Title: Sleepless in Seattle (Revised)
Disclaimer: Dark Angel is owned by Charles Eglee, James Cameron, and Fox. I claim no rights to these characters, alas, although I like to play with them.
Episode Reference: Between end of Season One and beginning of Season Two
Rating: R
Summary: Summoned by Eyes Only, Asha comes to Seattle and reunites with Logan. This story explores their relationship and past history.
A/N Thanks to a fan for much insight and thoughtful beta duties. I am reposting this with a different rating in keeping with fanfiction.net's new policy.
I live for reviews. You know what to do
Chapter One
Asha Barlowe stood in front of Fogle Towers. Shifting her backpack from one shoulder to the other, she pushed the button for Logan Cale's penthouse. She was buzzed in and took the elevator up to his floor. Almost shaking with anticipation, she knocked on his door.
She and her political group, the S1W, had assisted Eyes Only for two years, acting mainly as informants through her old friend, Logan. She had met Logan when she was a college journalism student, serving an internship at the Pacific Free Press in San Francisco. They had worked together until he had moved to Seattle. So when she got the phone call from him, asking her to come to Seattle with some members of S1W for help in a major Eyes Only story, she was eager to oblige.
She hadn't seen Logan since he had relocated; they had communicated mainly by phone and e-mail. But they had been very close back in the day, and she looked forward to rekindling the relationship. She could still visualize him in her mind the last time she saw him, the day he left for Seattle: tall, handsome, spiky uncombed hair, wire rimmed glasses, dressed in his characteristic sweater and khakis. She had always thought that for a rich guy he sure was unpretentious.
After she had settled the rest of her team in one of Eyes Only's safe houses, she had hopped onto the rickety bus that took her to Sector Nine, where Logan lived. Asha wondered what he'd been up to the past few years, other than his work with Eyes Only. He had always played close to the vest, revealing little of himself to anyone, even her. It had been frustrating, but she understood his need for discretion.
***
Logan answered the door. The smile left Asha's face and her eyes widened in shock. Her tall, handsome ex-lover looked like absolute hell. And he was in a wheelchair.
"M-my God, Logan!" she stammered. "What the hell's happened to you?"
"Nice to see you too, Asha," Logan replied sardonically. "Come on in." He rolled back to let her into the apartment. His hair hung in his eyes; he had more than stubble - maybe a week's worth of beard. Behind the rimless glasses, his eyes were red as if he'd been sleepless for a while.
"Logan," she repeated. "What's happened to you?"
"I got shot - more than a year ago." He wheeled himself into the living room. "Can I get you a cup of coffee or something to eat?"
Asha flopped down on the sofa. "You can get me some explanations. Just saying you got shot doesn't make it. You owe me more than that, don't you think? And what's going on? You look terrible."
"Well, you certainly haven't changed - still asking the probing questions. I was trying to get a witness in a major trial into witness protection and we were ambushed. Two of my guys got killed. Luckily the witness and her daughter were rescued."
"Well, I'm glad to hear that they made it. Sorry about your guys. And how many times have we spoken on the phone in the past year and you didn't bother to tell me any of this?" Asha indicated the chair, admonishing Logan.
"It-it's not something I like to talk about," Logan admitted, turning his chair toward the window.
Asha shook her head. "And - how bad is it? Your injury, I mean. Are you in any pain?"
" - Bad enough. Almost no feeling from mid-chest down. But no pain at least."
"Oh, Logan, I am so sorry."
"That's why I didn't tell you!" Logan said sharply, mistaking her concern for pity.
Stung, Asha changed the subject. "Could I have that cup of coffee now?"
Logan wheeled into the kitchen and poured a cup of coffee from his coffeemaker. "Cream, no sugar, right?"
"You remembered. Thanks." Asha gratefully took the coffee from Logan. "Ah, the real stuff! You always did know how to live."
"Yeah, right." Logan smiled sadly.
"OK. That explains the wheelchair. Now, why do you look like a truck hit you?
"I beg your pardon?"
"Your hair is dirty and uncombed. You haven't shaved in a while. Your clothes are all wrinkled like you've been sleeping in them, except you look like you haven't slept in a week. That's not like you."
