Disclaimer: As much as I'd like to claim that I own Dark
Angel, I don't. Max, Logan and the crew
belong to Fox and James Cameron, yaddah, yaddah, yaddah. You know the scoop. The other characters in this story belong to
me, although if anyone at Fox wishes to buy or lease them, I'm willing to
talk. ;-)
Date: 06/15/01
Author: Chris
Email:
cjudkins@smith-gardner.com
Summary: Logan is invited to be an artistic advisor
for a play that is based on a short story he wrote long before he met Max. He and Max go to Vancouver for what is
intended to be a relaxing vacation.
This story takes place between 'Rising' and "Kidz".
Author's Note: Yes, I
know Logan's back in the wheelchair and is only walking because of Phil's
exoskeleton, but I started this story based on the "Rising" teaser. The fact that it's taken me this long to
finish this is my own fault.
Additionally, I'm too lazy to go back and try to fix it so that Logan is
wheelchair bound again. Be that as it
may, everyone who reads this is going to have to set the way back machine (or
the rerun machine) to when Logan was managing to get around solely due to Max's
blood. This story is pure fluff,
intended for the gratification of M/L shippers everywhere. Enjoy.
~*~*~*~*~*~
Chapter
1 - Invitation
Just as she had countless times before, Max silently picked
the lock to Logan's penthouse apartment and let herself in. Everything was shrouded in inky blackness,
except for a faint glow of light coming from the room he used as his
office. She paused for a moment to let
her eyes compensate for the darkness and to listen for any tell-tale sounds
that would indicate that Logan was still awake and not actually asleep at his
desk. From her position in the hall,
she could hear the soft murmur of his voice, the lilting strains of some
obscure piece of classical music and the tap-tap-tap of keyboard keys. Max frowned slightly as she started to
navigate her way deeper into the dark apartment. What could be so important that he's on the phone this late at
night? She shook her head in
bemusement at his persistent I-can-make-the-world-a-better-place attitude. You've said it yourself, Logan. The world is still going to be broken tomorrow. Society isn't going to collapse just because
Eyes Only went to bed at a decent hour.
But then again, if Logan wasn't Logan, he wouldn't be awake for my late
night visits, either. Ah, Logan,
Logan," she asked herself, What am I going to do with you? A wicked grin crossed her face as her
thoughts took an immediate nose-dive into the gutter. Several tantalizing ideas flitted through her mind about just
what she could do with Logan.
And a bottle of champagne. And
some strawberries.
Still grinning to herself like a cat with cream, she peeked
around the door frame of his office.
The gentle glow of the desk light barely illuminated the room. He wasn't aware of her presence yet, so Max
took full advantage of the chance to watch him, unobserved. He was sprawled out in his chair, fingers
absently tapping on the keyboard in time to the music that drifted on the
air. He was nodding in response to
something that the person on the other end of the video call had said. Silently, she studied Logan's profile. God, what is it about him that makes me
want him so much? she wondered. She
treasured these moments more than she was willing to admit to anyone,
especially herself. These were the
moments in which she could let her gaze drift along his wonderful body,
imagining the feel of it beneath her hands or pressed against her own body in
passion; the moments in which she could lose herself in the sound of his voice,
pretending that he was whispering sweet nothings into her ear. Max smiled slightly to herself, lost in her
own fantasies, when Logan cleared his throat.
With a start, Max immediately came back down to earth,
realizing that Logan had finished his call and had been staring at her for
several minutes. Several long
minutes. "Knock, knock," he said, a
slight smile playing at his lips.
Max blushed. "That's
my line." Logan only response was to
raise a single eyebrow at her, his blue eyes twinkling in amusement. "You know," she continued, "you really need
to get a better lock on your door.
Otherwise, you're going to have strangers just walking in off of the
street."
"The only one that really matters was the one who dropped in
from my skylight," he smiled. "Plus, changing the lock would mean that the keys
I had made for you would be useless."
He retrieved a small ring of keys out of his desk and tossed them at her
before she had a chance to analyze his previous statement.
Max snagged them out of the air. "Keys? For me?" She twirled them around her fingers and affected
a moue. "Awww, Logan, you shouldn't
have."
