"It's a Wonderful Life?"
AUTHOR: Mystic25
SUMMARY: Christmas – Dark Angel Style. Set in Season One.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: To all those waiting for the next chapter of "Choices" and "Less Then Human" I have two words for you: 'wait longer' haha…kidding…put down those rocks. I'm sooo full of ideas for completing my chapters that when I write them down I'm having a hard time trying to get it all in order so that it makes sense. Translation: Choices will be loong, most like in 2 parts, which I WILL post at the same time so I don't get hate mail. And note Sammie: pleeease don't sic the hounds on me for the long beta you'll be receiving…now onto author's note 2…
AUTHOR'S NOTE #2: I made it a thing to do a Christmas fanfic every year after getting good reviews the first time I attempted it. I missed last year so this is my make-up blowout. Also a lot of holiday fanfic floating around there seems to me to be so over flowing with sap that I needed a break from it. And to all of the DA fanfic authors who write holiday fluff – I'm hiding securely behind Zack's nicely chiseled body, you can't touch me.
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JAM PONY
6:15 PM
CHRISTMAS EVE
"All right listen up reprobates-" Normal approached the crowd of messengers that were currently ignoring their boss and engaged in the meaningful task of watching Sketchy down an entire gallon of eggnog.
Sketchy – for his part – was more then two thirds of the way through with the thick milky drink, despite the fact that he was about to heave a noxious liquid into the almost empty bottle. He finished off the bottle to the sounds of the cheering group of his peers. He raised the empty bottle above his head like a trophy, glorifying his triumphant completion of the beverage.
"Enough celebration idiot," Normal said snippily, trying very hard not to let his eyeballs roll into his skull at the feeble minds he had been forced to hire. "If any of that eggnog winds up coming back up out of your cake hole you'll be out of here so fast it'll leave a mark."
"Relax Normal," Sketchy soothed, swaying slightly like a drunkard at the way the eggnog was settling in his stomach. "I am the master at holding down my holiday beverage."
"Give your sales pitch somewhere else and get back to work," Normal clapped his hands like he was dismissing a band of wayward children. "Let's go, if you low lifes' want any time off for the holidays you better start showing me you deserve it."
"I think we just got dismissed," Cindy stated in an annoyed complaint. She was speaking to Max who was standing next to her – pack strapped to her back – watching Normal storm back to his desk like some incredibly hot woman had just denied him sex on the justification that he wasn't a man.
"At what's worse is that it came from Normal," Max shared her friend's irritated view on their boss. "The man really knows hot to put a soft spot in the hearts of his employees on Christmas Eve."
"I'd like to put a soft spot on him," Cindy threatened. "It's bad enough we gotta shuttle our asses on Christmas Eve without his White boy tirade as background music until we kick outta here."
"For real girl," Max agreed whole-heartedly. "I think in another 20 minutes it'll be in our own best self interest to get the hell up outta here."
"Fraternize on your own time ladies, you're idling away company time!" Normal called out them from behind his desk where he was furiously digging under a pile of papers for something that seemed completely unfindable judging by the cursing coming from under his breath. "Bip, bip, bip!"
"I think we should skip out now, Cindy informed after Normal was done with them for the time being. "Cause I got a whole line of things I could do besides watching an anal man scratch himself."
"Did I hear you two discussing plans to ditch work early?" Sketchy was starting to look ill from the effects of way too much eggnog drunk way too fast. He leaned on the handlebars of his bike that use to be blue chrome, but was now patched with orange rust. "I tell you it's sneaky, underhanded ideology that will land you in the dog house with Normal – that is why I'm begging you to take me with you." He adopted a puppy dog look on his face.
"Boy you've got two functional legs," Cindy notified. "If you're set in gettin' a life do it yourself and stop moochin' of a sista girl."
"But my functional legs aren't as nice as your functional legs," Sketchy said straight out, checking out Cindy's legs hidden underneath a pair of parachute material gray drawstring pants.
"Get away from me fool before one of Original Cindy's functional legs kicks you down under!" Cindy threatened shoving Sketchy off of her when he took it upon himself to get into her personal space. She sighed under her breath. "Some Christmas huh?"
