Title: I’ve Been Away

Author: Zanna

E-mail: zanna186@yahoo.ca

Disclaimer: I don’t own anyone…I don’t make any money off anyone…you get the picture.

Rating: PG-13 language warning. Contains the f-word and the s-word.

A/N: I don’t consider myself to be a writer. I’m more the artsy-craftsy type than the literary type, but this story just boiled up out of my psyche and had to be written down. I would like to thank Guardian Angel for inspiring me to write this story. It was her two alternate endings to "Blah Blah, Woof Woof", All The Possibilities and The Way Home, that fired me up to write my version of what might have happened if Max hadn’t gone back at that pivotal moment. This will probably be my first and only story. I don’t know if I have it in me to write anything else, so be kind.

Life’s a bitch sometimes. Just when I feel like I have a home, I have to leave and never look back. Here I am, curled up on the couch in Logan’s cabin. I can hear Zack snoring softly behind me. He always did need more sleep than I did. I should be thinking about getting into safe territory, making plans for our next moves, strategy, but all I can think about are the people and places I’m leaving behind. Okay, make that the person I’m leaving behind. Logan. Just thinking about him makes me more confused than I care to be. Just who is he to me anyway? Our relationship was supposed to be strictly business, quid pro quo, but it’s become more than that. I’ve gotten used to him blowing up my pager on a regular basis. I’ve even found myself looking forward to it. Not a good sign. I’d always prided myself on my ability to remain emotionally detached. I was the girl who couldn’t afford to have emotional entanglements. But somehow Logan has managed to get under my skin, become a friend, possibly more than a friend.

Then there’s the kiss. For the past several hours, I’ve been telling myself that it meant nothing, that I was just reacting to the turmoil of being on the run again. But if that were true, why do I keep replaying it over and over again in my mind? If I close my eyes and touch my fingers to my lips, I can recall with perfect clarity the feel of his mouth on mine, the rough stubble of his jaw against my hands, his smell. I should call him just to hear his voice one last time, to say goodbye. The phone is on a small side table across the room and I’m just about to get up and go to it when I remember his last words to me. "Just go." He’s right. I can’t ever go back. Walking away from him yesterday was the hardest thing I’d ever done. I wasn’t going to put myself through that again. I settle back down against the armrest of the couch. Pretty soon, my eyes are closed again and my fingers are wandering back up to my lips.

A few minutes later, Zack wakes up and we start to get ready to leave. Zack insists on leaving everything as we’d found it. He even washes the wineglasses we used last night. "Don’t want to leave any fingerprints behind," he says. He so obsesses. Pretty soon, we’re on the road. We steal a ride from a motel parking lot in a nearby town. Several hours later, we’re across the border into Canada. We stay in Vancouver for a few days to scrounge up some cash, gather supplies and steal another set of wheels for me. Then he tells me it’s time to split up.

For a few seconds, I just stare at him. I’ve just had to leave Logan behind. Why does Zack have to leave me now, too? "Why do we have to split up so soon? We’re across the border now. It should be safe for us to stay together a little while longer."

"There is no such thing as safety. You should know that by now, Max. You think Manticore doesn’t have any operatives in Canada? Being across the border just means there’s more of a hassle for them over extradition if the locals get involved. We have to think of the others. I’m not going to risk compromising them just because you want some company."

I know that it’s useless to argue with him. He reels off a string of numbers at me. "It’s a contact number where you can reach me if you ever need me. Keep me informed of your whereabouts and leave numbers where I can reach you." And then he’s gone.

For a year, I play the part of the ‘good little soldier’ for Zack. Always on the move, never staying in one place for more than a month or two. I make my way steadily east, staying for a while in Calgary, Thunder Bay and Montreal. When I reach the East Coast, I quietly slip back across the border into the U.S. For a while, I wander along the coast, and then into the Deep South. The place names become a blur, Boston, Philadelphia, Atlanta, Houston, Phoenix.

I call Zack’s contact number regularly to tell him where I am. Sometimes, he’ll just show up wherever I happen to be, supposedly to check up on me, but we both know that he could do that by phone if he wanted to. During these surprise visits, he tries awkwardly to reach out to me, but nothing ever comes of it. Being my commanding officer, he can give me orders, but he doesn’t know how to ask me for what he wants. All I’ve ever wanted from him is for him to be my brother. I can’t give him what he wants, even if he had the words to ask.