He grinned at her and sat back in his chair. "Just my way of letting you know that my
door is always open."
She snorted and pocketed the keys. "With the lock you have, it might as well be."
Logan chuckled. "So
tell me, to what do I owe the pleasure of this visit? It's eleven o'clock at night.
Too late to eat and I don't have any jobs lined up for you…." He looked at her, expectantly.
"I don't know." Max
shrugged. "I just …. thought I'd drop
by. See if you were awake and maybe try
to interest you in a game or two of chess.
Unless…," she paused melodramatically, affecting an air of extreme
boredom, "the rich playboy Logan Cale has other plans for the rest of the
night…?"
"Hmmmm… Let's
see." He steepled his fingers and
rocked back in his chair, pretending to contemplate some internal time
schedule. "I've already cancelled the
pajama party with the Dallas Cowboy Cheerleaders and the polo game has been
rescheduled due to rain, so … no." He
flashed his brilliant smile at her. "I
think the rich playboy Logan Cale is all yours for the rest of the night."
Max fought to hide her grin as Logan realized what he'd just
said. "Ohhhh, really?" The grin escaped her control completely when
he blushed. God, he's even more
adorable when he's embarrassed. She
let her gaze slide slowly down his body then back up to meet his eyes.
Logan took a deep breath in an attempt to control the flush of
heat that suddenly raged through his blood.
However casual it may have sounded, the sultry glance that accompanied
Max's loaded question trailed along his body like a physical caress. He had gotten used to the verbal banter that
they tossed about, both of them using it to mask feelings that they were still
unwilling to admit, but now she had just upped the ante. Take it slow, Cale, he thought to
himself. Find out where she wants to
go with this before you jump to any conclusions. Or before you jump her, for that matter. Slowly, carefully, Logan got up out of the
chair. His legs were still a little
shaky, and he needed a cane to get around, but he was walking and that was what
was important. As he stood, he
positioned himself so that he could sit back down on the corner of his
desk. Just as slowly, he smiled. "I was going to say that I needed to
rephrase my last statement, but I think I'll let it stand." His voice was slightly husky as he regarded
her, a slight smile playing at the corners of his mouth.
Max gazed into the eyes that were now level with her own. I keep forgetting how tall he is, she
thought absently. There was still a
space of about five feet between them.
All she had to do was to close the distance and she could be in his
arms. But is that what you want?
the little voice inside her head asked.
Oh, yeah, she replied.
Is that what he wants? the voice persisted.
I think so.
You can't afford to love him, the nagging voice
continued, It'll probably get both of you killed.
But is life worth living without having loved? she
silently asked.
Is love worth dying for? it responded.
Max shut her eyes and took a deep breath. She opened them to find that Logan hadn't
moved. His gaze was filled with
compassion (and love?) as he silently watched her internal
struggle. Ok, now what? she
wondered. He's called your
bluff. Keep it light, girl. No need to let him know that he can make
your palms sweat with just a smile.
Nonchalantly, Max strolled towards him. Without meeting his eyes, she casually
brushed imaginary dust off of his forearm. "All mine for the rest of the
night," she repeated. "I don't
know. I may not be able to think of
anything to do with the rich playboy Logan Cale." Do with Logan, to Logan,
for Logan, on… Ok, stop it, Max, she mentally slapped herself. God, that was about as light as a ton of
bricks. Suddenly embarrassed by her
own thoughts, Max dropped her eyes to stare at the equipment scattered on the
desk behind him.
Logan opened his mouth to respond, but apparently reconsidered
at the last moment, because nothing came out.
A hundred retorts ran through his mind, none of which were acceptable in
polite company. Max was so close he
could smell the shampoo that she used, and her proximity was quickly overriding
his determination to let her set the pace.
Not that she's going slow, considering that last remark, his
libido chimed in. Logan shifted
uncomfortably, all too aware of a growing tightness in his groin. He desperately hoped that Max wouldn't
notice, but she seemed intent on memorizing the layout of his desk, refusing to
meet his eyes. Without conscious
thought, Logan brought one hand up underneath her chin. His fingers caressed her cheek in a delicate
touch. Startled, Max looked up into his
searching gaze. "I think you
underestimate yourself," Logan whispered softly. His fingers played along her jaw as he stroked her face.
