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miamo81

I still don’t like this fic 2 and a half months after I wrote it, still couldn’t get the ending I wanted (and the wording is so very…uck throughout).  However, see I posted and this was actually me having a good fic day.  God that's sad. 

 

“Fast”

 

Fast.

 

It was funny how one word.  Four little letters had over taken her every thought. 

 

‘I want to go fast.’ 

 

She remembered his voice as he said it, the low rumble, what it did to her could very easily be described much the same way in one of the trashy novels Kendra occasionally came home with, normally just prior to a man that didn’t look anything like the one on the cover. 

 

Max had restrained herself though, instead she handed off the one thing she claimed to love more than anything else, including her former roommate, of which Max had informed her of many times in the form of a threat that she never bothered to conceal. 

 

The man who had willingly admitted the most time he spent on a motorized two wheeled vehicle was in an arcade, along with riding mopeds on island vacations, and a friend’s Ducati once around the block.  That man who had just fallen into her arms had been on her bike after a five minute lesson. 

 

That extension of her soul, under his inexperienced hands.  Simply to make him happy, to be the reason for his smile, an excuse to wrap her arms around his waist without pushing their friendship to a point she wasn’t sure they were supposed to go. 

 

‘I want to go fast,’ pounded in her head and once more the damn matching clichés from the romance novels wouldn’t leave her alone. 

 

She had straddled him on a bed, shared a soul searing kiss and now the whole ride thing; it was as if Kendra were telling the story of her life. Not to mention bodily fluids, though she imagined that would probably be termed something, like life essence. 

 

Fast. 

 

Fucking Amazing Sex Time. 

 

Fantastically Astounding Soul Touching

 

Finally A Second Try

 

Forget About Systematic Torture

 

Forget About Sexy Techno-Guy…

 

Do-Gooder.

 

Humanitarian versus Human-taker. 

 

She was made to kill, he was meant to save. 

 

The world quite simply sucked.

 

Then those four powerful letters quickly returned.  Fast. 

 

She had been the one he said them to, not Daphne, not Valerie, not that hot girl that worked the lobby three days a week.  Her.  Max. 

 

‘I want to go fast.’ 

 

Five words and she had pretty much handed over the keys to her soul. 

 

Five words, four letters, nine days and she had pretty much lost her mind because of it.  Enough was enough, Logan was a man of words and she needed one expanded.   

 

-o-o-O-o-o-

 

She almost tripped over a carelessly discarded sneaker as she walked into his apartment.  Even in her single minded determination to get that one word defined, she smiled, knowing what a great thrill he was getting at being able to kick off his shoes without having to make a production over the simple act, things he would never again take for granted. 

 

Speaking of taking…

 

She continued on in her quest.  “Logan,” she announced herself impatiently as she walked towards the kitchen. 

 

“Bathroom,” he called back. 

 

“You decent?” she quickly asked, not sure she wouldn’t charge the door regardless of the answer. 

 

“What’s wrong?” he quickly emerged wrapped in a plush white towel that fell almost to his knees, leaning on his cane for support.  Those novels of Kendra’s had a lot of words to describe this, but she was focused, glistening chest hairs would not deter her.

 

“Fast,” she repeated the word that hounded her.

 

The word was demanding, not impressed, he would have frowned if not feeling so frantic, “I can be ready in a minute,” he went to turn back into the bathroom, to cut into his bedroom. 

 

“No,” she quickly stopped him, “fast,” she repeated, her annoyance with the word, clear in her tone. 

 

He turned back with a confused look. 

 

“Fast,” she parroted herself, angry at him for doing this to her, making it so all she could think about were those damn four letters for a long as hell nine days. 

 

“Max, I know you’re a woman of few words, but I’m going to need a few more than that.”  He waited a second, but she didn’t speak, a momentary freezing of her vocal cords, which she blamed on the damn implications of those four letters and those glistening chest hairs.  “I’m going to go get dressed before we continue this guessing game.”

 

He turned and the words could finally tumble out, “What the hell did you mean by you want to go fast?”  Told her she was a miracle and that he wanted to go fast while looking deep into her eyes…

 

He stopped. 

 

“Logan,” she curtly said his name, demanding he face her, face the question that had been looming in her head for over a week.

 

He turned back, his expression guarded.