"I resent the implications of that remark," Sketchy informed, returning to leaning on his bike and not Cindy. "I mean if it wasn't so true." He paused, about to go into one of his banters on how The Man was keeping the working class down. "Let's face it, Christmas is just another time of year for the upper echelons of society to rub it in every else's faces that they have nothing."
"Sketchy you need to lay off the tainted eggnog," Cindy told him straight out. "Cause it is clouding your mind."
"Do you have somewhere Hallmark worthy to be tonight?" he asked.
"No," Cindy told him flatly. "But that doesn't mean you have to trash the one day I have off all year." She hadn't celebrated Christmas since she left home at 17, but it still was a holiday she respected because her Grandmother loved it so much. She would always make so much extra turkey that they would wind up throwing most of it out but it was still a day that Cindy enjoyed.
She turned to Max. "Christmas is a time for peeps to get together and reflect on all things, right boo?"
"I have no idea," Max stated truthfully causing Cindy to give her a quizzical look.
"What does that mean?" Cindy asked.
"I've never celebrated Christmas," Max answered suddenly feeling awkward for admitting that as an adult she had never once even strung lights on a tree.
"You Jewish or something?" Sketchy asked, his arm now resting above his head on a square concrete support column in the middle of the room. "Because if there's this special sect of hot mommy Hispanic Jewish people I could really start getting into Chanukah."
"I'm not even gonna begin' to point out everything that's wrong with that remark," Cindy insisted knocking Sketchy upside the head in her mind. But Max's remark had floored her as well. Not that celebrating Christmas was a requirement of life, but the way Max had vocalized it sounded like she was someone who had missed out on the holiday not by choice. "You tellin' me boo that you're momma never even took you to a department store to see displays you never hafta worry about puttin' up?"
Cindy didn't mean anything by it, not knowing about Max's past history at Manticore. But it made Max think again about her mom, and all she had learned from Hannah. "I never knew my mother."
Cindy's jaw about dropped to the floor. "Girl are you frontin'?"
Max couldn't believe she had just said that out loud. She had just wanted to skip off early from work and grab a bite of whatever Kendra had managed to cook on their barely functional stove, maybe even have a few choice drinks at Crash, but now Cindy and Sketchy were looking at her with such confusion turned to compassion that she knew she wasn't going anywhere soon.
"She was a teenager where I was born, forced to give me up. I was raised in foster homes, nothing to glamorous, a few of them scary so I split. Why do you think I moved in with Kendra?" a pause as Max realized with unmistakable clarity that she was putting herself on the path of sympathetic hugs and hand holds. "But the streets didn't turn me out too badly did they?"
"No boo," Cindy stated in all earnesty after listening to the revelation her girl had just dumped on her. "You're a testament to what they turn out."
"Thanks." Max smiled in genuine appreciation at Cindy's complement. It was one of the many reasons she was her one of her tightest friends. She had this way of keeping it real that Max totally respected. There was an awkward silence between the three adults for a second and Max was wishing for nothing more then an air raid siren to go off outside so she wouldn't have to reveal any more about a past she would rather not have glorified with 'it'll be okay' speeches.
She was graced with divine luck a few seconds later when the familiar incessant beeping of her pager cut through the dead air. She checked the Motorola display seeing the string of familiar numbers.
"I gotta take this," Max tried to keep the relief out of her voice as she walked over to the ancient black rotary dial pay phone Normal made all his runners use. Though there was a perfectly functioning modern era telephone sitting on his desk Normal guarded it like a hidden treasure. None of his employees were allowed to come within fifty feet of it unless they showed him the bleeding stump where their arm used to be and demanded an ambulance ride to the hospital.
Max normally complained about the phone situation. But today she was so thankful for the distraction from the conversation that she kept her mouth shut and dialed the number with the end of a broken pencil.
"That's kinda sad stuff," Sketchy said in a low voice after Max went to make her call. "I never even knew that Max was in the system."
