Changes: Part Two - Changing Realities
DISCLAIMER: I don't own anything in relation to Dark Angel. No money is involved (story of my life).
SUMMARY: Can dreams change things? Some do, but for better or for worse who can tell. Max has a dream or does she? M/A
FEEDBACK: Please send feedback of any kind (praise, flaming, constructive criticism, etc.) to naiya@mauimail.com
NOTES: My first attempt at a non - Xmen fanfiction. Please be patient with me. Any questions see feedback for my email address and I'll answer as best as I can. Archive at will
The temperature outside dropped some time during the night. I was shivering so much my teeth began chatter. I groped for the clothes lying around the couch and nested. I fell back asleep warm and surrounded by Alec's scent.
*****
It had been a bad day. The temporary cure had expired and I felt so lost after Logan's 'I love you Max.' I heard the words but it sounded more like goodbye.
The world narrowed down and I sunk into the depths of sadness. I was drowning in tears and didn't notice or care to notice nightfall. Cold wind raced across ocean surface and lashed around my body. If I had had any breath left the wind would have stolen it.
My head suddenly snapped around from the force of an open-handed slap. It shocked me into taking a deep breath. A little dazed, I turned back and looked up. I knew it wasn't Logan, but his face superimposed over the features of the body standing beside me.
Unbridled rage robbed me of all conscious thought. Primitive sounds spilled from my mouth as I bared my teeth in a feral grimace and a red haze colored my vision. I let my Manticore training take over not realized I had also triggered the 'change'.
"Good Max, let it out," he called but I barely registered that the voice wasn't Logan's. Not that it mattered. I heard the edge of fear and became excited. Fear meant I hurt him and hurting him was good.
We moved like dancers in perfect step, kicks synchronically choreographed to the other's hits. Ignoring the throbbing pain in my fingers, I instinctively slashed at him with my newly emerged claws. The scenery blurred and I wasn't paying attention. He was forcing me to make rash decisions and took full advantage of a momentary loss of balance.
His arm connected solidly to my midsection and wrapped around my waist. Without much effort he lifted me off the ground and over his shoulder. Sheathing my claws, I screamed at him wordlessly and pounded my fists into his back. As a last resort I bit his shoulder blade hard enough to draw blood.
Thick clawed, fingers closed about the scruff of my neck and wrenched me backward. I stared into his glowing eyes and spat blood in his face. "I HATE YOU LOGAN!" I screamed.
A bass rumble cut through the violence in my mind. It vibrated through my body and calmed my frantic heart. When it stopped, I could finally see. Alec's eyes bled back to normal and held mine as he said very slowly without malice, "I am not Logan."
"I know." My voice cracked with fresh tears.
"You do realize I owe you an ass-kicking for letting you beat me up?" He half smiled because the other side of his face was swollen and purple.
"Put it on my tab," I whispered and slumped against his chest. My body had finally given up. I was vaguely aware that he carried me the entire distance to the apartment OC and I shared.
Soft warm hands gently wrapped my shaking fingers in strips of cloth. Uncommon nausea swept away any of my attempts to get up. Chills raced along my spine and I felt my body begin to spasm. Before blackness overtook me, I was pulled into solid warmth that steadied me down to the core.
"Boy, she's finally calm. Tomorrow she won't remember a thing, trust me on that one, and I want it to stay that way. Don't tell anyone, not even her or you and Sketch will be known as pool buddies in a whole new light. Do I make myself clear..." OC's voice started to fade.
And then I could hear nothing.
*****
Three things always bothered me in the morning. My pager was equipped with an alarm. It was the most obnoxious sound I'd ever heard and it didn't quit until I personally turned it off. Sunlight never was my friend and it was especially bright this morning. The final item on my 'I hate the morning' hit list was my transgenic metabolism. Between the three I was pulled out of a very deep sleep. After that dream last night I was glad to be back in reality.
For a moment I couldn't see and blinked rapidly to clear the thin film that covered my eyes. My face felt puffy from too much crying and my body felt like it had been abused - so much for transgenic super healing. Alec's bedroom door was still closed, big surprise there.
He did say 'make yourself at home' so I figured he wouldn't mind me raiding the fridge. I padded over to the icebox and prayed that his metabolism forced him to keep it full. Milk? The only thing he kept in the fridge was milk. It was so absurd I couldn't stop the bark of laughter from escaping my lips. Sound carried very well in this apartment and I looked back to see if I had woken Alec.
