Author's Note: Some fluffy M/L stuff.
Oh, and a small surprise is included.
The Gift of Daylight
Chapter 12: Where the Heart Is
Do you care if I don't know what to say?
Will you sleep tonight, will you think of me?
Will I shake this off, pretend it's all okay?
That there's someone out there who feels just like me ...
There is.
Location: Seattle, Washington.
Time: 6:30 PM PST
After checking in with her team via cell phone, they all agreed that Max would be a little late meeting them at Terminal City.
The detour to Harbor Lights hospital was one that Zeke reluctantly agreed to. He hadn't spoken a word to Max since an early rant, a rant which consisted of a lot of finger pointing. Zeke rose above his grief, and after the shock and sadness faded away, it made room for strong resentment and anger. The anger was directed at the only person in the SUV— well, the only alive person in the SUV.
"This is all your fault," he had snarled as she exited the freeway. "I don't care what happens to Logan, and I don't care about completing this damn mission. After we get to Terminal City— I'm gone," he had stated firmly.
It was like that the entire way, he was ranting and raving about one thing or another. She took the verbal bashings fine in the first place, but after a few minutes, it grated away at Max's patience— or lack thereof. "This is a war," she repeated exasperatedly. She didn't want to continue this discussion, but she had to recruit him for the sake of the mission. "I know you're suffering right now, but you need to realize you can't change the past. Only the future," she preached. "We need your help. I know how you feel—"
"—You know nothing about how I feel," he snapped harshly. "You talked me into betraying the only family I ever knew, and I lost all the people I loved in the process." He muttered something venomous under his breath and looked away.
"But we can still help millions of other people, Zeke," she tried again. "We can help them from feeling the pain you feel now, we can stop them from losing their loved ones too. I can't do this without you."
"Screw everyone else!" he bellowed.
"Just listen to me," Max said, the words coming out like they'd been sent through a grain-grinder.
"—No, you know what? Forget it. I've heard the sales pitch before, don't waste your breath. This is all your fault—" he rambled.
Max had to actually slap him in the face before he finally settled down for good— refusing to talk to her anymore until they reached Harbor Lights. She felt sick to her stomach, both for her situation and for his. It would be impossible to continue the mission without a Familiar guide, but Max had been through tougher times than this, and she would have to prevail in the end. That, or have the blood of billions on her hands. She casted a weary glance at Zeke from the corner of her eye, careful to avoid looking at Rianne's dead body, which was covered by a spare blanket from the hummer's first aid kit. Zeke was staring blankly out the window, his jaw set and his teeth gritted tightly together. He was either oblivious to her staring at him, or just playing dumb— she couldn't tell which. Max had tried many more times talking him into continuing the mission, almost resorting to pleading at times, but in the end— it was to no avail. Max was resigned to thinking they had asked enough from him— often at great costs— and so she could ask for no more.
Besides, she had other things on her mind right now.
Namely, Logan.
The battered Hummer pulled into the Hospital's parking lot easily, and after shifting it into park and killing the engine, she shot Zeke a weary glare. "I'll be back in a few minutes. Don't stray too far away from the truck," she warned. She was already in a foul mood, and him piling guilt on top of the other pressures she had was overbearing— even for someone like her.
"Whatever," he muttered, as she exited.
The walk from the hummer to the hospital's entrance was brief, the automatic doors swooshing open upon her approach and sweeping her face with a light breeze. Long and speedy steps carried her to the counter where she quickly addressed the nurse, "Logan Cale, please," Max said quickly.
"Cale ... Cale ... Cale," the woman murmured, running her finger down the computer monitor. "Ah yes, Logan Cale. He's here under military supervision, can I see your identification?" the lady asked.
Max frowned. What identification? Max had no time for this, clenching her fists and sighing. "Listen lady, I'm in a hurry here. Don't make me call Clemente and—"
"Ah yes, you must be Max. Detective Clemente said we'd be expecting you," she brightened up quickly, reaching for a nametag and scribbling 'Max' on it. "You must be Mr. Cale's wife," she remarked as she extended the sticker, "here's your pass."
