The Eye of the Needle
Title: The Eye of the Needle
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1,628
Characters: Max and Alec
Paring: Max/Alec
Summary: It was a lot like love, but it wasn't at all.
A/N: This is my first ever Dark Angel fic, pretty new to the fandom so y'know... Feedback totally craved, people... Love me please! *puppy-eyes* Angsty little character piece.
“Do cats always land on their feet?” A voice asked, speaker obscured by the darkness of the night, wind whipping around the figures on the top of the needle, staring at the city below. His voice was low and quiet, imploring his companion to answer him. “Even from a height such as this?”
The other shook her head, of course, he could not see it because of the darkness that shrouded them and it lay heavy, she felt she could brush it with her fingers and that scared her just as much as the way the other was talking. “Not from this high, but they’ve got that whole cat-thing going on, where they like, spin in the air to land on their feet. Something in the ears. Why do you wanna know?”
Her attempt at lightening the mood fell flat and she sighed as he spoke again. Clothes rustled and the sound of footsteps receding, leaving her standing at the edge of a long drop, alone with her thoughts, silence being her only answer.
*
“I should have just let your head explode!”
He took another hit, he had to make it realistic, obviously, he couldn’t just knock this two-hundred pound man to the floor with one blow, he needed to warm the audience up and this was a perfect way for him to get the justice he deserved. He knew that it shouldn’t be big, fat and sweaty that was trying to pound the crap out of him, but small, curved and perfectly formed, the woman that he had been a pain in the ass to ever since she met him. It wasn’t like he tried to make her hate him.
Well, maybe he did a little. At first. But not anymore.
“I’m never going to forgive you for this.”
It had been a long time ago, they were in the middle of a war and he knew that he should be back in Terminal City, helping her organise the troops, she seemed to be okay with him now, but he saw the contempt in her eyes when she looked at him sometimes, when she thought he wasn’t looking and he wasn’t man enough to pretend that it didn’t hurt him.
He was a lot of things, but a coward most certainly wasn’t one of them and that was the only way he had managed to face her after everything that he had done. She had saved him from Manticore, he understood that now, how wrong they had been to just abuse the children like that, how used he had been by the people in charge. How much they had broken him…
“Never think of anyone but yourself, that’s how you work, isn’t it.”
It was funny, he could ignore every jibe sent at him from everyone else, it all rolled like water off a duck’s back, droplets of insults falling to the ground because he was above it all, he was stronger and faster and better than the ordinaries, he was markedly more attractive than most of them too, and they were all just jealous. But her insults? Everything she said to him stuck in his mind, be it an insult or a crack at how dead she wished he was, or something else entirely, he always remembered it, right down to the intonation of her voice.
It was a lot like love, but it wasn’t at all.
*
“Hey, I’m sorry.”
He would learn never to say that again to her because the sarcastic words that came forth from that simple apology cut deeper than anything else, deeper than her snarling that she wished his head had exploded, then she could screw Logan and the world would be a happier place right? Isn’t that what she wanted?
He listened to the tirade until he felt like his ears were bleeding and he stood sharply enough to knock over the chair. This wasn’t working, how could he smile and laugh when every word she said cut him to the bone and broke him that little bit more?
Wasn’t she happy enough that he was broken in the first place?
*
He was here again, sitting on the Needle; his eyes firmly focused on the bustling streets far below him. It had been murder getting through this time round, the border police had been getting tighter and tighter, trying to locate the transgenics that moved about doing the undercover business as the war ebbed and flowed. Right now it was frantic, he was bailing again, like he always did - look out for number one, right? Isn’t that how everyone viewed him?
It was how she viewed him.
He wondered when the hell her opinion became so important to him, was it that streak of defiance when they were assigned as breeding partners back at Manticore? That streak that had him down here filing away at an iron grate? She was beautiful, of course, she had been designed that way, the same as he was, they were not beautiful by chance, their genes had all been hand-picked and spliced together to create the perfect soldiers, the perfect weapons.
Though, getting them to act as functional human beings? Lydecker had failed miserably there.
He folded his arms around himself - it was cold and the air felt heavy like it always did just before the sky opened and poured the heavens down onto the unsuspecting victims below. He knew though, he always knew when it was going to rain. Maybe it was because of the whole cat thing, maybe it was just because he was that damn cool or maybe, just maybe, it was because nine times out of ten, when he was right in predicting the rain he was sitting up here, the highest point in the city, and that always got rained on first.
He got drenched, but he supposed it was divine justice. Or something.
*
When the war finally came to an end, he was there to help pick up the pieces and she had told him how thoroughly surprised she was that he was still there. He bit back the sarcastic comment - you would have just loved it if I left, right? - or the joking, lightening the mood comment that was bound to piss her off - Yeah, well, can’t have you getting rid of me that easily - and settling on a sincere, almost truth.
“I couldn’t just leave.”
“Why the hell not? Look after number one, remember, smartass?”
“Things have changed. I- man that is such a cliché.”
