gone a tad awry."
Obviously Logan didn't hate her. In fact, he didn't seem to feel any real animosity toward her sudden disappearance. Oh, he'd been worried alright, he just didn't seem quite as incensed as his traveling companion, who at that moment was invading Max's personal space again. And he was shouldering her backpack. Well, in all actuality it wasn't her backpack; she'd "found" it one night when she was making a "transaction" at the local "bank", or so she'd told Ray. For some reason the combination of Alec's Zack-like condescension and a pink "Power Puff Girl" backpack only added a dash of hilarity to the already warped scenario.
Max swallowed the chuckle developing in her throat at Alec's glare. Maybe choked would be a better term. Either way, it never weaseled out. Seeing her twisted splash of humor, his jaw tightened to the point of shattering and he chucked the backpack in her general direction, uncaring of whether she caught it or not.
Forget Zack-like. Alec was worse than Zack. At least Alec had been easygoing at one point in time, Zack had always walked like he had a stick rammed in his butt.
From Kansas to Seattle with Ray, Logan, and Alec. One adored her, one accepted her, and the other loathed her. Ah, the best of all three worlds.
It was going to be a long drive to Seattle.
Ray's head suddenly nuzzled her neck and he let out a soft belch. "I'm not feelin' too good, Aunt Maxie." Max rubbed his back gingerly, as if trying to coax gas out of a baby. She touched his forehead, not that she really new what the normal temperature felt like. Sometimes having a higher basal body temperature just worked against you. "Carsick?" she asked. He gave a slight nod in response. "A little."
Logan instantly came to Ray's help. "He could ride in the front with me."
After nearly blacking out with the worries of sharing a backseat with Alec, she decided it was probably the best idea. Still a little shaky about discarding her shield, she made perfectly sure he was comfortable in the front seat. Do you need some 7 Up to settle your stomach? Maybe some crackers? Max discovered her niche in life: stalling. She kept herself busy for a good ten minutes making sure Ray was as snug as a bug in a rug, making sure she didn't have to get in the backseat. Only Ray seemed oblivious to the playing for time. Logan, the jerk, seemed to find it amusing. Alec just stared at her, as if daring her to meet his gaze. She didn't.
Max squeezed into the car. Not that there wasn't any room; Bessie had a very spacious backseat. But at the same time, she was very tempted to shovel out some of the tension before climbing in. The air pressure could make one's head explode. Alec, for the first time since she'd been in his eyesight that day, turned his gaze away. For some reason, that didn't make Max feel any better. Fastening her seatbelt, she compressed herself against her door whispered out a short prayer for sanity.
Correction: it was going to be a very long drive to Seattle.
*****
To say Alec was irked was like saying Pamela Anderson had a decent-sized rack: a vast understatement. Logan peered over his wire rims, glancing back at Alec's silent form. He was casually leaning back against the rear passenger seat, seemingly relaxed. But Logan knew Alec's outwardly peaceful state was all a front for the emotion vigorously simmering just beneath the surface tension.
Logan couldn't handle another 1500 some-odd miles stuck in mute mode. When he'd finally received a lead on their favorite transgenic, Alec had said he was coming too. Not requested, not even demanding, he just simply said he was coming along for the ride. So of course Logan had thoroughly prepared himself for 1500 miles of nonstop, inane, Alec-like chatter. It wasn't until several of the older man's icebreaking tactics had been vehemently shot down by the silence that he realized he was in for a quiet ride.
As if sensing his gaze, Alec turned his face front, meeting Logan's eyes in the mirror. He wore a sardonic expression, and lifted his eyebrows as if to say "What now?" Logan eyebrows arched in response and Alec returned to gazing out the window at the oh-so-fascinating sights of dead grass. Logan didn't have any particular plan in mind. At the point of Max's disappearance, he'd only hoped to catch her trail. Wrangling her up, putting her back in the pen, and reacclimating her with the other bulls - er, transgens - seemed to be Alec's job. If the older man had learned one thing in the past six months, it was to never again doubt the other X5's control over almost any situation.
*****
"How ya feeling, squirt?"
Alec just about jumped out of his transgenic skin at the harsh noise. Well, not that Max's voice was really that harsh; the only time it had been truly severe was when she'd been ragging on him for each and every stunt he'd tried to pull. In fact, Max's tone was the most tender and concerned that Alec had ever heard cross her lips. Unless maybe you count the times with Joshua, her other soft spot. But after settling into a side road silence with Logan for the past few days, Max's sudden urge to speak threw him off of his equilibrium. Alec shrugged to his inner thoughts. She always threw him off, why should this be any different?
"A little better," came the tiny response. Around the side of the front seat poked Ray's tiny and absolutely pathetic puppy dog expression. "Oh for the love of..." Alec mumbled under his breath, too low for Max's hearing to pick up. The last thing he needed was for Max to get that self-righteous haughty expression pointing in his direction.
