Disclaimer: TV show not mine, and to be honest, I don't really want it.
Author's Note: Thank you, BBWW people for being so supportive. I'm trying to churn these out as fast as I can, hence the reason that the chapters have been so short.
Setting: The Streets of Seattle. Dusk. How the hell did I go from Noon to Dusk, you ask? When you figure it out, let me know.
Max sped through the streets of Sector Five, her hair whipping at her face, Ninja purring beneath her. It was times like these that she would actually allow herself to feel; when she was all alone with no chance of her thoughts being interrupted. All of the messy emotions she had to bury could surface now to be dealt with and discarded. And lately, the emotions all seemed to have a common source: Logan.
Logan was a constant source of joy, warmth, pain, confusion, and ache. But lately, all she'd been able to get from him was hurt and sharp jabs of icy cold. Max's eyes began to sting, and it had nothing to do with the Seattle smog they encountered at the speed the bike was currently moving.
It was the memories that brought the excess moisture to her eyes. She refused to refer to them as "tears," even in her mind. The memory of his warm smile from across the table as she shared her blood with him. The memory of how his body felt on the bike as she clung to him, trying to concentrate on his driving techniques as they sped through the city on the Ninja. The closeness of their lips as he stood before her. And then there was the memory from outside his uncle's cabin, and that oh-so-sweet...
"Stop it," Max silently commanded herself. She blinked the memories away, only to have them be replaced by the Other ones, the ones she felt trapped in, because they weren't really memories: they were realities. Seeing the ambulance outside Fogle Towers and the loaded gun on Logan's death had nearly caused her to to hyperventilate. His screening her calls sent pangs through her. Each time he had kicked her out of his apartment was like a fresh blow to her already broken heart.
But it was his collaboration with Vertes that had cut her the most. The fact that he had knowingly allowed one of her tormentors to operate in Seattle, that he had worked with the same woman who had once taken a circular saw to Max's shin, who had performed an "autopsy" on Jack while he was still alive, made it entirely too clear to Max that she would never come first, not as long as he was in a wheelchair, not as long as there were downtrodden to save. Logan's harsh, bitter question; "Is it easier for you if I'm in the chair?" had made her feel like all of the oxygen in her lungs had turned into ice; sending shock waves of cold pain throughout her, making it difficult to breathe. Didn't he understand what his relapse meant to her? It was another failure on her part: further evidence that she could never be his salvation, not the way he had become hers.
She had loved that her act of affection that day in the hospital had done something to help him heal. She had basked in his warm gaze as they once again repeated the intimate act of sharing blood. Well, she had basked up until the point of passing out, that is. How could he believe for a second that it was easier if he was in a wheelchair? The walls he built up around himself became insurmountable, even for a transgenic, yet he continued to deliver blows to hers, weakening them nearly to the brink of collapse.
But Max had decided to rebuild and reinforce her walls once more. She would ignore every temptation to once again taste his lips; refuse the voice in the back of her mind that begged her to cuddle up close to him when ever she saw him. When seizures hit, she would refrain from hauling ass to the sanctuary of the Penthouse and his soothing presence, even if it meant once again enduring the painful spasms on the cold hardness of the bathroom floor. She would not make the first move. Not until he had gotten over himself long enough to realize that he was killing her.
Max slowed as she pulled up to the Sector Nine Checkpoint, fishing out her Sector Pass. "Jam Pony Messenger!" She waved it at the overhead guard. He nodded, indicating that she could pass. Max gunned the engine, and blazed through into the sector beyond.
She was back to normal now, no emotions in sight as she swung into the Fogle Towers Parking Complex. The only stray thought in her head was of what she would do to Logan if he was ungrateful when she delivered the files he'd had her swipe from the Police Department. Well, that and "I'm Hungry."