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    A/N: This has probably already been done, and it's pure sap, but I couldn't
help it... Takes place right before Logan smacks his leg against the table,
just after Max leaves.

I'll admit that I was worried when I first asked Max to go with me to my
cousin's wedding yesterday. Even Bling had his doubts about my sanity. Max
and I never mix business with pleasure-it wasn't our way. But this was Max,
and in some petty ways, I wanted to show off this vibrant, beautiful woman to
my family, if only to prove to them that the Black Sheep Cale isn't the loser
that they think I am.

I don't kid myself. Max isn't as polished as the uptight society beauties and
inbred bluebloods that I grew up with. She isn't Daphne or Valerie, or even
Aunt Margot. She cleans up well enough, but she has to be the moodiest, most
proud, cynical woman in Seattle. But underneath that hard, genetically
altered surface, I still see this lonely girl sometimes... It's foolish of
me, to think that the girl inside needs any sort of protection, but something
draws me to Max. It's the way she swings between feral wildcat to someone who
corrects me on Egyptian mythology. The vulnerable child trapped inside the
hardened soldier. Something about the dichotomies of Max Guevara makes me
want to change the world for her, if only because it would make her happy.

When I saw her walking out of the bathroom at Jam Pony today, every fear I
had disappeared. In that dingy little room, Max shone like a red star. In
that dress, with that smile on her face, I saw the woman who would put my
social climbing Aunt Margot to shame, a woman who could've ruled countries
with the wave of one elegant hand, and charmed her way into the heart of
anyone. With that saucy little smile on her lips, I knew that I didn't need
to worry about her affects on my Uncle Jonas. She would either kiss his
capitalizing white ass, or feed his diseased liver to him, piece by piece.

She never fails to surprise me. In the car tonight, she saw behind my fa�ade
about not caring about what my petty family thinks. One minute, she's arguing
about the foolishness of marriage, and how the ceremony should be held in
secret, so that no one's rep is blown when the marriage goes bust. The next,
she's sniffling into a tissue at Bennett and Maryanne's wedding, with this
almost wistful look on her face. If anything, Max Guevara is never the same.
She may shock me sometimes, but it can definitely be for the better.

Sometimes I think I underestimate her, in the same way that she might
underestimate me. She plays up the same gruff face that I do when we talk
about family and where we came from, but when I introduced her to my
backstabbing uncle and aunt tonight as a Greenwich Guevara, this almost
wounded look came over her face. I've never seen such a range of emotions on
her face before. When I first met Max, I swore she was frostier than the old
Ice Queen in the X-men comics that my mother used to buy me. But even Dark
Angels can have a softer side.

Throughout tonight, it was one revelation after another. Max had no fear
standing up to my uncle, shooting snide comments right back at his flapping
jaw. She came to the rescue in my moment of panic at the wedding toast,
saving my ass from the proverbial family frying pan. And as she prompted me
word by word, the speech I'd thought so corny in the car seemed oddly apropos
for the relationship I have with her. Brought together by chance, embarking
on the greatest journey of their lives...partners in everything.

It's hard to classify how I feel about her. There's that protection I feel,
for the lonely girl that was robbed of every chance at childhood that she
ever had. Genetically-engineered or not, Max deserves so much better than the
shaft she's gotten from the day she was born. But she's a survivor. She knows
how to fight for her own way, and what she wants, even if it means knocking
the bridal bouquet out of my ex-fianc�e's hand, or complaining about not
getting her cake after saving one of the few remaining American treasures.
The most ironic thing is that, somewhere along the line, I think she started
looking out for me too. When she handed me my mother's locket, just moments
ago, there was a look on her face that reminded me of my mother. It was a
look that I've never seen before on Max's face-softened, almost delicate. As
if it was the face of the woman Max might have become, had she a normal
childhood and a normal life. At that moment...something changed. I want to
protect her from Lydecker, and every other person who would dare to hunt her,
but a part of me also wants to hold her close, to have her be more than just
a business partner, to embark on that journey with her, to pledge my love...

This whole night has been an incredible mish-mash of emotions. Max in her
stolen rose-colored dress, lighting up my Uncle's cold house. The look of
jealousy that I never thought I'd see when she saw Daphne. Even the fact that
I admitted to Max that my own pride had failed me when it came to why my
ex-fianc�e dumped me, seconds after I asked her to marry me. Even though my
conscience is still reeling over the fact that she lifted that dress, I can't
help but think that it was worth it. Just that image of Max in red...that in
itself is worth even the world before the Pulse.

If only I had the courage that Bennett has, to pledge his eternal love for a
woman in front of everyone, to walk down an aisle that he burns behind him. I
thought marriage was forever with Valerie. Maybe I was too young then for
what I feel now.

If only I could walk down that aisle, if only I could give Max everything she
deserves...

If only I could walk...

I hardly know
This beauty by my side.
I'll never forget
The way you look tonight.