No one came barging out demanding why I was making enough noise to wake the dead. Relieved I scanned his freezer for anything edible. I guess I was expecting too much. Alec was male, by the way of soldier, male and wouldn't cook to save his life, hence the empty freezer.
Irrational anger spurred on by hunger burned flash-fire hot. Pain lanced up my arms when my claws burst into view. Blood flew, making an interesting pattern down the side of the refrigerator. I gulped back the roar of frustration I felt tickling my throat and searched his cabinets for some paper towels.
"Pay dirt," I whispered, completely forgetting about the towels when I came across an entire shelf of cereal, something very hard to come by. Alec must still be using his network of contacts he established while in Manticore as an outside operative. Milk in the fridge made little more sense, but speaking from experience he should also have protein on hand. I gave the fridge a once over, raking my claws over the yellowing porcelain surface.
"Sonuvabitch," I hissed in appreciation when one claw brushed over a minute seam. I picked at the seam for a few minutes until it gave. After a quick double check to see that Alec's door was still closed, I peeled back the seal. Steak, another very rare, expensive commodity, was hidden in the concealed compartment.
Somebody had definitely been a busy boy. I snagged the uppermost slab, shut the door quietly and tiptoed around broken dishes to his stove. At first glance I was highly doubtful it worked but the pilot burned steadily under the first burner. He even had a pan under the sink. Perhaps today wouldn't suck as bad as last night, I hoped.
Impatient to be fed I simply seared the steak on both sides until it was hot and removed it from the fire. The smell was driving me nuts but I took the time to turn off the stove. Rummaging through another set of cabinets yielded a plate, fork and knife. I was all but drooling by the time I sat back down in the nest I'd made on Alec's couch.
I was able to think more clearly after the first few bites. The coffee table appeared to be the only piece of furniture left untouched by Alec's heat tantrum. It was covered with charts, graphs and various scientific journals bearing Manticore logos. Last week at Crash Alec had mentioned research notes but I never expected this much. Where had he gotten these things?
Fire damage blackened the documents around the edges but not the print. I ran a finger gently over the nearest chart and closed my eyes to focus sensory input to my fingertips. The fibers were too smooth. I continued toward the edge and opened my eyes when I felt the texture change. Manticore S.O.P (standard operating procedure) was to protect sensitive documents like this by spraying them with a molecular fixative. Short of an atomic bomb, nothing would destroy them.
Two folders in particular stood out: one was marked 452 and the other was 494. Alec had crossed out the numbers and scrawled our names underneath. A smile tugged at the corner of my mouth. When we first met he'd hated using anything but those stupid designations as our names. I guess some old dogs can still learn.
There were a lot of unanswered questions where Alec was concerned. Aside from owing me big time why did he choose this of all places to stay? Why did I let him get to me? Why couldn't I hate him like I pretended to? Why was I thinking about him so much? Why, why, why?
I couldn't remember a time when he didn't rub my fur the wrong way, figuratively speaking of course. He was brash, rude, condescending, an all around pain in the ass I told OC one day.
"Girl, both of you need to stop fronting and get it on", she had said. For the first time OC was mad at me.
"But, I love Logan." I had tried to argue but even as I said it the feeling that usually came with it wasn't there. However I stuck to my guns, unloaded as they may be. "We're gonna beat this virus bitch and..."
"And nothing. Saying you love Logan became an excuse and it's gotten you a shit-load of heartbreak and a lifetime of frustration that leaves you buzzing whenever something male goes by. Alec's not perfect. There's been more than one occasion I wanted to pop him myself but he's real."
Thoroughly irritated with myself because she was right, I cut the memory off and flipped through my folder first, pausing only to shove more meat down my throat. I skimmed over the basic information and noticed that anything vital was encrypted with Manticore's special military language. If not for the hand-written notes scattered throughout the pages I would've thrown the folder across the room.
Apparently Alec had cracked the code. I was able to decipher the first few pages by referring to them. To gain a foothold on serenity I sucked on the last piece of steak and read, passing over most of the technical mumbo jumbo.
"452's genetic potential mapped. Subject's sequence appears to be malleable and devoid of the usual anomalies. Received authorization to initiate tryptophan control." That's how they knew I could be re-coded and the tryp shakes was something they added for shits and giggles, the bastards.
And speaking of which, Normal's going to hiss a fit if I don't get that package delivered. Steak juice swam enticingly on the plate and I couldn't resist. I put the folder back on the table and bent down to lick the plate clean. Fine it wasn't lady-like or human-like for that matter but I never claimed to be either.