"Here, let me help you." Reaching around the other side of the seat, she pulled a handle and the chair began to angle back. Pulling it to its max, Ray was almost had his head in her lap. After settling the blanket tighter around her young charge, she began sweeping her fingers threw his hair, a maternal gesture. Ray automatically began to relax under the caress and was asleep in moments, his tiny chest rising and falling with a nice deep rhythm.
Another silence wafted into the car, pressing down on the chests of the three conscious passengers. Logan began to tap the steering wheel lightly, a nervous habit of his. Max slowly kept winding and unwinding her fingers in Ray's tousled mane. And Alec contented himself to making Max squirm under his stare. He wasn't a fool; her constant touching of Ray was just as much for her as it was for the child. She seemed to draw a certain drive from him, her little safeguard, her buffer. And Alec wanted nothing more than to snatch her hands away from Ray's scalp and demand some answers. Thankfully he refrained. Now was not the time to cause a scene.
"So what happens to Ray?" Max softly asked, not for fear of waking her charge - Ray was a heavy sleeper -, but her seatmate's glower stifled her voice.
"Don't know yet," Logan said, with a small shrug.
"He could stay with me." Alec scoffed at Max's offer, who promptly glared at him. "He trusts me." Alec leveled her a look that said he clearly doubted if she was worthy of a six year-old's trust. Logan cut between the two. "Maybe that would be the best idea for now. You can only uproot a child so many times before takes he a dive off the deep end."
Max gave a grateful smile for Logan's attempt to lighten the mood, but it was sliced away by another one of Alec's scornful, menacing grins that could only be translated one way...
Later.
*****
And of course "Later" did come. Max sighed, gazing out the window of the cheap motel. The falling rain splattered in the gravel road, pounding down sadistically as if it was more than happy to lock the foursome in this shoddy motel. And her in a room with Alec.
She turned her glare at the peeling wallpaper, as if it was the source of all her problems, as if it could solve them for her. The wallpaper offered no suggestions, and the water stain on the wall gave the impression of smirking at her. "Schmuck," she muttered. Cursing the powers that be, she flopped down on one of the double beds in her and Alec's room, which gave off a springy squeak in protest. "Oh, I'm sure you've had more pressure on you bef..."
Alec strode out of the bathroom, vigorously rubbing one of the less offensive towels through his hair. For the first time since he'd sat in Logan's car on the trip New Orleans, he spoke. "Arguing with the beds again Max?"
*****
.....EARLIER.....
"I could drive. The shark DNA and all. We don't have to stop for the night."
Logan didn't seem aware of the urgency in her voice. Do men have no sense of subtlety? "Max," he started. "Look at this rain. It's one of the worst storms that they've had in this area in a while. The guy at the gas station said there was a motel a couple miles up the road. I need to get some information off of my laptop..."
"I thought you had that stuff in the car."
"Got kind of cut up on an Eyes Only..."
" ...'mission gone a tad awry'," Max finished.
"My headlights are going bad."
"Night vision."
"Max..."
"We could still..."
"Aunt Maxie, can we please stop for the night?" Ray whined from the front seat. Now that Max noticed, his face was pale and his eyes were swimming in nausea. Obviously his occasional carsickness had gone from bad to worse. Well, Max was not so self-centered and hardhearted to ignore a cry for help when she heard one.
"Fine."
They pulled into the Motel 8 just as the clouds began to truly unleash their fury. Visibility decreased dramatically, and the windshield wipers were useless against the tidal waves. Knowing he'd been right to pull over for the night, Logan couldn't help throwing a self-satisfied smirk in the review mirror. Max was not amused. "Shut up."
Leaving the guys to grab whatever they needed, Max slung the all-purpose "Power Puff Girls" backpack over her shoulder, slipped Ray out of the front seat and made a dash across the gravel parking lot, using her upper torso to guard the boy's body from the fierce bite of the driving rain.
But having to stop for the night wasn't the only curse the powers that be had in store for her.
Max shook her head. "No, I think it's a bad idea. Ray and I can share this room and you and Alec can take the one down the hall."
"Max, be reasonable. We were lucky to get the last two rooms. This one has the outside line that I need to hook up my laptop, and it has Cartoon Network for Ray. Both rooms have two beds. Ray and I can take this one, you and Alec take the other. What is the problem?"
'The problem?' Max thought. 'The problem is I have an idiot boyfriend who is unwittingly throwing me to the lions!' Cursing his stupidity and complete insensitivity to what was obviously a disastrous situation, Max was tempted to take off her gloves and cuff Logan dead across the face. Almost.
Obviously no one seemed moved to trade roommates. Particularly Alec. His face had lightened up with a very malevolent joy at the prospect of having a room alone with Max for an entire night. She shot one last look at Logan, who stared back at her in confusion, honestly lost to the reason for Max's stress. 'He'll never know what happened to me. Alec will chuck my body into a corn field. He'll grind me up and donate me to a food shelter for Taco Tuesdays. He'll wind my body into yarn and sell me on the black market to tiny, hunched back German women who'll make me into oven mitts.'
