Title: Vigil
Summary: "He doesn't need a transgenic bodyguard." Post - 1x14 "Female Trouble", Max/Logan friendship.
AN: First fic in the Dark Angel fandom, so feedback is greatly appreciated.

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Max slips into the dark apartment, letting the door close with a soft click behind her. A faint blue light emanates from down the hallway, and her lips twist in a smirk as she shrugs her jacket off, tosses it to the couch. Typical.

She enters the room to find him leaning forward in his chair, squinting at the computer screen. She feels a twinge in her belly at the sight of his wheelchair. Foolish, sure, but he's not the only one who allowed himself to hope for a miracle. And now his last chance is gone. She almost lets herself think of it as her fault, but picturing what OC would have to say about that forces her shake it off. "Hey," she says, amused at the way he jolts and snaps his head around. After almost a year, she thinks he should be used to her sneaking up on him.

"Hey, yourself," he replies, turning his chair around to face her. "It's late."

"I don't sleep," she reminds him, hopping up onto the ledge of his workspace.

"Me either, these days." He takes off his glasses and hooks them on the collar of his shirt. Max notes the dark circles under his eyes.

" At least I can blame the shark DNA. What's your excuse?"

"Just thinking," he says shortly. "How's Jace?"

"Gone. She'll be fine. Survival's part of the X5 package."

"Good." He catches her gaze and looks quickly away, and she can feel the dismissal before it comes. "Listen, I've got a lot of research to do. If you want to grab a shower, crash in the guest room for tonight, make yourself at home." He starts to pivot his wheelchair back toward the computer, and she stops him with a hand gripping his arm.

"Logan."

"What?" he grits out, all pretense at civility gone. Good. Pissed off she can handle.

"If you think we're not gonna talk about this..."

"There's nothing to talk about." He tries to shake his arm free, scowls when she only grips tighter. "Let go."

"Make me," she replies sarcastically. Sometimes being genetically enhanced has its unexpected upsides.

He sighs. "Max, I told you earlier. I'm fine."

"A man who sits alone with a loaded gun doesn't exactly strike me as 'fine'."

Logan glares at her. "You were right. I really don't want to talk about this." Max releases his arm, more out of disgust than anything.

"Fine. You know what? That's fine. You don't have to say a word. You can listen. Because I'm not letting you do this. Period. End of story."

Logan moves to speak and Max makes a slashing motion in the air, cutting him off. "No," she says, shoving herself off the desk and stalking angrily across the room. "You can tell me it's none of my business, but that's bullshit and we both know it." She whirls back to face him. "You don't get to take yourself out of the world just because it'll be easier on you. Poor Logan, he's back in a wheelchair again. It's a hard knock life and he just can't catch a break. Well suck it up, Mr. 'if you're not making the world better you're making it worse'."

"Thanks for the pep talk," he snaps.

"You have people here who depend on you. People who need you."

"Right," he says bitterly. "Because Seattle would fall to pieces without their friendly neighborhood Eyes Only."

Max closes her eyes in frustration, wondering just how much she can pummel him without causing permanent damage. "I meant me, you unbelievable moron."

He doesn't respond. The silence stretches out five seconds, then ten. "Whatever," she scoffs. "I'll be in the guest room if you need anything." She might want to kill him, but there's no way she's leaving him alone to do the job for her.

"Max." His voice stops her on her way out. She stands still, but doesn't turn back around. She hears his wheels rolling over the hardwood floor, feels his hand grab hers. "Hey," he says, all traces of bitterness gone. "Look at me."

She turns her head and looks down at him, watches as he entwines his fingers with hers. "I'm sorry I scared you."

"You didn't," she begins, but his fingers tighten around her hand and she can't quite force herself to choke out the lie. "Okay. Yeah."

"I'm sorry," he repeats. "And I'm not going anywhere. I might not be the most pleasant person to be around for a while-"

"And this is new?" she interrupts.

"But," he continues with an arch of his eyebrow, "I'm not going anywhere."

She's bending down, grabbing his neck in a tight hug before she even has time to think. "Goddamn right you're not," Max says fiercely. "Jerk."

"I know." He circles his arms around her and pulls her into a sitting position on his lap. Max rests her face on the curve of his shoulder, enjoying the feeling of relief. It's not something she's used to.

"We good?" Logan asks in a low murmur.

"Depends," she says, pulling back to look at him. "You gonna get some sleep? You look like hell."

He laughs, and looks ten years younger. "Yeah. I can manage that."

"Good." Max slides out of the chair and rises to her feet.

"You staying?"

"You wouldn't mind?"

Logan shrugs. "Guess having a guard dog for one night couldn't hurt."

"Hey. My feline DNA resents that remark."

Max takes a long shower in the guest bath, wraps herself in the robe they've both come to think of as hers. She shuffles down the hall toward the kitchen, towel drying her hair as she walks. She pauses just outside Logan's bedroom door. "Logan?" she calls, knocking softly on the door as she pushes it open. He's lying on his side facing her, his breathing deep and even. Max smiles, backs out the way she came.

He'll be fine, she tells herself. He doesn't need a transgenic bodyguard looking after him in his sleep.

But she leaves the door open all the same.

end