She gets up and walks over to the window, and I can see it radiating from every part of her body, as she braces herself for my rejection, prepares to tear us both apart with the truth that she can't keep to herself.
"All you did was miss...dinner...right?" Even as I say it, I know it's not a statement, but a question that I already know the answer to, and then she is stumbling through her explanation.
"I should have stayed home and gone to sleep, but I didn't. I went out for a ride to clear my head and get some fresh air. I ran into this guy...it was a mistake. It wasn't me. It's just something Manticore tricked up inside of me that I can't control. Makes me feel... like no matter what I do or how far I run I can never get away from them. Never."
That's when I know for sure. As she stands there and tells me how she stood me up, left me behind to pick up some good-looking, young - whole - man and let him - touch her, fuck her, kiss her - all of the things that I want so badly to do. Hell, she didn't let him do anything. I know her too well for that polite fiction. She's strong and aggressive, and in control, even when she'd not, even when she doesn't have an uncontrollable urge to mate, to fuck - someone, anyone who isn't me. That's when I know I love her.
I know, because, at that moment, I could almost hate her. I appreciate the irony of the situation, and I hate that it wasn't me. She couldn't come to me, be with me. I feel like I'm being torn apart, exposed for the fraud that I am - the broken, half a man that I've been trying to deny that I am, on the very night that I was trying so hard to prove that I wasn't.
As I watch Max turn away from me, with tears in her eyes, there is no denying it, not even with thousands of dollars of hardware strapped to my useless legs. It's all an illusion. She's hurting so much and I can see it. I know that it's tearing her up inside, and part of me is glad for it, for the pain I know that she feels, because I need her to feel it too, to not leave me alone in this. She feels the pain, the regret that it was someone other than me that she let take her, touch her, and she knows that it could have been me. She could have had me making love to her, and not some empty encounter with whomever she was with.
I want it to hurt, to know that she cares, that she loves me as much as I love her. Yet, despite all of my anger and resentment, it kills me to see her tear herself up like this. I see her. I know her. I have made my peace with who and what she is. Lydecker made sure of that, and I am almost thankful to that bastard. Otherwise, this would break me. I am surprised to realize that it doesn't.
I can't let it break her, either.
She's staring out the window, lost in her thoughts and recriminations, waiting for me to - what - to rail and scream, to tear her down with harsh words and accusations, to tell her to get out of my life, to confirm that she's the monster that she thinks that she is.
Except, she's not. She's the woman that I love. I lock down the chair, and push myself up onto shaky legs, to show her the only way that I can. I take her into my arms.
Max turns, and her shock and surprise is a balm to my soul, as is the unselfish joy for me that I can see in her eyes. "It's all right. Courtesy our crazy friend Phil."
She sniffs, taking the comfort I am offering. "Why didn't you tell me?"
"I wanted it to be a surprise for last night... an anniversary gift." There is no hint of accusation in my voice, but she feels the weight of it, anyway.
"I'm sorry."
"You have nothing to be sorry for...or ashamed of. 'Cause I know who you are." I mean it. My anger is gone. I don't feel anything other than love for the woman in my arms, in my life. It doesn't matter - not to me, not to us, not anymore.
In that moment, I let it go, and I feel like I'm falling. I am - my legs fail me - my grand gesture - once again showing just how useless I am, as I fall to the floor. My legs jerk and spasm inside this worthless machine, and through my pain, I hear Max gasp.
"Ahh! Damn it!" I cry out my frustration, my anger returning, focusing on myself, where the fault really lies.
Now, it's her turn to comfort me. "It's okay."
"I'm sorry, let me just..." I shut the thing down, and realize the futility of my vanity. "I'm sorry."
She turns my words back on me. "Logan...you've got nothing to be sorry for or ashamed of. It's never been about you being able to walk--not for me."
She smiles, then and I know that I have to accept her at her word, but it isn't easy. It's not about me walking. I know this, but it is about me being a man, being man enough for her. There's something in her eyes though, that says that maybe I am. Maybe I am enough, because she can be herself with me, and I can be myself with her, broken parts and all.
"Will you look at us?" I tease, because it really is alright.
"Pathetic." She plays it right back at me, and there's a charge building between us.
"Hopeless."
"Lucky we hooked up."
And it is. I wouldn't change a moment of the last year, because it brought us to this. "Happy Anniversary."
I can't hold back anymore. I lean in and kiss her, taste her, as I have been dying to do, and she meets me halfway. It's better than I could ever imagine, but there is still a small doubt in the back of my mind. "Maybe, uh... maybe we should wait. You know, until you're yourself again." This can't be about just biology. This can't be another thing for her to regret.
"This isn't Manticore. This is me."
I believe her, and when she kisses me again, I let go of any last reservations. Nothing matters anymore but this moment, and I prove it to her.
Then I hear him. "Looks like I caught you at a bad time." I swear inside, as we break apart, the moment shattered by the intrusion of a world we can't forget, can't ignore.
Zack. He's not sorry at all. Damn him, because I know he loves her, too. He can't have her. She loves him, but like a brother. Whatever he may want from her, whatever he will never let himself to have, even if she wanted him instead of me, isn't the same, but there is a bond between them that I can't break, and would be foolish to try.
He knows it to, and his tone is sharp as he reminds her - us - of that. "You want to go save Tinga or has something more urgent come up?"
It's time for her to do what she does, to save the world, starting with her sister, but she's not going alone. This is what she has to do, who she is. If I love her, I have to love all of her, and I do. I won't let her do this alone. Never alone. I'll stand by her side, as long as she'll let me, whether my legs are strong enough or not, I am - strong enough to hold her up, strong enough to let her fall down, and strong enough to pick her back up afterwards.