DISCLAIMER: Dark Angel doesn't belong to me. Although Alec does, in my dreams.

A/N: To everyone who is about to be pissed off by this chapter, please don't. There are still a ton of things these two lovebirds need resolved before they can have a relationship…so I'm exploring that. Otherwise, this story would just be over after the sex, right? And we all know it never stops there.

CHAPTER 8

"The same passions in man and woman nonetheless differ in tempo; hence man and woman do not cease misunderstanding one another".

Friedrich Nietzsche, Beyond Good and Evil-

Max's eyes snapped open as sunlight touched her face lightly, warming her. She took a deep and measured breath. She felt languid and completely sated. Her eyes slipped to the window, noticing that the sun had already risen in the sky, peeking through the cracks of the blinds. This was the latest that she had ever woken up in the morning. She stretched, languorously, reveling in the tiny aches in her body. She was deliciously weary, but never more alive. Her small movements caused the man beside her to stir slightly in his sleep. Max stilled until he resettled into his slumber.

He should be exhausted, she thought with an amused smirk. Alec had kept her up all night. He had made love to her the whole night—wildly, passionately, gently, slowly—taking her to the heights of blinding pleasure over and over again. It wasn't until the sky was pink with the coming dawn that he finally fell into a deep sleep. She blushed slightly at the thought. She had to give Manticore some serious credit for developing their stamina. No one had ever kept up with her passionate nature before. And without heat, she hadn't thought she was capable of rousing that much passion. But with Alec, she had felt like she had been on the brink of breaking.

She turned her head to look at his sleeping form. He was lying sprawled on his stomach, his arm draped possessively over her waist, one leg tangled with hers.

He really was handsome. True, he was Manticore-made, which made his seeming physical perfection inconsequential to her. But today, she would admit it. She'd have to be blind not to appreciate the sheer masculine beauty of the planes and contours of his face and body. She saw the scratch marks forming welts on his back. She had marked him as hers, and it gave her a possessive sense of satisfaction. She knew that those marks would be gone by tonight, Transgenic healing and all, but she would take pleasure in knowing that he had been hers last night.

Max frowned slightly, as she caught herself thinking such maudlin thoughts. She blinked rapidly and almost groaned. Yep, reality was quickly settling in.

Suddenly, Alec's arm felt like a prison band, heavy and unyielding. She gingerly lifted his arm off of her, and slowly slid her leg from under his. Thanking his Manticore creators for not splicing shark DNA into his genetic code, she eased herself off of the bed.

She needed to leave before he woke up. She wasn't ready to deal with the morning after—she had too many questions herself that she had no answers for. She had a lot of sorting to do before she could possibly look him in the eye again.

You're a coward, Max, she berated herself. She knew that she was running away. Again. She was disgusted with herself. In less than 24 hours she had ruined two relationships with the two men that meant the most to her. And she still didn't really have any clear answers.

She had not planned last night. She had been swept away, head over her heels, and all that gooey love stuff. So now, she was running away from the aftermath of…well, the best sex of her life. She really couldn't hang around until Alec woke up. She wouldn't know what to say. Thank you, I had a really nice time? Yeah, that just didn't sound right.

She had just meant to clear the air between her and Alec. Call a truce, and then they could sort of start over. But now, it was a little too late for that. It was obvious to her that Alec cared about her. And God help her, she cared about him. But he hadn't really been…conclusive enough about it. She had desperately wanted to believe that she was special, and not "just some girl."

She sighed, yanking her shirt on. She realized belatedly that her jeans were no longer serviceable. She made a quick decision and opened one of Alec's drawers as quietly as she could. She grabbed one of his sweatpants—a red pair. Just as she was putting them on, she noticed a pink—baby pink—piece of cloth folded neatly among his clothes. Curiosity, because she was part cat, got the better of her. She pulled the offending piece of cloth out and realized with a sinking, aching heart that it was exactly what she had thought it was. Another woman's shirt. And it was baby pink for God's sakes! What kind of woman wore baby pink shirts?

She closed her eyes tightly, fighting back the jealousy that raged within her. Alec had told her last night that he never brought anyone back to his place. That she had been the only one. Well, this little piece of evidence just demonstrated one thing that she had already known: she couldn't trust him. She felt cheated. Hurt—unbelievably hurt. But Max had never been one to dwell on her pain, she just got mad. He had lied to her! That ass! That jerk!

