Chapter 1

Logan waited in line, ignoring the covert looks the people around him were giving him. Why so many people were fascinated by guys in wheelchairs was beyond him. There wasn't anything intrinsically interesting about people on wheels, at least not in his opinion.

Lining up was a necessity. He had Max coming over for dinner, and he'd heard that this market had fresh pork – not an easy commodity to come by in post-Pulse Seattle. Even money couldn't guarantee getting it without someone standing – strike that – waiting in line. Bling had the week off, it was a surprise for Max, and he didn't really have anyone else he felt he could send.

He dug a book out from behind him and started to read. The line was moving slowly, and he didn't feel like sitting there doing nothing.

"Eyes," whispered a voice nearby. Logan turned to look and found a girl of about seven staring at him. "Eyes," she said again. She had brown hair and her eyes seemed to be strangely unfocused even though her gaze was most definitely fixed on him. She pulled a lock of her hair through her fingers repeatedly, and her torso rocked slightly in time to a rhythm all her own.

"What?" Logan said.

"She's not talking to you," said the woman standing with her. There was a similarity in features that identified them as related.

"She's looking at me," Logan observed.

"Eyes," the girl said. "Eyes, eyes, eyes."

"Hush, Molly," the woman said softly to the girl. She gave Logan a pained look. "She's a little not right. Please, ignore her."

Logan shrugged and turned back to his book. A few moments later, he felt a tugging on his sleeve and looked up to find Molly right next to him. "Eyes," she said, but there was no real urgency to her tone. It was making him more than a little uneasy, but he kept a lid on it.

"Molly, don't bother the nice man," the woman said, reclaiming her charge.

"It's all right," Logan said. He glanced at his book, then closed it and tucked it away. "Do you mind if I ask what's wrong with her?"

The woman . . . actually when Logan looked closer he saw that she was more of a girl . . . looked briefly uncertain, and then she shrugged. "She's autistic. I mean, the actual diagnosis has lots of big words in it, but it all boils down to the fact that everything goes in but not much comes out." She stroked Molly's hair, the affectionate gesture belying her distant tone. "My name's Shannon McKinnon. Molly's my baby sister."

"Logan Cale." They shook hands. "So, where does she go to school?" he asked, smiling at Molly.

"She doesn't." Logan looked up at Shannon in surprise. She shrugged, a cynical expression on her young face. Abruptly she reminded him of Max. "Where my family sends kids to school, they don't take autistic children."

"She have a tutor, a governess of some kind?"

"She has me," Shannon said.

Molly pulled a notebook out of the backpack she was wearing. "Eyes," she said. "Eyes, eyes, eyes." Shannon sighed and started to take it away from her, but Molly jerked it back and held it out to him. "Eyes!" Logan took the notebook and opened it up to see three strips of paper that contained pictures of his eyes from the Eyes Only broadcasts. He flipped through, and all the pages of the notebook were covered with pictures of his eyes. He shut it with a snap and stared at Molly. "Eyes," she said.

"Yeah," he said blankly.

Shannon took the notebook from his nerveless hands and put it back into Molly's backpack. "Sorry, my sister is absolutely obsessed with Eyes Only." She snorted. "It's not like she's got anything else to think about."

Logan shook his head. "You know, there are some very good programs out there."

"My father says it doesn't make sense to educate her," Shannon said. "And I don't have either the authority or the money to send her myself."

"Next!" called a voice in front of them, and Logan realized it was his turn to purchase meat. "Here," he said. "This is my card. If you ever get the money and authority, give me a call. I have a friend who runs one of those programs, and the waiting lists can be pretty long. I might be able to pull some strings for you."

Shannon took the card, looking startled. "Thanks," she said.

Logan bought four pork chops and nodded at Shannon and Molly as he rolled back out of the market. Dimly behind him, he thought he heard a voice saying, "Eyes."

Max sat back from dinner with a happy sigh. "What did you say this was called again?"

"Braciole di Maiale alla Salva," Logan said with a smile.

"Pork chops by any other name," Max replied, picking up their dishes and carrying them to the sink. "How long did you have to wait in line?"

"About two hours," Logan replied with a shrug. He wheeled over to the fridge and pulled out something that looked sinfully chocolaty. "Met a girl today," he added, and Max's fingers slipped on the dishes, causing them to hit the bottom of the sink a little harder than she'd meant. "She took one look at me and instantly knew I was Eyes Only."

Max felt a stab of panic followed by anger. "And you're only mentioning this now?"

"Well, she's seven years old, so she's not much of a threat."

Max blinked at him. "She could tell someone."

"She did. She told everyone in the market, but they didn't understand her."

"What are you telling me, Logan?"

Logan shrugged, giving her a wry look. "She's autistic. She just kept saying the word 'eyes' over and over again. Gave me a start, but nobody else paid any attention. Poor kid."

Max glared at him. "You scared me. Why'd you want to do that?"

"If there had been any danger, I would have warned you," Logan said calmly, and she scowled. He always said things calmly. In deepest anger, he spoke calmly. It sometimes drove her nuts. "Anyway, she's apparently obsessed with me. She had a notebook full of pictures from my broadcasts."

"Pictures?" Max asked. "Pictures of what? All that shows in your broadcast is your –"

"My eyes," Logan finished for her.

