shippers.
WARNING: This is a Alec loves Max piece but it isn't
pretty.
Category: Angst
Rating: R for disturbing subject matter not graphic.
Summary: Alec sacrifices everything for Max
Disclaimer: The characters of Max,Alec and Logan and
Dark Angel are not mine. No money is being made. No
infringement intended.
AN: This piece came from a deep dark place and
hopefully it will go back there when I'm done.
Feedback: I would love to hear from... well anyone. I
don't even know if I'm posting this right. I hate what
I did to the characters in this piece, but the idea
just wouldn't leave me. Let me know what you think
Rhasa4@yahoo.com
To Love
By Rhasa
"So how'd it go?"
"I don't want to talk about it."
"Okay."
I let it go. I could see she was upset. There was no
way she was going to open up to me and I'm not sure
that I really wanted her to. Well, no, that's not
entirely true. Of course I wanted her to open up to
me. I wanted her to bare her soul to me but not if it
contained any thoughts of Logan.
I still don't understand just what it is about her.
What are the qualities that make her so different to
any other woman I have ever known. That in and of
itself is really a ridiculous thought. Most of the
women I have known have had certain qualities that
would make a normal man's head spin - but then again I
am not a normal man. I've had other breeding partners.
Before Max came I had been with half a dozen X5's. But
there is something about her... I used to think that
it was her sense of justice, her individuality her
desire to be free, owned by no man. But that's not
really it.
They say she is perfect. She is special. She has
something that They desire. Something invaluable,
highly prized. the only thing I can think of is her
passion. No one else from inside or outside of
Manticore has passion like Max. And that passion comes
in so many forms. She has a passion for justice, she
likes to make the bad guys pay - big time- as she
would say - but it's a form of passion. She has a
passion for the weak, the hurt, vulnerable, outsiders
- Joshua is proof enough of that, but the passion she
has for those she's close to is something else
altogether.
I never even considered that I would have entered her
thoughts when I was going through my own private
"Rachel-hell", but somehow I did. She cared. She cared
about how I was feeling, what I was going through. She
didn't save my ass to prove a point, to make me
indebted to her, and believe me I have come across a
few individuals who have had that agenda in mind in
their dealings with me in the past - she saved my butt
because she could see how much pain I was in. She did
it just for me. To make me feel better. For my sake.
No one has ever done anything for me for just my sake
ever before. She has this passion for her friends that
is truly unique. But her passion for Logan is
something else entirely.
The way she looks at him...
I wish she would look at me that way. To be the focus
of her universe is to be in a world all your own. Does
that schmuck know how lucky he is? I guess he does,
Asha told me that he never gave up on her; that he was
devastated by her apparent death but still he never
gave up hope...
Talk about dedication.
How pathetic.
But then I can't talk.
I can see what he sees in her.
I would lay down my life for her.
I can't help it. Somehow, and I'm still trying to
figure out how exactly, she's gotten so far under my
skin, so deep inside that I can't seem to let the
thought of her go. I don't know if we belong together,
but I sure as hell want her like I have never wanted
another woman in my life before. And I'm not just
talking about sex here either - yeah aint' that a
surprise. I'm talking about... hell I don't know. I
want her approval. I want her to be proud of me. I
want her to think of me and smile, I want her to hold
me and somehow fill that hole inside of me that I have
only known existed since my escape from Manticore -
that emptiness, that loneliness, that void... I know
Max's touch could fill that.
But who am I kidding. That's never going to happen.
Not in this lifetime, pal. All her thoughts, all her
smiles, her hugs, if she could hug him, are for Logan.
Logan is the centre of her universe. Not me.
I'm going crazy thinking of all this stuff. I need a
drink. Several drinks. Who knows perhaps I'll run into
Asha - she's no Max but I'll guess she'll do. I feel
sorry for her. I figure she feels the same way about
Logan as I do about Max. Unrequited love is a bitch.
Maybe if I fuck Asha's brains out, I'll forget about
Max for an hour or so.
Doubt it.
I could bury myself deep inside her and pray that I
would be burying my soul. Who knows I might even find
the experience pleasurable, although sex has been all
but pleasurable since I was assigned as a breeding
partner to Max Guevera.