"I've got a lot on my mind. You - caught me at a bad time. That's all. You should have called me when you got into town and given me a little warning."
"So you could do what? Clean yourself up and turn yourself back into the guy I knew in San Francisco? The one I used to sleep with five years ago? That wasn't going to happen, was it?"
"Give me 30 minutes."
"Sure. Take all the time you want, Logan. I'm not going anywhere."
Logan wheeled himself down the hall toward his bedroom, while Asha sat on the sofa, sipping her coffee. After a few minutes, she got up and walked over to the window wall behind the sofa. The view from Logan's penthouse was spectacular. Looking down over the city, she could see the small park nearby, the trees in bloom in the early summer warmth. From up here, she thought, life didn't seem so gritty. The streets didn't seem so dirty, or the people so shabby. It was almost like Logan lived in an ivory tower. But she knew he didn't, hadn't, as long as she had known him. He could always see the rot beneath the façade.
She finished her coffee and went into the kitchen for a refill. As she looked around the room, she noticed the little touches that indicated the retrofit to accommodate Logan's wheelchair - lower counters, and cabinets below, rather than above them. No carpeting. Wide aisles between the counters and worktables. He'd been thorough, she thought, except for telling his friends about what had happened.
Asha went back to the window and gazed out again. She could see tiny vignettes of real life playing out below. From this height, they were like a silent movie.
A slight noise interrupted her daydream and she turned around to see Logan, now freshly showered and shaven, dressed in clean clothes . and standing. He looked just like the man she had known and loved in San Francisco. He slowly walked toward her. Asha's jaw dropped.
"Logan! Wha- what is going on here? Are trying to give me a coronary?"
"Sorry." He tapped the side of his leg and Asha heard a dull metallic sound. "It's an exoskeleton - DoD surplus - that a friend gave me. Works sort of like super-sophisticated, computerized leg braces. Gets me upright and ambulatory. I thought you might be more, ah, comfortable seeing me like this instead of in the chair."
"Thanks. I appreciate that. I think I'm still in a state of shock. Now, what do you need S1W's help on?"
Logan walked over to the computer and sat down. "Have you ever heard of Project Manticore?"
Disclaimer: Dark Angel is owned by Charles Eglee, James Cameron, and Fox. I claim no rights to these characters, alas, although I like to play with them.
Episode Reference: Between end of Season One and beginning of Season Two
Rating: R
Summary: Summoned by Eyes Only, Asha comes to Seattle and reunites with Logan. This story explores their relationship and past history.
A/N Thanks to a fan for much insight and thoughtful beta duties. I am reposting this with a different rating in keeping with fanfiction.net's new policy.
I live for reviews. You know what to do
Chapter One
Asha Barlowe stood in front of Fogle Towers. Shifting her backpack from one shoulder to the other, she pushed the button for Logan Cale's penthouse. She was buzzed in and took the elevator up to his floor. Almost shaking with anticipation, she knocked on his door.
She and her political group, the S1W, had assisted Eyes Only for two years, acting mainly as informants through her old friend, Logan. She had met Logan when she was a college journalism student, serving an internship at the Pacific Free Press in San Francisco. They had worked together until he had moved to Seattle. So when she got the phone call from him, asking her to come to Seattle with some members of S1W for help in a major Eyes Only story, she was eager to oblige.
She hadn't seen Logan since he had relocated; they had communicated mainly by phone and e-mail. But they had been very close back in the day, and she looked forward to rekindling the relationship. She could still visualize him in her mind the last time she saw him, the day he left for Seattle: tall, handsome, spiky uncombed hair, wire rimmed glasses, dressed in his characteristic sweater and khakis. She had always thought that for a rich guy he sure was unpretentious.
After she had settled the rest of her team in one of Eyes Only's safe houses, she had hopped onto the rickety bus that took her to Sector Nine, where Logan lived. Asha wondered what he'd been up to the past few years, other than his work with Eyes Only. He had always played close to the vest, revealing little of himself to anyone, even her. It had been frustrating, but she understood his need for discretion.
***
Logan answered the door. The smile left Asha's face and her eyes widened in shock. Her tall, handsome ex-lover looked like absolute hell. And he was in a wheelchair.