Max sucked in a breath. Determined to go down with some dignity, she bravely marched three doors down to the other room and strode in. Alec came in a few moments later and slammed the door behind him, its crash echoing down the hall, across the motel, in her brain. Max jumped a mile high from her spot on the bed and Alec grinned evilly. Sick bastard was enjoying this. Without a word - not that Max had been expecting one, he'd been broodingly silent throughout the trip, like a psycho-killer trying to decide the best way to dispose of the evidence before the murder - he strolled into the bathroom, letting the door shut with a very soft click.
Max held her breath until she heard the familiar patter of a shower running. Moving over to the window, ready to throw it open and fly out into the rain at any second, she stared out at the storm. Now that she actually had time to prepare herself for the storm brewing in the hotel room without Alec's threatening presence towering over her, she couldn't think of anything. She drew a complete blank. No opening statement to tame Alec's hate. No life flashing before her eyes. Nada.
Well, there was one thought: Logan was a nimrod and should burn in Hell for sheer stupidity.
*****
.....PRESENT.....
"I'm not going to kill her. I'm not going to kill her. I'm not going to kill her..." Alec's mantra weaved in and out through the tiny droplets in the shower stream. The soothing pressure of the water - hot water, thank God - was like fingers gently unwinding the knotted muscles of his shoulders and neck while propelling away the soapy lather. He finished rinsing his short hair, flicked off the water, and stepped out of the shower. After drying off and tossing on some clean clothes - a navy t-shirt and some well worn, well loved blue jeans - he caught his reflection in the mirror.
No wonder Max had been cowed by him. The constricted face muscles, the tight jaw, the fiery amber eyes were not his own features. He looked so feral and coolly threatening. Water dripped from his hairline, loping down his slim nose. He grabbed one of the not-so-fluffy towels and wiped the scattering drops away. If only he could wipe himself clean of Max so easily. She'd gotten under his skin. Sometimes he couldn't decide whether to hug her or really arm wrestle her. *
And he'd almost gone crazy when she'd left.
"I'm not going to kill her..."
No explanation. No destination. Not even so much as a goodbye. She'd just slipped out in the middle of the night. The supposed guardian of the Second Coming left her loyal followers in the dust. He'd stood by her. He'd defended her honor to the intolerant Mole. And she vanished without a trace. Thankfully, instead of laughing him out of T.C. for his faith in the runner, the wide-ranging crowd seemed to come the general consensus that he'd make a good leader. According to some, a better one. But that wasn't the point. The point was Max had spent a year trying to teach him the difference between right and wrong and she'd crossed the line.
"I'm not going to kill her..."
Grudgingly, he had admitted to himself that she'd been a friend. The friend. And once the initial shock of her desertion had worn off, anger and betrayal had sprang up in it place, quickly sweeping into his core. He was bitter. The concern for Max's well being had turned into a desire for answers.
"I'm not going to kill her..."
In the end, he partially blamed himself for her disappearance. Max had been in mourning, and he'd cracked the wrong joke at the wrong time. Turning on him she'd slapped him across the face screaming, "O.C.' s dead, you asshole! Have you no decency?!?" With that, she'd turned on one heel and flew across the gate safeguarding the transgenics from the militant mob. He'd figured she'd come back. He'd been wrong.
Now, six months, 3 days, 12 hours, and 31 minutes later he could demand the answers. He could feel the anger rising in him again - partially against himself, but mostly against Max - and begging to be unleashed.
Massaging the towel through his hair, he stalked out the bathroom door, catching Max in the act of talking to the beds. Determined not to lose the reigns on his temper, he decided to try starting with a neutral, casual, "Arguing with the beds again Max?"
Max jumped at his words, obviously she'd been shocked by him actually speaking. Though it was incredibly immature, scaring her seemed to give him a great deal of satisfaction.
She was only feeling a fraction of the fear that had coursed through him over the last months.
Pulling his emotions in check, he sat down on the other bed, which also groaned in protest. Alec rested his elbows on his knees and his face in his hands. Being this close to her sent the anger, fear, and other vague emotions surging through his veins, starting at his heart, pushing its way to his fingertips. The feelings and sensations caused his heart rate to increase, his breathing became fast and shallow. But he pushed them back, forcing his pulse to slow, driving back the water drops that threatened his eyelids.
He sighed. He was under control. He could do this. As long as he didn't look at her. Still hiding his face behind his palms, he began the interrogation. His voice sounded strangled - almost vulnerable - to his own ears. "Why did you leave, Max?"
"Ray's aunt died, and I couldn't let White..."
"Bullshit," the word came out low and strained, like surface of a water balloon filling too quickly.
"What?"
"You heard me." Just as low though a little more strained. The balloon was breaking. "Why did you leave?"
The nervous energy made her fingers tap against the stained, frayed comforter of their own accord. Her lip found the perfect hiding place between her teeth. "I couldn't let White..."
The balloon broke. "Bullshit!" Alec hollered, leaping to his feet. On the defense Max rose to her feet too, making a break for the door. This Alec she'd never encountered before, and his "Dr. Jekyll, Mr. Hyde" transformation frightened her to the core. His eyes were molten fire; he looked like he wanted to devour her alive. She made a small dash for the door, but never made it. Alec had her pinned against the wall in a nanosecond.
