| Okay, a preliminary note: This is a Dark Angel/Harsh Realm crossover, so here's a primer for those of you who haven't caught Dark Angel. Max and Zach were part of a genetic engineering project and escaped when they were kids. Logan is an investigative cyberjournalist who got shot and became disabled. I think that's the basic basics...go to www.darkangeltv.com if you want more. Disclaimer: Not mine Summary: Max and Logan find what they've been looking for Archive: sure Rating PG This one's for the HRfic crew... Words Are Not Enough by Megan Reilly [email protected] October 9, 2000 Max was nervous. She'd never admit it, but Logan could tell when he glanced over at her, with her brows drawn down over big brown eyes, the frown more due to worry than concentration on the road. He didn't know where she'd come up with the car. He wasn't even sure why. All he knew was, she'd insisted he come with her, and that wasn't like Max. Max was headstrong and independent. But the prospect of meeting someone else like her...another of the kids who'd escaped from the Manticorp project...it was getting to her. He took off his glasses and cleaned them with the tail of his shirt, the tall, snow-covered pines lining the road sliding out of focus. "Are we almost there?" he asked, sliding the glasses back on in time to see her faint nod. In the next moment, she swung the wheel wildly onto a road so small it had blended in between the solid trees. Max let out a breath. "Sorry." Definitely nervous, Logan thought. + + + The young man looked out from between the curtains, then back at the woman. She didn't have to look. She knew they were coming. Her face was serene where his was pursed, angry at having their privacy invaded. He almost felt scared, even though there was no reason to be. He could take care of anyone who happened by. He let the curtain drop as the battered car skidded to a stop in front of the house. + + + "This is it," Max said, resting the palms of her hands against her thighs, not moving from behind the wheel. "Yes. It is," Logan said, his tone even. Watching her. Waiting. In a second, Max made up her mind and jumped out of the car. A few moments later, he felt the car jolt as she slammed the trunk closed and he pushed his door open. He glanced at her as she reached for him. "I can do that," he informed her. His tone was warning enough and Max turned away, allowing Logan to pull himself into the wheelchair. "She can't help you." The voice from the doorway of the small wooden cabin surprised them both. Max turned her head, wide-eyed, her mouth open and poised to say something, but then she froze. Logan started to ask "Who?" as in, who can't help, but he saw Max's hands begin to tremble a moment before her eyes rolled back and she fell into the snow, body convulsing. And there was nothing he could do to help her. He couldn't even reach her. The young man dashed down the steps in spite of himself, but Max's spasms had stopped. He came up short as she rolled over, damp hair hanging in her face, and the two of them glared at each other. "You," he said. "Me," Max said. "I thought you were dead." "'m not," she mumbled, turning away from him, wrapping her arms around herself. Accidentally she looked at Logan, catching his eyes, and then she turned away quickly. The blond young man looked to Logan for some explanation, but his mouth was dry. He had none. "She's been looking for you for ten years," he said. The young man nodded. "Come inside." He turned his back on them and headed up the steps into the cabin. Logan turned and looked at Max, still quietly freaking out, those big dark eyes staring into the woods. After a second she turned her head and managed a smile. "I didn't think it'd be like this, you know?" Logan nodded. Max headed up the stairs and Logan manuevered after her, the wheelchair leaving wet tracks into the warm cabin. "Let me see it," the young blond man ordered, catching Max by surprise. She lowered her head, gathering her hair with one hand away from the back of her neck. Revealing the bar code tattooed there. With a deliberate look, she raised her head. The blond man started to turn away, and she grabbed him, pulling down the collar of the turtleneck he wore to expose a similar mark. "Now that that's settled," Logan said, feeling awkward as they both looked at him. "You'll have some catching up to do." "That's not why you came here...is it?" the blond boy asked. "Of course it is," Max said, her hand still lingering on his arm. "Zach, I've been looking for you..." "I don't use that name now," he told her, pulling away. "Why else would we have come here?" Logan asked, raising his voice slightly, to break through the intense emotion flooding through the room. He felt like a background player in Romeo and Juliet, only he hoped the ending would be different. "I thought you came for her." "The one you said couldn't help us," Logan said incisively. "That's right," Zach said. "What did you think she'd help us with?" Logan asked. Zach's eyes flickered over the wheelchair, then turned back to Max's face. "She might be able to help you," he said to her. "With what?" "Your seizures." "Help how?" "She helped me," Zach said. "We all have them. Let me -" He took a step and stopped, surprised to see the thin older woman standing in the doorway from the kitchen. Her short hair was more brown than gray and she held herself straight and tall, with an almost military bearing. "Helped you how?" Logan asked, looking at the woman. He'd heard stories, but never in a million years had he thought they were true. Max might think he believed anything, but no one was that gullible. The woman walked