Fiction TGoM- Chapter Twenty-five

Title: The Glory Of Manticore

Author: Restive Nature

Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to Dark Angel or to X-men. They belong respectively to Cameron/ Eglee and to Marvel Comics. No infringement is intended and this fiction is for private enjoyment only.

Rating: up to NC-17

Chapter Rating: PG-13

Genre: Crossover

Type: action/ Romance

Pairing: Max/ Logan

Summary: Max is once again on the run. But this time a safe haven awaits her in the form of Professor Xavier’s School for Gifted Children.

Spoilers/ Time line: Post the first movie, for X-men. First season for DA, starting off from Episode “Blah Blah Woof Woof”

Feedback: Always welcome!

Distribution: Ask first please.

Chapter Twenty-five

The door slammed shut behind Logan, but it wasn't as if he cared. The day had already been too long in his estimate. Smiling, pretending that nothing was wrong, it just wasn't him. And he had not given in to the social expectation that just because he was pissed that he'd smile and act as if all were well.

He knew that the others were puzzled over his behavior and his fuming mind pointed out that it was all a little hypocritical. After all, why the hell should he be happy go lucky joe one hundred percent of the time? They didn't know him and shouldn't even presume that just because he'd lost the memories of the majority of his life, that it meant there were so few dimensions of him.

He had a brain that worked, truly on a different level than most, humans and mutants alike. And his senses were sharper. And Logan, though he might not have the memories, knew that he had developed logistics for dealing with anything the world seemed to throw at him. There were the basest levels that were instinct driven alone. He always listened to those. Then there was his ability to see deeper because he had more physical evidence at his fingertips. He knew that he didn't always draw the correct conclusions. But he wasn't alone in that weakness. Even the other mutants he was aligned with at the moment carried that fallacy. Like trusting Max. Believing whatever crap she'd fed them, and the professor.

Chuck had said that she needed safe haven. From what, neither had been too clear on. That was fine, Logan figured, because he had secrets as well. They all did and it was their right to decide when, where and with whom to share. But what Logan had trouble abiding were hypocrites and two faced people. And after the debacle at the museum that morning, he was trying to decided exactly what the hell was going on and why.

Because the scent that Max had scoffed at the night before? It was there again. Faint, like it had blown through her hair, lingering around her like a lover's ghostly caress. Just the scent of one moment of it had Logan wanting to drive his fist through something, preferably a somebody, repeatedly. And while he knew on a basic level why, he didn't know how the depth of commitment to what his senses and more primal self, had developed.

She was his!

And the few coherent thoughts that had warped through his brain in dizzying speeds as they had made their way to Central Park for Max's amusement, didn't make him feel better. There were very few options that seemed like they could be at play here. The first was that this person or whatever it was that was chasing Max down was not an ordinary human because with the closeness of the timing of the scent, she would have caught on. She had insisted that no one was in her room the night before. It was entirely possible that whomever was tracking her down had gotten close to her that morning as well.

But what Logan was unsure about was the fact that if Max were in trouble and it was this male person or possibly thing, that was getting way too close for comfort, why hadn't he taken her? Grabbed her, turned her in or whatever was necessary to the situation. Of course, not knowing the situation, Logan could not adequately judge.

The male's scent still held an elusive unknown qualityin some dimensions. It seemed like Max's. But it was not a sibling or familial scent. That played back to Logan's wondering if Max were a mutant in denial. Sometimes they ran across powers that were very similar in their scope. But he had little to go on. Perhaps it was a brother, and he was the mutant, though she might have mentioned it. Logan had no clue whether a mutation could change the base scent a person was born with, but all things possible and all that. But something in his gut told Logan that it wasn't. For one thing, the other tinge to the scent of this unknown male that was infringing on what Logan's primal senses had claimed, was a possessiveness that he was finding abhorrent.

Prowling around the room wasn't accomplishing anything and eventually Logan ended up flat out on his bed, staring up at the ceiling. Wondering, thinking back over the relatively few days that they had all known Max. Surely the professor would have said something to protect, if no one else, his students, if the situation Max was running from was really bad. He kept trying to remove his own self from the situation but it was proving impossible. Because he really didn't want to be thinking what he was starting to think. That Max knew exactly who it was that had been in her room, had been covering for him and had met him again today. And not by accident either.

Had she agreed to this whole trip just so that she could meet with him?

The only thing, the very simple thing that had kept Logan from saying any of this to her was the simple fact was that he was scared. Scared that if he was wrong, it would screw things up totally between them. And he wanted, no, he needed to be with her, in whatever form it was. He could no more walk away from Max at this point, than he could rip the damn adamantium that had been grafted to his skeleton, out of his body.

