Fate Came Knocking

Disclaimer: I just own the fanfiction. The characters all belong to Cameron and Co. This is a missing scene from the episode 411 on the DL, where fans were introduced to Logan's ex-wife Val, and Max reunited briefly with fellow X5, Zack. Neither of their encounters went the way each had originally surmised, and the two of them have a chat about it after a walk in the rain. The "texture" I used to create the art is from this site.

Max Guevara's strong and slender frame was soaked to the bone, as she followed Logan Cale into his plush post-Pulse Seattle apartment, her shoes squeaking quite noisily over the floorboards. Her right hand gently reached out to shut the door behind her, while her eyes curiously watched him maneuver his way into the generous space, the short strands of his frequently spiked brown hair laying in wet tatters atop his head. She carefully wrung out her own long, dark hair over his sink, allowing the excess water to slowly trickle down the drain, the makeup surrounding her eyes just the slightest bit smudged. He'd propositioned her with a walk in the rain only thirty minutes earlier, and much to her surprise, she had gladly taken him up on the offer with little more than a simple smile. Both of them had been feeling so incredibly restless, instantly failing to agree upon catching some much needed shut eye or helping themselves to food, and she knew Logan saw it as the only other alternative to what would've been one hell of a boring night. She was already well aware of how broken he was feeling at the moment, and could sense the state of turmoil he'd fallen into since his ex-wife Val unexpectedly dropped in on him, selfishly intending to shake him of every penny he was worth.

Val had been cleverly manipulative, and like the good man he was, Logan had mistakenly bestowed her the kindness she hadn't deserved- all the while oblivious to the other piece of man candy she had waiting for her on the sidelines. Max had seen, and she'd heard, and finally, she'd simply told him the truth, even though it was plainly evident he wouldn't exactly be too fond of hearing it. But sometimes the truth hurt. She knew that now as well as anybody, and she probably had her old pal Zack to thank for it. She'd spent a good portion of her life searching for him as she recalled the childhood companionship they'd brought one another at Manticore, and how he'd bravely played the big hero and helped her and some of the other X5's escape. It wasn't that she was refusing to be grateful for his assistance back then, it was more so the fact that she'd been leading herself on to anticipate a great deal more from him and the person she wanted so very hard to believe him to be. Sometimes life sucked, and threw a person just that kind of curveball.

She effortlessly shrugged out of her jacket, just as he pulled his glasses free from the bridge of his nose, his blues observing them with a faint bout of amusement. His gorgeous, unshaven profile glanced up at her, and his beautiful eyes scanned hers and crinkled slightly, his lips twitching themselves into a small smirk. "I should probably go get you a change of clothes."

She nodded without objection, entirely grateful for the considerate gesture, the fabric of her v-neck shirt clinging snuggly to the curves about her waist, a soft laugh escaping her mouth somewhat teasingly. "I guess it wouldn't be so bad if I stayed the night, either."

He simply raised a brow, incontestably stunned, as he studied her a minute, calmly tilting his head to one side. "You have the worst timing," he lightly quipped.

"Maybe I do," she agreed, nonchalantly shrugging, as she slipped out of her shoes and set them down beside her. "But at least I'm going to be upfront about it."

He was already grinning ridiculously from ear to ear. "Well, in that case, you're still more than welcome to crash here."

"Happy to hear it."

"That said," he murmured, "I'm afraid there's a catch."

She locked her brown eyes on his, her hands placing themselves over her hips, boldly challenging his statement. "Catch?"

"You're, uh, going to have to settle for a beat up old t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants," he finished, giving her a quick wink.

"Yeah, kinda thought so. Still...I sort of feel bad hitting you up for the money this jacket's gonna cost, because it's obviously seen better days, don't ya think?"

"Max."

"Joking." She swiftly held up a hand. "But you know, while we're on the subject, I could also really use a clean pair of socks."

"Well, I think I might just have a pair."

"Hey, Logan?"

He abruptly paused, efficiently edging the wheelchair to a nice and even halt as he calmly turned around to face her, the previous playfulness suddenly vanishing from his composure. Instead, his body began to tense, and he could automatically sense the pensive tone that was starting to reveal itself in her voice.

"Look, I-" She caught herself then, while she hesitantly plopped down upon his sofa, her pants still indisputably dripping wet. Her hands were shaking a bit from the cold that had crept up on her on such short notice, and her body was only just beginning to register the consequences of taking on nature when it was donned in miserable chaos. "Maybe everything happens for a reason."

"You don't have to-"

"I do, and I was intimidated," she insisted, rapidly cutting him off. "I mean, just a little, you know? Here was this woman that had this history with you, this huge chunk of it, and she was somebody who was able to get close to you at some point. And here I was, this...genetically amped up female who couldn't for the life of her figure out what you actually saw in Val...wondering why and how you could've picked someone so self-absorbed to spend your time with. It's stupid, yeah, I'll grant you that. It's also damn immature of me to even think that way, and I know we have our little arrangement and all, but...the way I see it?"

He simply sat there in silence, his expression radiating just the faintest bit of shock. But it was only for a moment, and he briskly recovered, subtly gesturing to her with a single hand, his interest obviously peaked to the brim.

"You said you kept trying to believe in something that was never there in the first place," she repeated, recalling their previous conversation, her lips speculatively pursed. Her damp hands were folded neatly in front of her now, and her brows were anchored in deep concentration. "I actually think you were overlooking your belief in something else."

