Disclaimer: Dark Angel is not mine. Neither is Buffy the Vampire Slayer, to whom I credit my inspiration for this chapter. Nor is Myspace, or the band Lillix.

A/N: I'm sorry if my description of the arrangement of Logan's furniture does not match that of the show, but it's my story, so too bad. To all who are a fan of the whole "Seizures-Making-Max-Weak" thing, I'm sorry, but the first person to review the previous chapter did not share your views, and to be perfectly honest, neither do I. Oh, and if you're really into this story, listen to "Sweet Temptation" by Lillix as you read. You can find the song on their Myspace profile.

Setting: Logan's penthouse

Max stumbled back as multiple shock waves shot through her, on after the other. Her vision was impaired by the yellow-rimmed white lights that exploded over her pupils. She grappled for anything to steady herself, and found herself flipping backwards over Logan's sofa.

How did I end up in the living room? She wondered as she struggled to stop herself mid-flip. To her own surprise, she produced enough force to not only upright herself, but actually ended up flinging herself forward.

What is up with these seizures? Floated through her mind as she crashed face first against the floor. She heard a Voice call out her name, and then felt something crash onto the floor next to her. Then she was being dragged on the floor towards the Voice, and she was being twisted so that her face was now pointed towards the blurry white thing that she assumed to be the ceiling. She squeezed her eyes shut in an attempt to block out the light and allow her pupils time to reset themselves.

Now her mouth was being forced open, and something solid that she assumed to be tryptophan was shoved in. She was swallowing the pills when a liquid was suddenly dumped into her mouth. She tried to speak; to protest, when the liquid went down her throat. Most of it went down her esophagus, but some surpassed her epiglottis and trickled down her larynx, choking her. She coughed and sputtered and flared her arms to push the arms that restrained her away. Her legs kicked out and connected with something. She heard a crash, and the Voice muttered curses under it's breath, and pulled her in closer, tighter.

When the seizures lessened enough, Max finally ventured to open her eyes. Her vision was not perfect, but it was not nearly as bad as it had been. A few long blinks later, and she was able to clear away most of the blurriness. The Voice, obviously, had been Logan, who had apparently thrown himself out of his chair to sit on the floor, leaning against the back of the sofa. He was holding her head in his lap, a bottle of pills and a glass of milk next to them on the floor.

"Hey," She tried to smile up at him, and ended up with a sort of a grimace, hoping that her eyes, at least, conveyed her gratitude.

"Hey," He did not return it, but instead traced her jawline with the backs of two fingers. His eyes flitted momentarily to something ahead of them that she could not see, and then returned to meet her. After a second, Max figured it out.

"What- What did I kick?" Her voice was shaky more out of worry that he was angry than the seizures. He gave her an obviously forced smile.

"Don't worry about it," His voice was nonchalant, but his eyes betrayed him.

"You are," Max pointed out. "Why don't you just tell me?" Logan sighed and pulled himself farther under her still racked-by-tremors body so that she was in a position so that she could see her feet.

One of them was embedded in the wall.

"Oh." Max shut her eyes and dropped her head back onto Logan's lap. He moved himself back to lean against the sofa. Max screwed her eyelids tight with concentration, then suddenly her body went taught and she violently reclaimed her foot from the wall. For a moment, her leg remained bent, her knee up by her chest, as if she was frozen in shock, then dropped down next to the other one.

A wave of shakes rippled through her, then then subsided, and she lay still. Her stillness frightened Logan. He grabbed her by her shoulders and hauled her up so that her neck and the base of her head rested on his shoulders, her back against his chest. Her eyes flew open as he squeezed her waist and murmured her name into her ear. He'd known that if she was conscious enough to hear and feel him, to be aware of the intimacy of their positioning, she'd be freaked out enough to show it. Every muscle in her body tensed, and she turn to look at him, confused.

"So you are awake," Logan's voice and expression conveyed both his amusement and his relief.

"Yeah," Max replied. "I think those pills are starting to kick in." To prove it, she rolled off of him –much to his disappointment-- and into a squatting position. Then she braced herself between the wall and the sofa, and stood shakily. She clutched the sofa for a bit as her body adjusted to supporting itself again. Then she straightened, and extended a hand to Logan.

Logan was torn between damaging his pride by accepting her help, or rejecting it and risking her leaving him there, hurt. Staring into her eyes, Logan considered both options for all of a second, before taking her hand. She closed her other hand over his to get a better grip, and in one smooth motion, with a strength that amazed him, pulled him upright and swung him into his chair. Wordlessly, she flashed him a small smile of gratitude, picked up the milk glass and pill bottle from the floor, and turned to him.

"Thank you," she said quietly, almost at a whisper. Then, before he could reply, she swooped down.

And kissed him.

A/N: Muah ha ha ha ha ha ha. That's what you get for completely ignoring the previous chapter. Now I've resorted to threatening my reviewers: Review or this cliffhanger will mark the end of the "Harsh" Triliogy. Which will not even make it to trilogyhood. It will despair and die here. Muah ha ha ha. Ha ha ha. Ha.