 

“Because you know tomorrow came and went and I still-”

 

The distance between them disappeared faster than he should have been able to move, before she could speak another word because the moment she saw him rush towards her, she once more lost her voice. 

 

The cane clattered to the floor, he cupped her face as he kissed her urgently, the kiss slowed in its final seconds, pressure lessoned as he prepared to pull away.  “Fast,” he explained in a husky whisper as he continued to cup her face. 

 

She smiled, “Took you long enough.She lifted back up onto her toes, her hands mirrored his and they didn’t waste another second. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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I don’t think this snippet worked out well, but well months after I wrote nearly all of it, I have to give in and admit I can’t fix it.  :-P  Sorry!!! 

 

Snippet 9-28-07 ‘Laughter’ Response

 

 

There was laughter, an odd sound, it didn’t sound quite right, not forced or unnatural though, simply unused. 

 

“What?” was the husky murmur that responded to it and a shifting of warmth as she moved to look up, rustling the covers as she did so. 

 

“Nothing,” the smile could be felt as sure as her dark hair suddenly being brushed aside by strong fingers. 

 

“Nothing?” her brows lifted.

 

The smile more of a smirk now, felt from the inside, “You make me happy.”

 

Her turn to smirk, “Never would have figured that one out myself,” a soft hand was placed on his chest.  “Your heart’s pounding,” she looked slightly puzzled and in awe by this. 

 

His hand covered hers, “What can I say?  You excite me.”  You scare me. 

 

She looked ready to question him on this, so he pulled her to him first. 

 

Dark eyes looked soulfully into his, “I don’t know how I got so lucky.  You make it all okay.”  She smirked. “Or at least worthwhile.”

 

-x-x-X-x-x-

 

There was that pounding again, throbbing, aching, ready to burst. 

 

Take her, it yelled. 

 

She’d go.  Take her! 

 

He knew she’d go, he hated her for it. 

 

He could hear her inside the apartment.  Frantic. 

 

There had been a gentle call of his name, the thud of her bag and then a moment of silence.  His name louder; then began the frantic moves through their apartment, doors being flung open, drawers being pulled out, then the desperate move out of their apartment…her apartment now.  Banging on the neighbors’ doors, desperately searching for someone to tell her it wasn’t true, that he wasn’t gone.  She tore back into the apartment with a neighbor nipping on her heels, grabbed her bag, slammed the door and then she was gone again.  He ducked inside before she exited the building, not sure if she would look up and see him on the fire escape.  He wouldn’t be able to leave if he saw her again.  Correction: He wouldn’t be able to leave alone. 

 

He walked past their stuff, through a minefield of memories and into the bathroom.  Empty eyes greeted him.  Empty, cold and blue.  She had loved his eyes.  She had claimed to love all of him and he thinks she would, but he can never give her the chance. 

 

He’s not doing this for him, he’s doing it for her, but she’d never believe that.  She’ll hate him, there’s nothing he can do to change that…nothing that won’t make her vulnerable.  Hate can be a power, a strength.  Hate, fear and necessity got him through life until he met her.  Before he found out there were stronger things, stronger urges, drives, all that compromised him, left him vulnerable to those who had instituted the fear and hate and all those like them. 

 

“We’re not made for this life,” he whispered to himself as he allowed himself one final look at what could never be. 

 

-x-x-X-x-x-

 

She wasn’t exactly a creature of habit.  Not to say she didn’t occasionally exhibit certain patterns, but habit…There was one thing though.  Joe’s Diner, Saturdays.  That was the only definite.

 

It could be early morning and a full breakfast before the rest of the day.  It could be straggling in late, after a hard night out, a plate of pancakes split between them.  Falling into the booth after a hard day’s work, a cup of coffee, a piece of cake…

 

Yea, the diner and Saturdays was the only thing she did on a habitual basis. 

 

He just needed to check on her.  Make sure they hadn’t gotten her.  His sources had never hinted at that, but for all he knew they were playing him.  This was all some sick, twisted manipulation of Lydecker’s. 

 

And  then there she was, already there before he was, not surprising since it had been a last minute trip.  Dark hair, longer than since he’d last seen her.   Dark eyes watching as the strawberry milkshake dripped off the edge of her straw as she played with it like a child. 

