The funny thing about Manticore was that even when it was standing still, time was everything. It could be the thing that determined how long you got to live, or how long you had to wait to die. And they were always testing time. How fast we could think, or run, or take out a two hundred pound guard. It was there best way of torturing us, and our only salvation; the thought that they would run out of it someday. I guess that you could say that even when it wasn't moving, thoughts of the future, and what it all meant, thoughts of time coursed through our minds like blood coursed through our veins. They were always trying to beat time, because I think they knew that we weren't going to stick around much longer. And even then, when we did escape, things were only too clear. My time would run out one day and I would end up right back where I started. Time dragged by in training. It stood still for an endless moment when Eva was shot. And it flew by all too fast, the first time that Logan and I kissed. Time is everything. Or it used to be, anyway.
So I guess that it is some cruel irony that that fixation with time transferred over to both my mind and my biochemistry. Today I woke up and I knew that I was late. Two whole days late. At first I thought that it was just some fluke. Or at least I told myself that, even if deep down I knew that it was total crap. But somehow, I couldn't dismiss a second day of unnatural delay. I am always, always, on time. You could set a clock to the timeliness of my feminine biology, but now here I am, two days late. I didn't even need to look at the pregnancy test to know the results. So now here I am, sitting on top of the Space Needle, wondering how the hell I am going to tell Logan that I happen to be carrying his child. It is cold up here, and I wish that I had some other place to think. I know that I can't feel the baby this early; it is way too soon. But I can imagine what it is going to feel like when it does. I am kind of looking forward to it. Stop it, Max, you have to be reasonable. You have to realize that both you and Logan have no idea how to raise children. And while Logan might have had an actual childhood, you are some Manticore brainchild, super soldier, freak. Not much of a person to look to their past on the joys of raising children. And you're barely twenty years old, a little young to be introducing spawn to this broken world. Broken world, this wacked planet is just one more reason that you shouldn't do this, that you should just handle it all by yourself and never tell Logan. Maybe if I sit here long enough I will actually be able to convince myself of it. The truth is that if I don't tell Logan what's going on with me, I won't be able to live with myself. As much I want to believe that I can just go along, deal with this pregnancy in some disgusting back alley clinic, I know that isn't true. This is his child too, isn't it? But if I tell him I know that he will look at me with those amazing blue eyes, hold me close, and be all noble and wonderful and crap, and then within a week I will be Mrs. Logan Cale, living in that nice penthouse with a baby on the way. That is just the kind of guy that Logan is. He loves me, and he will want to keep the baby. I know he will. I have been fending off that feeling all day, because if Logan wants the baby, then maybe I will have to admit to myself that I do, too. I love Logan, the thought of being away from him makes me sick, and the thought of a family, well let's just say that would be my final way of turning my back on Manticore. A little Max running around, now there's a funny thought. Or a little Logan, which would be better, less mistakes. I bet that it would have Logan's eyes, and my hair and lips. Hopefully it would go without the seizures and black helicopters, or Logan's habit of getting into to trouble, because God knows I worry enough about him, without one more person to think about. Stop it; you can't even think those thoughts. Jesus, there are a million reasons to go and deal with this right now; Manticore and that b*tch director. They would want to be all up in our faces, or take it away, or train it, or whatever. They would never leave us alone. The United States is broken, the world is corrupt, what business do we have bringing a child into that world? And now my pager is going off, bringing me back to reality. I hope to God that it isn't Logan, but I am almost sure that it is. Funny, when I was back at Manticore, the only thing that kept me from going crazy was the thought of him. He kept me sane, his image in my mind kept me from giving into their crap, and my need to be near him helped me escape the second time, with a live Zack in tow. And now, after all that he is the one person that I would give anything to avoid. I turn over my pager, and see Logan's number. I wish I had more time to think about this, but when I get to Logan's I will either be telling him and having the baby, or not telling him and putting myself on a waitlist with the public department and hope that they get to me before I start to show. As I start to climb down from the space needle, I can see my bike. My motorcycle is my baby. Or at least it used to be. It is one more reason that this is a really bad idea.

Yeah, there are a million reasons to pull out now.

And one not to.

I want to keep it.

What a day.