Before meeting Max, no X5 had refused me. Hell, since
meeting Max no X5 or civilian has refused me if I have
really tried. I guess if there was all that pseudo
psycho bullshit that used to pass for pre pulse
therapy around then theories would abound that I'm
only infatuated with Max, I only want her badly,
because I know I can't have her.
And maybe they'd be right. Part of me hopes they'd be
right. I hope that someone will explain this little
situation I seem to have gotten myself into. Maybe
there's a cure. I thought for a short time that
Rachel, back from the dead, could possibly be a cure.
I had loved Rachel once. In a lot of ways, Max reminds
me of Rachel. hell, wouldn't a shrink have a field day
with that little revelation. There are the physical
similarities of course, okay so not much of a physical
similarity - dark hair, beautiful face, deep
mysterious eyes... But there are other things, subtle
things, mannerisms that others would have not
catalogued and referenced that are only known to me.
They share some of those. Maybe it's the familiarity
that makes me so smitten with Max. No, Max could never
be someone you could become entirely familiar with.
She's an enigma.
Oh god, deliver me.
I wish there was a god. Then she would really be an
angel. A dark mysterious angel...
To be revered and never to be touched.
Untouchable Max. Well she was within arms reach for a
moment there. Ten hours may not seem like much to the
average Joe but to me it would have been enough. I
couldn't believe it when I worked out that they hadn't
consummated their relationship within that time frame
much less in the year they had known each other before
her resurrection from the dead at Manticore. What the
hell were they waiting for. I swear if I was Logan I
would have taken her right there on the cold
floorboards of his apartment in the first five
minutes. Damn gossamer. I would have then taken her
every other place I could have imagined given a ten
hour time frame. What such a blessing would have done
to my soul. The act of loving her would have
transpired the mere physical release.
But somehow Logan and Max screwed it up - again. Which
makes me wonder if they really do want to get
together. I mean anyone else in their right mind would
have forgone the foreplay. What are they trying to
prove to one another? Are they scared of the real
thing? Have they made the not having one another so
big a deal that to actually have one another would
mean only disappointment to them??? What is it with
those two??
I may not understand their needs but I respect them. I
gave them some privacy in the last few minutes they
could hang on to one another. Not much good it did
them though.
It was a few hours later that I found Max sitting in
an old Chevrolet crying her eyes out.
"So how'd it go?"
"I don't want to talk about it."
"Okay."
I let it go. I could see she was upset. There was no
way she was going to open up to me and I'm not sure
that I really wanted her to. Well, no, that's not
entirely true. Of course I wanted her to open up to
me. I wanted her to bare her soul to me but not if her
confessions contained any thoughts of Logan.
I wasn't surprised that she kept me at arm's length.
It's not like we've ever been close - despite how much
I would like us to be. But I had to wonder, did she
need me, when a few days later she walked into Jam
Pony looking like she had done nothing but sob her
eyes out for the past few days.
I couldn't bear it any longer. I knew any attempts at
conversation I'd make would be shot down. That was
Max's style. But I couldn't help myself. I walked up
to her as she leant her forehead against her locker
door and asked her how she was doing.
She shook her head. A surprise.
"He kissed me as if he was kissing me goodbye. Who
knows. Maybe he was. Maybe this is goodbye. He said
that if he had that year back again he would do things
different... Maybe he meant that he would never have
allowed himself to fall in love with me. Maybe he
wishes that I would have never entered his life.
Regrets... So many regrets..."
She never looked at me once during her little speech.
I don't know if she even really knew that I was there.
A tear rolled down her cheek and I can honestly say
that in that moment I knew, for the very first time
despite my time with and without Rachel, that my heart
just broke.
I couldn't play the tough uncaring guy any longer. Her
pain was my pain and I didn't want to feel that pain
any longer.
I merely reached out for her, tugged her close with an
arm around her waist, rested her cheek against my
shoulder and hugged her with as much feeling, love and
protection that I thought ever existed in my soul.
Her grip on my jacket was tight. She was drowning. The
only thing that mattered to me was to save her from
the depths she found herself in.
I really don't know what I said to her, or what I said
to those around me. I can't remember much except for
the lump I found wedged in my throat all the ride back
to my apartment, that and her small, but deadly,
strong fists clasped against my chest and the wet
tracks her tears made down the front of my shirt.