"Isn't that a pretty sight," stopped me mid-lick.
Embarrassed, I was reluctant to look up. My cheeks burned with a blush the crept down my neck and through my body. Usually I reacted very badly to being embarrassed and this was no exception. If you teased me, I returned it in spades. I plastered a seductively evil smile on my face and looked up.
Alec was leaning against the threshold of his room arms folded across his bare nicely muscled chest. Four long white scars ran from his collarbone, crossed over his body and ended at his left hip. My blanket was wrapped firmly around his waist and his skin glistened with sweat. His dirty blonde hair shot off in haphazard spikes in different directions from his scalp. He seemed to be in better control of himself but I could tell he still burned with heat. That whole 'I'm an asshole' demeanor he was projecting was just a shield.
An evil voice inside my head whispered - 'use his heat to your advantage'. Probably not the best course of action but I was getting tired of his attitude. To tell the absolute truth, I was getting tired of resisting. Never taking my eyes off him, I went back to licking the plate clean in slow lingering strokes and purred.
The fleeting look of desperation turned his expression priceless, but he recovered instantly and turned the asshole mode up a notch. His eyes bled to gold as he wet his lips with a quick flick of his tongue and walked over arrogantly. I watched him drop to the ground and crawl over the table. In sort of push up motion he lowered his face next to mine and purred.
Last night's dream returned in vivid detail and I became lost in it. I pulled back from the table into a sitting fetal position on the couch. Scenes flashed forward until the bass rumble in the dream resonated with Alec's. OC's comment at the end of my dream broke me out the trance. "Don't tell anyone, not even her." This time I was sure I said it out loud.
"Come again?" He was kneeling next to me trying to look innocent.
"Was it real?" Another image flashed as my eyes fell on his chest of my claws ripping up that smooth skin.
He tensed when I reached down to trace one of the scars and stroked the soft baby fine hairs bordering it. The touch elicited another purr. He rocked back into a squat, out of touching distance and gave me a hard look. "I don't know what you're talking about," he lied.
"Then you won't mind showing me your back." The bite in my dream would have left a scar also. I kicked off the couch, flipped over Alec and landed behind him before he had a chance to answer. A perfect imprint of teeth encircled the tip of his shoulder blade.
It was the last piece of evidence I needed. My dream had been real!
DISCLAIMER: I don't own anything in relation to Dark Angel. No money is involved (story of my life).
SUMMARY: Can dreams change things? Some do, but for better or for worse who can tell. Max has a dream or does she? M/A
FEEDBACK: Please send feedback of any kind (praise, flaming, constructive criticism, etc.) to naiya@mauimail.com
NOTES: My first attempt at a non - Xmen fanfiction. Please be patient with me. Any questions see feedback for my email address and I'll answer as best as I can. Archive at will
The temperature outside dropped some time during the night. I was shivering so much my teeth began chatter. I groped for the clothes lying around the couch and nested. I fell back asleep warm and surrounded by Alec's scent.
*****
It had been a bad day. The temporary cure had expired and I felt so lost after Logan's 'I love you Max.' I heard the words but it sounded more like goodbye.
The world narrowed down and I sunk into the depths of sadness. I was drowning in tears and didn't notice or care to notice nightfall. Cold wind raced across ocean surface and lashed around my body. If I had had any breath left the wind would have stolen it.
My head suddenly snapped around from the force of an open-handed slap. It shocked me into taking a deep breath. A little dazed, I turned back and looked up. I knew it wasn't Logan, but his face superimposed over the features of the body standing beside me.
Unbridled rage robbed me of all conscious thought. Primitive sounds spilled from my mouth as I bared my teeth in a feral grimace and a red haze colored my vision. I let my Manticore training take over not realized I had also triggered the 'change'.
"Good Max, let it out," he called but I barely registered that the voice wasn't Logan's. Not that it mattered. I heard the edge of fear and became excited. Fear meant I hurt him and hurting him was good.
We moved like dancers in perfect step, kicks synchronically choreographed to the other's hits. Ignoring the throbbing pain in my fingers, I instinctively slashed at him with my newly emerged claws. The scenery blurred and I wasn't paying attention. He was forcing me to make rash decisions and took full advantage of a momentary loss of balance.
His arm connected solidly to my midsection and wrapped around my waist. Without much effort he lifted me off the ground and over his shoulder. Sheathing my claws, I screamed at him wordlessly and pounded my fists into his back. As a last resort I bit his shoulder blade hard enough to draw blood.