Then one day, I find myself on the West Coast again, and my thoughts are heading North. I realize that I’ve made a wide circle around the continent, and now I’m slowly making my way back to where I started. In San Francisco, I report in to Zack’s number as usual. When he calls me back, there’s a hard edge to his voice.

"You’re going back to Seattle, aren’t you?"

"Hey, Zack. Nice to hear your voice, too."

"Just answer the question."

"Yeah, Zack. I’m going back. You got a problem with that?"

"You know I do. It’s too risky. Lydecker might still have people on the lookout for you there, even after all this time. Find somewhere else to go." When I refuse, he tries a new tactic on me. "C’mon, Max, it’s so dreary in Seattle. You could go to Las Vegas instead. It’s always a blast and it’s only one state over. Or, how about Mexico? Why go back to Seattle, where it rains 346 days out of the year, when you could be sunning yourself on a beach in Mazatlan?" Then he pulls out the big guns. "You could go see one of the others. I’ll tell you where they are. You’re not far from where Zane is right now."

For a moment, I’m speechless. He always said that it was too risky for any of us to know the locations of the others. To have him offer this to me now showed me just how desperate he was, how much he was willing to risk for me. If he had offered this to me when we first set out, I would have jumped at it. I’d have made a big reunion tour out the past year, but now it’s not good enough. I’d had a year of living on the run, a year of taking orders from him and living my life the way he wanted me to live it. It was long enough for me to realize that living up to his expectations was turning me into everything I remembered and hated about Manticore. I still wanted to find the others, but now I’d do it on my own terms.

"It’s a tempting offer, Zack, but it’s not good enough. It’s been a year. I’m tired and I want to go home." And then I realize that, even after all this time, I still thought of Seattle as my home.

"Please, Max, don’t make me do something I don’t want to do." He’s finally asking instead of just giving me an order, but I still can’t give him what he wants.

"I’m sorry, Zack."

He lets out a big sigh. "Me too." And then the line goes dead.

A few weeks later when I try the number again in Portland, I get an automated message telling me that the number has been disconnected, with no forwarding number. I’ve been cut off with no way of contacting him. For a while, I’m not sure how I feel about this. Am I sad at losing him again? Yeah. Am I pissed at him for being such a prick? Hell, yeah! But mostly, I’m just relieved. I’m completely on my own again and, for once, it actually feels good.

As I make my way towards Seattle, my mood gets lighter and lighter. It’s night when I finally ride into the city, and I can’t stop grinning. Everywhere I go I see familiar faces and places, the vendor I used to buy my Triptophan from, a place I used to make regular deliveries to. I tell myself that I’ll hook up with Kendra, Original Cindy and the rest of the Jam Pony gang tomorrow. Who knows? They might still have some of my stuff. But tonight, there’s only one person I really want to see.

Looking up from the street in front of his apartment building, I notice that all the windows of his penthouse apartment are dark. He’s probably asleep or, even more likely, he’s working away at his computer with all the lights off, completely oblivious to the fact that the sun set hours ago. For a moment, I entertain the idea of breaking in through the roof, for old time’s sake. Nah…it would take too long. Chuckling to myself, I walk in through the front door and ride up in the elevator.

After getting off on his floor, I quietly let myself into his apartment, not wanting to disturb him if he’s asleep. As soon as I walk in the door, however, I notice something odd. All of his furniture has been covered with white sheets. Is he away somewhere? Where would he go and why would he leave? I hear someone walking around in the living room and my instincts immediately go into overdrive. Barring some kind of medical miracle, it can’t be Logan. I quietly make my way down the hallway and cast a furtive look around the corner. A man is standing in front of the window, looking out. Recognizing who it is, I breathe a sigh of relief and walk into the room.

"Hey, Bling."

He jumps and whirls around. "Max! My God, you scared me!" Then his face breaks out into an easy grin. He rushes forward and grabs me in a friendly hug. "It’s good to see you, Max. I always had a feeling that you’d be back someday. Where have you been? When did you get into town?"

"Oh, I’ve been here and there. Just blew in tonight." Looking around, I ask, "Where’s Logan?"

I watch as his face falls. "Max…maybe you should sit down."

I start to get a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. "Just tell me, Bling."

He scrubs a hand over his face and sighs. "Logan’s dead."

