Disclaimer: Still don't own Dark Angel.

A/N: Huge, marzipan-y thanks to Shywr1ter for betaing, making Bling more Bling-like and patiently answering my obsessed questions.

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Bling had hoped that things between Max and Logan would normalize on their own, that they just might get over the hurt feelings, disturbed trust and estrangement Lydecker's photos had caused.

He should have known better. It would have been a difficult situation for any two people; for Max and Logan, who even under normal circumstances retreated in hurt mortification upon having their intimate emotions exposed, it was a strain with an unpredictable outcome.

Maybe everything would have developed differently if they both had been in their usual state, with careful banter and wordless comfort. But even in the days before the photos Max and Logan had drifted apart, separated by something far more serious than just their usual quarrels, which so often were nothing but the amusingly predictable expression of their mutually denied attraction.

But the sudden appearance of Max's brother, otherwise a reason for joy, had brought up issues that sooner or later would have arisen anyway between the former child soldier aiming for mere survival and the high-minded crusader dreaming of universal justice: Max's unquestioning loyalty to her family, her belief that she alone could understand her siblings, causing her to shut out Logan whom she so far had trusted with everything concerning Manticore. She left him behind in the Penthouse, irritated at her behavior, worrying about her well-being… and already with a trickle of doubt. And there was Logan with his high morals and his nagging need to bring down every killer, no matter if he was Max's brother, forcing him to betray her by contacting Lydecker.

Bling just wished that these topics would have come up under different circumstances, without the added complication of Lydecker's perverse manipulation. He wished that he'd never brought Logan these damned photos.

Likeon many evenings, Bling had checked the contact room on his way from work to Logan, and, as always, he opened the incoming mail, as Logan's bodyguard ensuring that Eyes Only's enemies didn't use this method to harm him.

He immediately recognized Max in the grim features of the young girl with the shaved head and that smear of blood on her mouth, as if she had been slapped. Her eyes were wide and empty, hardened prematurely by experiences that would have been hard to take even for someone much older.

AsBling flipped through the pictures with ever-growing compassion for Max, the quiet emptiness of the contact room suddenly became stifling, almost as if the colonel was still sitting there at the table.

Instead of just disappearing from their lives again as Logan had planned, Lydecker had turned the tables and now was manipulating Eyes Only with his sick games of psychological warfare. He had even managed to pull in Bling as well, making him the messenger for this simple yellow envelope with the power to destroy so much.

Another person maybe just would have let the photos disappear, never even mentioning their existence. Bling however, couldn't give this option more than a brief, rueful thought, wishing that things could be that easy. It wasn't his job to censor Logan's post, how devastating its content might be, to patronize him and never give him the opportunity to deal with this on his own. And even if he held back the photos this time, Lydecker would find other ways to contact Logan, would just send another envelope bringing Bling in the same dilemma of wanting to protect Logan from the truth.

The oppressive silence accompanied Bling in the car, clotting into foreboding dread on the way over to Fogle Towers. Without a doubt the shocking effect of the pictures would be bad enough on Logan… but what if Max ever got to see them? She would be confronted with the trauma of her childhood, faced with the idea that the man she had fooled so successfully before had now triumphed, even from the distance showing that she was nothing but the genetically enhanced killing machine he meant her to be.

Twenty minutes later Bling entered the quiet penthouse where he found Max curled up on the sofa, looking like a teenage girl in need of a hug. Somehow, with her wet hair and encased by the soft, red cotton of that bathrobe, she looked younger than her nine-year old self in the miniature combat gear. There was an odd vulnerability in the way she had turned away from Logan to stare out into the night almost yearningly, as if the velvety dark gave her something she couldn't find inside… as if the Penthouse had lost its comfort and warmth, it's function of an adopted sanctuary to which she could always turn for some quiet and peace.

Evenafter the strain of the last days, Bling would have expected to see Logan fussing over her, hovering close by ready to offer some soothing words or at least showing his empathy by a little, consoling gesture like putting a sandwich and a glass of milk beside her.

However, Logan sat apart, disinterestedly flipping through some art book and only occasionally glancing over to Max with a look of cool, distanced insecurity. This alone was enough to have Bling worried. He'd seen awkwardness between the two before, even annoyance or hot anger … but not this cool combination of distance and aversion, the otherwise so vibrant connection between them lost.

As he approached Logan in outward calm, Bling wished even more than before that he could just make Lydecker's envelope disappear. Instead he handed it wordlessly to Logan, hating himself for putting even more strain on both of them.

Then, after a last, hesitating gaze back to Logan, Bling left reluctantly, aware that he couldn't really change anything, couldn't just with a snap of his fingers restore the warm, sparkling atmosphere usually so characteristic for them.

But instead of driving home, Bling just sat in his car, wishing there was something he could do. He still was there when, after about 10 minutes of restless brooding, the familiar silhouette of Max on her motorcycle appeared from Fogle Towers' underground parking. Watching her disappear into the light drizzle, Bling tried to come up with some positive reason for why she left Logan so soon … but he didn't succeed.