"It's probably DL cause she didn't want us to know," Cindy informed beside him in a voice as every bit as hushed as his. Cindy wasn't one who cared what kind of life her friends came out of; so long as they didn't play her she left their past alone. But hearing Max's glimpsing story of her past made her hurt for her home girl.
"That kinda sad story past isn't something you just talk about over a beer," Cindy went on, dropping the conversation a minute later when Max came back over to the lockers.
"Gonna take the advice of my home girl and kick outta here early," Max announced. She had heard snatches of Cindy and Skethcy's conversation but she wasn't going to comment on it. She felt bad enough for eaves dropping without shooting her mouth off about what she heard.
"Was that your squeeze that called?" Cindy asked.
"Yeah," Max responded positively but then corrected Cindy on her title for Logan a second later. "But he's not my 'squeeze'." She ignored Cindy's 'uh huh' look. "He wanted me to stop by for a while and hang."
"Forget a while boo, you should think about crashing for the night," Cindy had been nagging Max about her relationship with Logan for so long that it had become an art form. Each time she hoped that her wordplay would get her friend to just step to the real and consummate with the boy.
As usual Max blew of Cindy's remark. She and Logan didn't have the kind of relationship that warranted activity under the sheets. "I gotta blaze," she said simply turning to head up the ramp that led out of Jam Pony. She stopped walking and turned back a second later to face her friends. "Whatever covert idea you're planin' on hitting me with to make up for lost Christmases boo – keep it outta the range of Santa suits and male strippers." She smiled to herself at the way Normal squirmed at her mentioning male strippers out loud. She headed up out of Jam Pony to where she had parked her bike.
The black saddle seat of the Ninja was cold to the touch. It had been sitting out in the 46-degree weather for hours with no tarp to keep out the wind. Max straddled the seat, shivering for a moment at the feeling of cold metal coming through her jeans. If Cindy really wanted to give her something for Christmas tomorrow she'd settle on tarp to cover her bike so it wouldn't feel like she sitting on ice every time she rode.
The long stretch of highway was even colder then at Jam Pony. Because Max had the bike up to 95 mph the wind steadily whipped at her face, sucking all the moisture out of her lips, making her wish she could reach her lip balm in her jacket pocket. The overpass was unusually clogged with cars filled with people all trying to get somewhere for Christmas. Max expertly weaved in and out of the vehicles ignoring the people's honking and lewd remarks. She had somewhere to get to as well; and what was point of having a bike with 650 cc's if you couldn't stretch her legs?
She finally reached the sector checkpoint to Sector Nine, the gateway to the high-rise district where Logan lived. The crowd of cars had thinned out to expensive BMW's and Lexus's. Max slowed the Ninja down to a crawl and handed her pass to the Sector Cop when he shoved his hand in her face demanding it.
"You seem a long way from home," the Sector Cop noted examining her Class 4 Sector Pass, the second most basic level pass you could get. All it basically allowed was for someone to live in the city without being arrested.
"I'm visiting a friend," Max told him flatly, holding her gloved hand out to get back her pass from the prick in a uniform.
The cop didn't hide his wandering roam over the 'V' her legs made straddling the Ninja's saddle seat. "I'm sure your 'friend' doesn't want to wait too long for such fine goods," He got right up in her face.
Max could feel him sniffing her neck and she was disgusted and repulsed. "Sorry, sniffing on the job is against regulations."
The cop pulled back from her retort, angry. It was an unspoken rule that Checkpoint Sector Cops could get away with whatever B.S. they wanted to so long as they still did their job. And Max's remark wasn't playing well with this cop's understanding of that rule. "How the hell can a bombshell cock sucker like you have such a big mouth?"
"The same way you do Officer," Max threw back with a voice as hard as steel. She wanted this looser pimp wanna-be to back up off her. "Also I'd like my pass back if you're done fondling it."
The Cop lost his temper and knocked Max across the face with his nightstick. Max had cat-like reflexes so she managed to duck away in time to not receive the full force of the blow. But the stick caught the top of her forehead near her hairline and she felt a thin trickle of warm blood flow down her right cheek a second later.
The cop didn't even flinch after he'd dealt her the assault and held her Sector Pass in front of her face. "Here ya go little lady. Happy Holidays." Each word was punctuated with a lewd sneer.
