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Full Title: Don't it always seem (to go that you don't know what you've got till it's gone?)
Summary: Something old, something new, something borrowed, something really dark. Author really hoping not to fall flat on face with potentially really dumb idea. ML. Read carefully, there will be a quiz at the end.
Author's notes: I really liked the hyper intuition that Sim-r first named in Seattle Blitz. I think she made a wonderful case for evidence of it in the show. This is my take. Btw: if Sim-r didn't like any of this she would've changed it; she's the only reason my dialog doesn't sound like a term paper. :) Thanks Sim-r, you the rockingist one. I made up an adjective just for you, don't you feel special?
I did not give Sim-r permission to be evil, per se. I merely pointed out that all Sith Lords have an apprentice… So, how is this?
Chapter 1: Ending.
"Hey, me hitting you back." Max said into the ragged pay phone at Jam Pony.
"Thanks. What are you doing later tonight, say around … 8 o'clock?" Logan asked.
"O.C. is having her Birthday party at Crash. She just got dumped by her girlfriend, so she is all down about it. It's important all her friends be there for her… Wanna come?" Max coaxed, even though they both knew the answer.
"No. Thanks. I can't. … But thanks. …. I'll see you later."
Hours later, Max will wonder why she didn't pick up on the disappointment in his voice and how she could have so let down the only man she'd ever loved.
It was almost nine o'clock when Max had the first inkling of anxiety. She looked around the bar, but she could detect nothing amiss. The longer she stayed the more convinced she was that something was very wrong. She wanted to dismiss the feelings of apprehension as baseless. Rationally, she knew that humans didn't really have extrasensory powers of perception; but she wasn't just human, was she? She continued to scan the bar, sitting quietly at the table with O.C. and her friends, when she remembered: the only other time she had felt this cold dread, something had been terribly wrong with Logan.
She didn't remember what excuse she gave to O.C. and the gang. She didn't remember getting through the sector checkpoints from Crash to Logan's apartment. She didn't remember if she had waited for the elevator or dashed up the stairs. She didn't remember if the door was unlocked, or if she picked the lock. She was in Logan's apartment. All that mattered was that he wasn't here.
The sensation didn't go away, it increased. It pulled at her, tearing. She searched the entire apartment. She found rooms she didn't know existed (with some strange plants). She didn't find anything to quiet the anxiety. She didn't find any signs of a struggle, but she also didn't find Logan.
Inexorably, she found herself pulled to Logan's desk. She was standing there, trying to analyze the sensation. The feeling was like a coldness coming from a place she couldn't identify. Something was very wrong! What good did this intuition do her if all she could tell was that something was wrong, not where she needed to go to get to Logan. 'This is where he sits to save the world,' she thought sadly. 'There isn't a chair in front of the desk because Logan was… is always in his wheelchair.' Max felt the painfully cold mix of grief and terror beginning to overwhelm her. Logan's computer was locked, and he had changed the password. Max knew a few tricks to try and get in, but she didn't know what sort of fail safes Logan had installed. No point in risking it, yet.
Max's gaze was drawn to some letters, almost hidden under a legal pad. They stood out in contrast to the printouts and photos that normally adorned Logan's desk. She didn't really think about picking them up, but she did. She looked at each letter in turn. There was one to Detective Matt Sung, Bennett Cale, Sebastian, and …Max. She didn't think about whether or not she should open the letter. Later, she would blame the insidious feelings of cold dread for not being able to think clearly, but at the time she simply opened the letter.
If you're reading this letter, it means that I'm dead. I always knew that someday this career I had chosen would be the end of me. It was inevitable. At least I am out of that damn chair. I know you could never understand what it was like for me going from someone who had everything going for him, to a helpless cripple that some people can't even stand to look at.
I am sorry for so much.
I am sorry that I wasn't able to do more for you. Dr. Sam Carr should be able to get you a steady supply of Tryptophan. There are papers and cash in a lock box, top of the closet, in the safe house on Alexander. I want you to take them, in case you need to get out of Seattle. It isn't safe for you here, and hasn't been for a long time. Sometimes I wonder why you have stayed for so long, but mostly I am just thankful that you have. Sometimes I even think that it might be for me. I wonder if you feel sorry for your older, broken friend, or maybe, something else.
I am sorry that I never told you how much I love you. I know that you could do so much better, someone young, healthy, strong, someone who could put you above everything else in his life. I didn't want to be in the awkward situation where you tell me 'we aren't like that'. Still, I want you to know, you are loved. Very much.
You have been the one bright spot in my life for some time now, Max. I want you to know that. Others turned away, unable or unwilling to deal with the chair, but you never blinked. Your friendship, your humor, your beauty, your grace, your timely rescues, these have been a miracle to me. I am sorry I never told you.
I know you will be fine without me; it's the way you were made.
I love you,
Max couldn't breathe. Logan had loved her! There had been one person in her life that loved her, and she wasted every single chance she had to tell him that she loved him too. Max felt agony from places she didn't think she had. She couldn't stop the tears that fell unchecked.
Max fell to her knees then collapsed on the floor. She should have been there! Why hadn't he told her? When her breath returned it was in sobs. Guilt consumed her. Why hadn't she told him that she loved him? All her reasons seemed to lame and inadequate now. She curled herself into a ball and wept. She cried for her friend, her hero, her love, and her failure. She wasn't fine. She never would be again.