Over the next few days he learned that his suspicion had been right. Logan was sulky and distracted, too immersed in his own gloomy world to react to his trainer's attempts to involve him into some kind of conversation. Max… was just absent.

Aware that he couldn't force things, Bling did what he always did with Logan: he stood back and observed, waiting for an opportunity to help, to offer his advice. Logan however acted as if nothing had happened. His pretence of normalcy would have been convincing – if there hadn't been the comparison to that other relaxed, quietly smiling Logan so often released by Max's presence.

So after several days Bling tried to approach the topic, tempting Logan with a casual remark while he had him on the therapy table. "I haven't seen Max lately. Is she okay?"

Knowing Logan's impressive talent in dodging uncomfortable issues, Bling's attempt came more from loyalty both towards Max and Logan and the growing urge to do something than from the expectation of making much of an impact.

He was right. As expected, all he got from Logan was a shrug, not making eye contact as he finished the last one of his curls. Finally, quickly slipping back into his chair to get away from Bling's unrelenting scrutiny, he offered an artificially casual "She must be busy."

Then he disappeared into the shower, leaving Bling behind trying to maintain his optimistic belief that with just a bit of time Max and Logan would get together again.

At week one after the pictures, he noted how Logan's usually overflowing fridge started to look both emptier and less interesting as the loss of his frequent dinner guest diminished his own appetite as well as his interest in the time-consuming task of hunting hard-to-find ingredients.

Fearing that Logan was falling back into the old habit of neglecting food in favor of work, Bling started to make sandwiches when he came over, much less sophisticated than those Logan usually produced. He put them wordlessly next to his boss who at least still had the grace to let his exaggerated glare at the mothering melt into in an absently sheepish "thanks" a moment later.

Sometimes Bling found the stale, half-eaten remains of a sandwich when he came by early in the morning before work, the plate pushed away carelessly by an exhausted Logan making a place for a quick nap on the desk.

At week two after the pictures, Logan asked him to do some legwork. Their usual easy-going working routine was gone as Logan awkwardly fixed on some spot on the wall beside him, seemingly afraid that looking at Bling would trigger the question of what happened to his personal cat burglar.

Of course Bling readily agreed, welcoming the opportunity to use his skills and training again as well as the feeling of thrill and physical exertion that came with this kind of job. But then the evening ended in a close call, only his fast reflexes saving him from a bullet in the head, thanks to a night guard whose scruples didn't prevent him from firing wildly without even calling out a warning first.

For the rest of the night, his nostalgia was forgotten. As he lay in bed brooding, waiting for the rush of adrenalin to subside, he tried to imagine what those missions must be like for Max, for whom a simple arrest could mean the end of her freedom… he wondered whether Logan truly appreciated the risks she was taking for him and his mission.

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At week three Bling's worries won and he gave up being subtle. Pulling the office chair closer, he sat down heavily next to Logan, who pretended to be far more occupied with his work than he'd ever been lately.

He opened the conversation without any kind of preamble, assuming from the way Logan's hands had stiffened over the keyboard that his friend knew what to expect anyway. "Look, Logan, I've seen the pictures, I can understand that you're shocked. I am too… but

what exactly happened between you and Max?"

For a moment it seemed as if Logan was avoiding an answer as he rubbed his long fingers roughly over his forehead, revealing a tiredness only partially stemming from lack of sleep. Then finally the strain of the last weeks poured out with one long breath. "She caught me with the pictures. She didn't say anything, wasn't even angry, just looked at me…" He hesitated, brow creased, his voice taking an absent note while he searched for the right words to describe what he'd seen in Max that day. "….as if she deserved all this… Then she walked away. And now…" a deep sigh, "she doesn't want to talk with me anymore."

"It's not her fault, Logan. Who knows how we might have reacted growing up like she did, being abused like that. You just have to give her some time." After all the time that had already passed, repeating his mantra seemed like nothing more but an empty promise … but still, Bling kept telling himself, if he could just keep Logan from giving up on Max, things might get better again.

Again, Logan's only answer was a shrug, in his subdued stubbornness refusing to put into words his overwhelming helplessness in dealing with the complicated mess the photos had brought. They had not only devastated the delicate beginnings of a his relationship with Max, but her hurt retreat had suddenly catapulted him back into the traumatizing isolation of the time when Eyes Only had been the compensation for everything he'd lost. He was caught between Lydecker's manipulative suggestions, still fresh and powerful, and desperately wanting Max back every time he found himself waiting for the familiar sounds of a picked lock, every morning he faced another day promising nothing but a never ending parade of crime and misery.

Bling had thought that getting Logan to acknowledge all this would have been a step forward, might have led them to discuss what could be done… Logan's answer, however, was a testimony of his defeated guilt and the fatalistic belief that the trust between him and Max had been irreparably damaged.

"I know. It's not her fault." With that he turned back to the screen, randomly opening windows to signal Bling that their conversation was over.

