Title: Don't Call Me Angel
By: : Isabel De La Cruz
Rating: PG-there's a little bad language
Spoilers: spoilers for the pilot
Summary:  Max's thoughts sometime between her going off on her motorcycle and going to see Logan
Disclaimer:  Not mine...

I never wanted to save anyone, not even me. I do it sometimes, but only
because I can. Occasionally someone'll try to get me to help them out,
and I just might be feeling nice that day, so I'll do it. Unless it
involves the government, in any way, shape, or form. So I had to tell
Logan no when he asked me to guard that woman and her daughter.

I know Logan thinks I'm feeling guilty about him and the chair. I can
say I'm not, but "Eyes Only" still won't believe it. Whatever. I say it
serves him right. Trying to be all heroic, saving the "country" or some
crap like that. Yeah, what that company was doing with the medicine
sucked, and I lost a friend over it, but I can deal. Shit happens, get
over it. I've lost more than one friend over the years. Sometimes I even
lose myself.

You know, for a minute there I thought I'd lost Logan. And that scared
me.

Doesn't seem like it should. After all, he's just a guy. I know lots of
guys, and I like them a lot more than I like him. But when I saw him
being shot on the police cam, I don't know, it just felt wrong. Like it
wasn't supposed to happen like that.

I tell myself that it's only because he knew me, knew what I was. Given
enough time, Logan could probably help me find at least one of the
others. He would too, 'cause that's the kind of person he is.

Don't get me wrong, I still think he's an idiot for doing what he does.
With his money, he could afford to get out of the so-called "United
States" and run off to Europe or something. If I had that kind of cash,
I'd be gone tomorrow. Might even take a few friends with me. Maybe I'd
take Logan.

Of course he'd never go, so I might stay with him instead.

Don't think I'm getting all romantic about Logan or anything. Before
the chair, it's possible that I might have thought about him in that
sense, but only a little. I can never get real close to anyone, not even if
he knows the truth about me. But none of that matters now, 'cause he's
in that chair, maybe for life if the doctors around here can't pull a
solution out of their asses.

I've never had to think about stuff like that. When I get hurt, it
stings for a moment, then it's gone. Nothing lasts more than a couple
minutes, or maybe hours if I get real banged up. Don't ever let me say I
don't like being able to shrug pain off like that, it's the upside to
being one of the government's favorite pet projects. I can't imagine what
it's like to be paralyzed any more than Logan can imagine what it's like
to run so fast you'd swear you were flying. To walk into a room full of
people and to just *know* that you could kill every single one of them
before there was a chance for them to call for help. To be that help
when someone else tries to do the same. Some days it's fun to be me.

Most days it isn't.

I wonder why I still run from the police cams. I'm not nine anymore,
and the big bad doesn't know what I look like. Once upon a time they
might've had the tech to figure out what us kids would turn out to be in
ten years, but not anymore. And people say the pulse wrecked everything.

True enough, life pretty much sucks now. But this old guy I met on the
street says life sucked twenty years ago too. Nothing ever changes.
That's why it's so sad when someone like Logan comes along and has the
audacity to hope life will get better.

I kinda thought he'd give up after he was shot. But this morning I saw
one of his "reports" and knew he hadn't quit. Still trying to save the
world, and from a wheel chair too. I'd go see him, but I think he'd try
to guilt trip me into helping him again. And I don't wanna feel bad
when I see his face after I tell him 'no' again. I'm not Logan; I don't
want to help anybody, no matter what shit they're in. Why should I help
anyone?

I'm no angel.

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