The last time he saw her, he was walking out of her life. It was two years ago, after Asha died, and Logan retreated into his "Fortress of Solitude" to plan some hair-brained scheme regarding some nerdy revenge. He had asked for her help, doing the legwork on the multi-part scheme, and she had obliged.

That was what pissed him off the most. How could she do this for him after Asha died trying to do the very same thing, for him? Was there no mountain too high? Did she think she was invincible just because she was a genetically-engineered soldier? Did he?

He had confronted her, and she had asked him to help her with this mission, and he had refused. Max, if you do this, he had begun, then you're not the girl I thought you were.

She had told him to leave.

And he had.

He lived on the road, doing odd jobs. He had spent the greatest amount of time in California, which was where he was when she caught up to him.

And now, here she was in California, nearly crying into her beer, alone at the bar and ignoring all the men who tried to pick up on her. She hadn't seen his approach, which was fine – it gave him time to assess their two years apart.

By the ragged look of her, she'd just been through hell. Probably Logan.

She had cut her hair, which was still dark, but now rested just below her shoulders. And she looked tired with lack of energy and nearly sunken eyes. She had a couple of fading scars on her hands, and once he got closer, he saw another on the side of her neck.

She must have smelled him, because she abruptly turned to face him.

"Max," he hummed deeply. "To what do I owe the honor?"

Max stood up, still over a foot shorter than him. "Can we go somewhere?"

Back at his motel, they sat side by side on the bed, not really sure where to begin.

"You were right," she started. "It was too dangerous."

The look on her face conveyed loss. "Who was it?"

She looked away from him, trying to push back the memory while he sought eye-to-eye contact, but when the first tear welled at her bottom lashes, she realized she couldn't hold back anymore. "I don't know why it happened," she said. "She shouldn't have even been there."

"Original Cindy?"

She nodded. "This is why you said those things, isn't it?"

"You know I wouldn't be able to take it if I lost you, Maxie."

Max looked up, leaned toward him, and pressed her penitent lips to his, begging for forgiveness.