"Why did you leave?!?" he yelled to her face, uncaring if the cops were called up for domestic violence. He didn't care that Logan would probably shoot him once he saw Alec manhandling his girlfriend. His body trapped hers against the wall, hip to hip, chest to chest, face to face. "Do you know what could've happened to you? What if people found out you were a transgenic? What if White found you? I was terrified for you! I have woken up in a cold sweat day after day for the nightmares I've had about you! What were you...?"
Luckily for Max, Logan burst through the door right at that moment, looking ready to fight off any attackers. Ray and the motel manager were hot on his heels. Alec seemed to come to his senses, released his impossibly tight grip on her wrists, and jumped back about eight feet. His breathing was ragged. Unable to resist, he threw one last look in her direction, a raw, biting torrent of indescribable fervor. Then he turned and ran from the building.
Alec ran for miles around the perimeter, unaffected by the downpour that cut his visibility down to a few feet. He'd even slipped in a couple of muddy patches and almost fallen, but still he dragged himself on. Giving up on outrunning the inevitable, Alec turned towards Logan's car and slipped in. Pulling his knees to his chin, he wrapped his arms around them, huddling for warmth. His chin chattered with the cold. Alec settled himself in for a long, sleepless night of self-contemplation, something he'd become quite familiar with in the recent months.
Resting his sodden head back against the headrest, Alec thanked every deity known to man that Logan had burst through the door at that moment. Alec had felt himself loosing control of the situation, holding Max so close after she'd been so far away for so long. He'd probably have done Something Crazy. He still wanted to do Something Crazy. If he just hadn't looked at her, none of this would have happened.
If Logan hadn't flown through the door right at that moment...
Sighing, Alec admitted his defeat aloud - very softly, as if afraid to say it to his own ears.
"I would have kissed her."
*****
To be continued...
* I know. I know. Not mine. I swiped it from the movie "While You Were Sleeping", great flick. But I always thought it described Max and Alec's relationship so well, and I couldn't resist. I tried, for all of ten seconds.
Feel free to keep me floating in happy by reviewing!
A/N: Thank you so much to everyone who reviewed. (Hugs everywhere!) Ya'll should see the ridiculous smile that comes across my face anytime someone reviews my story and say they like it. It just makes my day. Sorry Sam, if you were indeed late to school. ; )
CHAPTER 2
He was going to kill her.
Max stared at her reflection in the dingy mirror, using her thumbnail to scratch away at the crust film covering it. She almost wished she had a camera at this point, to take one last shot at her face. That way when Alec beat her to a bloody pulp - which he undoubtedly would - she could still have an open casket at her funeral. Tape the picture to her unrecognizable face. But then again, she might not need to worry about being recognizable. Alec was a creative enough guy, they might never find the body.
Max had changed over seven minutes ago. She had rinsed her body - courtesy of a rusty sink and tattered paper towels - in thirty seconds. The bus was leaving in a couple minutes. Maybe if she cracked the bathroom window, snuck out, and suddenly became invisible, she could whip around the truck stop and be safely inside the Greyhound without Alec or Logan ever noticing. Nah, that wouldn't work. The window was stubbornly wedged shut.
She'd tried it.
Not like she could really leave Ray to their mercies anyway. Logan would be infinitely more easygoing, but he knew next to squat about kids. Most likely he'd be left to the pity of the transgenic females inside Terminal City. And how benevolent would they feel when they discovered he was the spawn of their archenemy? But then again, it wasn't like Ray had really run from the two men either. It took him less than two minutes to freshen up and then he was out the door to greet his adversaries. From what her enhanced hearing could pick up, Logan and Ray had been chatting quite amiably.
Little traitor.
Sighing for the umpteenth time, Max made a start for the bathroom door. She hadn't quite followed through on the eleven steps to the door yet, but she was slowly working up to it. One round she actual took seven steps before veering in the other direction.
Chicken.
Max leaned against the doorway of an empty bathroom stall and let the truth flow over her. Back and forth it drifted, numbing her. It would almost be relaxing to stop trying to outrun the truth, if it wasn't so painful.
She was a chicken. Things got too tough and she bolted. She couldn't shoulder the burden of being the leader of Terminal City, so she delegated the duties to her unwilling second-in-command. In some sense, Max seriously doubted she hadn't been wrong in that one decision: Alec. He'd probably taken over their troop with his charismatic, businesslike attitude. He had the aura of a leader; he would be a strong CO. He was strong where Max could now see herself as weak. The entire female population of Terminal City would definitely follow him into Hell itself.
The last few months had given Max more than adequate time to take a good, harsh look at herself. Since Original Cindy could no longer be her doctor, Max had to resort to doing her own self-prognosis. Her conclusion: she had spent the majority of the last year and a half being wrong. The only potentially right thing she'd really done was keep the residents of Manticore from being char-grilled. The extra six month sabbatical tramping around the East Coast with a six year old in one hand and her guilt in the other only added to her damnation.