Unable to tear her gaze away, Max felt her breath catch in her
throat. Ohmygod, he's going to kiss
me. Her thoughts raced around
themselves as she stared up into Logan's face.
What is he waiting for?
All I have to do is
move away.
Why is he just standing there?
Get out, Max, get out!
Kiss me, Logan, please!
Inadvertently, she glanced at Logan's lips, then
quickly back up to his eyes. It seemed
that her glance was the answer to a question she hadn't even known had been
asked, because he started to slowly bend his head closer to hers. His hand slipped behind her neck, his
fingers gently tangling in her hair, as his lips continued their inexorable
journey. Excited, resigned, scared and
eager all at the same time, Max closed her eyes and sighed softly. Their lips had barely touched when the front
door slammed open, making them both jump.
Immediately, Max melted into the room's shadows, her eyes
dilating as she scanned the darkness.
Just as quickly, Logan pulled a sidearm from his desk drawer and stepped
back against the wall. He felt, more
than saw, Max move towards the front of the penthouse, a silent and deadly
force that was more than able to deal with this unknown intruder. As she slipped through the inky blackness of
the apartment, her enhanced vision allowed her to effortlessly locate and
follow the stranger who moved rapidly towards the only source of light in the
apartment.
Unaware of the danger he was already in, a tall man strode
confidently into the room. "Cale! Logan Cale!
Where the hell are you?" the man shouted as he tried to pierce the
darkness of the dimly illuminated room.
"Davis?" Logan slowly stepped out of the shadows, the
gun easily masked against his leg.
The man turned towards the sound of Logan's voice and
grinned. He was about the same height
and build as Logan and, Max guessed, about the same age. In fact, the only major difference between
the two men was that the stranger's hair was dark, his beard was neatly
trimmed, and he didn't wear glasses.
Other than that, he could almost pass for Logan's twin.
"Damn straight it's me," the man Logan called 'Davis'
said. "How the hell are you,
buddy? I've been hearing stories about
you all the way down in Hollywood, and since they weren't all good, I decided
that I had to check things out for myself.
Sorry it's so late, but when I drove by, I took the chance that you'd
still be awake. You always were a night
owl. Why's it so dark in here? You're looking great, by the way, so I guess
I can write half of those stories off as pure bullshit." The man's quick eyes noted the gun held
casually at Logan's side. "I could be
wrong, though, considering the way I nearly got myself shot just now. I guess some of those stories must be true,
if you're so quick on the draw like that."
Logan relaxed and smiled at the man. "It's all good."
"What?" Davis asked, confused by Logan's cryptic remark.
"All the time," Max's voice floated out of nowhere.
"Holy Shit!" Davis yelped as Max suddenly appeared at his
elbow and just as quickly slipped back into the darkness. He peered into the room's shadowy recesses,
trying to track her movements. Sighing
in frustration, Davis turned back to Logan, only to find the apparent owner of
the mysterious voice standing defensively between him and his friend. Very defensively.
"Damn. Where do you
find these bodyguards, Cale? Just tell
me to bend over and cough the next time, will you?" Max smiled slightly at the backwards compliment, but didn't relax
her stance. Davis shook his head in
wonder as he regarded the slight figure she presented, somehow instinctively knowing
that he didn't want to be on her bad side.
"I guess I should know better by now, just bursting in on you like this,
but …"
"But you'll never change," Logan finished with a smile. He clicked the safety back on the .45,
returned it to it's holster in the desk drawer, then placed one hand on Max's
shoulder. Unconsciously, she leaned
back into Logan, her posture no longer one of defense, but still coiled and
ready to spring at a moment's notice.
Davis noted the interaction between the pair with veiled amusement. 'Bout time Cale finally got over
Valerie. This one is obviously more to
him than just a hired bodyguard. He
shook himself out of his reverie as Logan began the introductions.
"Max, this is Rich Davis, Davis, this is Max."
"Very pleased to meet you, Max….?" Davis arched his eyebrows
at her.
"Guevara," she smiled.
"Nice to meet you, too."