 

She plunged it back in rapidly and looked across the table, suddenly sitting up a little straighter and giving an apologetic smile to her companion. 

 

That’s what he realized what she’d done aside not take the money he’d left her and gone back to her parents, like he suggested in his note.  She had become one of them.  One of the blue collars swept up into alleged salvation by a white collar.  It was a disease that had plagued the nation since the Pulse, the loss of the beautiful and sweet to those higher up in the caste system that ruled their nation.  Those who had managed to retain a steady paycheck, heat and running water. 

 

A perfect, dutiful wife, easy on the eyes and the nerves.  She would be so thankful for everything she had that the rest of the country did not, that he wouldn’t have to do much to keep her in line, a gentle nudging would all she’d ever require, as she was aware of how quickly she could be tossed back into the cold, dark world, he had rescued her from.

 

He, the yuppie in the polo.  Not he, Zack, not her Mark that she had known, loved and lived with in the steel tipped construction boots, paint splattered jeans and battered tee-shirts. 

 

He remembered the first time he saw her, the fire, the attitude and then the vulnerability lurking behind those large brown eyes, the slightly crooked smile.  He’d wondered if she was Max for a split second before moving onto thinking that she was how he hoped Max had grown up.  Behind the years of compliance had always been a hint of defiance, he hoped she really had made it and it had come out, though not too much. 

 

It wasn’t Max ignoring the urge to play with her milkshake now though and he knew that eventually her eyes would find his and it wouldn’t be one of those sappy romantic comedy scenes.  She wouldn’t run to him, throw her arms around him…

 

A slow walk, meant to show just how unaffected she was.  Biting, cruel words to berate him for knowing how to live her life better than her and telling him he no longer had a right to judge her.  And in the end she would unwittingly ask about them: if he had ever loved her, if they had meant anything to him, if any of it was true.  

 

He wasn’t sure he could lie.  So the steel toed boots lifted and he left her life again. 

 

-x-x-X-x-x-

 

A charcoal gray wagon pulled in front of Max’s building and it drew Zack’s suspicious attention, after all what the hell was that kind of car doing in front of this kind of building.  Then his eyes focused on the woman in the passenger’s seat, young, dark hair. 

 

She looked nervous, her companion looked oblivious, he didn’t notice her gaze shifting from him, to the windshield, to the door.  When he did finally turn to face her, he didn’t notice the way she stopped moving and as he made no attempt of getting out of the car with her as her hand was on the handle, he barely noticed her slightly turn back to him. 

 

The trunk was popped as she walked around the car, extracted a bike from it with no help, not that she needed help, but…. 

 

Her companion finally realized to smile as she stopped at the entry and turned back, it caused a sudden one to emerge on her face and then worry and discomfort filled her eyes.  

 

Her companion took off as the door closed, but he remained watching her building. 

 

He tugged down his hood as he turned to leave a few seconds after the lights had turned on in the apartment he knew to be hers.  He ignored the parallels that pounded in his heart, but he would save her from herself.  He was her brother, she was his sister, it was his duty.

 

-x-x-X-x-x-

 

 

She shot forward in her bed with a memory of a laugh in her ears. 

 

She gasped for air with wide eyes as one hand then another scratched down her chest, trying to tear off that raised flesh and what lay beneath. 

 

Gasps turned to uncontrollable sobs.  For a lost brother, a lost lover.  A woman, who would never know how loved she was.  A life that was sacrificed for hers.  Her flawed and tragic one with a love that just couldn’t be.  She cried for a precious laugh she had never heard, yet knew.   One she had once doubted ever existed. 

 

Then she stopped.  Abruptly despite the continued anguish.  An unconscious command halted the display.  She was after all a soldier.

 

-x-x-X-x-x-

 

 

AN:  Should have been dreamlike quality moving into a more real feeling dream (know how you can slip into them until they’re more real than real life).  I really hate the ending….It was so much better in my head. 

Current Location: Bed as always
Current Mood: awake
Current Music: No music...I get distracted easily

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Have keyboard. 

Now must figure out how to type on the damn weird, curvy yet flat thing.  

I look like a 4 year old typing. 

Seriously...A flat non-laptop keyboard that curves with some big levels...Odd...Sooo very odd...

Fastest amazon shipment EVER though!!!
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