ARCHIVE: No

He wondered if he was getting sick -- but then encounters with Max like tonight's little drama always left him with that "kicked in the gut" feeling.

Alec draped his leather jacket over a chair when he entered the TC quarters he shared with Joshua, and headed straight for the small flat's corner kitchen, and the bottle of good Scotch on the counter. Living space was at a premium in TC, the generators only able to produce a limited amount of electricity, so it was prudent to double up when possible, although he really missed having his own place. Maybe things would be better when the arts and crafts mall started turning a profit -- a thought Alec consoled himself with on those nights when Joshua's snoring was driving him nuts.

It looked like his roommate had already left for the day, probably working on "Joshua #472" over in the common area the artists-in-residence used. That particular painting had been commissioned by his old friend Rita at the Seattle Art Gallery. She already had a buyer lined up who was willing to pay ten grand for a Joshua. Of course 30 percent of that went to Rita, and another 10 to himself (he'd fought long and hard for a 20 percent middle-man take, but Max had put her foot down). However, that still left $5000 for the transgenics -- money that was much needed for food and medicine, not to mention pretzels and beer. Plus, there was the loan from Logan that needed to be repaid ...

He glanced up at the clock, his hand on the bottle. Six a.m. He wondered what Max was doing right now ... if she was with him. They'd undoubtedly made up. They always did. She and Logan were probably--

He pushed the thought away. Max and Logan had been sleeping together for weeks, and he'd managed to not let it bother him. But now ... Now things are different, a little voice whispered in his head. Now you just might have a chance.

Alec told the little voice in his head to shut up.

His hands were shaking; his stomach queasy. Alec shivered, and wondered idly if he was having a panic attack, really getting sick, or if he was just low on Tryptophan. Reluctantly, he set the bottle of Scotch down, although the thought of the alcohol burning his throat and calming his nerves was incredibly tempting. If he needed Tryptophan, he couldn't risk drinking -- not if he was going to be any good to Max today when she met with Lydecker this afternoon. Tryptophan plus alcohol really put him off his game, slowed his reflexes and his mind.

Turning his back on the Scotch, he went into the tiny bathroom -- a cubicle so small Joshua literally couldn't turn around in the place -- splashed cold water on his face, and took the large bottle of Tryptophan out of the medicine cabinet. Shaking the container, he realized he'd need a refill pretty soon. If Joshua knew he'd let his pill supply get so low he'd be in for a scolding. The big lug mother-henned him something fierce about his meds ever since he'd had a couple of bad seizure spells, always asking him if he'd taken his pills or if he had extra doses in his pocket.

Figuring it couldn't hurt, he shook out four pills into his hand, then another two just-in-case. After which he made himself lie down on the mattress that served as his bed. Morning would come much too soon -- and he honestly didn't know how he was going to react when he faced Max again.

*****

"Logan, we have to talk."

"I know we do, Max," Logan Cale said. He was seated at his computer desk, but turned around when she entered the apartment. The dark circles under his eyes and his messy hair told Max the man had been up all night.

"Logan--"

"Here." He held out a small black velvet box to her -- a jeweler's box.

Max's eyes grew wide as she realized what it probably was.

"Logan ..." She shook her head. "I can't. Please. Don't."

"Open it, Max," Logan said softly. "It's something that I think will solve all of our problems."

With shaking hands, she took the box from Logan and flipped open the lid. Inside was what she'd expected ... what she'd feared.

"You don't have the money for this," she said, staring down at the glittering one karat diamond ring, a stone so large it took her breath away.

"This is important, Max. More important than computer equipment or even Eyes Only. And I'll spend my money on what I want." He was watching her closely. "Try it on," he said quietly. "And then say 'yes'."

Max closed her eyes, but the tears still found their way down her cheek.

"Marry me, Max," Logan said. "I know you probably thought I'd pop the question over a candle light dinner with a bottle of pre-pulse Chardonnay, but after the way you stormed out last night I couldn't wait any longer. I want you to be my wife, Max. Once we're married, everything will be all right. No one will question that you're a transgenic. You'll be Mrs. Logan Cale first and foremost."

Logan was talking too fast, as if desperate to get all of his speech out before she could interrupt.

"Put the ring on, Max," Logan implored as she remained silent, blue eyes intent behind his wire rim glasses. He stood, the faint whir of his exoskeleton sounding unusually loud in the quiet apartment. And then he walked over to her, arms out. "Or would you rather have a little make-up sex first," he said huskily as his hands squeezed her shoulders.

Max remembered what their first night together had been like, in the hotel -- how she'd told herself at the time it had been wonderful, being with the love of her life at long last. She'd told herself that this was what making love felt like, that because it wasn't just meaningless sex it would be different from the other times she'd been with men. Logan was a tender, gentle, caring lover, treating her as if she was a fragile china doll in bed. At first, Max had enjoyed being coddled, but then, as her feline passions caught fire, she'd become more aggressive ...

Which is when she'd discovered that, paralyzed extremities or not, Logan Cale liked to be the one in charge in the bedroom, her fiery Manticore sex drive notwithstanding. He hadn't said it out loud, but his eyes had pleaded with her to "be a lady." And Max had been just that ever since, controlling herself nearly to the point of madness whenever they'd made love.

Now, she looked toward the bedroom and the bed she shared with this man, and waited for the feeling of fierce joy ... the passion ... that just wasn't there for her any more.

Stepping back from Logan she snapped the ring box closed and held it out to him. "I can't."

"Max, I don't understand," Logan said, genuinely confused. "We've waited almost two years to be together, and now I'm asking you to be my wife. It doesn't matter to me that you're a transgenic."

"But it matters to me," Max said. "I am transgenic, Logan! I'm not human! I'm not like you and I never will be. I thought I could fit in your world ... live in it and still be loyal to my own kind. But I can't, Logan! I can't be two people! I can't be who you want me to be!"

Logan was looking at her as if she was demented. "Take it easy, Max," he said soothingly. "I've never asked you to choose between me and your people, and I'm not asking you to do that now. I'm just asking you to adjust your life so you and I can fit together."

"I can't," Max said again, her voice dropping to a hoarse whisper as she set the ring box down on an end table since Logan wouldn't take it back.

"Okay," Logan said slowly. "So ... no ring ... no marriage, at least not right now. We'll take things more slowly." He moved to hold her again, and Max skittered away.

Logan's eyes narrowed with suspicion. "Max, there's something else, isn't there?"

She looked at him with something akin to panic in her eyes. "Nothing else," she said. "I'm just not ready for this kind of commitment, not until we work things out."

Logan stepped closer, holding out his arms to her, and suddenly Max remembered just why she loved this man so much. It wasn't his fault she was who she was. It wasn't his fault he wanted to marry her.

She snuggled against his chest, feeling safe in the warmth of his hug.

"Where were you tonight?" he asked quietly in her ear.

"Someplace where I could think," Max said.

"Alone?"

"No," she murmurred, wanting to be truthful. "I was with Alec, for awhile at least."

She didn't see the way Logan's eyes tightened at the mention of the X5's name. "I bet he made you feel a lot better," he joked. "Alec has such a way with words and all."

"I told him to go away," Max said with a coy smile as she took hold of Logan's hand and pulled him toward the bedroom.

Logan's face relaxed. She'd sent Alec away. Everything was all right. But he had to ask-- "So, Alec knows you're upset with me?"

Max's flung herself down on the bed and looked up at him enticingly. "I don't want to talk about Alec any more."

Which was just fine with Logan.