Disclaimer: I do not own Dark Angel or anything on TV... if I did I wouldn't be living in a little apartment and getting through college on scholarships, now would I?
Chapter One: Transgenics don't get Wasted
'So this is how it feels to lose your first love.'
Max sat in the silent apartment and stared blankly ahead, not actually seeing Logan's apartment around her. The beauty of the rich wood floor and warm red accents were completely lost on her...even the lingering taste of pre-pulse wine on her tongue was barely noticeable. Logan's cousin Bitsy would be there tomorrow to begin packing up the family heirlooms, and, undoubtedly, prepare it for the Real Estate market. After tonight Max would never again come here; the apartment would belong to someone else. Logan was dead, and it was her fault.
"We don't belong with them, Max. We're a danger to them."
Alec's words reverberated in Max's mind, bringing the guilt crashing down on her full-force. She had known that she was dangerous to Logan – she'd even tried breaking off their relationship after the last time they'd accidentally touched. She'd known that she couldn't keep counting on pure luck to save Logan, she'd known that the day might come when no other transgenic would be available to transfuse Logan, should they have any physical contact. And it had finally happened.
"I killed you." Max whispered to the empty apartment, her eyes brimming with belated tears. She poured herself another glass of wine and downed it in less than three gulps. The bottle was empty; it had been full when she'd first begun to drink it.
Her stomach was tied in a knot and her head was swimming, but she knew it wasn't from the wine – it took far more than that to get her drunk. She was sickened by her own words; her own admission of guilt. Logan's death was completely and totally her fault. And hearing the words out loud made her ill.
She stumbled to the bathroom and threw up.
After it was over, Max leaned on the countertop and stared into the mirror. She splashed water on her flushed face, and rinsed away the bile taste with mouthwash from the mirror cupboard.
Pushing her wet bangs away from her face, she went into the kitchen and poured herself a glass of scotch. She took the bottle with her back into the living room.