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