Because whatever this unknown male brought to the table, she didn't return it. He could scent and sense the level of attraction Max held for the male. Recognizing it like his own. How Scott felt for Jean. But unlike Jean, when she responded to Scott, when she had responded to himself, Max had no attraction like that to the interloper.

So did that mean the girl had a stalker?

That was a new possibility that had Logan sitting up, reaching out his senses further. He could hear her, in her bathroom and the water that lapped in the basin told him, among other little signs, that she was indulging in her tub that was probably identical to the monstrosity that was in his room. Flopping back on the bed, Logan huffed softly as another not so new physical problem added itself into the mix.

He was going to be vigilant, stay quiet and when the time was right, make sure Max knew exactly what he felt. If he didn't, Logan groaned, then she was probably gonna find a way to be the death of him.

*****

Max started shedding clothes the moment her hotel door was locked behind her. All of the walking around Central Park had been for the most part enjoyable. There'd been Logan's slight standoffish behavior after the museum. But she had attributed that distraction he carried as probably being due to his moment over that painting. Maybe some bad memories. He certainly hadn't looked carefree and happy and content as he had the evening before.

So Max had shrugged it off. Whatever it was that was bugging him wasn't really her concern or problem. He'd either figure it out and be fine or get over it and move on. So she had concentrated on enjoying herself with Scott and Jean, who had been more than happy to share some pleasant memories of being in New York when they were younger.

Away from the crowd of the museum, Jean had regained her equilibrium. Whatever headache she might have had had eased. Scott, Max had found, had an indulging side that wasn't apparent upon first meeting and it was rooted mostly in keeping Jean happy. She wondered if it had been a defense mechanism of her burgeoning powers of telepathy that she had admitted to. A smile curved her lips as she thought on that again. Relationships certainly seemed to take on an entirely new dimension when someone could read someone else's mind. And she was certainly glad that she was no more than a friendly acquaintance of the woman's. That might change down the road and Max, if she allowed that to happen, would in time get used to the facet of Jean's power that echoed Xavier's.

So even though she had had a satisfying day and was looking forward to getting out again for the evening, she also wanted to spend a little time on her own. And the best way of doing that, in Max's opinion was to indulge herself in one of her favorites. With heated water or heated anything being at a premium back in Seattle, she had indulged in hot food, water and room as much as possible.

The bath water was running as Max brought some towels over to where they were in easy reach. There was a small basket of amenities, including the obligatory hotel square of soap, tiny bottles of shampoo and conditioner and a few packets of bath salts. Tearing the corner of one, Max found it pleasant enough and added it in, watching them as they dissolved, the water swirling around the faint pink coloring that had been added to the effervesing salts.

When she slipped into the chin deep pool of water, her hair pinned atop her hair, all seemed pretty right in her world. Now all she had to do was find a few places to stash the jewels she wanted to fence in her dress or purse that night. Of course, she could simply wear the jewelry, but she was fairly certain that Logan of one of the others would notice if she were wearing it one moment, then she slipped off to the ladies room and returned without it. So it was better that it never came in contact with them.

Glad that she hadn't taken any other items, though some of the houses that she had hit up had plenty of art or small statuary, Max then turned her attention to what she should do to compliment her dress that evening. She of course, had purse and shoes and the wrap that matched the fabric of the dress. But hairs, nails, toe nails, since they were open toed strappy shoes, all of it very girly girl, needed to be decided upon. And she didn't have her best girl there to advise her. She wondered if she dared call Cindy yet.

With Zack's assertion that Seattle was no longer quite the hot spot for her, she could probably get away with contacting Cindy. But she didn't want her first phone call back to the girl to be a quick, 'how should I do my hair' convo. Her best friend and room mate deserved better than that. Perhaps Charles wouldn't mind her calling once she was back safely at the mansion. She could offer to pay the long distance fees and was sure that it would be fine. All she had to do, really, was try and channel her friend long distance.

There were certain do and don'ts that she had, of course, the main one being not to expose the bar code on the back of her neck. It was a dead giveaway to certain people that she was a transgenic. Others, she foisted off with the pretense that it was a tattoo. It wasn't and she couldn't pretend that it ever would be. Tattoos at least, could be removed... permanently. Her bar code was programmed into her genome and even if she lasered it off as one would a tattoo, it grew back eventually.

Cindy had once simply done a half up 'do for an event, a wedding that she had attended with Logan. Leaving a good number of wisps of hair to cover it had been fine. But she didn't feel that style matched the dress she had. It was either up or down. And since she had no concealer for it, down it would have to be.