"M-my God, Logan!" she stammered. "What the hell's happened to you?"
"Nice to see you too, Asha," Logan replied sardonically. "Come on in." He rolled back to let her into the apartment. His hair hung in his eyes; he had more than stubble - maybe a week's worth of beard. Behind the rimless glasses, his eyes were red as if he'd been sleepless for a while.
"Logan," she repeated. "What's happened to you?"
"I got shot - more than a year ago." He wheeled himself into the living room. "Can I get you a cup of coffee or something to eat?"
Asha flopped down on the sofa. "You can get me some explanations. Just saying you got shot doesn't make it. You owe me more than that, don't you think? And what's going on? You look terrible."
"Well, you certainly haven't changed - still asking the probing questions. I was trying to get a witness in a major trial into witness protection and we were ambushed. Two of my guys got killed. Luckily the witness and her daughter were rescued."
"Well, I'm glad to hear that they made it. Sorry about your guys. And how many times have we spoken on the phone in the past year and you didn't bother to tell me any of this?" Asha indicated the chair, admonishing Logan.
"It-it's not something I like to talk about," Logan admitted, turning his chair toward the window.
Asha shook her head. "And - how bad is it? Your injury, I mean. Are you in any pain?"
" - Bad enough. Almost no feeling from mid-chest down. But no pain at least."
"Oh, Logan, I am so sorry."
"That's why I didn't tell you!" Logan said sharply, mistaking her concern for pity.
Stung, Asha changed the subject. "Could I have that cup of coffee now?"
Logan wheeled into the kitchen and poured a cup of coffee from his coffeemaker. "Cream, no sugar, right?"
"You remembered. Thanks." Asha gratefully took the coffee from Logan. "Ah, the real stuff! You always did know how to live."
"Yeah, right." Logan smiled sadly.
"OK. That explains the wheelchair. Now, why do you look like a truck hit you?
"I beg your pardon?"
"Your hair is dirty and uncombed. You haven't shaved in a while. Your clothes are all wrinkled like you've been sleeping in them, except you look like you haven't slept in a week. That's not like you."
"I've got a lot on my mind. You - caught me at a bad time. That's all. You should have called me when you got into town and given me a little warning."
"So you could do what? Clean yourself up and turn yourself back into the guy I knew in San Francisco? The one I used to sleep with five years ago? That wasn't going to happen, was it?"
"Give me 30 minutes."
"Sure. Take all the time you want, Logan. I'm not going anywhere."
Logan wheeled himself down the hall toward his bedroom, while Asha sat on the sofa, sipping her coffee. After a few minutes, she got up and walked over to the window wall behind the sofa. The view from Logan's penthouse was spectacular. Looking down over the city, she could see the small park nearby, the trees in bloom in the early summer warmth. From up here, she thought, life didn't seem so gritty. The streets didn't seem so dirty, or the people so shabby. It was almost like Logan lived in an ivory tower. But she knew he didn't, hadn't, as long as she had known him. He could always see the rot beneath the façade.
She finished her coffee and went into the kitchen for a refill. As she looked around the room, she noticed the little touches that indicated the retrofit to accommodate Logan's wheelchair - lower counters, and cabinets below, rather than above them. No carpeting. Wide aisles between the counters and worktables. He'd been thorough, she thought, except for telling his friends about what had happened.
Asha went back to the window and gazed out again. She could see tiny vignettes of real life playing out below. From this height, they were like a silent movie.
A slight noise interrupted her daydream and she turned around to see Logan, now freshly showered and shaven, dressed in clean clothes . and standing. He looked just like the man she had known and loved in San Francisco. He slowly walked toward her. Asha's jaw dropped.
"Logan! Wha- what is going on here? Are trying to give me a coronary?"
"Sorry." He tapped the side of his leg and Asha heard a dull metallic sound. "It's an exoskeleton - DoD surplus - that a friend gave me. Works sort of like super-sophisticated, computerized leg braces. Gets me upright and ambulatory. I thought you might be more, ah, comfortable seeing me like this instead of in the chair."
"Thanks. I appreciate that. I think I'm still in a state of shock. Now, what do you need S1W's help on?"
Logan walked over to the computer and sat down. "Have you ever heard of Project Manticore?"