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Seeing that this issue wasn't going to be resolved from Logan's side, Bling started to think that talking to Max might be more effective. So one evening he went over to Crash, figuring it was a neutral place where she might not feel cornered by his presence. He discovered her on the far side of the room, drinking and laughing with her friends seemingly untroubled by anything going on beyond the noisy, carefree partying. And still, as soon as she'd spotted him, her amused smirk faded into an expression of hopeful seriousness. Her eyes, huge and childlike, didn't leave him as she excused herself from her friends to weave through the crowd into his direction, as if he was the one person who could magically fix things. Bling appreciated hear trust, knew that it meant a lot coming from Max… and so was even more afraid to disappoint her. All he could do was try to talk to them, hoping it might have some effect.

When he asked her if she would come for a walk she followed him out without a question, her face still wearing that expectant expression, now mingled with the nervous anxiety that her one remaining connection to Logan, might be bringing bad news. Bling wanted to hug her, to cover the distance between them and sooth the lost little girl threatening to break through her tough exterior in moments like this… but he knew that she wouldn't accept such an emotional gesture.

Once outside, they trailed along the dark street side by side, each deep in thought, yet connected by the common object of their ponderings. Somehow, Bling mused with a faint, ironic smirk, it was typically Logan to be so present even when he was absent.

It was she who opened the conversation after a few minutes, her tone light, yet just a bit too rushed to be genuine. "How is he?"

Still, Bling's answer matched her casual approach, leaving it to Max to steer their conversation. "Oh, you know Logan. Obsessive as usual and, as usual, he could do with more sleep and food and breaks …."

She gave him a sideways glance, marked both by relief and impatience at his vague answer. "You know what happened, right?"

It was more a resigned statement than a question and so Bling simply nodded. Observing Max from the corner of his eye, he waited for her to go on and offer some explanations, whether it was about her brother or Logan, or maybe even Manticore. But she remained silent, oddly serious, as they made their way through the Seattle night, as if it was of utmost importance to her to keep moving.

"Max…" Now, as he got to the point of their meeting, Bling's voice became more intense, more compassionate, willing Max to comprehend Logan in all his intricate contradictions. "You know how he is, he takes everything more seriously, thinks more deeply, has moral standards not even a saint could fulfill. It's what drives him, makes him feel responsible for saving the world and put Eyes Only before everything else… And with this, he's extra sensitive just because it's you."

Normally the fact that she didn't fight his allusion with a quick 'We're not like that', otherwise coming as reliable as a reflex, would have been a reason for celebrating. Now it was just another sign of how serious the situation was. She seemingly hadn't even heard him as she just continued to stare ahead, her voice hovering somewhere in between a sober statement of fact and remorse. "I know how he is. It's why I trust his judgment. If Logan thinks, I'm a killing-machine, a mindless soldier then I am. Who am I to argue him?"

It was the fatalistic acceptance of Logan's judgment that made Bling stop. It just didn't fit the Max he knew who never hesitated to stand up for her own opinion no matter whether it earned her Logan's annoyed snapping or disapproving glare. In this, however, she seemed willing to accept Logan's shocked first reaction as the ultimate verdict on her character, like she had no say, no right to fight his unspoken accusations or explain what had happened. Logan had simply confirmed what she'd thought of herself all along, he verified that horror and rejection were the only possible attitude towards someone like her.

As they stood facing each other in the hushed chill of a deserted backyard, Bling found himself searching for the right words to explain Logan's behavior, a confusing mix of morals and emotions rattled by the unexpected confrontation with the brutal reality of her childhood. He thought about telling her that she had only seen his immediate reaction, not all the doubt and self-doubt in the weeks after… but instead he just uttered the one thing that really mattered. "It's not your fault Max…. and Logan knows that."

Hearing his voice again, warm with compassion and understanding, Max gazed up from her pensive inspection of an oily puddle, again displaying that vulnerable wish to believe in Bling and his knowledge of Logan.

It were rare moments like this, when her usual toughness dissolved into that childlike look, that made Bling really realize what Max had been going through, all the opportunities she'd missed. She had been born into the barbaric experiment of sick minds, threatened with brutal treatment if she didn't comply with her orders and had grown up with the continuing lesson that a soldier's life was worth nothing at all and. It wasn't fair.

With a quick step covering the distance between them, Bling reached out to Max, softly taking her by her shoulders. His hands seemed almost violently huge on her petite frame. Then, as she didn't fight his actions, he pulled her into a hug, carefully embracing her as if she could break.

She still didn't react, just leaned against him with the limp passivity of a rag doll. It was an apathetic weariness that was oddly unsettling from someone normally bouncing with energy, always active, never resting, keeping the thoughts and loneliness from catching up.

They stood in silence for another moment until Bling spoke again, his serene voice offering his empathy. "I don't like seeing either of you like this."

At that she broke their embrace to with a rough movement of her shoulders, shaking of his comforting warmth for the familiar consolation of solitude. Already retreating, she looked back to him over one shoulder, her voice crisp and clear in the chilly air. "Me neither, Bling." Her gaze lingered on, calmly regarding him with the aching regret of leaving behind everybody reminding her of Logan. "Me neither."

Then, before he could reply, she turned and slowly walked away, a dark, forlorn figure in the cutting light of the flickering lanterns.

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