It feels like someone is pouring cold water down my insides. My voice is barely a whisper. "What? How?"

"It happened the day after you left. He was due to go into surgery to remove a bullet fragment that was hitting on his spinal cord, but when I came here to pick him up, I found him collapsed over a table. I called the paramedics and we rushed him to the hospital. Turns out the bullet fragment had nicked one of his major arteries. He was bleeding all over himself inside. They rushed him into surgery, patched him up and got the bullet fragment out, but by then he’d already lost a lot of blood. They tried to transfuse him, but there just wasn’t enough of his blood type. The whole city was going through a blood shortage at the time, and his blood type was rare to begin with."

I walk over to the window, not trusting myself to let him see my face. The glass is cool underneath my hands as I lean against it. If I’d stayed, I could’ve saved him…If I’d stayed, I could’ve saved him…My head starts to bang softly against the glass in time to the endless litany inside my head.

"Max, they did everything that they could for him. There wasn’t anything more that anyone could have done." That’s not true! I could’ve helped him! My blood could’ve saved him! "He just drifted away. Never even woke up."

He pauses for a moment. "Listen, if you need to talk to anyone, I’m here. Don’t let this eat you up inside." But I just shake my head. If I let it out now, I won’t be able to stop. An out-of-control, genetically enhanced killing machine is not what Bling needs to see right now.

He walks up to stand beside me at the window. "Logan was probably one of the most difficult clients I ever had. He was always pushing himself too hard. But he was also my friend. After he was gone, it surprised me just how much of an affect he’d had on my life. I miss him. I come here sometimes when I need to think things through. Something about this place always gets me in the frame of mind to do the right thing. That, and he always had the best damn view of the city I’d ever seen. Listen, Max…there’s something you need to know. Logan made me the executor of his will. I know this will come as a shock to you, but…he left everything to you. His money, this apartment, everything in it, even his car." I finally turn to look at him, unable to hide the shock on my face. He walks over to a nearby table and pulls out a white envelope from under the sheet. "He also left you this. It was lying next to him when I found him."

The envelope has my name written on it in Logan’s neat handwriting, but I can’t bring myself to take it. Finally, Bling takes my hand, places the envelope in it and gently curls my fingers around it. "Take your time. Let me know if there’s anything you need." I listen to the sound of his footsteps as they recede across the wooden floor. The door clicks softly as he lets himself out.

For a moment, I brush my fingertips across my name on the envelope. I know that I’m stalling. A part of me seems to be thinking that if I put off reading Logan’s last words to me that, somehow, his death won’t be real, that there was still a chance I could turn around and see him wheeling across the room towards me. Finally, with a shaky breath, I open the envelope…

"No! How could you do this?!" I start to pace the room like a caged animal. "How could you even ask me?! Me, take on Eyes Only? As if I don’t have my own problems to deal with! I’ve still got Lydecker ridin’ on my tail and now you want me to take on anyone who’s ever had it in for you? No way! I never wanted this! This was your personal crusade, not mine! And look where it got you, six feet under! This is what happens when you stick your neck out! This is what you get for caring about a world that doesn’t give a damn about you! And now you want me to try and replace you?! As if it weren’t bad enough that you went and died on me! How could you leave me to deal with all this shit on my own?! HOW COULD YOU LEAVE ME?!!"

I stalk into his office, crushing his letter in my hands and flinging it aside. Whipping the sheet off his desk, I’m ready to smash the first thing that I see when, suddenly, I stop. Oh God! Underneath the covering sheet, everything was as Logan had left it. There’s even a mug with a tea stain in it sitting next to the keyboard. It’s all too much! Shaking uncontrollably, I fall to the floor as my legs buckle underneath me. Dammit! Not now! My hands fumble desperately for the bottle of Triptophan in my pocket. I’m shaking so badly that I can’t get the top off! Finally, after several tries, I manage to open the bottle and swallow some of the pills. Damn my dependence on these fucking pills! Damn Lydecker for making a freak show out of me! And damn Logan and his stupid, high-minded ideals! Screaming, I fling the bottle against the opposite wall, sending pills and shards of plastic everywhere. I clutch my knees to my chest as another wave of tremors racks my body. Then the sobs come tearing out of my throat, and I can’t stop them. I scream until my throat is raw, and it’s not enough. I start pounding the floor with my hands. Soon, blood is splattering with each impact, and I still can’t stop. When I finally collapse, exhausted, my hands are raw and bloody. "Oh, Logan. How could you leave me before…before…" before I had a chance to tell you anything? Oh God! He loved me, and he died not knowing that I loved him too. Covering my face with my hands, the blood and tears mingle until my hands sting with the tears, and it looks like I’ve been crying rivers of blood.