“You’re right, it is. And they don’t suit you so good.”
“At least I’m making an effort to change, even if it’s hard and probably pointless ‘cause you’ll always see me as the bastard who ruined your chances with Logan.”
“Don’t say his name.”
Logan had died almost a year before the end of the war, he got caught in the crossfire and was shot by someone, everyone around him was holding guns, it was impossible to tell who hit who, only that two people walked out of that battle alive.
X5-494 and X5-452.
He had taken the brunt of her anger and frustration, walking - limping - away from their encounter battered and bruised, a fractured rib on top of the bullet wounds he had received from the gun fight.
“Why? Still blame me? I wasn’t the one firing like there was no tomorrow. I was the most experienced gunman out there, I was the one that had the training you skipped out on when you ran.”
“Shut up.”
“No, because you gotta stop this. It’s killing you and I can’t watch it.”
And there it was, that flash of honesty, the true man underneath the façades and the layers, inside the cotton wool he wrapped himself in of lies and laughs, smiles and jokes. The man who was vulnerable and romantic and genuinely afraid for her wellbeing. As she held his eyes, something else flicked over his face but it disappeared faster than she had a chance to catalogue it.
“Shut up.” She repeated venomously, fingers clenching into fists she was itching to swing into his pretty face. “Stop it.”
“I can’t.”
“You- You ruined everything. I should have let the- I- Damnit!” She swung for him, but was wide and telegraphed and her heart wasn’t in it, she just collapsed into the waiting arms, the arms that caught her after she had fallen and righted her again, the arms that had shown her more support since they met in that godforsaken cell than anyone else and never really asking for anything in return, the arms that had messed up and ruined things but then always got into more trouble trying to fix it.
“It’s okay, Maxie.” He murmured, lips near her ear as he hugged her as she pulled back a little, staring at him in shock. He blinked. “What? Have I got something on my face?”
“You called me Maxie… you haven’t done that for years.”
“Well… sorry.”
“No, it’s okay.”
Her eyes flicked down to his lips, those sinfully kissable lips that she felt herself inexplicably drawn to. She cleared her throat and tried to pull away but his arms around her back kept her close even though they were loose and soft and not at all tight.
“I- Alec…”
The word was breathed as she flung herself at him, pressing her lips against his, hand sliding to tangle roughly in his short-cut hair. He didn’t know what to do, an arm and mouth full of X5. It took him a moment, but he pulled her in and kissed her back, if this was what she needed…
Maybe she could find it in her to forgive him for everything if he gave her this.
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1,628
Characters: Max and Alec
Paring: Max/Alec
Summary: It was a lot like love, but it wasn't at all.
A/N: This is my first ever Dark Angel fic, pretty new to the fandom so y'know... Feedback totally craved, people... Love me please! *puppy-eyes* Angsty little character piece.
“Do cats always land on their feet?” A voice asked, speaker obscured by the darkness of the night, wind whipping around the figures on the top of the needle, staring at the city below. His voice was low and quiet, imploring his companion to answer him. “Even from a height such as this?”
The other shook her head, of course, he could not see it because of the darkness that shrouded them and it lay heavy, she felt she could brush it with her fingers and that scared her just as much as the way the other was talking. “Not from this high, but they’ve got that whole cat-thing going on, where they like, spin in the air to land on their feet. Something in the ears. Why do you wanna know?”
Her attempt at lightening the mood fell flat and she sighed as he spoke again. Clothes rustled and the sound of footsteps receding, leaving her standing at the edge of a long drop, alone with her thoughts, silence being her only answer.
*
“I should have just let your head explode!”
He took another hit, he had to make it realistic, obviously, he couldn’t just knock this two-hundred pound man to the floor with one blow, he needed to warm the audience up and this was a perfect way for him to get the justice he deserved. He knew that it shouldn’t be big, fat and sweaty that was trying to pound the crap out of him, but small, curved and perfectly formed, the woman that he had been a pain in the ass to ever since she met him. It wasn’t like he tried to make her hate him.
Well, maybe he did a little. At first. But not anymore.
“I’m never going to forgive you for this.”
It had been a long time ago, they were in the middle of a war and he knew that he should be back in Terminal City, helping her organise the troops, she seemed to be okay with him now, but he saw the contempt in her eyes when she looked at him sometimes, when she thought he wasn’t looking and he wasn’t man enough to pretend that it didn’t hurt him.
He was a lot of things, but a coward most certainly wasn’t one of them and that was the only way he had managed to face her after everything that he had done. She had saved him from Manticore, he understood that now, how wrong they had been to just abuse the children like that, how used he had been by the people in charge. How much they had broken him…
“Never think of anyone but yourself, that’s how you work, isn’t it.”
It was funny, he could ignore every jibe sent at him from everyone else, it all rolled like water off a duck’s back, droplets of insults falling to the ground because he was above it all, he was stronger and faster and better than the ordinaries, he was markedly more attractive than most of them too, and they were all just jealous. But her insults? Everything she said to him stuck in his mind, be it an insult or a crack at how dead she wished he was, or something else entirely, he always remembered it, right down to the intonation of her voice.