And now it was time to face the music. Logically, it made sense in her head: "do the crime, do the time" sort of thing. But by the way her heart started galloping in her chest like a hummingbird on speed anytime she even thought of facing her old friends' hostility or Alec's flat out hatred, she guessed her heart hadn't quite grasped the logic.
She deserved every bad thing anyone would say to her. She had been completely hypocritical, telling everyone it was best to stay in Seattle together and then being the first to run off. Psyching herself up for battle, Max crossed toward the door - making it all the way this time. She turned the knob, flung open the door and strode out of the restroom.
Right into Alec.
He'd caught her by the forearms, preventing her from bouncing away as she undoubtedly would have done. Afraid to look him in the eye, she made a great show of observing her shoelaces. His anger reverberated between them, a wintry fever piercing her to the core. Mere inches from the one man she'd hoped never to confront again, her heart flopped to the cement pavement of the truck stop.
Obviously she wasn't as well psyched as she'd originally hoped. Another three minutes in the stall might have done the trick. She glanced toward his eyes and his grip tightened its already bruising hold on her forearms. Then again, maybe not. Glancing back down at her sneakers, she did something abominable by her standards. She wilted. He hated her, she could feel it flowing from every pore of his form.
And yet at the same time, Max drew inner strength from the acknowledgement. She was a coward. He hated her. There was no place lower she could go in her own eyes or his. There was no comprehensible chasm digging any lower than this. She was in the pits. Well, admitting the problem solves half the problem. She could only make the long, arduous trek up from here. Pasting a brave half-smile on her face she looked him eye-to-eye.
"Don't worry, the window was stuck, even by transgenic standards. Breaking the window would only draw your attention, and you had obviously posted yourself guard outside the restroom. Therefore, there was no logical escape."
Alec wasn't amused. If anything, his glower seemed only to deepen, if possible. Max was quickly losing ground here. She could feel herself slipping, but her pride refused to let her take the fall and apologize. Not just yet. She had just admitted to herself that she was a coward and thoroughly hated by one of her closest friends - yes, she could now freely admit it, he had been a friend. There was only so much transgenic pride could take. She was tired of being weak. She flatly refused to crack before Alec.
Yet. But the longer she could feel his heated gaze scalping the top of her head, the more her resolve began to weaken.
Thankfully Ray chose that particularly tense moment to come a callin'. God bless this child. Leaping into Max's arms, he wrapped himself around her like a koala bear in a tree, as tradition dictated. This seemed to be his favorite traveling position; either that, or piggyback.
When her human shield was firmly tucked in place, she felt much stronger. Someone needed her.
Deciding that Alec was still standing too close, - she could feel his hot breath on her neck, with or without transgenic senses - she made her way across the now bare parking lot to the much more understanding Logan, who slumped casually against Ol' Bessie. The car showed some recent developments in character, even a couple of new eye wrinkles. Logan saw her glancing at the scratches next to the headlights and explained it merely as "another Eyes Only mission gone a tad awry."
Obviously Logan didn't hate her. In fact, he didn't seem to feel any real animosity toward her sudden disappearance. Oh, he'd been worried alright, he just didn't seem quite as incensed as his traveling companion, who at that moment was invading Max's personal space again. And he was shouldering her backpack. Well, in all actuality it wasn't her backpack; she'd "found" it one night when she was making a "transaction" at the local "bank", or so she'd told Ray. For some reason the combination of Alec's Zack-like condescension and a pink "Power Puff Girl" backpack only added a dash of hilarity to the already warped scenario.
Max swallowed the chuckle developing in her throat at Alec's glare. Maybe choked would be a better term. Either way, it never weaseled out. Seeing her twisted splash of humor, his jaw tightened to the point of shattering and he chucked the backpack in her general direction, uncaring of whether she caught it or not.
Forget Zack-like. Alec was worse than Zack. At least Alec had been easygoing at one point in time, Zack had always walked like he had a stick rammed in his butt.
From Kansas to Seattle with Ray, Logan, and Alec. One adored her, one accepted her, and the other loathed her. Ah, the best of all three worlds.
It was going to be a long drive to Seattle.
Ray's head suddenly nuzzled her neck and he let out a soft belch. "I'm not feelin' too good, Aunt Maxie." Max rubbed his back gingerly, as if trying to coax gas out of a baby. She touched his forehead, not that she really new what the normal temperature felt like. Sometimes having a higher basal body temperature just worked against you. "Carsick?" she asked. He gave a slight nod in response. "A little."
Logan instantly came to Ray's help. "He could ride in the front with me."
After nearly blacking out with the worries of sharing a backseat with Alec, she decided it was probably the best idea. Still a little shaky about discarding her shield, she made perfectly sure he was comfortable in the front seat. Do you need some 7 Up to settle your stomach? Maybe some crackers? Max discovered her niche in life: stalling. She kept herself busy for a good ten minutes making sure Ray was as snug as a bug in a rug, making sure she didn't have to get in the backseat. Only Ray seemed oblivious to the playing for time. Logan, the jerk, seemed to find it amusing. Alec just stared at her, as if daring her to meet his gaze. She didn't.