"It's not what you think," his quiet voice broke through her raging thoughts.

She spun around quickly, masking her emotions with a fake smile. "You can't even begin to know what I'm thinking," she said cheerily through clenched teeth.

He stood up from the bed, and Max had to avert her eyes. She could feel a blush coming no matter how hard she stamped the feeling. The man sure had no problems with nudity. She frowned at him, and thankfully, he assessed the situation correctly and pulled a pair of boxers on.

"Max, let me explain," he said softly.

She smiled at him brightly, but her eyes were cold. "No, really, Alec. Don't. We're not even like that. You don't have to explain anything. Like I'm surprised you had another woman here." she said, her voice dripping with scorn.

She saw his jaw clench, his eyes narrow dangerously. "Exactly what are we, Max?"

Oh, he had to ask the question for which she had no answers. Keeping her face studiously blank, she shrugged.

He stalked angrily over to her, grabbing her arms in a bruising grip. "Was last night another mistake?" he seethed. "Because, sweetheart, you're real good at making them."

She pushed him away forcefully. "Was last night just a giant lie? 'Cuz you're real good at it," she snarled back angrily. "You almost had me going there." She threw the pink shirt at him.

He caught it just before it would have hit him in the face. "What the hell? You're not even letting me explain. This is Jade's shirt, and she—"

"I don't need to know who it belongs to!" she cut him off, her voice raised to almost a yell. She really was almost over the edge. Jade. Damn. She was another X5. A beautiful, vibrant, beautiful, laughing, beautiful, talented, beautiful, intelligent, and beautiful X5. Max felt sick to her stomach. How could I have thought that Alec had wanted me? Only me.

She calmed herself and forced herself to look him in the eye. "Like I said, we're not even like that, so spare me your lies." She spun around quickly to leave, before tears spilled.

"There's nothing between me and Jade." he said simply to her retreating back.

"And I'm supposed to just believe that?" she asked, not bothering to turn around and look at him.

"Yes."

She looked at him over her shoulder, this time unable to hide the tears that glistened in her eyes. "I don't trust you," she whispered sadly. "I can't trust you."

Alec sighed wearily. "Then there's nothing else I can say, is there?"

She shook her head and left, closing the door firmly behind her.

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Alec had little memory of what happened right after Max left. Time seemed to stand still. He just stood staring helplessly at the closed door, his hand still clutching Jade's shirt. It could have been a minute. It could have been twenty. All he knew was that he woke from his dazed spell when he felt a pain in his fist, and realized he had punched a hole through the wall. Damn it all to HELL!

He realized his breathing was shallow, labored. This was it. He was officially dying of heartbreak. He threw Jade's shirt ruthlessly into a corner, hearing the satisfying smack of it hitting a wall.

They say that it's better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all. Liars. He had everything in his arms last night. And today, he had nothing. It was worse than never having had her at all. Because now, he knew exactly what it was that he didn't have. Ignorance was bliss—those goddamned people got it right.

He clenched his fists, his fingernails digging into his palms. But he barely felt the physical pain. He was hurting so much more inside. How was it possible to go to heaven and fall straight into hell in the span of a few hours—over a damned baby pink shirt?

She didn't trust him. She couldn't trust him. He didn't know what the hell he was supposed to do next.

His knuckle was bleeding slightly from its contact with the wall, but Alec kept his fists clenched, held tightly against his sides. It was the only action that prevented him from tearing the whole room apart in anguish and rage.

He couldn't blame Max for not being able to trust him. Hell, hadn't he been the one who had "let" her infect Logan with the virus in the first place? (Which, he thought grimly, if he had stopped, might have been the best solution to this problem—he would never have had the chance to fall in love with Max.)

Hadn't he tried to kill her and Joshua to save his own ass?

Wasn't he the one who always screwed up, got shot-up, or got others in trouble because of his little schemes?

And of course, didn't he sleep with a different woman practically every night? The funny thing was, he slept with them to forget Max. Now, that he had Max, sleeping with them had been the reason he had lost her. The irony of it all wasn't lost on him. He wished he could go back and undo so much.

He laughed miserably. But that was the thing about time, you can't turn it back no matter how desperately you want to.

No, he couldn't blame her. He didn't deserve her. But, God, he wanted her. And no matter how many times she stomped on his heart, he still loved her. Maybe he had been designed to be a chump after all.