... Wife? We're not like that, Max wanted to say, but decided at the last minute that it was a waste of breath. "Thank you," she said, as politely as she could muster, snatching the sticker and absently slapping it on her chest.
"Room 452— elevator's down the hall," the nurse pointed out.
Max grimaced at the irony of the situation as she started towards the elevator hastily. Room 452? ... That's just ... great. Swift steps carried her through the vacant hallway until she stopped in step and swiveled to face the correct door. Max's muscles were aching from today's exertions, including her heart, but she somehow had the strength to carry on. Exhaling, she placed her hand on the doorknob, then slowly turned it and nudged the door open.
The room was large in comparison to other hospital rooms, and more than enough to fit twenty people comfortably. The window's shades were shut, but two desk lamps resting beside the patient, and one standing lamp at the far right corner of the room illuminated the modest area. The eery silence was punctuated only by the beeping of a heart monitor, the green lines rising and falling at a steady rate. Max pushed the door open cautiously, as if afraid to damage it, and eased herself into the small room. It was well ventilated for the most part, but the familiar scent of hospital disinfectants still clung to the air.
Max thought she was the only other person in the room— she was wrong. At the corner of the room, a short shadowy figure sitting in one of the chairs yawned. Beside him was a taller figure, face concealed by a hoody.
"Hey, hey, it's Max, wake up," the shorter one pointed out excitedly, blinking the sleep out of his eyes. He nudged the taller person beside him awake.
"Hm?" the larger hooded person stirred, previously sleeping too.
"Okay, tell me if you remember her," the young X6 stated calmly, speaking in a teacher-like tone. "You know her as ..." his voice trailed, leaving the sentence for the other man to complete.
"... X5-452," the man completed confidently, alert and ready within seconds. He came to a slow stand, his muscular build undeniable even under the black sweatshirt. He approached her, then pulled his hood down, the inadequate lighting illuminating his face poorly. It didn't matter in the end, since Max could see in the dark anyway. His sharp jaw, dirty blond hair, watery blue eyes, and that unmistakable voice ... Max could recognize that voice anywhere.
She took an involuntarily step back. She wasn't prepared for this, she was only expecting to see Logan here. Apparently, surprises were coming at her from all directions. This one, obviously, was a welcomed one.
"Zack?" Max gaped, completely ignoring the approaching Dalton for now. "What are you doing out of Terminal City? How did you— when— what—" many questions assaulted her all at once, but she managed to pause to wrap her tired arms around him and pull her brother into a hug.
"Nice to see you too," he smirked. Zack was taken off guard, but patted her back reassuringly. "I volunteered. You know, for guard duty," he nodded his head towards Logan's sleeping figure.
"Dalton?" Max asked, shooting the boy a questioning look.
"Uhh, yeah," Dalton took a large step forward, forking his hand through his spiked, blond hair. "Zack, can me and Max talk for a second?"
"Yeah ... sure," Zack eyed the two of them before heading for the eixt. "I'll get us some drinks," he said, shutting the door quietly behind him.
"You want to explain what the hell just happened?" she demanded, after making sure Zack was well out of hearing range. Max kept her voice low but didn't bother to hide her shock.
"Oh yeah ... that," Dalton nodded towards the door as Zack exited. "Isn't it great, Max?!" he asked, perking up.
"Shh," she quieted.
"Yeah, sorry," he whispered. "Half an hour after you left for the Conclave's HQ, he woke up," Dalton explained. "And ... I think maybe Logan was feeling guilty or something, but he took it on himself to help Zack regain his memory ... again."
"That's not possible," Max breathed, jerking her head back in shock. "Logan can't get near Zack without triggering something Manticore programmed in him." She thought back to the parking lot where Zack hunted down Logan. She shook her head, clearing that memory from her head.
"That's what Logan told us," Dalton continued, "but something about Logan's contacts throws that programming off course. Logan was making good progress, he knows what mistakes were made the last time Zack's memory was wiped and you tried to educate him," Dalton paused as she twitched to the word 'mistake', but his voice picked up, "but then Logan caught Trigeria and I decided to take up the task of teacher. Logan's been ... yeah," Dalton's voice trailed off, going completely silent since he didn't want to state the obvious.