I can't imagine myself whispering soothingly in her
ear, but I must have done. She rewarded me with a
small smile when I opened the door to my place and
half carried her inside. She was in bad shape. I knew
that. And that's what I keep telling myself to justify
why I took her home with me in the first place. She
was in bad shape and she needed someone just like
herself to understand what it meant to think you've
lost the love of your life. Afterall, I had ample
experience in that area, despite her not knowing that.
Thinking those thoughts her words brought me out of
the fog that I was in.
"...I never thought you would understand," she was
saying to me while looking into my eyes with an
expression of wonderment on her face. "I guess your
time with Rachel taught you that you have to take the
moment when it presents itself to you, and not to wait
- for anything."
What was she saying? She meant Logan, right? She
shouldn't have waited with Logan, for Logan. She
should have taken her chance. That's what she meant. I
knew that's what she meant but I wanted her to mean
something else, something different, something else
entirely different.
I couldn't help myself. I leaned forward and I kissed
her. I'm vaguely aware of reaching out. I seem to
faintly recall my grabbing her by the biceps, gently
pulling her towards me and sinking my lips onto her
own. And beyond everything else I recall the taste,
that sweetness and I don't mean sweetness as in
"chaste" but literally the taste of sugar or syrup or
honey, a sweetness on her lips that made me want
nothing but to sweep my tongue across them time and
time again to gather all the nectar that must has
resided there. Oh God.
God oh god oh god.
My lips were on fire.
I was burning from within.
I was pure heat, liquid heat and she did nothing to
extinguish me.
She should have. She should have doused me with her
anger.
But all she gave me was her shock and her confusion.
I don't know how long I was pressed against her. It
was both too long and not nearly long enough. It could
never be long enough.
A small gasp sent a breath across my cheek, enough to
dampen the flames that had begun to blaze there and
cause me to pull back. If only slightly.
I thought about apologising. I really did. I thought
about saying something lame like, "Max, I'm so sorry.
I never meant for that to happen." I thought about it,
but that was all. There was no way I was going to out
and out lie to her. Of course I meant for that to
happen. It may have been evil, greedy, selfish,
opportunistic, hell I didn't care what it was, but it
was not a mistake and I was not sorry. So while I
thought about being noble and saintly and tempering my
desires for the sake of decency I decided to hell with
being moral and righteous and noble and a gentleman
and all those other worldly charms that made nice guys
like Logan finish last and I kissed her again.
And this time she kissed me back.
But to say she kissed me back would once again be a
lie. She didn't kiss me, she devoured me. She took
possession of my lips, of my tongue and my mouth with
such force that I thought she was trying to suck the
life right out of me. The heat, the flavour... If this
was drowning then I wanted to drown right then and
there. There would be no question that I would die
that death if she had continued her fevered
plundering. Tongues sliding, lips groping, suction,
nipping, biting, soothing. Oh god I wanted to climb
down her throat. I knew every part of her mouth, my
hands buried themselves deep within her hair, helping
to anchor my lips to hers. We tilted and we breathed
as one and there was no way, no way on earth or in the
heavens and universe above that I was ever going to
let go.
I have never before felt such total possession over
another human being. I owned her in that moment. My
hands branded her scalp, my lips seared hers. I felt
like climbing inside her skin was the only thing that
could save me from total molecular destruction. How on
earth could I describe what she was doing to me. It
was both the very best and worst of pleasure and pain.
And the only words I could say to her, were, "Oh,
Max."
To which she began to reply, "Loga-."
I wasn't surprised. She wore a dazed look on her face
ever since I first noticed her staring at work in the
morning. She was lost in her own world of grief. And
to be honest I knew that. I did. I admit it. But hey,
it didn't make a damn bit of difference at the time.
I'd abandoned all those noble ideals, ethics were out
the window, righteousness and morality were long since
forgotten, remember? So I leaned in once more, except
this time I pushed my whole body towards her. Our
chests collapsed against one another, our legs rubbed
and entwined and the friction we caused with other
parts of our body nearly sent me exploding like a
super nova.
Nearly.
My tongue swept over the insides of her cheeks and my
thumbs brushed so heavily over her cheeks that I'm
sure if she weren't part mutant there would have been
bruises. My ears seem to be exploding every second or
so with the sheer intensity of my heart beat
resounding in their drums. It seemed like every
synapse that my body possessed was firing
simultaneously. Nothing had ever compared to this
moment. It was like I was being born and dying at the
same time. Had Manticore planned this all along? Were
the sensations I was feeling part of their sick
experiments? Had they genetically matched us so that
our coupling would produce these results? Or was it
our souls and not our bodies that were producing such
a miracle that one would be forced to describe it as
also a curse.