She could see him mulling it over, his demeanor vaguely unreadable, as he continued to wrestle with her words, his frame of vision fastening itself to the floor. "How's that?"

"Us," she carefully mused, finally allowing a half smile to cloud her pretty complexion. "I mean, you said you were gonna help me find Zack, and you did. It didn't go as planned, but you did. In spite of that little troublesome fact in not wanting to rehash family ties, I still got to see him because of you. You can't just forget about all the good you've done for me, and for the people in this city. So you couldn't save something that was already broken. So what? In all honesty, who can? Sometimes we have to let someone go, and if it's one thing I learned from this, it's that you can't expect the world to turn around and give you a break. It's just not gonna happen. If you ask me, she got what was coming to her."

"Yeah," he whispered, forcing a smile of his own. "She did, didn't she? When you look at it like that..."

"See? We come through for each other, and that's what friendship is. It's knowing you need to let someone in sometimes, even if you don't want to. Not that I'm gonna go and break out into full lecture mode or anything, but that's pretty much it in a nutshell."

"Well, you usually just invite yourself in here whenever the situation seems to call for it, so I'm not exactly sure that counts."

"Oh yeah?" she returned, her eyes widening.

"Of course, you couldn't have simply said you were jealous, because that would mean something else entirely."

"Entirely," she agreed, "and besides, we're not even like that. "

He said nothing, as he wheeled himself into his bedroom, pulling off his own jacket, and yanking his shirt up over his head. There were several items strewn haphazardly over the bed, and a few more crumpled up and tossed into a heap on the ground. He successfully managed to locate a clean black polo shirt and a pair of jeans for himself, while he opted for an old and rather baggy white shirt and some loose, gray pants for Max. It wasn't anything like what she wore to work or to the occasional night of ass-kicking with bad guys who very much deserved it, but then again, he'd come to a rather keen realization that she'd make just about anything look good. Strange as it was, he probably wouldn't ever come close to saying the same thing about more than half the women he'd known and come into contact with during the course of his existence.

"I guess Bling's been behind on the housekeeping," she commented offhandedly, nearly causing him to jump, as the smallest bit of satire found its way into her voice, her hand propping itself up against the doorframe, her feet bare and treading water.

He nearly hid behind another grin, patiently holding out the set of clothes in front of him, and tossing a pair of crisp white socks into her grasp. "Bling's salary doesn't exactly include picking up after Logan, when Logan is supposed to be picking up after himself," he added honestly.

"Cool," she murmured, observing the attire. Her fingers gingerly brushed his as she reached for the mismatched outfit, the briefest sensation coursing through her body, immediately noting the feel of his skin when they momentarily collided. She quickly broke away, stepping back and distancing herself somewhat, her gaze well averted. Her eyes instead chose to focus their attention on the battered white shirt, her hand grazing itself fondly over the material as she forced herself to study it. "You know, just for the record, Kendra and I basically suck at the whole keeping house thing, too. I mean, it's practically a war zone over there, which is...probably why we never have visitors that often, but I don't really like to think about it."

"I'll go and make sure the guest room's set," he told her, slowly pulling back his hand to rest it upon the right wheel of his chair, his countenance belying just the feeblest hint of confusion and the most peculiar anticipation of hope, as he watched her walk off towards the bathroom, taking long strides down the short hallway. Ever since he'd met her, he'd been seriously thanking his lucky stars that she'd saved him from becoming a pile of ash the day he'd been shot down and hospital bound, bravely trying to defy an Eyes Only mission gone horribly wrong. Of course, he'd later returned the favor by erasing her name from a prison cell, when a misunderstanding had commenced regarding her solution in obtaining pills to fight her ongoing and apparently incurable seizures. They were more or less a team, he decided, although at times he felt he wanted it to be something more. But as soon as that incomplete fragment even bothered to cross his mind, he would eventually find himself lapsing into work mode or absentmindedly succumbing to one of their infamous banters about who was right and who was wrong. They challenged each other, and it was clearly a vicious cycle.

She emerged no more than five minutes later, donning the pants and shirt, and agilely crossed her arms over her chest, her hair loosely pulled back into a ponytail and still somewhat damp. She saw his gaze trail over her, and her face was barely shy of turning crimson, clearly uncomfortable with the thoughts that undoubtedly shared the unspoken mannerisms. She never felt this awkward around guys, and quite frankly, it really bugged her and just wasn't her thing. But somehow Logan Cale had managed to cross that boundary without her knowledge, allowing her to experience an odd sense of vulnerability while she remained in the company of his presence. She tried as hard as she could to block it from her memory, urgently searching for a way out of that inner battle that met with compromising confrontation. "So... What's Mr. Eyes Only working on these days?" She nervously smiled. "I mean, besides hiring a genetically revved up chick to do his bidding?"

"Well, moving back the furniture would be a start," he sided, raising an eyebrow, as he directed a thumb behind him.

"Val?" she guessed.

"Val," he concluded.

"You know, when I saw her with that sleazebag, I knew she must have been a real piece of work, and I didn't trust her for a minute. Hard to believe she wasn't always a stone cold bitch at some point in her life."

"You're telling me this now, because?"

She only shrugged. "Better late than never, right?"

He just grinned.

The End