"So," he spoke up brightly, after she didn't say anything, "how did the mission go?" Obviously, Dalton was making an effort to change the subject into something more cheery, but he failed miserably since the mission was a sore spot for Max right now.
"It was a success," Max muttered. That was all she said on the matter. Max looked behind her shoulder and over to the sleeping Logan. So ... he had put it on himself to school Zack. She smiled weakly to that, that's just like him. "How's he been?" Max asked into the silence.
"The same," Dalton said soberly. "Clemente let us leave Terminal City, there are a bunch of FDC people swarming Terminal City and they've been nicer to us."
"If they're looking for the source of the plague, they won't find it in Terminal City," Max replied. "They're looking in the wrong place."
"That's what we said too, but better to just go with the flow and let 'em figure that out for themselves. A lot of the transgenics have been sick too ... with fevers, but all of them pulled through just fine. I guess ordinaries don't have the same immune systems as us," he commented with a shrug.
"No, they don't," Max said distractedly. "Dalton, contact HQ and check on the progress they've made with the discs," her hand dove into her pocket to extract a cellphone. She tossed it over to him, not bothering to see if he caught it or not.
"Got it." Dalton flipped it open and began dialing.
"Er ... can you do it outside?" She gestured to Logan.
Dalton took the hint and nodded. "Oh ... yeah, of course. Sorry," he apologized.
"And ... if you go out to the parking lot, you'll find a black hummer with a few bullets holes in it," she smirked, "Zeke's in there. He might be hungry or something. Why don't you tell Zack to bring him up to the cafeteria?"
"Will do, boss," he nodded and quickly slinked out of the room, shutting the door behind him.
Max exhaled deeply, running her fingers through her hair. It had been a long two days— probably the longest two days of her life— but here she was, still alive, still breathing, and still fighting the good fight. Max crossed the room to grab a chair and set it beside Logan's bed, mindful of the many wires and tubes protruding from his arms and from the machines. She figured out by now that he wasn't sleeping, but instead, he was unconscious.
"Hey ... you," she spoke gently to him, her eyes examining his face. She expected no response from him, and received none.
"I kept my end of the bargain and came back, so ... don't bail on me now," she said, smiling weakly and reaching to take his hand. Max paused midway, momentarily cursing herself for forgetting about the virus. She wanted nothing more than to hold his hand and squeeze it, to tell him that it was going to be all right— but even that was denied from her.
"... I'm going to fix all of this," she started again, her eyes focused on his closed ones. "I'm going to make it all okay. We've got the discs, we'll find the cure, I promise you. But you've got to keep fighting, okay, Logan?" her voice grew weary and desperate, she heard it too. "Don't stop fighting, just hang in there for a while longer."
Max's eyes traced the contours of his face. She was instantly struck by a lingering sadness. She missed his grins, and his ability to assure her that everything would be all right. Now, as Max shouldered one of the heaviest burdens placed upon a single being, she wanted and needed his support more than ever. But Life never asked her what she wanted. No, Life had been tough on her, often times cruel and unforgiving. What does not kill me only makes me stronger, she thought to herself, the quote shining more true now than ever. The hardships of her life, though unpleasant, had forged her into the strong woman she was today.
This was the hand she was dealt, and for whatever reason, she was the chosen one and no one else. And so ... this was the hand she would have to play.
"I ... I love you," she confessed despairingly, doubtful that he could hear a word she was saying. "And you love me too," she said firmly, with her heart breaking as each word left her mouth.
She thought of one last thing to say, and decided on the most appropriate statement she could utter.
"Just remember that if you die on me ... I'll kick your ass," she echoed, her eyes shimmering with tears that would never fall. Max leaned forward as if to place a kiss on his forehead, but paused. The corner of her lip twitched as she hesitated and began to pull back, her mind thinking of the virus—
"—You can kiss him, you know," a drained voice spoke up from behind her.
Max spun around in a flash; ready to defend herself or to yell at whomever the voice belonged to. Her eyes darted at the owner of the voice, a tall boy still dressed in his blue jeans and dusty white shirt holding two cups of drinks. Zeke had to have been deathly silent to sneak into the room without Max knowing, or maybe she missed his entrance due to the emotional episode she had just moments ago.