I don’t know how long I’ve been lying on the floor in Logan’s office, staring off into space. When I’m aware of my surroundings again, I notice the crumpled letter lying on top of another sheet draped object. From its shape, I already know what it is. I slowly make my way towards it and gently lift the sheet away. My fingers trail across the padded backrest as I ease myself into the seat. Leaning forward, I pick the letter up off the floor and carefully smooth out the creases with my hands. After reading it one more time, I fold it neatly and slip it into my pocket. For a moment, I simply sit back in the chair with my eyes closed, taking in deep, ragged breaths. Finally, I open my eyes, unlock the wheels on the chair and push my way towards Logan’s desk. I take a moment to run my hands over the keyboard before switching on the computer. My fingers, sore and bruised from my earlier assault on the floor, move slowly and stiffly at first. Then, gradually, they start to pick up speed. Files open and close. Bling did delete all the files on the Informant Net, but everything else is still here, his hacking software, voice distortion programs, video pickups. I start to dig deeper, opening files within files within files. I come across an archive of old Eyes Only broadcasts. For a moment, Logan’s voice fills the room again. Reaching forward, I touch the image of his face on the screen. This is who I am. "Oh, Logan. How could I possibly find anyone that could take your place?" Recruit someone to take over afterwards? Who am I kidding? If I start this, I’ll never be able to let it go. You won’t be doing it alone…once word gets out, you’ll find that there are people all over the city willing to come forward and do the right thing, if given the chance. "But how do I get the word out?" Something starts to take shape in my mind. The clicking of the keyboard resumes as my fingers fly faster and faster over the keys.

Meanwhile…

At Crash, Bling sits down at the bar and orders himself a beer. He had started coming here regularly about a year ago. At first, it had been just to break the news to Max’s friends about Logan’s death and about Max leaving town. They were shocked, confused and hurt at first, but then they started inviting him to join them at least once a week. They had known, somehow, that he needed to be around people, around friends, and he had gladly accepted their company. Looking across the room, he sees Kendra and the whole Jam Pony gang hissing and booing at the television screen as it plays "Survivor 20: The Tasmanian Challenge".

"Twenty yars dis shows bin on and it’s still all phony," laughs Herbal.

"Who cares," sighs Kendra dreamily, "as long as the guys are hot."

"Let’s not forget the babes," Sketchy adds. "Personally, I’m always in favor of full-frontal female nudity."

"Sketchy, you’re a pig." retorts Original Cindy.

As Bling takes the first sip of his beer, Cindy joins him at the bar. "Hey, Bling. Howzit wit you?"

"I’m good. Got some news for you about Max. She’s back in town."

A wide smile spreads across her face. "Max is back? Aiight! Where she at?"

"Back at Logan’s"

The smile fades before she continues. "How did sista girl take it?"

"Not good, I think. I don’t know. You know how it always was with her, keeping everything bottled up inside."

"Yeah, him and her both. You think I should go over there?"

"No…not yet anyway. I said I’d give her some time to…" Suddenly, static obscures the television screen.

"Hey, people," Sketchy calls out to the room. "Check it out! Haven’t seen him in a while." Bling stares, dumbfounded, as the static clears to reveal a familiar pair of blue eyes.

"Do not attempt to adjust your set. This is a Streaming Freedom Video bulletin from the Eyes Only Informant Net. This cable hack will last exactly sixty seconds. It cannot be traced, it cannot be stopped, and it is the only free voice left in this city. You may have noticed my absence from the airwaves this past year. A year ago, a good man died for a cause that he believed in. He was my best operative, and a good friend. His loss was an unexpected personal setback, but that’s over now. His sacrifice will not be in vain. To the criminals and the corrupt of this city, you’ve had it easy this past year. That is about to change. You have been warned. To all those on the Informant Net, Eyes Only is now back in business. You know what to do. I’ve been away for a while, but now I’m back…"

- The end -