Thick clawed, fingers closed about the scruff of my neck and wrenched me backward. I stared into his glowing eyes and spat blood in his face. "I HATE YOU LOGAN!" I screamed.
A bass rumble cut through the violence in my mind. It vibrated through my body and calmed my frantic heart. When it stopped, I could finally see. Alec's eyes bled back to normal and held mine as he said very slowly without malice, "I am not Logan."
"I know." My voice cracked with fresh tears.
"You do realize I owe you an ass-kicking for letting you beat me up?" He half smiled because the other side of his face was swollen and purple.
"Put it on my tab," I whispered and slumped against his chest. My body had finally given up. I was vaguely aware that he carried me the entire distance to the apartment OC and I shared.
Soft warm hands gently wrapped my shaking fingers in strips of cloth. Uncommon nausea swept away any of my attempts to get up. Chills raced along my spine and I felt my body begin to spasm. Before blackness overtook me, I was pulled into solid warmth that steadied me down to the core.
"Boy, she's finally calm. Tomorrow she won't remember a thing, trust me on that one, and I want it to stay that way. Don't tell anyone, not even her or you and Sketch will be known as pool buddies in a whole new light. Do I make myself clear..." OC's voice started to fade.
And then I could hear nothing.
*****
Three things always bothered me in the morning. My pager was equipped with an alarm. It was the most obnoxious sound I'd ever heard and it didn't quit until I personally turned it off. Sunlight never was my friend and it was especially bright this morning. The final item on my 'I hate the morning' hit list was my transgenic metabolism. Between the three I was pulled out of a very deep sleep. After that dream last night I was glad to be back in reality.
For a moment I couldn't see and blinked rapidly to clear the thin film that covered my eyes. My face felt puffy from too much crying and my body felt like it had been abused - so much for transgenic super healing. Alec's bedroom door was still closed, big surprise there.
He did say 'make yourself at home' so I figured he wouldn't mind me raiding the fridge. I padded over to the icebox and prayed that his metabolism forced him to keep it full. Milk? The only thing he kept in the fridge was milk. It was so absurd I couldn't stop the bark of laughter from escaping my lips. Sound carried very well in this apartment and I looked back to see if I had woken Alec.
No one came barging out demanding why I was making enough noise to wake the dead. Relieved I scanned his freezer for anything edible. I guess I was expecting too much. Alec was male, by the way of soldier, male and wouldn't cook to save his life, hence the empty freezer.
Irrational anger spurred on by hunger burned flash-fire hot. Pain lanced up my arms when my claws burst into view. Blood flew, making an interesting pattern down the side of the refrigerator. I gulped back the roar of frustration I felt tickling my throat and searched his cabinets for some paper towels.
"Pay dirt," I whispered, completely forgetting about the towels when I came across an entire shelf of cereal, something very hard to come by. Alec must still be using his network of contacts he established while in Manticore as an outside operative. Milk in the fridge made little more sense, but speaking from experience he should also have protein on hand. I gave the fridge a once over, raking my claws over the yellowing porcelain surface.
"Sonuvabitch," I hissed in appreciation when one claw brushed over a minute seam. I picked at the seam for a few minutes until it gave. After a quick double check to see that Alec's door was still closed, I peeled back the seal. Steak, another very rare, expensive commodity, was hidden in the concealed compartment.
Somebody had definitely been a busy boy. I snagged the uppermost slab, shut the door quietly and tiptoed around broken dishes to his stove. At first glance I was highly doubtful it worked but the pilot burned steadily under the first burner. He even had a pan under the sink. Perhaps today wouldn't suck as bad as last night, I hoped.
Impatient to be fed I simply seared the steak on both sides until it was hot and removed it from the fire. The smell was driving me nuts but I took the time to turn off the stove. Rummaging through another set of cabinets yielded a plate, fork and knife. I was all but drooling by the time I sat back down in the nest I'd made on Alec's couch.
I was able to think more clearly after the first few bites. The coffee table appeared to be the only piece of furniture left untouched by Alec's heat tantrum. It was covered with charts, graphs and various scientific journals bearing Manticore logos. Last week at Crash Alec had mentioned research notes but I never expected this much. Where had he gotten these things?
Fire damage blackened the documents around the edges but not the print. I ran a finger gently over the nearest chart and closed my eyes to focus sensory input to my fingertips. The fibers were too smooth. I continued toward the edge and opened my eyes when I felt the texture change. Manticore S.O.P (standard operating procedure) was to protect sensitive documents like this by spraying them with a molecular fixative. Short of an atomic bomb, nothing would destroy them.