"How long have you been standing there?" she demanded irately, the words coming out harsher than she intended. She was too shocked and uncomfortable to apologize.
He seemed to be slouching as he trudged over to her and extended a cup of cold water. "Long enough," he conceded, looking mortified when he caught her angry look.
She never broke her gaze from him even as she snatched the cup and took a long sip. The cold water was absolutely refreshing, a chilly feeling running down her throat.
"Zack sent me here," he tried to explain again, avoiding the heated look she was sending him. She had every right to be furious at him, after all, he had said a lot of crappy things to her on the way here. He seemed to realize this now, and stared ashamedly down at his shoes.
She wasn't buying it. "What's this about me being able to touch Logan?" she asked, changing the subject and purposely avoiding the use of the word 'kiss'.
"I was talking to Dalton, he mentioned something about a virus?"
Max simply nodded.
"The Coming, or the plague, or Trigeria, or whatever it's called now makes the victim impervious to any other bacteria or virus."
"What?" Max asked, her curiosity piqued.
"It's like the chicken pox, once you have it, you can't get it again. But in the plague's case, once you have it, you're basically immune to everything else. Even your virus thing," Zeke explained, taking a sip of his own drink.
"So we can touch and nothing will happen?" Max asked, astonished.
"Yeah. But usually, a person with the plague dies within a few days anyway, so ... it doesn't matter." Zeke shrugged.
Max sunk further into her chair, grimacing. How many ironies could she face in one day? Before, she couldn't touch Logan or he would die. Now, she could touch him, but he was going to die anyway. Max smiled bitterly, feeling her muscles tense. "Then we have to find the cure," she rose quickly, finishing the last of her water. "How much time does he have?"
"He's ... stage one?" Zeke asked.
Max nodded. "Yeah, he is."
"Entering stage two in a few hours. Once he's passed stage four, it's terminal. So ... I'd say he has fourty eight hours? Fifty to be generous."
"We need to blaze. I'll give you a ride to Terminal City, once we're there, you still think of leaving?" she cocked her brow in question.
"I haven't changed my mind," Zeke affirmed. "After ... after I bury Rianne," he swallowed hard, "I'm thinking of a hopping on a train to Canada, and I won't be looking back."
For a few moments they sat there together, the beeping and whirring of the hospital equipment the only sounds. "Well I guess that's that then," Max said at last.
"For what it's worth, I know that you're doing a good thing. And I wish you the best of luck," Zeke said, looking up just in time to spot Zack and Dalton entering the room.
"They've opened all of them, they want you back so they can go over the stuff. Nurse says she'll keep a close eye on Logan, we want to go with you back to Terminal City," Dalton spoke for himself and Zack, his eyes darting from Zeke to Max searching for a response.
"We don't have room in the hummer," Max stated. "You'll need to wait for transport—"
"We came here on a motorcycle, don't worry," Zack blurted out before Dalton could stop him.
"Motorcycle?" Max eyed him, her mind falling on the first thought that popped into her head. "That motorcycle wouldn't happen to be my ninja, would it?"
"Yes it would," Dalton replied meekly, chuckling weakly. "We were in a rush, and there wasn't any room in the ambulance and ..."
"Don't worry about it," Max interrupted him. "Let's blaze, we're wasting time."
Zack and Dalton nodded sharply, exiting the room swiftly. Zeke rushed after them, but paused as he reached the door to look at Max, who was still standing in place. "Erm ... aren't you coming?" he asked.
"Yeah, in a second. Go start the hummer," she tossed the keys at him.
Zeke snatched the keys from the air and nodded. "Don't take too long," he turned around and ran towards the elevator, after Zack and Dalton.
Max casted a look at Logan, hoping that it wouldn't be the last time she would see him. She leaned forward again, paused, then finally placed a chaste kiss on his forehead. His skin was felt soft and warm underneath her lips, and as she pulled away, she half expected him to open his eyes.
But he didn't.
"Everything's going to be all right," she said soothingly.
"... I promise."
A/N: Next chapter starts the beginning of the end. =)