As she slowly relaxed under the tension relieving heat of the water, Max let her mind drift a little. Scott had informed her that they would eat at the club. When she had evinced surprise that they did dinners, the couple had quickly explained that they didn't. But apparently, their appetizer menu was so good and varied that it would fill in nicely. Jean had offered that she could get a little room service before they left if she wasn't sure, but Max had teasingly put herself in their hands since they were the ones that were familiar with the club. They'd been more than happy to recount several of the acts that they had seen there. And some nights when it had just been a dj playing the old standbys that everyone swayed their hearts out to.

Eventually the water began to cool a little too much for her taste. And knowing that she still had other things to do to prepare for the night, Max allowed the water to drain from the tub completely, rather than refilling it with more hot water. Reaching for the fluffy, thick white towels, she dried off rapidly and wrapped another around her hair. She exited the bathroom, to the slightly cooler main room and snagged her toiletry bag as she did.

She found the body lotion that Kendra had gifted her with at Christmas time and though she usually used it sparingly on the rougher parts of her skin before bed, like her elbows, she used it more thoroughly this time. It went well, she found, with the lingering scent from the bath salts.

Once she had moisturized herself thoroughly, thinking with a smile, how impressed Cindy would be, she turned to her other ministrations. She knew that she could get away with doing her hair and make-up first, since she could shimmy the dress upwards, rather than having to pull it on over her head. So she spent several minutes playing around with her hair before deciding that it was getting long enough that she could take the curl out of it and go for a slightly more adult look than her usual carefree bounce. It wasn't so much an affected look as it was one of being too eager to get on with the day to bother doing more than washing and combing it. It usually dried in curls and since she liked them, she rarely bothered to change it up. But for this occasions, she was glad that she had brought her straightener and some product.

It took only half an hour before she had slipped everything but the last few things, her shoes and wrap on. The jewels were all stashed, several necklaces in her purse and some rings down the front of her dress. As well as an antique looking pocket watch. She was just retrieving her shoes from the bedroom closet when she heard the knock at her main door. Glancing at the clock on the bedside table, she realized that it was still early yet. Wondering who it might be, she headed out to the door to answer.

Surprisingly, it was Scott, standing waiting for her to answer the summons, grinning in an easy going manner. Max allowed her startlement to show through, even going so far as to peek over his shoulder.

“Apparently I was getting in the way of the getting dressed procedure,” he offered in deference to her attitude.

“Ah,” Max murmured and then stepped back, allowing his entry. “Well, that shouldn't be a problem here.” She swept her hand down, gesturing to herself. “Pretty much done.” She pushed the door shut and spun around to look over the lanky male. He was tall, like most of the males she was acquainted with. Skinny too, which Max understood was one of the reasons that Logan tended to call him Stretch. He did have that thin appearance, like someone had taken him to a stretching rack at some point in his life. But he didn't have that hungry lean look, like some people developed. Usually, if she thought hard about it, teens that were having growth spurts too closely together came to mind most easily for comparison.

Scott, she decided had plenty of time to grow and fill into his height well. The glasses that he wore to protect the world from his mutant power, as she understood, tended to dominate his face and she doubted many people took the time to see beyond them.

“So how near ready is Jean?” she asked as she nodded when Scott hovered by the sofa. He seated himself, his frame sinking just slightly into the material.

“I'm sure she's ready enough,” Scott sighed. “I think it was more the subject matter I was, and I quote 'prattling on about' that was starting to bother her.” he informed her, looking a little sheepish. “She pushed me out the door and told me to tell it to someone whom it mattered to.”

“Ah,” Max nodded as she carried her hairbrush to the bathroom. She left the door open as she touched up the style she had chosen. “And does it have anything to do with that silent conversation you were having with Logan this morning.”

“Um,” Scott's hesitation told her that she was right on the mark. “Do you really want to know?” he asked with a wince. Max chuckled and stuck her head back out of the bathroom.

“It depends,” she informed him cheekily. “Are you going to give me advice from the point of view of a friend, or of an older brother type?” Before he could answer, she then chuckled. “Or heaven forbid, the mentor and teacher who thinks he has a pretty good handle on the outcast, young runaway, seeking protection?”

Whatever he'd been about to say was lost as Scott began to laugh. “Is that really how I come off?” he demanded, though he didn't sound too perturbed by the fact. Max nodded.

“It's understandable,” she explained immediately. “Given your... line of work, I would imagine you see that often enough. Though I'm not hardly in the same position as the kids you guys take in and foster.”

“No, you're not,” he agreed, turning quietly pensive for a moment. “But at the same time, you kind of are.” He watched her for a moment and then added, “not that there's anything wrong with that.”

“I don't know Scott,” Max mused as she finished with her hair and set the brush down and turned off the light before returning to the main living area. “Are you seeing it because it's there, or you think it should be there?”