"That's disturbing."

"You're telling me," Logan said. "She handed it to me. I guess it was sort of a fan moment. Before the Pulse, she'd probably have asked me for my autograph."

He seemed remarkably full of himself. Max decided not to spoil his fun, but that didn't mean she had to watch. "I gotta bounce," she said. "A girl needs her beauty sleep."

"See you tomorrow night?" Logan asked.

"Got plans with the girls," Max replied. "Catch you later."

Logan sketched a farewell wave as Max headed out. The thought of this autistic child with her book full of Logan's eyes disturbed her on a level she wasn't sure she wanted to examine. Not a thing she could do about it, even if she knew who the kid was, but it worried her a little. She went home and found Kendra out, no doubt with one of her many man toys. Max spent some time cleaning up, then went to bed and dreamed about eyes.

Logan was focused hard on a hack into the bureau of prisons, following a thread that might lead to Mayor Steckler, when a tug on his sleeve made him nearly jump out of his chair. He turned to find Molly McKinnon right next to him. Automatically, he hit the button that sent the computer to sleep so that it would take passwords and key codes to unlock the data again.

"Molly!" he exclaimed, looking the little girl over. "How'd you get in here?" She looked terrible. There was a cut on her lip, and her pony tail was pulled sideways with hair escaping from it. Her backpack was dirty and torn, but she still had it. She stared at him, her face eerily still.

"Eyes!" she said, and her voice had an urgency it hadn't possessed the day before. In her hands she held the notebook he'd seen and the business card he'd given to her sister.

"Molly, where's Shannon?" he asked, reaching out and touching the card.

"Eyes! Eyes!"

"I know, I'm Eyes. But what happened?" He shook his head. She probably couldn't communicate any other way. She was plucking at his sleeve earnestly, and he couldn't figure out what to do, how to ask her what was wrong in a way that she could answer. "Let's get you cleaned up," he said. He put a hand on her arm. She jerked away, seeming agitated. "Come on, Molly," he said in a soothing voice. "Let's –"

"Eyes!" she said loudly. "Eyes!"

"Right." He wheeled carefully up beside her and tried to figure out how to guide her along without touching her. "Let's go into the bathroom and get you –" He broke off when he saw what waited for them in the doorway to his office. Two men stood there, both dressed in dark jeans and shirts, both carrying pistols with silencers. Logan froze for a second, then he dodged for the phone. One of them lunged forward and struck him on the side of the head with the butt of his pistol. Logan fell across the wheel of his chair, clapping his hand to the site of the blow.

Shrill screams penetrated his head and he struggled upright, grabbing for the pistol he kept behind his back when Bling was out. A hand grabbed that arm and twisted it, and Logan let out an involuntary grunt. "Let her go!" he yelled. Molly was struggling against the other man, fighting like a trapped alley cat. She bit his hand and his grip loosened. She slithered out of her backpack and took off running. Tossing the backpack aside, the man ran after her, and Logan started inching his left arm towards the pistol. The man behind him grabbed him by the shoulders and threw him forward out of the chair. His knees hit first, he saw that rather than feeling it, and then he was facedown on the floor.

Logan pushed himself up, rolling onto his back so that threat wouldn't be behind him. There was blood on his hand, and he touched the spot where the pistol butt had hit him. It wasn't a big cut, but it was bleeding plenty. He hated feeling so helpless, his legs laying there like weights, dragging him back. The man behind him was fiddling with his silencer. "Sorry man, you just . . ." His eyes fell on something beside Logan, and Logan turned to see another notebook on the floor. It had fallen open and his eyes were staring back at him from the pages. Logan looked up at the man with the gun to find him staring at the pictures. He leveled the gun at Logan's chest, then glanced around the room. "Son of a . . ."

"She got away!" his partner said, coming back into the room. "What are you waiting for, waste him and let's go!"

"I don't think so," the first man said, bending down to pick up the notebook, the gun never wavering from Logan's chest.

"What do you mean, you don't think so?"

"I think we got ourselves something a whole lot bigger than that little girl." He reached out and plucked Logan's glasses off his face, tossing them aside.

"Hey!" Logan exclaimed. If there was ever a time for Max to show up unexpectedly, this was it. Or Bling could drop by – though Bling would have a greater chance of getting shot. On the whole, Logan would prefer Max. He clenched his teeth and looked away from the man who seemed to be comparing the pictures in the notebook to his face to find the second guy pointing his gun at him. He looked down at the floor.

"How do you mean, bigger?" asked the second guy.

The first threw the notebook at him. "Look at his eyes." Logan continued to look at the floor, but the first guy grabbed him with one hand in his hair and the other one under his chin. Logan pried at the hands, but he couldn't get free. "Look at his eyes, look at those pictures, and then look at this room. Tell me what you see?"

His partner followed the instructions, and after a moment realization seemed to dawn. "Cash money, that's what I see."

The first guy dropped Logan who stretched out and snagged his glasses back. "My brother, we are going to have us an auction."

Author's Note: For my readers who are waiting on other stories from me, please note that this was written YEARS ago. The last time any significant update was made to the story was at least 5 years ago, and it was written a while before that. I am not suddenly and randomly writing on Dark Angel, I'm just posting something I never got around to posting before.