Oh, boy! I had forgotten this one! School has been a little crazy so I've been unable to edit the other stories, but I just couldn't resist after finding this. Don't judge me; I can't remember the reason that led me into writing this :P so just read and enjoy.

Reviews and criticism are very welcome. Sorry for any remaining mistakes—I'd appreciate if you point them out.

-A man's luck-

Logan Cale used to consider himself a lucky guy, even though he denied such thought when someone asked him about it. Not having fallen sick, not even once, since he was born, the youngest of the Cales had in fact survived accidents that could have probably killed him already, yet that wasn't as admired for people his age as his amazing ability of not studying a single word and getting A+ in every single test or, as it'd be envied when he got a little bit older, having the hotest girls of school as his dates. Someone had suggested calling him "Lucky" but Logan decided (begged, actually) against it, since it sounded... not so masculine, for his own taste.

With such considerations, you must think he had the greatest life a teenager could have. Well, reader, praise yourself because you are alright. In all aspects, there was not a single thing in which he felt unlucky. Twenty six universities wanted Logan Cale within their walls and, even as the idea of living in Europe was very appealing, he decided to go to Yale, the very same where his parents' had studied. So he, lucky boy Cale, enrolled in the courses he wanted with no much trouble, not even his father's dislike (who had ended up believing his son would need support instead of dissaproval), and prepared to be the best journalist the world had ever met.

But apparently destiny had other plans for him. In June 1st, 2009, Logan Cale awoke with a funny feeling in his stomach. In fact, as he would described later to his now late mother, it wasn't funny because he knew he was ill. He threw up plenty times before 7 a.m. and his lady friend, Daphne, told him is was better to postpone their little adventure in his uncle's yacht but, as stubborn as he was, he said it was no big deal and they did as it was planed. Of course, at 12:05 he just just knew the world was coming to an end when the sat-nav crushed and they ran aground. He didn't know what hit him—literally, as he fell to the not so warm water, hit his head with a rock and the world went black. Poor his lady friend, who had to got him out the water, find a way to take him mainland and look for help.

And help was a little too much lazy that day. Some terrorists had detonated a bomb, or something—at least that was what the blond artist said later when he was in a very improvised hospital. Nearly a month later he was visited in the shelter he and Daphne were living in by his oh-so-worried mother, who not only huged him so tight he couldn't breathe, but cried as her son had never seen her. Yet she sort of calmed down and joked with him, stating his stroke of luck had ended that fateful morning, and someone else would have it. "Logan Cale, it wouldn't be fair if all luck in the world is withheld only by one man," she smiled to her son and then the inevitable came as he asked for his father. She'd loved to lie but she was bad at it, and had to confess she hadn't heard a single word from him since the attack (his whereabouts are still unknown).

Things just went wrong for Logan Cale after that. His lady friend just left him a morning, his vision went a little blurry and his mother fell sick. And there was no hospital that could really treat her, so the woman died alone in her bedroom and the only valuable legacy she had left him was a locket that now hung ostentatiously from the neck of his unloved aunt Margo. He would get it back, but that's not part of this story.

Years passed by before anything else good happened to the once very lucky Logan Cale. Yale doors were re-opened and the previously devoted journalism student could finally become a journalist. He took the job of telling to truth to the people—with a couple not nice consequences. Because now people wanted him dead and well, being dead he would not be the ultimate journalist, right? So the lonely Cale moved back to his beloved Seattle, fell in love and got married with a gorgeous redhead that was as lovely as he could have and tried hard not to annoy anyone else, given the fact he wanted to live forever with the woman, named Valerie. The perfect apple pie life.

Of course, it didn't last.

He tried, really tried, not to be nosey and do-gooder and all that charming stuff but couldn't and found himself with the mission of making his city a better place. The wife did not like and, in a very silly move, told him it was forbidden to mess with all the bad people living in town. She certainly didn't know her husband as well as she thought, because that only turned him into someone obsessed with the cause. Logan Cale succeed in that part as he started planning something bigger that would make both his late mother and his missing father proud. Yet he forgot about the woman he was sharing his life with and it felt like one evening she, who had turned into an alcoholic, just wasn't home when he came back from work.

It was hard, and Logan Cale didn't want to admit it, but the petite redhead had left a hole in his life. So he recruited himself in home and, fair certain life had nothing else to offer to him, he left everything. Not in the sense of giving all he owned to some charity as Valerie probably would have done, but focusing all of his time and strenght in helping the helpless; the Logan Cale Brigade for the Defense of Widows, Small Children, and Lost Animals, as a certain brunette would call it years later.

My apologies, dear reader, because I take the liberty to skip these years, from the '16 to the '19, because nothing truly unusual happened in Logan Cale's life. Work, work, work. He gave birth to Eyes Only and turned himself into a shadow that never showed up for the rest of his family, which wasn't especially cherished by him, with a few exceptions. He traded his life for a greater good, and, with minor problems, he managed to survived and that led him directly to a very particular night in which a very particular cat burglar tried to steal a statue from him. God, she did take his breath away, at least, since he did not believe in love at first sight. That way Eyes Only met an almost mythical soldier, Max, who happened to have the most singularly beautiful face he had ever seen, and then tried to trick her into working with him. It would be perfect, he thought happily... until she said no.