over to Max and looked into her eyes for a second, not saying a word. Then she reached up to place a hand against Max's forehead. Max jerked back. "Let her," Zach said. Max shot him a look like he was crazy. "She's a healer," Logan said. Then Max looked at him like he was crazy. "I've heard stories, but I never thought -" "It's true," Zach said solemnly, then turned to the silent woman. "You don't have to do this." She looked at him with compassionate eyes, then turned back to Max. "You got nothing to say for yourself?" That was pure Max. When she felt scared or threatened or just plain didn't know how to feel, she turned sarcastic. "She can't speak," Zach said. "Why not?" Max snorted. Zach shrugged and the contemptous look faded from Max's full lips as she looked at the woman, who was waiting for permission. Max shook her head, not believing. "Help him," she said as she took several steps back. The woman looked at Logan for a quick second, eyes roving over him. Then she turned and walked away, closing the door behind her. "What's going on here?" Max demanded of Zach. "Who is that woman? How did you end up here?" "Why should I tell you?" Zach demanded. "You show up out of noplace. How the hell do I know you're who you pretend to be?" "You saved my life," Max said quietly. "I wanted to say thank you. I wanted to see you again. I wanted to know what your life had been like." "My life's been hell, that's what it's been like." The tough attitude, so much like Max's, conflicted with the young man's innocent appearance with blond hair and a generous sprinkling of freckles across his nose. Just like in the mug shot from 6 years ago. "Snow's coming. You can stay tonight, but you'll have to go in the morning." Zach went through the same door the woman had disappeared through. Logan looked at Max. He wasn't sure what he was expecting...tears? From a lesser mortal maybe, but not from Max. She just sat there, staring into space for endless moments until the sun disappeared into the snowstorm and Logan fell asleep. + + + Logan startled awake. It was dark. He started to stretch the ache out of his neck then realize Max was no longer in the room with him. He swung the wheelchair around and almost ran into the silent woman. He stopped, looking up at her, wondering what she wanted. Heart pounding, wondering if the stories really *were* true. She gestured with her head, and he followed her, curious, into the other room. There was a bed, made with a simple home-sewn quilt, and not much else. The woman looked over her shoulder at Logan, then sat down on the bed. He rolled up next to her and saw she had a photograph in her hands. It only piqued his curiosity more and she looked at him again, with a gaze so solid he wouldn't have been surprised if she'd been able to hear the thoughts echoing through his head. She handed the photograph to him and he looked at it. A trio of soldiers. It was faded, creased with age. He realized with a start one of the soldiers was the woman sitting beside him. One was a shorter blond man with spiky hair, the other taller, heavier and older. Both solid men in their prime. "What does this have to do with me?" Logan asked. "You have a story for me?" Her lips turned up in a sad smile and she shook her head. She set the picture aside, and then she touched him. + + + Max and Zach sat out on the porch. They didn't get cold; it was one of those things. They didn't speak for a long while. "I got all the way to New York," Zach said finally. "And that was when the terrorists hit. New York wasn't an airburst like the rest of them. It was a bomb. On the ground. I was right there. I was burned, but she found me. I don't know how she does it. We're both freaks. Maybe that's why...when I was a kid, she looked out for me. Kept them from finding me. Now...it's my turn to take care of her." "You were lucky," Max said. "Yeah. Lucky." Zach sounded bitter. She'd never thought Zach would be bitter. "I always knew I'd find you," Max said, looking at him in amazement. Did he feel the same thing she did when he looked at her? "But you never knew what you were going to do when you found me," Zach said and got to his feet. Max watched as he walked away, unable to find the words to call out to him. Feeling unbearably sad. The door opened behind her but she didn't turn. She thought it was Logan, but when she heard the footsteps, she assumed it was the woman. Until she realized it smelled like Logan and she turned her head. Seeing him standing there was almost as much of a shock as it had been to see Zach. "You're..." Max found a smile on her face, and she was speechless. Logan just nodded, the same dazed expression on his face. Max laughed, looking at his grin and the next thing she knew, her arms were around him and his arms were around her and he was swinging her around. The merriment of the moment evaporated as Zach stomped past them into the house, urgency written on his face. "Florence?" he called. Max turned her head to follow Zach with her eyes, breaking away from Logan to go into the house. Florence - the woman - was asleep on top of the quilt. Zach sat down next to her, taking her hand. He scowled at Max and Logan when they appeared in the doorway. "She's exhausted," Zach snarled. "I think you'd better go." "Zach -" Max began. "You've got what you wanted. Now get the hell out," Zach ordered. "It wasn't -" Now Max was looking at Logan, for answers. But he had none. She went back to the car and got in. After a long moment standing there, looking at Zach and the woman, wishing he had some idea what to say, Logan followed. But no words would have been enough. end. feedback's nice! |