"Same to you," Max said snatching her pass from him. She punched him right in the crotch with one fist. The cop screamed like a girl, grunted and fell onto the wet pavement grabbing at his balls with both hands.
Max gunned the engine of her bike, maneuvering around the man writing at her tires. She passed through to Sector Nine, ignoring the shouts made by the Cop's partner to tell her to stop.
XXXXXXX
FOGLE TOWERS
SECTOR NINE
6:55 PM
"Damnit!" Logan cursed when the long chain of white lights he had just plugged succeeded in coming on for three seconds and popping a second later, short-circuiting. Logan continued to say a few choice obscenities as he went through the annoying task of finding the one single bulb in the whole chain that had caused the lights to fail. He set the brakes on his wheelchair, placed a section of the Christmas lights in his lap and started meticulously inspecting each bulb for the elusive burned out one. After repeating this task for endless minutes he finally found the one stupid bulb that was causing the Christmas blackout. He removed the tiny plastic thing and replaced it with a spare that he unearthed from the box he kept his old decorations in.
The lights all blinked to life the second the new bulb was in, like nothing had ever gone wrong. "I think the guy that invented these lights did that on purpose just to laugh at people every year."
"Isn't holiday decorating supposed to be a relaxing occasion?" the voice of Bling – Logan's physical therapist and friend – trailed ahead of him as he came into the living room sipping on a cup of coffee. One of the benefits of working for a wealthy client was that he could score premium coffee that had long ago disappeared off the mainstream market. Logan seemed to have connections with everyone, including coffee producers.
"An Eyes Only meeting with a group of radical militants would be more relaxing then this," Logan insisted, removing the pile of lights from his lap and setting them down on the hardwood floor next to a 4 ft imitation Spruce pine. He had this tree for over 11 years and had thought about getting a new one for a while. But after the Pulse happened getting a new Christmas tree was pushed to the back of his 'To Do List'.
Logan released his chair brakes and wheeled himself closer to Bling observing the steam rising from the ash blue coffee mug in his hands. "Do you always make it a point to knock on your employer's private stash?"
"This is just part of my payment," Bling stated, shifting the mug to cradle it in both hands. "And personally I don't want to know that my employer has a private stash of anything." He set his mug on Logan's low black lacquer coffee table. He stood back up silently, observing Logan like he was about to say something but didn't know if it would lead to snippish remark Logan was famous for. But he decided a moment later to shove Logan's snippiness and go for it. "Does this sudden interest in Christmas decorating have anything to do with a certain good looking female that frequents here?"
"You're not getting paid to be elusive Bling," Logan reminded. He never liked being the center of conversation, especially not concerning his relationship with women. Bling had been messing with him about Max ever since he had met her. He was Logan's version of Original Cindy. "If you wanted to ask me if my deciding to finally put up an artificial Christmas tree that's been gathering dust in my storage closet for five years has anything to do with Max you should come right out and say it."
"Seems to me you already did," Bling said jokingly watching Logan shoot him an annoyed look. But again he didn't care. Logan was always one to voice his complaints rather loudly, but he was a still a good guy. "Not like it's anything to be ashamed of. Max is a dynamite woman." He was secretly enjoying watching Logan squirm.
"But she's not my woman," Logan insisted becoming increasingly uncomfortable at the turn the conversation was taking. "She's a friend, and I'm not about to dehumanize her by using Neanderthal language to describe what she means to me."
"Logan come off it. The First Lady of the United States is referred to as the President's woman, and she considers it a compliment and calls him her man."
"Well I'm not the President," Logan returned. "And I'm also not liking the way this conversation is headed so could we please drop it?"
A hint of a smile played at Bling's lips. He had Logan cornered. He may never admit his real feelings for Max but it didn't take a genius to realize that she was more then just a 'friend' to him. "Alright man I'm sorry. When Max gets here I won't say a word when you two decide to get 'friendly' with each other."
"Knock knock," Max's voice filtered across the living room seconds after Bling finished his sentence.
"Speak of your woman," Bling said quietly and ignored the glare Logan gave him.