"Davis and I went to Yale together," Logan said by way of
explanation. "He was all set out to be
one of the best journalists I've ever known when he was bitten by the Hollywood
bug."
"Biggest bite you've ever seen, too," Davis agreed. He turned to Max and grinned at her. "Took a
whole hunk right outta my ass. Want to
see the scar?" He grabbed at his pants and started to drop them as Max
frantically shook her head.
"Uh, no, that's all right.
I believe you."
Logan snorted. "I
don't recall you offering to drop your pants in front of strangers quite so
readily all those years ago, Davis."
"Naw, that was always your trick. And only in front of beautiful women strangers," Davis grinned as
a slow flush crept into Logan's cheeks.
"That was Gideon, not me."
"Sure it was. Don't
you remember that trip to Mardi gras?
We were down in the French Quarter, three sheets to the wind and you
were bare-ass-"
"Yeah, right, never mind," Logan firmly cut his friend off
mid-sentence.
Davis chuckled at Logan's reluctance to bring old skeletons
out of the closet. He glanced over at
Max and noted her look of feigned indifference, although it was obvious that
she was more than interested in hearing the rest of that story.
"Listen," he said to her, ignoring his friend's discomfiture, "I'm truly sorry
if I interrupted anything. I didn't
expect Cale to have any company. He's
always been a somber guy, but for the last few years, he's been downright
dreary. Maybe I can bring a little
adventure back into his life, huh?"
Max laughed as Logan rolled his eyes. "Oh, yeah, I think he's in definite need of
some adventure."
Davis grinned at Logan.
"I like this one, Cale. She's a
keeper."
"Glad you approve," Logan replied dryly. He caught Max's eye and winked at her just
as Davis' chatter started up again.
"Well, I'm sure you're wondering my other reason for dropping
in, Cale, and the truth be told, I think I could use your help. I'm producing a play, based on a short story
you wrote years ago, and I need you as an artistic advisor on the set. My director is giving me fits, and I figured
if I could drag the author of the original book in for some background, he'll
cut with the static." Davis sighed and
ran his hand through his short, dark hair.
"We're staging the thing up in Vancouver, so it's not like it's a major
hike or anything, but I'd be eternally grateful if I had you around to put the
kibosh on some of his wilder ideas," Davis finished. C'mon, Cale, don't make me beg for your help in front of your
beautiful lady, he thought desperately.
Logan looked confused.
"Which book? I don't remember
giving permission to have anything turned into a play."
"It's the one you wrote as Cale Anson and Gideon edited as
Matthew. The one about the secret
military operation to create genetic soldiers.
'The Phoenix Ash',
remember? Gideon actually converted
it to a play, but you gave your ok on it way back when… must have been at least
two, three years ago."
Max stood back from Logan and looked at him in amazement. "A book??
About genetically enhanced soldiers?!?"
"It was a long time ago. Right after the Pulse. It
was based on a rumor that I stumbled across that perked my interest." Logan turned back to Davis. "Why can't Gideon be your advisor?"
"Gideon's still off somewhere in Europe. Couldn't get 'hold of him. You were the next logical choice." Davis shrugged.
"Wait a minute. How
did you manage to track the book back to me?
I made sure that the bio didn't directly reference either Gideon or
myself."
Davis snorted. "C'mon,
Cale. I've known you long enough to
know that your mother's maiden name was Anson and Gideon used his middle
name. I'm not an idiot, no matter what
my wife says. It wasn't that difficult
to figure out."
Logan took a deep breath and looked over at Max. He could tell by her expression that she
wasn't happy with the thought of a book floating around about her life, however
little Logan may have had to go on at the time. She looked back at him, eyes flashing angrily.
Davis looked back and forth between the couple, sure that
there was volumes being spoken in the looks they shared, but not at all sure
what any of it meant. "I'll tell you
what," he interrupted their silent conversation, "It's late and I'm
intruding. Let's get together tomorrow
morning and talk about it over coffee.
I'll come back over about ten or so and give you all the details, then
you can decide when you'll come out to Vancouver." Davis smiled.
Logan's laugh was slightly strained. "I haven't said that I'll be able to help you, Davis."