It was a curse.
No doubt about that. There was no way that I could
ever live my life without this feeling. If I was to
stop I would die. Sure of that as I was that I was
sitting there. To be denied this would be death. Game
over. End of Story. That's all she wrote. This had to
be something Manticore designed. To become totally
dependent on another X5 what a great way to keep us
together and hence easier to find. That had to be it.
Right?
Nothing felt more right than her gasp when I brought
my hand down and cupped her breast. She arched so
deeply into my hand that my other hand was forced to
leave her hair to provide balance against the back of
the sofa. Her fullness seemed to swell against my
fingertips. Her passion seemed to mirror my own. But I
wondered, as her hands suddenly found themselves on my
arms, on my chest, hands tracing the lines of my jaw,
was it passion that she was feeling?
Passion. Desire. Want. Need.
I felt all those feelings and so many more that were
indescribable. I had been with other X5's when they
were in heat and although some would argue that there
were all the above emotions coursing through their
systems during that "time for them, after their 'heat'
period had passed, our coupling would all but be
remembered as being passionate, desired, or wanted. It
was duty.
Duty.
Obedience.
Loyalty.
Servitude.
So while Max's hand slipped towards my desire for her,
I had to wonder. Was it really passion? Was it regret?
I'm no Logan. But I never thought that Max was a "any
port in a storm" kind of girl. Hell, I know she isn't.
There's no way she was thinking of me as a substitute
for Logan. She thought I *was* Logan. In her grief,
somehow she had transformed me into him.
I could have made her believe.
I could have turned out the lights, shrouded us in
darkness and then I could have been anyone she damn
well wanted me to be. She'd never been intimate with
him, fucked his brains out, whatever you want to call
it. She would never know the familiar feel of his lips
on her nipple, the pressure his fingers used in
coaxing her towards her release. I could impersonate
him. Hell, it was one of my training courses -
assuming identities, adopting disguises, passing
yourself for something you're not. Useful tools as a
Manticore soldier. I was a top student. I proved my
effectiveness with Rachel and her father. I was a damn
good soldier. Thorough. Sentimental, yes, but
thorough. I could have fooled her... yeah, even her.
But I couldn't fool myself.
If it was just about need; if it was only about
desire, then what was I doing here with her? I could
sate my desire, satisfy my "needs" in any number of
ways with any number of women. I could have fooled her
into thinking it was Logan's hands that were stroking
her thighs, his tongue that was delving into her belly
button, but that's not what I wanted.
I wanted her to know it was me pleasuring her. I
wanted her to find her release while breathing my
name, not the name of a ghost, the Logan of Christmas
past, impossible future - whatever.
I wanted her eyes to speak of my worthiness... fuck.
I wanted to hear one word. One word would have done
it. One fucking word.
"Alec."
She would name me and I really would have been born.
The day she named me at Manticore was probably my
conception if you want to get all psycho analytical
about it. She had planted the seeds, the thought of me
existing as an individual, a human being with his own
personality, his own right to life. But to hear her
say my name, in the throes of passion, in ecstasy,
while she came so hard from her orgasm that she saw
stars, that would be my birth. I would have arrived in
this world, right at that moment.
My whole fucking existence would have been
acknowledged. By someone. By the only one.
And all of the pain of living, all of the misery, that
I had never known until she was the one to show me
otherwise would have been worth it at that moment.
At the moment she said my name.
"Logan," she whispered, as my hand snaked between her
legs.
Shit.
If ever a male Manticore soldier such as myself had
felt like crying, it was then.
Who was I kidding.
I couldn't do this, just as I knew that she shouldn't
do this.
I pushed her away from me.
"No."
That was all that was needed. One simple word. One
forced simple word, that seem to shock her to her
senses.
I looked into her eyes. Really looked into her eyes,
for the first time since we had been in my apartment.
"We can't do this." I said.