It was a lot like love, but it wasn’t at all.
*
“Hey, I’m sorry.”
He would learn never to say that again to her because the sarcastic words that came forth from that simple apology cut deeper than anything else, deeper than her snarling that she wished his head had exploded, then she could screw Logan and the world would be a happier place right? Isn’t that what she wanted?
He listened to the tirade until he felt like his ears were bleeding and he stood sharply enough to knock over the chair. This wasn’t working, how could he smile and laugh when every word she said cut him to the bone and broke him that little bit more?
Wasn’t she happy enough that he was broken in the first place?
*
He was here again, sitting on the Needle; his eyes firmly focused on the bustling streets far below him. It had been murder getting through this time round, the border police had been getting tighter and tighter, trying to locate the transgenics that moved about doing the undercover business as the war ebbed and flowed. Right now it was frantic, he was bailing again, like he always did - look out for number one, right? Isn’t that how everyone viewed him?
It was how she viewed him.
He wondered when the hell her opinion became so important to him, was it that streak of defiance when they were assigned as breeding partners back at Manticore? That streak that had him down here filing away at an iron grate? She was beautiful, of course, she had been designed that way, the same as he was, they were not beautiful by chance, their genes had all been hand-picked and spliced together to create the perfect soldiers, the perfect weapons.
Though, getting them to act as functional human beings? Lydecker had failed miserably there.
He folded his arms around himself - it was cold and the air felt heavy like it always did just before the sky opened and poured the heavens down onto the unsuspecting victims below. He knew though, he always knew when it was going to rain. Maybe it was because of the whole cat thing, maybe it was just because he was that damn cool or maybe, just maybe, it was because nine times out of ten, when he was right in predicting the rain he was sitting up here, the highest point in the city, and that always got rained on first.
He got drenched, but he supposed it was divine justice. Or something.
*
When the war finally came to an end, he was there to help pick up the pieces and she had told him how thoroughly surprised she was that he was still there. He bit back the sarcastic comment - you would have just loved it if I left, right? - or the joking, lightening the mood comment that was bound to piss her off - Yeah, well, can’t have you getting rid of me that easily - and settling on a sincere, almost truth.
“I couldn’t just leave.”
“Why the hell not? Look after number one, remember, smartass?”
“Things have changed. I- man that is such a cliché.”
“You’re right, it is. And they don’t suit you so good.”
“At least I’m making an effort to change, even if it’s hard and probably pointless ‘cause you’ll always see me as the bastard who ruined your chances with Logan.”
“Don’t say his name.”
Logan had died almost a year before the end of the war, he got caught in the crossfire and was shot by someone, everyone around him was holding guns, it was impossible to tell who hit who, only that two people walked out of that battle alive.
X5-494 and X5-452.
He had taken the brunt of her anger and frustration, walking - limping - away from their encounter battered and bruised, a fractured rib on top of the bullet wounds he had received from the gun fight.
“Why? Still blame me? I wasn’t the one firing like there was no tomorrow. I was the most experienced gunman out there, I was the one that had the training you skipped out on when you ran.”
“Shut up.”
“No, because you gotta stop this. It’s killing you and I can’t watch it.”
And there it was, that flash of honesty, the true man underneath the façades and the layers, inside the cotton wool he wrapped himself in of lies and laughs, smiles and jokes. The man who was vulnerable and romantic and genuinely afraid for her wellbeing. As she held his eyes, something else flicked over his face but it disappeared faster than she had a chance to catalogue it.
“Shut up.” She repeated venomously, fingers clenching into fists she was itching to swing into his pretty face. “Stop it.”
“I can’t.”
“You- You ruined everything. I should have let the- I- Damnit!” She swung for him, but was wide and telegraphed and her heart wasn’t in it, she just collapsed into the waiting arms, the arms that caught her after she had fallen and righted her again, the arms that had shown her more support since they met in that godforsaken cell than anyone else and never really asking for anything in return, the arms that had messed up and ruined things but then always got into more trouble trying to fix it.
“It’s okay, Maxie.” He murmured, lips near her ear as he hugged her as she pulled back a little, staring at him in shock. He blinked. “What? Have I got something on my face?”
“You called me Maxie… you haven’t done that for years.”
“Well… sorry.”
“No, it’s okay.”
Her eyes flicked down to his lips, those sinfully kissable lips that she felt herself inexplicably drawn to. She cleared her throat and tried to pull away but his arms around her back kept her close even though they were loose and soft and not at all tight.
“I- Alec…”
The word was breathed as she flung herself at him, pressing her lips against his, hand sliding to tangle roughly in his short-cut hair. He didn’t know what to do, an arm and mouth full of X5. It took him a moment, but he pulled her in and kissed her back, if this was what she needed…
Maybe she could find it in her to forgive him for everything if he gave her this.