“Good question,” he mused, which definitely wasn't an answer.

“Well,” Max sighed as she retrieved the shoes that she had set out that she planned to wear, “why don't we move on from the definition of my situation to what you'd like to talk about.”

Scott gave her a brief smile, before loosely clasping his hands across his stomach. He watched her strapping her feet into her shoes for a moment before sighing once more. “I don't suppose you'd be very receptive to hearing what I want to say...” he began.

“I'm a big girl Scott,” Max scoffed. “I can hear things that I might not want to and pretty much not hold it against you. I can keep in mind that this is coming from a good place, probably for a good reason, right?”

“Yeah, okay,” he nodded. “It's just,” he began and then straightened up, “to be honest, I know I was thrilled to see Logan show interest in you when you first arrived.”

“Because it took his focus away from Jean,” Max nodded. “Which is entirely understandable. But you don't think it's so great now?”

“For you? No,” he answered her bluntly. He seemed wary, so Max just waited, calmly watching him, seeing the emotions playing over his face, tension stringing through his body. “I hate to say this Max, but I don't think you know Logan as well as you might think, or want to.”

“No, I certainly don't,” she agreed, shaking her head slightly. “But I don't think you do either. I doubt anyone does. He seems a very private individual. In more than a... a privacy, security freak kind of way. You know what I mean?”

“I think I do,” Scott nodded. “But I know more of Logan than you do.”

“You know different facets, sure,” Max continued with her agreeable streak. She shifted in her seat, once her shoes were properly strapped on and smiled widely. “From what I understand, you guys have been in some pretty stressful situations together, right?” She allowed him a chance to nod, as well as add to that, but Scott refrained. “And how much time do you spend together otherwise?”

“We don't,” he told her bluntly.

“And seriously, in that time, how much of your dealing with him was colored by your annoyance over how he acted with Jean? The type of annoyance that, despite how hard people try, they can't seem to let go of completely, even if they say they can?”

“Okay, point taken,” Scott tilted his head. He inhaled deeply and moved one arm to the nearest arm rest, leaning his head on his fist as he regarded her. “So far, Jean and I like you. I know Jean would like to be friends with you and I think you have some interesting ideas about things we have in common. I also worry that you might expect more of Logan, that as far as I'm aware, he's not capable of giving. And when he has, it's been more like an obligation for him, rather than out of any true... compassion, I guess.”

Max, instead of decrying what he had said, took a moment to digest it. Was he referring to Logan's own admitted tendency to be something of a loner? There were veiled rumblings underneath the surface that Scott was reacting to that Max probably wasn't familiar with or aware of. It was common enough when someone came into a new situation with old players. Both men made it clear that they were not friends and probably never would be. They already had developed an antagonistic relationship for several reasons, Jean just being one among them.

“What exactly is it that you think I want from him that he's not capable of giving?” she wondered quietly and was just a little amused to see Scott squirming in his seat slightly. “And what makes you think that I'm cut from such a different cloth than he is?” she also pressed on him. He opened his mouth once to answer, but then snapped it shut.

“Okay,” he sighed. “Point taken. I don't actually know either of you well enough to make judgments like that. All I know is what I've seen so far. But please keep in mind, that to me, it's been a poor showing, aside from what he did to save Rogue.” He looked vaguely disturbed that he had said that much. Max nodded absently as she rose from the sofa to retrieve her wrap and purse.

“Yeah, if all he's done is to pursue Jean, save a kid he felt responsible for, pursue Jean some more and then drop her like a hot potato when the next pretty face comes along, I can see your point,” she teased, though something in the words rang true in her. Was that all she was to him? A distraction from this unrequited love he had for the redhead? She tried to shake the feeling away. She was determined to enjoy the evening and doubting herself was not the way to go about it.

“If it helps any,” Scott offered, standing as well, “I do believe that he isn't just trying to toy around with you. I think that whatever he might feel for you is more real than what he was looking for when he looked at Jean.” He chuckled uncomfortably then. “I guess I'm just questioning his staying power. He does have a tendency to... bail, when things settle down.”

Max nodded, still unable to speak.

“You look great, by the way,” Scott added quickly, seeming to understand her reticence.

“Thank you,” she responded automatically. And then, glancing at the uncomfortable male in her suite, chuckled as well. “I was meaning to ask you, if you don't mind, how exactly do you see through those glasses?”

Scott's relief was evident as he exhaled and relaxed. “Well, it took us a while to develop these and we had some help with it from a friend of the professor's,” he began to explain. “The lens is a ruby quartz that seems to deflect the power of my eyes...” he went on and Max allowed herself to get lost in the semi-scientific explanation. Exactly as he intended, Scott had definitely given her something to think about.


Chapter 26