Max strolled casually into the living room, an action she had done dozens of times. She was as comfortable at Logan's as she was at her own house. "So what's the deal with blowing up my pager?" the remark was directed at Logan.
"Well I just thought I'd get you over here to-" Logan broke off and stared at Max's face.
"To what?" Max cut in, waiting for him to continue. "If you want to have your way with me you need to elaborate more."
"What happened up there?" he nodded with his chin, to draw attention to the small clump of matted blood at Max's hairline.
Max touched her fingers to the spot Logan was indicating. She had almost forgotten the wound was there. It had smarted for a few minutes after she had left the idiot Sector Cop in the dust. The stinging pain was gone now, and besides a dull headache she felt perfectly fine. "This Cop decided to play ass whomping at the Sector Nine checkpoint, only nobody told me." Max traced her hand down the side of her cheek and realized that the blood trail she felt earlier was still there.
"He roughed you up pretty hard?" Logan asked, though it wasn't a passive question. He was staring to get mad thinking of some jerk-off knocking on a woman.
"Logan the guy was a poor pimp and an even poorer fighter," Max stated matter-of-fact. "He's the one who got roughed up pretty hard, I just got in the way of his nightstick." She could see that her last statement didn't do anything to ease Logan's consciousnesses about what happened to her, but it really wasn't that big of a deal.
"Getting knocked in the head is no small deal Max," Bling seemed to be able to read her mind and disagree with it. "Did you loose consciousness at all?"
"Thankfully no," Max told him flatly. "Lying at the feet of a perverted chump wasn't exactly the best place for things to all go dark."
"Did he try anything else after you left?" Logan asked with what sounded suspiciously like protection in his voice.
"Yeah he tried to ease the pain in his nuts by groping them," Max stated.
Both Bling and Logan winced at hearing what Max had inflicted upon the cop, but neither of them thought it was a wrong move.
"Well it looks like you gave him his Christmas present early, so how about I give you yours early and bandage that wound?" Bling put a bit of cheer in his voice but he was still pissed at the audacity of Sector Cops thinking they were above human decency, especially when it came to a friend.
"Sterile gauze and first aid tape, you really know how to treat a girl right on the holidays Bling," Max smiled good-naturedly at Bling's offer.
Bling returned the smile. "Why don't you make yourself comfortable, let Logan give you some of his gentlemanly hospitality and I'll get the supplies." He let his words hang in the air for a few seconds and then headed towards Logan's bathroom before either of them got the chance to comment about his remark.
After Bling was out of sight Max turned towards Logan, still wanting an answer from him. "You never did tell me the reason for callin' me over."
"It's not an monumental earth shattering reason," Logan insisted, thinking that even with the dried blood on her face she still looked stunningly beautiful. "I just thought – well I was actually hopping that you would maybe like to spend Christmas with me tomorrow."
"Logan Cale, protector of downtrodden is inviting me over to participate in a glorified day off?" Max's eyebrow rose.
"Even the downtrodden take time for Christmas Max," Logan said. He figured this kind of reaction from her. Max had a personality that could switch from childlike wonder to barricaded tough ass female depending on the situation she was faced with. "I just thought it'd be a welcomed change to spend the holidays with people I actually want to be around instead of my Aunt Margo and her stuffy friends."
"So I'm the only person you want to be around for Christmas?" Max asked a loaded question and
Logan knew it.
"No – I mean, yes, well actually not just you. I was thinking that if Cindy and Kendra weren't doing anything tomorrow they could come too." He was a grown man, but right now he felt like a pubescent teenager again. And Max's dark chocolate eyes on his weren't helping.
"A full blown rich liberal white guy partay?" Max put some mirth into her voice to let him know she was teasing. "Who would miss that?"
"I'm not exactly going to hire waiters and serve canapés," Logan stated honestly. "It's just one of those times in this short brutal life to seize the opportunity to celebrate." He paused feeling like he just asked her to go to the junior high formal. "So will you come?"
"All day?" Max asked, a smile already forming at the way Logan was getting uncomfortable. He'd be cute if he wasn't a grown man, but that's not cute damnit that's sexy.