Max squeezed into the car. Not that there wasn't any room; Bessie had a very spacious backseat. But at the same time, she was very tempted to shovel out some of the tension before climbing in. The air pressure could make one's head explode. Alec, for the first time since she'd been in his eyesight that day, turned his gaze away. For some reason, that didn't make Max feel any better. Fastening her seatbelt, she compressed herself against her door whispered out a short prayer for sanity.
Correction: it was going to be a very long drive to Seattle.
*****
To say Alec was irked was like saying Pamela Anderson had a decent-sized rack: a vast understatement. Logan peered over his wire rims, glancing back at Alec's silent form. He was casually leaning back against the rear passenger seat, seemingly relaxed. But Logan knew Alec's outwardly peaceful state was all a front for the emotion vigorously simmering just beneath the surface tension.
Logan couldn't handle another 1500 some-odd miles stuck in mute mode. When he'd finally received a lead on their favorite transgenic, Alec had said he was coming too. Not requested, not even demanding, he just simply said he was coming along for the ride. So of course Logan had thoroughly prepared himself for 1500 miles of nonstop, inane, Alec-like chatter. It wasn't until several of the older man's icebreaking tactics had been vehemently shot down by the silence that he realized he was in for a quiet ride.
As if sensing his gaze, Alec turned his face front, meeting Logan's eyes in the mirror. He wore a sardonic expression, and lifted his eyebrows as if to say "What now?" Logan eyebrows arched in response and Alec returned to gazing out the window at the oh-so-fascinating sights of dead grass. Logan didn't have any particular plan in mind. At the point of Max's disappearance, he'd only hoped to catch her trail. Wrangling her up, putting her back in the pen, and reacclimating her with the other bulls - er, transgens - seemed to be Alec's job. If the older man had learned one thing in the past six months, it was to never again doubt the other X5's control over almost any situation.
*****
"How ya feeling, squirt?"
Alec just about jumped out of his transgenic skin at the harsh noise. Well, not that Max's voice was really that harsh; the only time it had been truly severe was when she'd been ragging on him for each and every stunt he'd tried to pull. In fact, Max's tone was the most tender and concerned that Alec had ever heard cross her lips. Unless maybe you count the times with Joshua, her other soft spot. But after settling into a side road silence with Logan for the past few days, Max's sudden urge to speak threw him off of his equilibrium. Alec shrugged to his inner thoughts. She always threw him off, why should this be any different?
"A little better," came the tiny response. Around the side of the front seat poked Ray's tiny and absolutely pathetic puppy dog expression. "Oh for the love of..." Alec mumbled under his breath, too low for Max's hearing to pick up. The last thing he needed was for Max to get that self-righteous haughty expression pointing in his direction.
"Here, let me help you." Reaching around the other side of the seat, she pulled a handle and the chair began to angle back. Pulling it to its max, Ray was almost had his head in her lap. After settling the blanket tighter around her young charge, she began sweeping her fingers threw his hair, a maternal gesture. Ray automatically began to relax under the caress and was asleep in moments, his tiny chest rising and falling with a nice deep rhythm.
Another silence wafted into the car, pressing down on the chests of the three conscious passengers. Logan began to tap the steering wheel lightly, a nervous habit of his. Max slowly kept winding and unwinding her fingers in Ray's tousled mane. And Alec contented himself to making Max squirm under his stare. He wasn't a fool; her constant touching of Ray was just as much for her as it was for the child. She seemed to draw a certain drive from him, her little safeguard, her buffer. And Alec wanted nothing more than to snatch her hands away from Ray's scalp and demand some answers. Thankfully he refrained. Now was not the time to cause a scene.
"So what happens to Ray?" Max softly asked, not for fear of waking her charge - Ray was a heavy sleeper -, but her seatmate's glower stifled her voice.
"Don't know yet," Logan said, with a small shrug.
"He could stay with me." Alec scoffed at Max's offer, who promptly glared at him. "He trusts me." Alec leveled her a look that said he clearly doubted if she was worthy of a six year-old's trust. Logan cut between the two. "Maybe that would be the best idea for now. You can only uproot a child so many times before takes he a dive off the deep end."
Max gave a grateful smile for Logan's attempt to lighten the mood, but it was sliced away by another one of Alec's scornful, menacing grins that could only be translated one way...
Later.
*****
And of course "Later" did come. Max sighed, gazing out the window of the cheap motel. The falling rain splattered in the gravel road, pounding down sadistically as if it was more than happy to lock the foursome in this shoddy motel. And her in a room with Alec.
She turned her glare at the peeling wallpaper, as if it was the source of all her problems, as if it could solve them for her. The wallpaper offered no suggestions, and the water stain on the wall gave the impression of smirking at her. "Schmuck," she muttered. Cursing the powers that be, she flopped down on one of the double beds in her and Alec's room, which gave off a springy squeak in protest. "Oh, I'm sure you've had more pressure on you bef..."