And I hated myself for saying it. For so many reason,
Of course we could do it, if only we denied that we
each had a soul for a moment or two. Of course we
could do this if there was no way we'd ever remember
it afterwards, but there was no way that was ever
going to be likely. Of course we could do this, if Max
was still immersed in her grief-induced delusion that
made her think that I was the love of her life. I
hated myself for saying those words to her for all
those reasons - but mostly because it released the
tears that now flowed freely down her cheeks.
She was crying.
She was sobbing.
She was breaking.
She was dying.
And there was nothing I could do to resurrect her...
because I wasn't Logan.
"I can't believe I..." she trailed off.
"No. Max, *you* didn't." I began
"I can't believe... Logan... Oh god..."
Talk about crushing a guy's ego. But I knew how she
felt.
She loathed herself.
Betrayed.
She had betrayed him, or she thought she had betrayed
him.
Just like I felt like I had betrayed Rachel. The
difference being she had an excuse and I didn't. "I
was just following orders," just doesn't seem to cut
it in retrospect, not when you were talking about one
of the people you had loved during your lifetime.
"How could I?" she was asking herself. Funny. I had
asked myself that same question.
"Max-" I tried.
"He'll never forgive me... forgiveness... huh... I
have no right to ask for his forgiveness..."
And that's when I couldn't stand it.
That's when it happened.
I killed myself. Right then. Right there. I made the
decision to lay my life, my existence on the line. I
took a bullet. And I welcomed the pain. Hit directly
through the heart. I could not allow her to blame
herself for something that was not her fault. She
hadn't planned it. She hadn't asked for it. Hell, she
hadn't even thought about being with me, she had been
thinking about *him* all the damn time. And yet she
was taking full responsibility. Forgiveness? She was
asking for his forgiveness? I should have been begging
for her forgiveness.
There was no way she was going to release herself from
the self torment that was going to follow. I knew -
from experience I knew this. It was always going to
haunt her. She would lie awake at night and think of
this time. She would hate herself, loath herself,
question her place on the face of the earth, question
her place in the lives of those around her, one person
in particular, question her very existence. And no
matter what she did from now on she would force
herself to try and measure up somehow... whatever she
did she would compare it to this moment... the one
moment when she truly failed... failed him... failed
her... failed their future.
Unless...
Unless I could make this not about *her*. Not about
what she did or didn't do... If it wasn't about her
then she couldn't fail. She wouldn't be measuring
herself against her actions. She wouldn't be
questioning herself for the rest of hr life. She
wouldn't need to avoid Logan's gaze for fear of what
he may see lurking in her eyes... for fear that he may
see the horrendous truth about herself... for fear
that he wouldn't look back at her with forgiveness. He
could forgive her ... if this wasn't about her. She
could forgive herself if it wasn't about herself.
And so I died a death ... as I have lived a life.
I took her.
There are no words other than those to describe it. I
made this all about me, not her. The hate she would
feel would now be for me, not herself. The hate that
Logan would feel would now be for me. I sanctified her
at he same time as damning myself. It was what I had
always hoped for... but it was also the things my
nightmares were made of. I can't describe what
happened, other than to say it was torture. More so
for her than for me. Having someone dominate you like
I did her would have to have been worse - no question.
But I wasn't surprised to find that through my grunts,
my tears mingled with her own. My eyes screwed
themselves shut as tightly in force as every part of
her body did... And as much as she hated me, as much
as she protested, fought, screamed, begged, cursed, it
was not nearly as much as I screamed and cursed and
even begged myself deep down inside.
A part of me wished that I could have enjoyed a single
moment of the experience but that would never be the
case. As my release came upon me, my hands tired from
their grip on her wrists, there was no sense of
fulfilment other than it was finally over.
Over...
Everything was over.
Any chance I had at being a friend of hers... over.
Any chance I had of living a normal life... over.
Any chance of ever being her saviour was over.
I thought I was... saving her, that is. Saving her
from herself. But as she cried, her heart breaking in
tones that could never be heard with the perceived
loss of Logan's love, there was no way that she was
saved.
She was as damned as I was.
No. I had damned her more.
What had I been thinking?
There was no way that she could hate me more than I
hate myself.
She cried , sobbed and the rest of me, the remnants of
my being, shattered when she dressed and fled. She
knew. I knew.
So much pain.
Pain that would never go away.
And I shall die a death as I have lived a life...
Please e-mail the author of this story with your comments. Rhasa4@yahoo.com