Max stood on top of the Space Needle, happy to have the wind whipping across her face and the entire city below her, just tiny balls of light. It reminded her of the only time in Canada she had sought solace in height. She had sneaked away from the house one night while Zack was asleep and climbed to the top of the tallest building in town - City Hall. All she could see for miles was dense forest and snow. She hated snow.
She sighed and sat down so that her legs were dangling over the edge of the Needle. She couldn't keep her mind off Logan, which didn't surprise her much. What did surprise her was how much she thought of the blonde - Deedra. She seemed really pleasant, which made it hard to turn her into the bad guy. Maybe, she reasoned, Deedra wasn't the bad guy. Maybe there was no bad guy. Maybe it had all been a series of events that led to a conclusion she found dissatisfying. Maybe it was phony sentimentality.
She knew it was more than that. Phony sentimentality didn't feel like a drill sergeant's boot on your neck and a knife in your already destroyed heart. There was only one thing that made a person feel like that, and Max wasn't sure if she was ready for it. She wasn't sure if Logan was ready for it yet either, but she was glad about that. At least he wasn't sure about it thanks to Deedra. That was a small consolation for her. It meant he wasn't in love with another woman, but it did mean he would continue on with his life with a blonde and maybe he would be ready for it. And she wouldn't be there. She wouldn't be there and another woman would.
Sometimes life wasn't fair.
Sometimes life was like snow. It buried you until you were too cold to feel anymore.
She rubbed her temples and tried not to think. She found it particularly hard. The dull throbbing in her chest had started again - something she hoped to rid herself of when she left Canada. It was a stubborn pain and she couldn't help but feel as if she deserved it somehow - deserved it for leaving, deserved it for all the lying. She wondered idly if there was something wrong with the old ticker and put a hand over her heart.
"Only an X5 could have this much mental anguish," she muttered to herself and dropped her hand in her lap.
She stared down at the city and wondered what sort of problems the rest of the inhabitants were dealing with. Some of them might have rivaled her own, even. She didn't know many people who listed a government agency as one of their issues.
She thought of her siblings. She wondered if Zack was with one of them, telling them that the bomb was going to go off and that they needed to get somewhere safe - somewhere very far away from their life. She wished she could apologize. She wished for a lot of things that she knew could never be true.
She pulled herself up from the edge and took a final look at the city before going back into the abandoned observation deck of the Space Needle. She made her way to the bottom and hopped on her motorcycle, a new idea fresh in her mind.
She needed Logan to explain his words.
Now.
The drive to Fogle Towers was quick and reckless. The jog from the parking garage to his doorstep was quick and filled with worry. Her biggest worry was that Deedra would still be at his apartment. It was 2AM.
She picked the lock and slipped inside. She listened closely and smiled when she heard the tap tap tap that meant only one thing.
She walked to the computer room and knocked on the doorframe. "Anybody home?"
He froze for a moment before wheeling the chair around so he could face her. "You came back."
"I had to."
"You hungry?"
"Not for leftovers."
"I can make something fresh."
She stepped away from the doorway and gestured for him to go first. She watched him wheel past her and allowed every thought to cloud her mind. Maybe if she were distracted she wouldn't admit the truth.
When they reached the kitchen, she took a seat at the butcher-block island and watched him silently. As he pulled some ham and Swiss cheese from the fridge, she saw that he had a bright blue bandage on his finger.
"Sorry about your finger, by the way," she said.
"Don't worry about it," he replied as he began making the sandwiches.
"I don't have it in me to do small talk right now," she told him honestly. "I'm so over small talk at this point. You know, I'd lie awake at night in that creaky house and think about how much damage small talk really does. It makes you back track. I hate back tracking."
"I do too," he said and placed the plate of sandwiches on the butcher-block island. He transferred to a seat across from her and crossed his arms. "I meant what I said before you left. I think you should know that."
She picked up one of the halves of her sandwich and began picking it apart, but didn't eat it. "That's… something. Do you like her?"
"I do," his answer was full of reluctance. He wanted to admit that she wasn't even close to comparing with Max, but he knew it wasn't the time. Not yet.
"I'm glad you found someone to keep you company," she said. She winced. "Sorry, I'm - I'm trivializing everything. I don't have any right."
"You don't," he said, "but… it's all right. I can deal."
She dropped her abused sandwich back onto the plate and dusted off the crumbs from her hands. She looked into his eyes and said, "You have no idea how many times I imagined coming back."
"Probably about as many as I imagined you coming back," he replied quietly.
Her throat was suddenly very dry again. She got up and got a glass then filled it with cold water from the tap. She took a long drink then set it on the island. She stood at the end of the butcher-block island, staring at what she had done to her sandwich. She wanted to laugh at the latest metaphor for her life but didn't. It wasn't the time.
She watched as Logan's hand came to rest on top of hers. It wasn't right. He wasn't hers anymore - not totally. She looked at him and swallowed the lump in her throat.
As they leaned into each other and their lips met, she didn't want to be right.