"Just say 'yes' girl before Logan has a heart attack," Bling's voice entered the mix as he remerged in the living room carrying a white plastic First-Aid box by the handle in his hands.
Max turned to Bling like he was a disobedient child. "How long does it take to get a first aid kit?"
Bling looked at her sheepishly, but then it faded away and was replaced by adult honesty. "I thought I'd let you two finish your conversation in private."
"Yeah and I've got a nice Needle in Sector Three to sell ya," Max deadpanned.
Bling smiled which ended up being more of a muted laugh. He set the first aid kit down on the coffee table and popped the plastic lid up. Rows of supplies were revealed – gauze, bandages, ointments and even a bottle of unopened Tryptophane pills from a pharmaceutical company that Max had never heard off.
"I have this friend with a seratonin deficiency," Logan said when he caught Max glancing at the meds. She smiled in return at his humor, and there was also a bit of something that looked like gratitude behind her eyes.
Bling remained silent and pulled out a package of gauze a small tube of antibiotic ointment, and a plastic bag of butterfly bandages. "The cut doesn't look too deep, a few butterfly bandages should do the trick." He opened the pack of gauze. "Take a seat Max so I can get up in your face."
"Only you could get away with that Bling," Max returned lightly and slid into the empty spot beside Bling on Logan's black leather sofa.
"Somehow I doubt that," Bling returned glancing sideways at Logan. He dipped the gauze into a bottle of water he had filled in the bathroom and wiped away all the matted blood from Max's face and hairline. She winced at the first bit of contact from the cold water. "Sorry," he apologized.
"You would stop if you're sorry," Max kidded, bearing the little bit of unpleasantly as Bling flushed out all the dry blood from the area. When he was finished he squirted a bead of ointment on a clean Q-Tip and applied it to the laceration. He talked as he did this part. "So Max, my friend Logan over there would really enjoy himself if you were able to come over tomorrow."
He laughed mentally at the glare Logan gave him. But it wasn't like he didn't want this.
Max glanced at Logan, thinking for a moment. Couldn't hurt. It's not like I don't have other plans except lowering my bike's gear ratios a few more notches. She'll understand if I cancel that date. "I think I could go for something like that," she finally said as Bling started applying the butterfly bandages one at a time with a pair of tweezers. "What time are the festivities?" this remark was directed at Logan.
Logan couldn't believe that Bling had intervened for him like it was a game of having your best friend ask a girl out for you when you were twelve.But despite all that was reminiscent of his junior high school years, Logan had gotten what he wanted. "6:00. I thought we'd get started early to avoid any confrontations with Sector Cops about breaking curfew. I'd say you've had enough of that already." He watched Bling smooth the last bandage down across Max's hairline.
"Done," Bling studied his handiwork for a moment. "You need to keep the area dry so be careful when you take a shower, also call me if you have any sudden pain or unusual drowsiness. And I want to see you in three days for a wound check."
"Whatever ya say Doc," Max returned, standing up from the couch. "Thanks for the free medical care."
"Anytime," Bling returned with a smile.
Max turned to Logan. "So I'll see ya at six?"
"Yeah," Logan agreed still finding it hard to take his eyes of her. She had such a natural grace that he found irresistibly appealing. "Be careful going home. No doubt that jerk-off who tried to take a run at you will want to come back for seconds."
"I can manage one jerk-off," Max reassured. "Besides I've got plans tomorrow and I'm not gonna let one looser put a damper on that." She hit Logan with a rare, full-fledged smile that let him know she was touched by his concern but didn't take anything away from her ability to take care of herself.
Logan returned the smile, knowing that he would catch heat from Bling as soon as Max left but he didn't give a damn. His blue eyes casually followed her as she headed out the door of his apartment.
Once the door closed with a soft 'click' Logan swiveled his chair around and caught Bling's satisfied look. "Just shut up and help me finish decorating the damn tree." He wheeled himself back over to the bare Christmas tree.
Bling chuckled to himself. If these two aren't involved then Max's friend Original Cindy is going to hook up with me tomorrow.