Alec strode out of the bathroom, vigorously rubbing one of the less offensive towels through his hair. For the first time since he'd sat in Logan's car on the trip New Orleans, he spoke. "Arguing with the beds again Max?"
*****
.....EARLIER.....
"I could drive. The shark DNA and all. We don't have to stop for the night."
Logan didn't seem aware of the urgency in her voice. Do men have no sense of subtlety? "Max," he started. "Look at this rain. It's one of the worst storms that they've had in this area in a while. The guy at the gas station said there was a motel a couple miles up the road. I need to get some information off of my laptop..."
"I thought you had that stuff in the car."
"Got kind of cut up on an Eyes Only..."
" ...'mission gone a tad awry'," Max finished.
"My headlights are going bad."
"Night vision."
"Max..."
"We could still..."
"Aunt Maxie, can we please stop for the night?" Ray whined from the front seat. Now that Max noticed, his face was pale and his eyes were swimming in nausea. Obviously his occasional carsickness had gone from bad to worse. Well, Max was not so self-centered and hardhearted to ignore a cry for help when she heard one.
"Fine."
They pulled into the Motel 8 just as the clouds began to truly unleash their fury. Visibility decreased dramatically, and the windshield wipers were useless against the tidal waves. Knowing he'd been right to pull over for the night, Logan couldn't help throwing a self-satisfied smirk in the review mirror. Max was not amused. "Shut up."
Leaving the guys to grab whatever they needed, Max slung the all-purpose "Power Puff Girls" backpack over her shoulder, slipped Ray out of the front seat and made a dash across the gravel parking lot, using her upper torso to guard the boy's body from the fierce bite of the driving rain.
But having to stop for the night wasn't the only curse the powers that be had in store for her.
Max shook her head. "No, I think it's a bad idea. Ray and I can share this room and you and Alec can take the one down the hall."
"Max, be reasonable. We were lucky to get the last two rooms. This one has the outside line that I need to hook up my laptop, and it has Cartoon Network for Ray. Both rooms have two beds. Ray and I can take this one, you and Alec take the other. What is the problem?"
'The problem?' Max thought. 'The problem is I have an idiot boyfriend who is unwittingly throwing me to the lions!' Cursing his stupidity and complete insensitivity to what was obviously a disastrous situation, Max was tempted to take off her gloves and cuff Logan dead across the face. Almost.
Obviously no one seemed moved to trade roommates. Particularly Alec. His face had lightened up with a very malevolent joy at the prospect of having a room alone with Max for an entire night. She shot one last look at Logan, who stared back at her in confusion, honestly lost to the reason for Max's stress. 'He'll never know what happened to me. Alec will chuck my body into a corn field. He'll grind me up and donate me to a food shelter for Taco Tuesdays. He'll wind my body into yarn and sell me on the black market to tiny, hunched back German women who'll make me into oven mitts.'
Max sucked in a breath. Determined to go down with some dignity, she bravely marched three doors down to the other room and strode in. Alec came in a few moments later and slammed the door behind him, its crash echoing down the hall, across the motel, in her brain. Max jumped a mile high from her spot on the bed and Alec grinned evilly. Sick bastard was enjoying this. Without a word - not that Max had been expecting one, he'd been broodingly silent throughout the trip, like a psycho-killer trying to decide the best way to dispose of the evidence before the murder - he strolled into the bathroom, letting the door shut with a very soft click.
Max held her breath until she heard the familiar patter of a shower running. Moving over to the window, ready to throw it open and fly out into the rain at any second, she stared out at the storm. Now that she actually had time to prepare herself for the storm brewing in the hotel room without Alec's threatening presence towering over her, she couldn't think of anything. She drew a complete blank. No opening statement to tame Alec's hate. No life flashing before her eyes. Nada.
Well, there was one thought: Logan was a nimrod and should burn in Hell for sheer stupidity.
*****
.....PRESENT.....
"I'm not going to kill her. I'm not going to kill her. I'm not going to kill her..." Alec's mantra weaved in and out through the tiny droplets in the shower stream. The soothing pressure of the water - hot water, thank God - was like fingers gently unwinding the knotted muscles of his shoulders and neck while propelling away the soapy lather. He finished rinsing his short hair, flicked off the water, and stepped out of the shower. After drying off and tossing on some clean clothes - a navy t-shirt and some well worn, well loved blue jeans - he caught his reflection in the mirror.
No wonder Max had been cowed by him. The constricted face muscles, the tight jaw, the fiery amber eyes were not his own features. He looked so feral and coolly threatening. Water dripped from his hairline, loping down his slim nose. He grabbed one of the not-so-fluffy towels and wiped the scattering drops away. If only he could wipe himself clean of Max so easily. She'd gotten under his skin. Sometimes he couldn't decide whether to hug her or really arm wrestle her. *
And he'd almost gone crazy when she'd left.
"I'm not going to kill her..."