"No, but you haven't said 'No', either," Davis responded. "Tomorrow.
Actually, today. Ten
o'clock. I'll see you then." Davis saluted Logan, then spun on his heel
and faced Max. With a very courtly bow
that hadn't been in vogue since the sixteenth century, Davis swept Max's hand
into his own and placed a kiss on the back of it. "Very nice to meet you, Max.
I hope I'll have the pleasure of seeing you again soon." Before Max could stammer out a startled
reply, Davis was out the door as quickly as he had arrived.
Both Max and Logan stood in silence for a long minute.
"Wow."
"You don't know the half of it," Logan replied.
"You want to fill me in?"
Her voice was dangerously low as she turned to face him. She crossed her arms underneath her breasts,
looking like she was prepared to read him the riot act at any moment.
Logan sighed and ran one hand through his short hair, making
it spike up more than usual. "Like I
said, it was just after the Pulse. I
had come across a piece of data that referenced some of the genetic testing
that had been done at Manticore, although I didn't know that it was called
Manticore at the time, and the fact that there had supposedly been an
escape." He sank back against the desk,
his gaze focused on the past. "The whole
idea was very intriguing and very disturbing.
I was writing short stories at the time and jotted my thoughts down
about what I thought could happen if such rumors were actually true, and how
the people involved would deal with the consequences of their actions. I didn't have much to go on, so the story
was a complete fiction."
"Gideon is my brother." Logan smiled to himself. "He's… a character. I'm sure you'll meet him someday. Anyway, Gideon and I met Davis when we were
both at Yale and kept in contact after graduation. One day, Gideon saw the story and he talked me into submitting it
for publication. It didn't do
exceptionally well, but it was fun. I
didn't think anything of it until a few years ago, when Gideon contacted me for
permission to convert the thing into a play."
Logan leaned back and looked over at Max, waiting for the explosion he
was sure was to come.
"A play," she repeated.
Absently, she drummed an irritated tattoo against the desktop, a sure
sign of her anger. "Somehow, I find it
very hard to imagine my life staged in two acts with a short intermission," the
words snapped out as she glared at him.
"What's next, Logan, 'Manticore, the Musical?'"
Try as he may, Logan couldn't keep his lips from twitching in
amusement at Max's last statement. Max
watched him for a moment, trying, and failing, to maintain her anger as the
humor of her own words penetrated her irritation. Her lips quirked in response as she tried to contain her
laughter, but the sight of Logan slowly losing his stoic demeanor pushed her
over the edge. As she looked up into
his twinkling eyes, they both started to chuckle. After a long moment, Max moved over to lean up against the desk
across from him and sighed. "So, tell
me, what kind of action-packed adventure is this book, anyway?"
Logan looked away from her as he cleaned his glasses on his
shirt. He felt a faint flush creep up
into his face that had nothing to do with their shared amusement. "Ah, well, actually…. it's more of a … a
love story."
A slow grin spread over Max's face as she looked at Logan in
total amazement. "You're kidding me,
right?" Logan shook his head, still
refusing to meet her eyes. "A love
story?"
The highly amused tone of her voice stung Logan's pride. "Yes, a love story," he repeated. "The Manticore part of it was just the
background. The entire book was about
the people involved and how they dealt with a bad situation." He glared back at her, his glasses still in
his hands.
"You have the bad situation part of it right, that's for
sure." She grinned into his strikingly
blue eyes, refusing to allow him to nurse his bruised ego. "Imagine that. A love story." She
reached out and plucked his glasses from his hands, then stepped close to
him. Carefully, she slid the glasses on
to his face, letting her fingers slide slowly down his ears and along his
jaw. "Does it have a happy ending at
least?"
His caught her hands in his own and squeezed them gently. "Don't all good love stories have happy endings?"
His voice was husky as he gazed deeply into her dark eyes.
"I'd like to think so," she whispered.
"This one does." Logan
smiled.
"Good."
They smiled at each other in companionable silence. With a final squeeze of her hands, Logan
reluctantly let her go. "So," he said
into the stillness, "you want to go up to Vancouver with me and see a play?"
Max laughed softly.
"It's a date."
~*~*~*~*~*~