Logan Cale should have taken this as a sign. If someone as strong as her wasn't willing to do such thing, why would he be able to? Of course he didn't listen to his inner complains and got himself shot by the very first time in his life. He could almost hear her mocking, bitter tone saying I told you. What he didn't expect was the surprise that was delivered to him as his eyes flew open two months later. He couldn't walk, and wouldn't be able to, never again.

And somehow it was all this what brought the genetically enhanced killing machine named Max back to him. Oh, well, she did not share his beliefs and passion for the broken world, but she kicked ass. That was enough... right? No, he found out months later, when he mused his thoughts to his PT about not being with her anymore (very bad people was looking for her and she needed to leave). No, Max kicking ass to save Good Old Seattle wasn't what he liked it. He liked the witty, sarcastic, tough, sexy woman that was fulfilling his life. He liked to share his thoughts with someone with another background, to be with someone that did not care what he had or what he had lost, but who he was and—oh god, that very same night he knew he had fallen in love with her.

Even though, it was easier to deny it, because, as I explained earlier, Logan Cale had some sort of sick deal with life in which he wouldn't want nothing for him. And, since he would not say those words to her (I love you, in case you haven't guessed), Max decided the same as soon as she returned to the rainy city (because she was in love too, but he pretended he hadn't seen the signals).

Destiny did not enjoy the fact Logan Cale was happy, at least, to have the woman around him. So, in a very nasty trap, it gave him back his legs. Well, in fact it was her, but, if you understand the rules of transfusions, blood types, transplants and such medical terms, you might understand why Logan's body rejected what his field commander had given to him. As surprisingly as they'd came back, his legs left, and it sucked. Poor Logan Cale thought everything was lost and, after a very close call, he thought it better. Because in the end, he had just found out the brunette would miss him. After that, trips were made, poetry was written and the inevitable came when they admit there was something building between them and they kissed...

Then she was dead and two months later she was not but he almost was... Ah, excuse me, this is rather confusing. It could have been funny because Logan was thinking of her when Max came back from the land of the death—actually, only Manticore—and gave poor Logan Cale a kiss that almost cost his life. She was carrier of a genetically targeted retrovirus, and he had to deal with the sad and ugly truth that, if he dared to touch the love of his life, he would die. Not funny anymore.

But he had learnt a very important lesson all these years: life goes on. He did not care about his former mission and he swore he wouldn't give up on her. Logan Cale lost almost all of his money, time and patience looking for a cure that no one he could find would be able to create and, stubborn as he was, pretended it wasn't like that. Problem was, his dear beloved Max was not being his dear beloved Max anymore. She changed, and he looked to the other side to not notice. Logan unlucky Cale did not notice the moment being together started turning into something awkward and then, in a blink, she was not longer his (or so he thought).

Oh, his luck.

Years passed by, again, and Logan Cale did nothing else but work. He would never have Max but dared to wish to see her at least every single day for the rest of his life. Sometimes it felt like the old days, just the two of them working to save the broken world, and just that simple thought brought joy to him. It was perfect in its own strange way and he did not care about anything else. That was what he was thinking a certain evening. The Pulse had taken his luck away, but he was somehow proud that all he had, all he was, it was because of him and—damn it! It was that day.

June 1, 2026. Seventeen years after the Pulse hit. All of sudden his mood was dark and he did not feel like working anymore and gave himself a break. Turning off the lamp that lightened the desk he occupied in Terminal City—dangerously close to hers—, Logan Cale stood, tiredly, when a very hurried Max walked in.

She half nodded to him, in their own greeting, and headed for a bookcase between their desks. Logan Cale watched her as she leaned up to leave a single, small book back in its place, pondering the possibility of inviting her a drink, and was surprised to find her losing balance, with a big chance of hitting her head loudly in the floor.

Max could be almost made of steel, and it would happen no more than a little pain and an ugly bruise, but Logan Cale had a major problem avoiding situations in which he could help anybody, so it was impossible for him to resist. He reach out for her and at least softened her landing, since he went down to the floor with her. Yet it took him a while to notice his bare hand was touching a couple inches of bare skin in her back, but he wasn't moving anytime soon since he found her stare very loving, her eyes warm and soft as he drowned in them and... OHMYGOD he was going to die.

Happy, at least.

She might have guessed his train of thought, yet didn't move. At least not away from him. Her lips approached his and they kissed for what he thought would be the last time. But the kiss got longer and longer and longer and, given the fact Logan Cale didn't want to die, he finally pulled away and nearly threw her against the bookcase. His heart was racing, his breathing was erratic and he wanted to smack that goofy grin off her face. Why was she laughing? He was going to die!

Or maybe not. Max told him he wasn't dying. "You're not dying, silly," and then ran towards, embraced him and they both landed in the floor for the second time in the last two minutes and kissed Logan Cale again. "You're not dying," she repeated against the biggest smile she had ever seen on his face, laughed and continued a very meticulous exploration of his missed mouth.

That fateful night, June 1st, 2026, the Pulse's 17th anniversary, Logan Cale had his good luck back. And he dared to tell everyone. It was a beautiful love tale about a miracle and faith and hope and waiting and God and... well, Max wasn't going to ruin it just by telling him her theories about how the virus and his DNA and her own were affected by all the years living in Terminal City. Luck sounded much better.

Fin.

Just the slightest change in the end. I must say both reviews kind of gave me an idea and couldn't fight the urge to edit. So, many thanks to Mari83 and Jeanetteg!