No explanation. No destination. Not even so much as a goodbye. She'd just slipped out in the middle of the night. The supposed guardian of the Second Coming left her loyal followers in the dust. He'd stood by her. He'd defended her honor to the intolerant Mole. And she vanished without a trace. Thankfully, instead of laughing him out of T.C. for his faith in the runner, the wide-ranging crowd seemed to come the general consensus that he'd make a good leader. According to some, a better one. But that wasn't the point. The point was Max had spent a year trying to teach him the difference between right and wrong and she'd crossed the line.
"I'm not going to kill her..."
Grudgingly, he had admitted to himself that she'd been a friend. The friend. And once the initial shock of her desertion had worn off, anger and betrayal had sprang up in it place, quickly sweeping into his core. He was bitter. The concern for Max's well being had turned into a desire for answers.
"I'm not going to kill her..."
In the end, he partially blamed himself for her disappearance. Max had been in mourning, and he'd cracked the wrong joke at the wrong time. Turning on him she'd slapped him across the face screaming, "O.C.' s dead, you asshole! Have you no decency?!?" With that, she'd turned on one heel and flew across the gate safeguarding the transgenics from the militant mob. He'd figured she'd come back. He'd been wrong.
Now, six months, 3 days, 12 hours, and 31 minutes later he could demand the answers. He could feel the anger rising in him again - partially against himself, but mostly against Max - and begging to be unleashed.
Massaging the towel through his hair, he stalked out the bathroom door, catching Max in the act of talking to the beds. Determined not to lose the reigns on his temper, he decided to try starting with a neutral, casual, "Arguing with the beds again Max?"
Max jumped at his words, obviously she'd been shocked by him actually speaking. Though it was incredibly immature, scaring her seemed to give him a great deal of satisfaction.
She was only feeling a fraction of the fear that had coursed through him over the last months.
Pulling his emotions in check, he sat down on the other bed, which also groaned in protest. Alec rested his elbows on his knees and his face in his hands. Being this close to her sent the anger, fear, and other vague emotions surging through his veins, starting at his heart, pushing its way to his fingertips. The feelings and sensations caused his heart rate to increase, his breathing became fast and shallow. But he pushed them back, forcing his pulse to slow, driving back the water drops that threatened his eyelids.
He sighed. He was under control. He could do this. As long as he didn't look at her. Still hiding his face behind his palms, he began the interrogation. His voice sounded strangled - almost vulnerable - to his own ears. "Why did you leave, Max?"
"Ray's aunt died, and I couldn't let White..."
"Bullshit," the word came out low and strained, like surface of a water balloon filling too quickly.
"What?"
"You heard me." Just as low though a little more strained. The balloon was breaking. "Why did you leave?"
The nervous energy made her fingers tap against the stained, frayed comforter of their own accord. Her lip found the perfect hiding place between her teeth. "I couldn't let White..."
The balloon broke. "Bullshit!" Alec hollered, leaping to his feet. On the defense Max rose to her feet too, making a break for the door. This Alec she'd never encountered before, and his "Dr. Jekyll, Mr. Hyde" transformation frightened her to the core. His eyes were molten fire; he looked like he wanted to devour her alive. She made a small dash for the door, but never made it. Alec had her pinned against the wall in a nanosecond.
"Why did you leave?!?" he yelled to her face, uncaring if the cops were called up for domestic violence. He didn't care that Logan would probably shoot him once he saw Alec manhandling his girlfriend. His body trapped hers against the wall, hip to hip, chest to chest, face to face. "Do you know what could've happened to you? What if people found out you were a transgenic? What if White found you? I was terrified for you! I have woken up in a cold sweat day after day for the nightmares I've had about you! What were you...?"
Luckily for Max, Logan burst through the door right at that moment, looking ready to fight off any attackers. Ray and the motel manager were hot on his heels. Alec seemed to come to his senses, released his impossibly tight grip on her wrists, and jumped back about eight feet. His breathing was ragged. Unable to resist, he threw one last look in her direction, a raw, biting torrent of indescribable fervor. Then he turned and ran from the building.
Alec ran for miles around the perimeter, unaffected by the downpour that cut his visibility down to a few feet. He'd even slipped in a couple of muddy patches and almost fallen, but still he dragged himself on. Giving up on outrunning the inevitable, Alec turned towards Logan's car and slipped in. Pulling his knees to his chin, he wrapped his arms around them, huddling for warmth. His chin chattered with the cold. Alec settled himself in for a long, sleepless night of self-contemplation, something he'd become quite familiar with in the recent months.
Resting his sodden head back against the headrest, Alec thanked every deity known to man that Logan had burst through the door at that moment. Alec had felt himself loosing control of the situation, holding Max so close after she'd been so far away for so long. He'd probably have done Something Crazy. He still wanted to do Something Crazy. If he just hadn't looked at her, none of this would have happened.
If Logan hadn't flown through the door right at that moment...
Sighing, Alec admitted his defeat aloud - very softly, as if afraid to say it to his own ears.
"I would have kissed her."
*****
To be continued...
* I know. I know. Not mine. I swiped it from the movie "While You Were Sleeping", great flick. But I always thought it described Max and Alec's relationship so well, and I couldn't resist. I tried, for all of ten seconds.
Feel free to keep me floating in happy by reviewing!