Summary: Logan's thoughts about becoming something he had been taught to despise.
Disclaimer: I do not own Logan's Run.
Her lips were warm. High contrast to the cold radiating off the walls of the ice cave as Box carved their portrait. In fact, her whole body was warm. Yet even now, he barely thought of howthe woman felt as she wasposed in his arms. His mind was on other things. People mostly. Everyone he terminated. Every friend he saw vaporize in Carousel. Every face that he thought to be long forgotten lay just behind his eyes. He could see them. Each and every one begging for him to help.
He didn't though. The thought never even crossed his mind. Then she came. The woman in his arms. She saw things differently than he. In her mind, he was a killer. Yet for some reason, she was unafraid of him. He supposed that it was because she was brought up in a society where runners got terminated daily. No doubt she had seen it happen. She was special, he knew it since the moment he saw her and from that moment, he too became infected. He, a sandman. Everything he stood for started to slip away. Everything that he thought mattered was now dust to him.
When had he turned? He could only guess, after all it happened so gradually. Maybe he mused, all it took was a feeling he hadn't ever known. A feeling that he now felt for her. He would do anything for her, just to keep her safe. He would even defect. He would shoot at his friends.
If it made her happy, he would run.