Max frowned as she perused the contents of her closet. Finding something wear was usually a very easy task for her - reach in, grab, wear - but that night she couldn't find a single outfit she liked. She felt Original Cindy and Kendra behind her. She could feel their grins and snickers hot on her back like shrapnel. They were trying to be supportive, she knew, but did they have to be so damn smug about it? Sure, they had been right all along, but that wasn't the point. The point was that she was having a clothing crisis.
"I say just go naked," Kendra suggested. "It'll save a lot of time when you get there and have your way with him."
Max rolled her eyes and dug deeper into the closet.
"It's too cold for naked," Original Cindy said. She grinned then added, "She should at least wear underwear."
"Yes, yes, you're both terribly clever," Max mumbled.
Kendra let out a laugh. "Aw, I think she's nervous."
"I am not nervous," Max replied smoothly. It was a lie, of course, but she thought she sounded very convincing.
"Why don't you borrow something from me?" Kendra offered.
"She's going on a date with Logan, not one of your hotboys," Cindy said. "She needs to look good not…"
"Extremely doable?" Kendra offered.
Max rubbed her temples, not believing she was actually hearing this conversation. To avoid having to hear the rest of the conversation - which had moved on to Kendra's latest encounter with Mr. Multiples - she grabbed the first things her hands landed on - a pair of black pants and a simple blue top. She headed into the bathroom, her hands over her ears, but her superior genetics kept that from helping. She still heard every word.
She closed the door behind her and set the change of clothes on top of the hamper.
She went over to the mirror and examined herself closely. Her face was more sallow and waxy than she remembered. She touched her cheek and wondered when her face had first begun to look so hollow. Did the face change when her eyes lost their spark? Or did the eyes follow everything else?
"Canada really did a number on you," she told her reflection quietly. She rolled her eyes. "You really did a number on yourself."
She pushed her hair behind her ears and turned on the cold water. After splashing a good portion of cold water on her face, she turned the water off and looked in the mirror again. She barely recognized the soggy woman in front of her.
She dried off and quickly changed her clothes, then took a deep breath and went back to her room. Original Cindy and Kendra were sitting on her bed, smiling.
"You look great," Kendra told her.
"Boo, you look better than great," Original Cindy said. "That boy won't be able to keep his hands off you."
Max smiled at them but wondered if they saw the same face that she had seen in the mirror.
"Thanks," she replied. "I better bounce."
After a few good-byes and good lucks from her friends, Max left the apartment, carefully wheeling her precious motorcycle along beside her.
She tried to think as little as possible as she roared down the street toward the little Italian market that Logan had asked her to stop at. He had been insistent on the perfect champagne and she had been insistent on picking it up. It was another one of her tricks to delay the inevitable - the inevitable what she didn't know. Part of her told her she was overreacting and another part told her she wasn't reacting enough. She didn't know what side to listen to anymore. It seemed like every bit of her was pulling her in a new direction - she was just waiting for the seams to burst.
The stop at the Italian market was quicker than she liked. When she had approached the counter, a man smiled at her and handed her a bottle of champagne and explained to her that Logan had called in advance. Of course Logan had called in advance. She should have planned on that.
With the champagne safely secured on her bike, she drove off in the direction of Logan's apartment. Much to her dismay, she got there quickly. She took the stairs instead of the elevator and told herself she was stupid for doing so. She didn't have anything to worry about.
She pushed open the door and stepped inside the apartment. More memories rushed at her, but she fought them away. She wasn't ready for memories - yet. She heard movement in the computer room and decided to sneak up on him.
She reached the doorway and stepped in, ready to yell "Boo" or something as equally surprising.
Instead, her eyes widened and she dropped the bottle of champagne. She barely registered the loud shatter and the expensive liquid that was currently soaking her shoes.
"Zack?"
A/N: Of course Zack would come back. He's Zack. If I do things like this to characters I like, can you imagine what I do to the ones I strongly dislike? Maimed and mentally tortured, mostly.