Logan sat up in his bed on the lower bunk, looking over file after file of previous intelligence gained. Certain bases defenses, leader information, and weapons were what most of the files contained. He yawned again and took off his glasses, wiping them once more.

Just before turning to another folder with even more useless information, his eyes caught a small sentence at the bottom of the very last page of the file in his hands. His eyebrows raised in surprise, and he scanned the sentence once more. The file had been about the X-5's, a recent one gained by Max in a recon mission. He had a distinct feeling he was not supposed to be seeing this, as it was not part of the information that was requested in the recon. But those two sentences had struck him hard.

One of the X5 members carries a disease that prohibits contact with known spouse. Laboratories have efforts to create vaccine for war purposes.

It didn't seem right. It looked like a trap, and a very badly set one at that. Yet Logan's mind latched onto those sentences, seeing that it was a small hope for him to be reunited with Max. Viruses effected cells in one's body, as Logan knew from being attacked twice. However, it never once effected his feelings toward Max, nor the conviction he knew would save this new race in this war. His tired eyes glanced over the file again, trying to find any more information on that subject. He found nothing else, and soon his eyes closed and his breathing became slow. Exhaustion had finally made him take a long needed rest.

Max hopped on her motorcycle and sped out of the abandonded grocery store parking lot. She drove around the darkened streets, avoiding the occasional street-lamps that adorned the vacant sidewalks of her path. She planned to head towards her tower, where she would sit and think about whatever she could. It was her time to have solitude, a time that she grew more and more dependant on. This war had taken a toll on her and Logan; neither of them had wanted it to turn out this way. She felt it was harder and harder to return to base camp every time now, but not because the war was becoming too much of a burden. In all truth, it was what she was trained for since she was born. What she wasn't trained for was that look in Logan's eyes that caused her knees to buckle, or that sorrow she heard in his voice whenever they were so close to each other that neither one could tear away from the conversation. That feeling overwhelmed her more now than it ever had, because she felt that death would soon knock on one of their doors.

On the tower, she closed her eyes and took in a sharp breath. The lights from down below flickered, as if they too were uncertain of what lay ahead. She seated herself on the cold, curved metal and pulled her knees up to her chest. Her eyes took in every sight, her ears every sound, and her nose every smell of that one moment as she began to contemplate her predicament once more.

I feel at a loss. This thing with Logan doesn't seem to be getting any better. Little bits and pieces of what used to be come back more frequently now that I think I might actually lose him. Too much compassion can lead to this, maybe I should have just followed along with... What would I follow? Nothing, is what. I couldn't just go with anything, I just haven't been that much of a follower since...as long as I can remember. Manticore tried to program me with it, and they got the exact opposite of what they wanted. Things never turn out planned, nor are they ever easy. It's hard to accept, and I still don't think I have given up that feeling of hope for me and Logan. I just wish there was more than hope to keep me from wanting to end it all.

Max stared on at the city lights below. Two tears fell down her tanned cheeks.

Author's Note: Oh dear, I seem to be having problems in this fic with short chapters... Gonna have to work on that. Sorry!