Two folders in particular stood out: one was marked 452 and the other was 494. Alec had crossed out the numbers and scrawled our names underneath. A smile tugged at the corner of my mouth. When we first met he'd hated using anything but those stupid designations as our names. I guess some old dogs can still learn.
There were a lot of unanswered questions where Alec was concerned. Aside from owing me big time why did he choose this of all places to stay? Why did I let him get to me? Why couldn't I hate him like I pretended to? Why was I thinking about him so much? Why, why, why?
I couldn't remember a time when he didn't rub my fur the wrong way, figuratively speaking of course. He was brash, rude, condescending, an all around pain in the ass I told OC one day.
"Girl, both of you need to stop fronting and get it on", she had said. For the first time OC was mad at me.
"But, I love Logan." I had tried to argue but even as I said it the feeling that usually came with it wasn't there. However I stuck to my guns, unloaded as they may be. "We're gonna beat this virus bitch and..."
"And nothing. Saying you love Logan became an excuse and it's gotten you a shit-load of heartbreak and a lifetime of frustration that leaves you buzzing whenever something male goes by. Alec's not perfect. There's been more than one occasion I wanted to pop him myself but he's real."
Thoroughly irritated with myself because she was right, I cut the memory off and flipped through my folder first, pausing only to shove more meat down my throat. I skimmed over the basic information and noticed that anything vital was encrypted with Manticore's special military language. If not for the hand-written notes scattered throughout the pages I would've thrown the folder across the room.
Apparently Alec had cracked the code. I was able to decipher the first few pages by referring to them. To gain a foothold on serenity I sucked on the last piece of steak and read, passing over most of the technical mumbo jumbo.
"452's genetic potential mapped. Subject's sequence appears to be malleable and devoid of the usual anomalies. Received authorization to initiate tryptophan control." That's how they knew I could be re-coded and the tryp shakes was something they added for shits and giggles, the bastards.
And speaking of which, Normal's going to hiss a fit if I don't get that package delivered. Steak juice swam enticingly on the plate and I couldn't resist. I put the folder back on the table and bent down to lick the plate clean. Fine it wasn't lady-like or human-like for that matter but I never claimed to be either.
"Isn't that a pretty sight," stopped me mid-lick.
Embarrassed, I was reluctant to look up. My cheeks burned with a blush the crept down my neck and through my body. Usually I reacted very badly to being embarrassed and this was no exception. If you teased me, I returned it in spades. I plastered a seductively evil smile on my face and looked up.
Alec was leaning against the threshold of his room arms folded across his bare nicely muscled chest. Four long white scars ran from his collarbone, crossed over his body and ended at his left hip. My blanket was wrapped firmly around his waist and his skin glistened with sweat. His dirty blonde hair shot off in haphazard spikes in different directions from his scalp. He seemed to be in better control of himself but I could tell he still burned with heat. That whole 'I'm an asshole' demeanor he was projecting was just a shield.
An evil voice inside my head whispered - 'use his heat to your advantage'. Probably not the best course of action but I was getting tired of his attitude. To tell the absolute truth, I was getting tired of resisting. Never taking my eyes off him, I went back to licking the plate clean in slow lingering strokes and purred.
The fleeting look of desperation turned his expression priceless, but he recovered instantly and turned the asshole mode up a notch. His eyes bled to gold as he wet his lips with a quick flick of his tongue and walked over arrogantly. I watched him drop to the ground and crawl over the table. In sort of push up motion he lowered his face next to mine and purred.
Last night's dream returned in vivid detail and I became lost in it. I pulled back from the table into a sitting fetal position on the couch. Scenes flashed forward until the bass rumble in the dream resonated with Alec's. OC's comment at the end of my dream broke me out the trance. "Don't tell anyone, not even her." This time I was sure I said it out loud.
"Come again?" He was kneeling next to me trying to look innocent.
"Was it real?" Another image flashed as my eyes fell on his chest of my claws ripping up that smooth skin.
He tensed when I reached down to trace one of the scars and stroked the soft baby fine hairs bordering it. The touch elicited another purr. He rocked back into a squat, out of touching distance and gave me a hard look. "I don't know what you're talking about," he lied.
"Then you won't mind showing me your back." The bite in my dream would have left a scar also. I kicked off the couch, flipped over Alec and landed behind him before he had a chance to answer. A perfect imprint of teeth encircled the tip of his shoulder blade.
It was the last piece of evidence I needed. My dream had been real!