Author: Anna McLain
Fandom: Dark Angel
Spoilers: Tiny references to the first three episodes, but nothing major. This is really just a character study.
Feedback: Yes, please! Be blunt, I can take it!
Archive: Amber, yes. Everyone else, please ask first and let me know your site address--since I don't know where the Dark Angel fic repositories are.
Disclaimer: I don't own the characters herein and will never make money from this story.
Thank you all for your time!
~ "Have you ever been in love?" asked Original Cindy.
Cindy smiled sadly and shook her head. "No. If you have to think about it, Girl, the answer's no."~
Have I ever been in love? Max let the question echo in her mind.
No. Max sighed. So, what were those feelings that overwhelmed her three times a year? Love? Lust? Ardor? Heat? Fever? Was she just genetically preprogrammed to go weak in the knees and mushy for every loser spewing testosterone when her creators deemed it necessary? Was she doomed to seesaw between fire and ice until the day she died or did she have some choice? Was love even possible for her?
Max groaned, massaging her aching temples, and reclined against the top of the Space Needle. The chill of the metal seeped through her leather jacket and into her muscles, easing some of the tense knots in her shoulders. Genetically engineered and they left the tension and sore muscles. Figured.
Love. Why even bother thinking about it? As if her life weren't complex enough with Lydecker and his goons out for her blood as if she were a fox in a hunt. At times, she could almost hear the hounds baying a few steps behind her. She couldn't afford to be tied down, couldn't afford to trust anyone enough to tell them her past. Times were hard and you could never tell who would turn on you for a buck...or food.
Love, the breeze seemed to whisper around her. Love. The stars above twinkled, mocking her. Some stars twinkled blue, the blue of Logan's eyes. Logan. She could only wish his eyes would twinkle like that when he looked at her.
~ "We don't have that kind of relationship," he said, looking like he meant it.~
Yet, sometimes she swore he didn't mean that. And sometimes that didn't bother her.
The sounds of the city flowed far below her; a stream that burbled and murmured, from which she stood apart. It rose and fell around her and passed her with a life of its own. She let her eyelids fall half-closed. The city's voice was hypnotic, almost musical.
Music. A tender smile curved the corners of her generous lips. The breeze lifted her dark curls, brushing her cheeks with fingerlike tendrils in a soft caress. Like his fingers. She could still see the concern in his blue eyes, feel the heat from his palm on her forehead the last time she was sick, feel the tenderness in the almost imperceptible stroke of his fingertips along the skin of her cheeks as she dove headlong into exhausted sleep.
~ "I'm not going anywhere," he whispered.~
And she believed him.
Warmth spread through her body. Through half-closed eyes she saw the fog, softly creeping in to blanket the outskirts of the city, closing in on her, a comforter muting the music of the city until it became a distant, haunting song.
It was as comforting as Logan's presence, his strength, that night when she'd needed him. She let her eyes close, let the haunting music fill her soul.
He extended a hand to her in invitation. She took it willingly. He pulled her into the dance, their bodies melding perfectly. She was aware of the music inside and out, a feral growl of a song, ancient, slow and enticing. They whirled and moved together as the world around them faded far behind. She could feel the thrum of his pulse in his palm burning the small of her back, hear the drumbeat of his heart in her ear on his chest. She was wild, free, invincible, and she belonged.
She looked up into his blue eyes, easily matching his steps.
The image jarred her from her reverie. Would they ever dance? Possibly, if his therapy went well. Someday he might walk again. She frowned. She actually wanted to dance with him, wanted to feel the press of his muscles against hers, to be enveloped in the comforting scent and sensual feel of his skin.
A realization hit her hard enough to make her sit up with a start. He was the only man she really trusted, well, came close to trusting. Even Zach didn't have her trust anymore. It had been too long. Too much could have happened. She glanced at the small circle of city lights not obliterated by fog and suddenly felt cold, alone. She wished she were in Logan's apartment, listening to his political, superhero type prattle. As annoying as he was, she missed him.
Was that love? She wasn't sure. But, it might be a start.