Now
As he maneuvered the car through the slick and grungy streets of Seattle, Logan kept his eyes mostly on the road, and went about their conversation as if he hadn't just blown up a building, and her CO with it.
"…Pasta tricolore, with a nice pre-pulse merlot…" he said, and Max paled in her seat, sick to her stomach over the events of the night. Pasta tricolore was a dish he equated with romance, which meant he likely wanted to celebrate the night's victory, getting himself off with her genetically-enhanced body.
But the thought of touching his extremities tonight filled Max with a quiet homicidal rage, no matter how Zack's adherence to 'whatever it takes' played through her mind. She wasn't even sure if the mission could continue without Zack.
"…glad we didn't have a mole," Logan continued, reaching over the center console, in which sat the nonchalantly discarded detonator, for her hand. He squeezed it and looked over to her. "Really glad." He smiled sweetly. Sickeningly.
She schooled her features and forced out, "and if there was, like you said, they're dead now."
They sat in silence for a minute.
"So you want Merlot or Chianti tonight?"
Max bit the inside of her cheek. "Actually, I'm feeling kinda punk. Can we raincheck?"
"You okay?"
"Just tired – you know I haven't been sleeping the past few nights." Lie. She barely slept at all. An hour or two a night, sometimes more if she'd been very active. "Think you can drop me off at home?"
"Sure."
Less than fifteen minutes later, Logan pulled up next to her apartment building. "I'll call you tomorrow. Feel better." He leaned over and kissed her.
3 months ago
In his car, in the rain, right outside her apartment, and right after a mission gone horribly right (to her dismay, because it meant some criminals had been apprehended, but at the expense of innocent people Logan deemed 'collateral damage'), Logan had stared at her, lips slightly parted, and she knew he was going to kiss her. Tried to prepare herself mentally for it, even. But it had been awkward.
Yes, she'd been a great actor that night, letting him set the pace, mirroring his technique; but it was still awkward. His lips misfit hers, and were dry. He tried to slip his tongue into her mouth, which her whole body wanted to reject, but she opened her mouth anyway. The man was not a great kisser.
"I'll see you later," she'd blurted out, panicked, and exited the car to race up to the safety of her apartment building.
Logan took off after Max had crossed the street, and just as he turned off her street, Max turned the other direction to go meet Zack atop the Space Needle.
They'd made huge strides in the past couple of months, and everything was going to plan. Until Max complained about the kiss.
"It was like explaining a calculus problem against a gaping fish mouth. And besides that, he doesn't care who gets hurt in his crusade for justice. He's insufferable!"
Zack let her vent for exactly one minute before shoving her right back into place. "Max, listen to me very carefully. You will go to his place. Tonight. And you will make it count. Everything we are working for is riding on this. If you don't do whatever it takes, we're going to lose him, and we can't afford to lose him. We need more intel before we eradicate him. The Director thinks there are some other players." He paused, putting both hands on her shoulders. "So you go back there, and imagine. Pretend he's your boyfriend, or your husband. I don't care how – just make him believe. Do you understand me?"
"Yes, sir," Max replied.
And she did make it count. She raced across town to his penthouse, let herself in, and put on an exasperated show.
"I was confused before," she began, crossing the distance between them. "But I'm not confused anymore." She pressed her lips to his, imagining full lips where his were lacking, imagining a minty fresh taste where his was tinged with wine, imagining a strong sexy man as she laced her fingers in his hair and pulled him against her.
It worked.
Now
Max jumped out of his car and waited for him to begin driving before crossing the street. Everything was FUBAR. Zack was dead, she was sure of it – felt it in her bones. But just to verify, she pulled her cell phone out and dialed his number. If it rang, then he was alive. If not…
She had the answer the second the call didn't go through.
She dialed another number, heard the voice on the other line indicate 'wrong number,' waited for the beep, and punched in the code signifying distress.
An unmarked black van arrived a few minutes later, and several men in black clothes and black masks muscled her into the van, absconding into the night.
The debriefing and testing processes were fairly quick, even given how long she was under, everything she'd done, and what had happened to Zack.
Director Lydecker informed her that the 'video footage' of what Logan determined was her 'recapture' had been uploaded to Cale's informant net the same night of her exfil, that he had found the footage two days later, and that their sources indicate her recapture seemed to have lit a proverbial fire under his ass about Manticore. Cale now 'has a hard-on for Manticore's destruction,' but that right now, the only thing keeping him from acting on it was the idea that Max was somehow still alive.
Max wanted to apologize for aborting the mission, but what was she supposed to do with no handler?
Lydecker levelled her with a protective stare. "You followed protocol, soldier. You did exactly what was expected. Knowing Cale is still targeting us, I have to ask. Do you think your cover was blown? Is the mission salvageable?"
"No, sir. Cale believes I was recaptured. If he thought I was dead, there'd already be a fire at our door." Max chose her words carefully as she thought about going back under – going back to this monstrosity of a man. Did she really want to go back? What was she willing to sacrifice for her country?
"And what of the mission?" Lydecker asked. He was human, and he understood the psychology of what he was asking of his soldiers. He was giving her an out if she wanted to take it. That was not something any of her unit mates, or any of the other troops for that matter, saw very often. She appreciated his concern.
She straightened up. "The mission is salvageable, sir." But I want to be the one to kill him, she added mentally, her eyes narrowing at the thought.
The director nodded resolutely. "There is a soldier returning from a solo. The Accelerator – he's very good. I want him on this with you."
"Yes, sir."
"We'll get this mission back on track in a couple of weeks. For now, you are dismissed."
"Sir." Max left his office.