A/N: Hooray! I signed up for my classes today. I'm a comparative literature major, in case you were wondering (which you probably weren't). Also - I know the cameras grossed you out, but, you know, the guy is evil. Seriously, though, sorry if I offended anyone.

Chapter Fourteen: Love and Guilt

The slamming of the door ripped through the heavy silence of the hotel room, and the walls trembled in response. An innocent vase of flowers, despite having harmed no one during the length of its brief, unspectacular existence, fell to its ultimate demise from where it had been precariously perched on the dresser all morning. It shattered, and the remaining occupants of the hotel room ignored the noise just as they wished they could ignore their current situation.

It had been a brief and terrible conversation. He had turned to her, demanding an explanation, and so she gave him one. She told him her name was not Grazia de Mayo. Her name was Max. The de Mayo family was the ruling organized crime family in the province formally known as British Columbia (currently without an official name due to the election scandal of 2020). It was a name that could get anyone anywhere, and she had made it her own. He'd asked her then if she loved him. Calmly, gently, she replied that she did not, and the next instant William Lucas-Patterson III was storming out the door.

For the two bystanders, it had been an uncomfortable few minutes. Alec, uncharacteristically silent, had apparently noticed for the first time that he was wearing shoes, for he suddenly appeared to find them absolutely fascinating – so much so, that he couldn't take his eyes off them. Logan, on the other hand, had nowhere else to look. He watched the proceedings as any man would whose future depends on the words being said. She did not love Will, because she loved Logan. That much was clear, and while it sent a thrill through Logan so keen that he couldn't have spoken if he wanted to, it was obvious, and quite reasonably so, that Max was not quite as happy.

Even after Will's furious exit, Logan still could not take his eyes off of her. She moved to the window, standing with one hand placed calmly upon its cool surface. He could see her reflection in the glass, could see each shining tear as it dropped from her eyes. She would not turn around. She would not show her weakness. She would not show that which had been eating away at her for so long. He tried to move toward her, but her shoulders tensed, and he didn't take another step.

From across the room, Alec cleared his throat. "I think I'll just go and keep an eye on Will. Daddy dearest probably knows you're registered here, so we might want to think about moving on."

Max nodded, but she didn't turn. She kept her eyes locked on some point on the horizon, and it was almost as if pain was emanating from her. She ached and Logan ached right along with her. She tensed up again when Alec left the room, but, this time, Logan approached her anyway. He didn't try to touch her, afraid that it would only remind her of why she felt so guilty. He watched the city below them as it teemed with life, and he didn't try to talk. He merely stood beside her, offerering his silent support. If she wanted comfort, he was there. It was all he could offer. He waited. After all, he'd become an expert at waiting.

She appeared to be watching the street with interest. People-watching was a hobby of hers, he remembered. She liked to climb up as high as she could and smile down on the crowds below. It was her way of dealing with stress – removing herself from the situation and concentrating on others. She liked to think about the people she watched, about their problems, their lives, and how lucky they were to be "normal," even if they didn't realize it themselves. She liked to pretend she was one of them.

"Well, this isn't quite the weekend you had in mind," she finally whispered, her bitter little laugh belying the flippancy of her words.

It was all the invitation he needed. Slowly, he pulled her into his arms, waiting for her to pull away, but she didn't refuse the gesture of comfort. She hugged him tightly, inhaling deeply as she buried her face in her shoulder. Yes, this was where she belonged. He knew it, she knew it, and now even William Lucas-Patterson III knew it. Well, actually, Max had never mentioned Logan in the conversation, but Will would have to be an idiot not to suspect something. Hadn't everyone who'd ever seen the two of them together suspected it? They'd alluded to the attraction, the connection, long before Logan had even allowed himself to confront it.

"I'm a horrible person," Max muttered as she pulled away.

"No," Logan insisted, catching her arm before she could fully disconnect from him, and bringing her back to face him. She refused to meet his eyes, as she spoke, and the bitterness in her voice was heartbreaking. God, she was still thinking that way. She still thought she was some kind of monster. Did she see the word POISON written across her forehead when she looked into a mirror? He didn't understand. He couldn't understand. How could she not see what he saw? How could she not see what Alec, and Joshua, and Original Cindy saw when they looked at her?

"Well, either I cheated on you with him, or I cheated on him with you, so, either way, I'm not really coming out smelling like roses here," she practically spat.

"It's a little more complicated then that," Logan protested, but knew that his words fell on deaf ears. She was already moving on to her next point.

"I was sleeping with him because… because he had money, and I needed to get out of Canada, and I liked the attention…"

"And you needed to take care of your family," Logan added, ignoring her utter vehemence, and trying to talk to her rationally. "You did what you felt you had to do. You told me that yourself. I know, you couldn't tell him that, because that would have involved telling him more about your past than you're willing, but… he'll get over it. He's young and rich, and this is what happens to guys who are young and rich. Hell, I went through it once or twice. He'll probably go through it at least once more in his life. His friends could probably give him pointers. I could give him pointers. I mean, Max, I married a woman who only wanted my money, which, speaking of horrible people…" he trailed off when Max rewarded him with a smile and a short, genuine laugh. Well, at least that had worked.

"Max…" he said calmly, "If you were a horrible person, you would have married him when he asked you to, and you would not have felt any remorse today." Gently, he cupped her face in his hand and tipped her face up so he could look into her eyes. Though the paths her tears had followed were still shiny, and somewhat pink, her eyes were dry, and she smiled up at him. Whatever he had been thinking in that moment, whatever comforting thing he would have said to her next, it was lost in a pleasant haze when Max reached up to him, bringing her lips up to his. She kissed him slowly, deeply, meaningfully, and when she pulled away, he could have sworn his heart stopped. She really was worth every minute of trouble.

"When this is over," she said quietly, her eyes falling to their clasped hands, and smiling almost shyly, "Think I can hitch a ride back up to Seattle with you?"

"I think that could be arranged," he smiled, ignoring the giddy feeling that momentarily clouded his senses.

"Okay," she breathed, her attitude instantly changing from sentimental to soldier, "grab your stuff and let's get out of here."

TBC...