DISCLAIMER: All DARK ANGEL characters belong to James Cameron and Charles Eglee (Cameron Eglee Productions) and DARK ANGEL itself belongs to FOX.

ARCHIVE: No

Artwork courtesy of Valjean & JensenAckles.org

"Whoa!" Alec said, holding his hands out in alarm. "Max, I was kidding!"

"No you weren't," she said, tossing the garment to the foot of the bed and reaching back to unhook her bra.

Was she insane?

"Max," he said firmly. "Stop it. This isn't funny."

"It's not meant to be." The bra was in her lap now, her breasts exposed.

Alec stared. He couldn't help it. And, God help him, he wanted her so badly it was primal. However, as much as the animal in him screamed to make her his, the man in him knew it would be wrong. No. Make that a disaster.

"Max," he whispered. "What are you doing? Why are you doin' this to me? Do you hate me so much?"

That gave her pause. "I don't hate you," she said, her voice a monotone as her eyes focused on the dirty window shade behind him. "I just want to get this over with."

He didn't understand ... God help him he didn't understand ...

"You said you loved me," Max murmured, as if speaking to a third person in the room. "And I think I might love you, too." Finally then, her eyes focused on him. "This is the only way to find out, Alec ... to get it out of my system. I can't go on with Logan when I keep thinking about you."

The X5 cleared his throat. "A room at the downtown Ritz-Carlton would have been classier," he said with some of the usual Alec-levity in his voice, trying to break the awful mood. "We could have gone fifty-fifty. I'd even have sprung for room service."

"We've got hours," she said, as if she hadn't heard him. "Take off your clothes and come here."

"No."

"You don't want me?"

"Of course I want you. But I want to make love to you, Max, not just have meaningless sex."

"Then make love to me."

"I can't."

"Why?"

Alec couldn't believe he was having this conversation with Max. He felt like he was in the Twilight Zone or had fallen down a rabbit hole like Alice in Wonderland. "Because I care too much about you to let you do this to yourself," he tried. "And because Logan's my friend, and you belong to him."

"I don't belong to anyone."

"Max," Alec said, his voice as gentle as it had ever been with her. "You need to talk to Logan ... to be with him. You don't love me. You love him. You always have. I'm just ... someone who might have been. I was never really in the race at all. I wouldn't let myself be."

"You said you loved me."

"Yeah, I did. But other than that, have I ever made a move on you?"

Max leaned back on her elbows and regarded him with steady eyes, fully aware of the affect her half-nudity was having on him.

Alec was, indeed, getting uncomfortable, in more ways than one. Moving to the bed, he grabbed Max's shirt and threw it at her. "Get dressed," he ordered (and it was an order). We've got a job to do."

Then he turned his back on her and once more stood looking through the crack in the window shade, watching the dark street below and very pointedly ignoring the girl behind him.

For the next five hours neither transgenic said a word, until at last Alec's watch told him it was past midnight and time to make their move.

Rising stiffly to his feet from where he'd been sitting on the floor, he finally (fearfully) glanced back at Max. She was dressed again and sound asleep on the bed, resting on the jacket he'd spread on the dirty sheets.

What had happened here tonight frightened the young transgenic more than he wanted to admit, in a way a physical foe never could. Something was definitely wrong between Max and Logan. For her to have made him such an offer -- so much like the one Asha had made the night before -- made him feel incredibly used, but also vaguely hopeful. Sure, he was used to women occasionally inviting him into their beds, but Max? No way.

He knew he was caught in the middle of something -- a love triangle (or quadrangle?). However, for the life of him, Alec couldn't see a way out short of leaving Terminal City altogether. Which, after tonight -- especially if Max backed him into a corner any more -- was becoming a distinct possibility.